Pontypridd 01 - Hearts of Gold

by Catrin Collier

  ‘Here you are, miss.’ He leaned over and handed it to Daisy, brushing her hand with his own as he did so.

  ‘Sure you won’t change your mind about giving away the real thing?’ Daisy smiled.

  ‘Depends on what you’ve got to offer,’ the man said, eyeing her appreciatively.

  ‘The lady’s with me,’ Eddie snarled.

  ‘Looks like she’d prefer a monkey.’

  ‘I’d be careful what I say if I were you.’ Daisy wrapped her arm around Eddie’s. ‘He’s just knocked out Dekker’s champion.’

  Eddie pushed his cap to the back of his head and glared furiously, unwittingly exposing his cut and bruised eye.

  ‘Sorry, mate. Didn’t mean nothing,’ the stallholder apologised.

  Eddie turned away and Daisy, still clinging to his arm, tottered alongside him.

  ‘Well you’ve got your monkey,’ Eddie said. ‘Where to now?’

  ‘Ride on the horses?’

  They waited for the largest roundabout in the fair to stop. Painted gold, with beautifully carved red and gold wooden horses and cockerels riding three abreast, it was the oldest ride in Dante’s fair and his pride and joy. Caught up in the rush of people clambering off and on, Eddie pulled Daisy up the steep wooden steps. He sat on one of the inside horses and she climbed up in front of him, sitting demurely in a side-saddle position, her right arm low around his waist. It was the first time Eddie had been physically close to a woman outside of the family and a peculiar mixture of pride, shyness and embarrassment beset him as he delved into his trouser pocket for two pennies to pay the boy who was collecting the fares.

  The organ music rose to a crescendo as the roundabout began to turn. Slow at first, it gradually rotated faster and faster. The horses moved up and down with a speed that seemed geared to the music, and Daisy squealed and wriggled closer to Eddie on each downward movement. The warmth of her hand burned his back even through the thick layers of his suit jacket and trousers. Then, without warning, she wrapped both her arms around his waist. Bending her head to avoid the pole that stood between them she brushed her lips over his.

  A peculiar excitement coursed through his veins, leaving an odd deflated tinny taste in his mouth when the ride ended. Buffeted by the crowds they left the roundabout and stood in the middle of Market Square.

  ‘Where to now?’ Eddie asked.

  Daisy pulled up the sleeve of her long white cotton glove and squinted at her rolled gold watch.

  ‘I have to be in the theatre soon. Two shows tonight.’ She made a face.

  ‘Oh.’ He didn’t know what he’d hoped for, but it certainly hadn’t been that. He should have known. After all, Haydn had introduced them, and he’d moaned enough about having to work tonight. He waited foolishly, feeling clumsy and ham-fisted next to her perfumed, feminine figure.

  ‘I do have time for a quick drink.’ She smiled at the crestfallen expression on his face. And if you want to watch the show I gave you a ticket earlier, remember. Second house finishes at half-nine. I’m free then if you want to take me somewhere.’

  ‘I’d like that.’ His spirits soared at the prospect.

  ‘Where’s a good place to drink?’ she asked. It may have been his imagination but he thought he saw her glance towards the New Inn. ‘Two foot nine,’ he said boldly, giving the town’s pet name for the back bar of the Victoria at the top end of Taff Street. From what Haydn had said some of the theatrical crowd from the New Theatre went there, and perhaps Daisy might feel at home in the surroundings.

  ‘Two foot nine?’ She looked at him and giggled. ‘Where did it get its name from?’

  ‘The length of the bar.’

  ‘Ooh, I didn’t think of that.’

  She took his arm and they walked past the New Inn. Eddie saw a few boys from the Graig and a couple of men from the gym. He spoke to all of them, taking care they saw that Daisy was with him, but when the coins in his pocket began to disappear over the bar of the two foot nine on gin and tonics for her, beer for him and a couple of pies he began to regret picking her up. The five pounds meant a great deal to him. He’d never had so much money in his life, and he’d intended to take care of it. He stared at the clock on the white-tiled wall and tried to focus his eyes. The room blurred around him and his hand shook, as he replaced his empty glass on the table.

  ‘Time I left.’ Daisy made a face as she downed the last of her gin. ‘Tell you what,’ she ran her fingers along the lapel of his coat, ‘why don’t you walk me to the theatre via the park?’

  ‘The park isn’t on the way to the theatre,’ he protested dully.

  ‘It could be, sweetie. It could be.’ She picked up her handbag.

  They walked out of the pub and retraced their steps towards the centre of town, turning right by the Park cinema and crossing the bridge that led from Taff Street into Ynysangharad Park. The revue that Daisy was in had only been in town for a week, but she’d obviously taken time to find her way around and Eddie allowed her to lead the way. She turned right after the bridge and they walked past the tennis courts along the bank of the river. Not many people walked that way especially when the fair was in town, and Eddie in his drink-fuddled state wondered where she was taking him.

  ‘This will do nicely.’ She sat down in a patch of high grass behind a bank of bushes and trees, and patted the ground beside her. ‘Join me?’

  He bent his knees and landed heavily next to her. The greenery appeared to be swimming and the sky was revolving above his head. She pressed him back against the tree and slid her hands inside his coat, running her nails over the buttons on his waistcoat.

  ‘I do love fighters.’ She unfastened his waistcoat and moved on to the buttons on his shirt.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked thickly.

  ‘What do you think?’

  She kissed him thrusting her tongue inside his mouth. He tried to kiss her back but he was impotent, helpless, overwhelmed by the soft feel and exotic smell of her body. Her face powder cloyed in his nostrils, mixing with the warm musky scent of her perfume so different from the light flowery toilet waters that Bethan and Maud used.

  Pulling her skirt high she straddled him, her hands busy with the buttons at the waistband of his trousers. He held her rigidly at first then as her kisses grew more intense he found courage enough to hold her tight.

  She pulled back from him and he felt her fingers unfasten the buttons on his fly.

  ‘Relax’, she whispered into his ear. ‘No one can see us.’ She took his right hand and laid it above the stocking top on her naked thigh. He left it there stiff and immobile.

  ‘I think you need a little more help, sweetie.’ She leaned back and unbuttoned her blouse. She wasn’t wearing underclothes and he found himself staring at the small pink nipples on her naked breasts. He watched mesmerised as she shrugged off the blouse and tossed it on to the grass behind her.

  ‘Are all Welsh boys as backward about coming forward as you?’ she laughed. She laid her hand on top of his and pushed it up until he could feel the lace that trimmed the edge of her silk French knickers. ‘How about we get this out of the way as well?’ She unbuttoned her skirt, pulled it over her head and threw it on to the blouse.

  ‘You’re … you’re beautiful,’ he choked.

  ‘I know.’ She tossed her head back confidently. ‘But thank you for saying so. Come on, sweetheart,’ she wheedled impatiently, ‘this body isn’t just for looking at. It won’t break if you touch.’

  Steeling himself he ran his hands over her naked back, inadvertently pulling down her knickers as his hand slipped on her smooth skin.

  ‘That’s it, sweetie, now you’re getting the hang of it. Try sliding your hand down a bit more.’ She opened his trousers wide, and moved her fingers expertly, teasing him to a throbbing erection that made his face burn.

  ‘You really are slow,’ she complained playfully, rearranging his clothes. ‘Most men would have tossed my knickers in the river by now. Here, do you want me to do it for
you?’ She arched backwards, wriggling out of the scrap of silk and lace, and lay down on the grass.

  ‘What you waiting for? I’m here – ready, willing and able.’

  Eddie stared at her for a moment, studying the exposed curves and contours of the female form that had remained a mystery to him for so long. Then slowly, tentatively he reached out and laid a hand on her naked breast.

  She smiled. ‘Do you want me to undress you, sweetie? Or can you do it yourself?’

  The suit jacket he had been so proud of that morning was flung, a heap of crumpled cloth, on the ground. She scratched his chest with her long, sharp, red-varnished nails as she undid the buttons on his shirt and wrenched it off his back.

  ‘Steady now,’ she warned as he lunged towards her. ‘Oh my God, you haven’t done much of this before, have you?’ she gasped as he fell clumsily on top of her. ‘Here,’ she opened his trousers wide and pulled them down over his buttocks. ‘Can’t get far with these on either, that’s for sure.’

  She yanked down his underpants. ‘Take your time now, ducks. Aim true and get it right, for my sake. That’s it, slow and steady,’ she sighed, helping him inside her. ‘Not too quick, no sense in hurrying, it’ll be over before we start the way you’re going at it. Don’t look down. Just put your hands here, and here – ’ She planted his hands firmly, on to each breast. ‘And if you can manage three things at once you could try kissing me as well.’

  ‘Easy isn’t it?’ she giggled as he came up for air. ‘Just like riding a bike.’

  ‘It’s a damned sight better than any bike I’ve ever ridden,’ he cried feelingly as she wrapped her legs around his back. ‘It’s bloody marvellous,’ he crowed as she thrust herself hard against him.

  ‘If you’re going to do this sort of thing regular, love,’ she offered kindly, wincing and digging her nails into his back, ‘you need to organise yourself a bit of practice. It’ll do wonders for you. May even rub the rough edges off this caveman technique of yours.’

  Eddie was too far gone to hear what she was saying. He was off, sailing on a wondrous sea of sensual pleasure that opened into a whole new world. One he never wanted to leave.

  The sun was low on the horizon when Andrew drove Bethan out of the station car park and up the Graig hill.

  ‘Sunshine can brighten anything, even the Homes,’ he observed, noticing how the last rays of the dying day played on the grey stonework of the eight-foot wall around the infirmary and workhouse.

  ‘It’s been a lovely day,’ Bethan answered mechanically. She was fighting a headache that came from wine and sherry drunk too early in the day, followed by too many roundabout rides.

  ‘For some,’ he answered. ‘Trevor’s like a dog with two tails.’

  ‘Laura said it went well between her father and Trevor after we left. It must have. They’re getting engaged officially next weekend.’ She screwed the handkerchief she was holding into a tight, damp knot.

  ‘Are we invited?’

  ‘Yes. Ronnie’s organising a party in the café on Saturday night.’

  He stopped the car in front of the Graig Hotel.

  ‘I’m not going for a drink in there,’ she said quickly. ‘Someone would be knocking the door to tell my mother before you even got to the bar.’

  ‘And your mother doesn’t know that you have the odd glass of wine or sherry?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Your secret is safe with me.’ He removed the keys from the ignition. ‘And I wasn’t suggesting that we should drink in the Graig Hotel.’ He pointed across the road to a small lane that opened out in the centre of a row of terraced houses. ‘Doesn’t that lead to the famous, or should I say infamous, Shoni’s Pond?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered shortly. Apart from being a lovers’ haunt, Shoni’s was inextricably bound up with her childhood memories. It was the place where her father had taught them all to swim, and to fish with bent pins tied to string and empty jam jars.

  They’d picnicked there on bread and dripping inexpertly put together by either herself or her father, for Elizabeth would never go to Shoni’s, referring to the small lake and surrounding greenery as a filthy place, fit only for animals and beggars.

  ‘Would you like to show it to me?’ Andrew asked.

  ‘I have to dress for dinner, remember?’

  ‘We dine at eight. It’s only six now.’

  ‘You promised to meet my family.’

  ‘Not for two hours, I didn’t.’ When she didn’t answer, he opened his door. ‘I’m not suggesting a quick roll in the hay,’ he said lightly. ‘Only a short walk. I need some peace and tranquillity after the noise of that fair.’

  ‘It’ll take us about three quarters of an hour to walk there and back,’ she warned.

  ‘The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll be back.’

  ‘This will cause a stir,’ she said as she stepped out of the car.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your car parked here.’

  ‘No one will notice it.’

  ‘Oh yes they will, and as everyone knows exactly who it belongs to, tongues will be wagging about us and Shoni’s tonight.’

  ‘All the tongues are at the fair.’ He crossed the road and began walking up the lane.

  ‘Not all,’ she said, glancing back at the hotel. A group of women were congregating outside the jug and bottle bar of the pub.

  ‘I can put up with a bit of gossip if you can,’ he said glibly.

  ‘Doesn’t anything ever bother you?’ she asked in exasperation.

  ‘Bethan, my sweet,’ he put his arm around her waist, ‘you’re a lovely girl, but you’d be even lovelier if you didn’t take life so seriously.’

  ‘Round here life is serious,’ she said with an edge of resentment.

  ‘All the more reason for me to introduce you to other places.’

  They continued to walk along the path in silence. The track was well-trodden, black with coal dust, the worst of the potholes filled in with stones and dirt by the children who rode their home made go-carts and old pram wheels to Shoni’s every chance they got. The further they went from the houses, the greater the profusion of wild flowers. Bethan saw the first of the season’s bluebells peeking out amongst the celandine, buttercups and harebells.

  Then came the infinitely sweet sad song of a solitary lark. She felt angry and bitter, for reasons she hadn’t examined too closely because of an ugly suspicion that they stemmed from jealousy of Laura and Trevor’s happiness, but all of that dissipated as the countryside closed in around her. For the first time that day she felt quiet and at peace with herself.

  ‘Who would have thought there could be so much beauty so close to such ugliness?’ Andrew said spontaneously as they stood before the dark expanse of water surrounded by trees that was Shoni’s pond.

  ‘Ugliness?’ she questioned, picking up a stone from the shore and skimming it across the surface of the pond. ‘Are you saying that the Graig is ugly?’

  ‘No uglier than a few other places,’ he said in an attempt to soften his declaration. ‘In fact it’s not half as bad as some areas of London.’

  ‘It’s strange,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I’ve never really considered whether it’s ugly or beautiful. It’s simply home.’

  ‘If depressing. All those miserable grey stone buildings. Narrow streets, scruffy kids …’

  ‘I was one of those scruffy kids once,’

  ‘No you weren’t. You’ve always been beautiful.’ He took her in his arms and kissed her, an oddly chaste and sober kiss after the passion earlier that afternoon. ‘I suppose we should be going back,’ he said as he released her.

  ‘We should.’ She picked up another stone and sent it flying across the water. He reached for his own stone, but when he threw it, it landed in the centre of the pond, creating waves that travelled outwards in ever-increasing circles until they broke on the shore.

  They stood and watched for a moment, lost in their own thoughts.

  She expected him to say som
ething on the walk back. She wanted to ask him about his plans for the future. A hundred times over she framed the question that was uppermost in her mind – ‘Are you going to London?’

  She even pictured the look on his face as he responded. But try as she might, she couldn’t answer the question for him.

  The car was enough to create a stir amongst those residents of Graig Avenue who either hadn’t gone to the fair or had returned early. A dozen ragged urchins and half a dozen young men clustered around the bonnet before Andrew even had time to open his door.

  ‘Is it safe to leave it here?’ he asked Bethan, not entirely humorously, as he looked at the crowd around them.

  ‘Perfectly,’ she assured him touchily, deeply regretting the crazy impulse that had caused her to invite him to her home.

  ‘Here, mister, want your car cleaned? Do you a first-class job. Only a tanner.’

  ‘I’ll do it for a joey, mister.’

  ‘Two pence, mister.’

  ‘Clear off, the lot of you,’ Bethan said sharply. ‘Quick, before I put my hand behind you.’

  To Andrew’s amazement they all scarpered, reconvening in a tight knot in front of the wall opposite, out of Bethan’s reach.

  She turned her back on them and climbed the steps to her house, Andrew following, confident and smiling.

  ‘It’s only me,’ she called out as she opened the door. She walked through to the kitchen without a backward glance. The room was still warm from the stove that had been stoked high earlier that day to cook the main meal, but no washing hung airing on the rack. It never did on days when Elizabeth expected her uncle to visit.

  ‘Bethan, I wasn’t expecting you back early.’

  Her mother halted on her way from the pantry to the table. Bethan noticed that Elizabeth was wearing her best black frock, and the tray she was carrying was piled high with china that was usually kept in the sideboard in the front parlour. Obviously John Joseph hadn’t yet arrived, and Bethan fervently hoped that he wouldn’t appear in the next half hour.

  ‘I’ve not come back for tea. I’ve brought someone I’d like you to meet.’ She smiled tentatively at her father who was also wearing his Sunday best suit and collar. He was sitting bolt upright in his chair in front of the window, reading a book from the lending library. Evan returned her smile, then saw the tall figure of Andrew standing behind her.