‘That will cost them if they want my girls to play.’
‘Do you do the negotiating for the girls who live in your house?’
‘If they ask me, but I don’t take a cut. I charge a flat rate of three pounds a week to cover all costs.’
‘What about special parties?’
‘It’s been a couple of years since I organised one of those. All the businessmen around here have cut back on entertaining.’
‘But you’re still in the market to run them?’
‘If someone offered me enough. You asking?’ she questioned bluntly.
‘I might be able to put some business your and your girls’ way?’
‘The last thing I or my girls need is a pimp to cream off more of our hard-earned cash the way the pub landlords do.’
‘I wasn’t talking about pimping. High class has high overheads. And, to go back to your question about the trade I’m aiming for, it’s men of means who like to watch pretty girls dancing and singing while they enjoy a drink and a flutter. Some of them might be happy to pay – and pay handsomely – to be entertained in private afterwards.’
‘And you’d want a finder’s fee.’
‘No.’
‘Then you’d allow us to use this club of yours – if you open it –as a free pick-up point?’
‘No, I want to run a clean place, publicly that is. The kind of place a man could take his sweet aged mother to, if the mood took him. Privately is different, but I’ll talk to you again, if and when I find the right place. But I warn you now, if you and your girls ever want to visit you’ll have to look top drawer, Anna.’
‘You cheeky sod,’ she said indignantly. ‘You suggesting I look anything less?’
‘Not me, Anna. I know who paid the rent on my mother’s room the week she died. And I haven’t forgotten that gold sovereign you gave me when I sailed out. You told me to hang on to it because I could cash it anywhere in the world if I needed to.’
‘And did you?’
He felt in his pocket and laid the coin on the table. ‘I’ve pawned it once or twice but I marked it so I could always redeem it.’
‘Sentimental sod underneath that hard-baked crust, aren’t you?’ Anna said fondly.
‘I’ve never had much to be sentimental about.’
A slim young girl, who looked barely out of childhood, walked into the bar and made a beeline for their table. She had a prominent nose, strong dark features, olive skin, black hair, and was dressed in an even lower-cut, skimpier, more transparent frock than Anna’s. ‘Lend us a tanner for a drink, will you, Anna?’ She turned a pocket inside-out in the skirt of her dress. ‘It’ll save me a walk back to the house. A bloody pickpocket’s just nicked my purse.’
‘Was there a lot in it?’ Anna asked.
‘A bob. I’ve more sense than to bring out more on carnival day.’ She saw Aled eyeing her and gave him a practised professional smile.
Anna looked from Aled to the girl. ‘Gertie, this is Mr James, an old friend of mine. Aled, meet Gertie, my youngest. She’s been living in my house for six months but she’s a quick learner.’
‘How quick?’ Aled continued to study the girl.
‘How long have you been at sea?’ Anna asked.
‘Long enough,’ Aled answered. ‘Put your purse away, Anna, I’ll buy Gertie a drink. In fact, how about I buy a bottle and we go back to your room, Gertie?’
‘It’ll cost you,’ she retorted boldly.
‘How much?’ Aled grinned in amusement.
Gertie flashed a quick glance at Anna who gave an almost imperceptible nod. ‘Two bob, and a bob for the barman,’ she said boldly.
‘For the rest of the afternoon?’
‘If you want to stay that long,’ Gertie answered carelessly.
Aled put his hand in his pocket and pulled out two half-crowns. ‘A bob for the barman, the rest is for the brandy, make sure it’s the best French and I’ll expect change.’
‘Can’t I keep it?’ Gertie pouted.
‘We’ll finish negotiating after you’ve delivered the goods, Gertie, not before,’ Aled said firmly.
‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’ Gertie left the table and went to the bar.
‘You’ll find her accommodating enough.’ Anna produced a small printed card. ‘My telephone number.’
‘You’re ahead of the times.’ Aled took it and stowed it into his top pocket.
‘Second telephone to go into a private address on the Bay, after the doctor and before the vicarage. Call in any time, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about that dinner you promised me in the Windsor. I’ll hold you to it.’
‘Tomorrow night, eight o’clock?’
‘I’ll be there.’ She left the table.
Aled watched her walk to the door. A middle-aged man staggered in before she opened it. Anna smiled at him. He returned her smile. She took his arm. They left the bar together.
Aled finished his drink and waited for Gertie. He didn’t doubt for one minute that Anna would have her fiver by the end of the night.
‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Harry.’ David tapped Aled on the shoulder as he stepped out of the pub into West Bute Street. ‘Where are the others? I lost sight of them an hour ago.’
Aled stared silently at David.
‘Harry –’
‘My name is not Harry, young man,’ Aled interrupted coolly.
‘Stop messing around …’ David faltered. The man he was talking to was blond and blue-eyed and a mirror image of Harry, but he was also dressed in plain dark working clothes, something he’d never seen Harry wear. And he was with a girl who was showing more flesh than he’d ever seen a girl display off a picture postcard.
Aled pointed across the road. ‘I believe that is the man you are looking for.’
David turned and saw Harry standing next to Mary. ‘You … Harry … you’re exactly alike …’ David stammered.
‘There does appear to be a similarity.’ Aled offered Gertie his arm. ‘There is a young girl singing with a band in the park I’d like to take a closer look at before we get down to business, Gertie.’
‘I like a bit of music.’ Gertie tucked the bottle of brandy she was carrying under her arm.
‘Good afternoon.’ Aled lifted his cap to David and sauntered away. It was then David realised that there were differences between Harry and the man he’d spoken to after all. Apart from the harsh American accent, there was ice in the man’s eyes. Harry’s were warm and friendly; this man looked as though he were evaluating everything and everyone around him with a view to auctioning them off, just like the dealers in Brecon’s Cattle Market.
‘I tell you, Harry, he could have been you,’ David insisted. They were helping themselves to a selection of the sandwiches and home-baked cakes and biscuits that the women of the Bay had set out on kitchen tables that they’d carried into the streets. The smaller children were picnicking on the blankets laid on the ground in the park. Groups of adults were perched on window sills in the side streets off the square or standing in groups eating and gossiping with plates and cups in hand. The younger housewives were ferrying jugs of home-made lemonade and trays of tea out of their houses and the older women were keeping an eagle eye on the tables, swooping down the moment a plate was emptied and replacing it with a full one.
‘They say everyone has a double somewhere.’ The maxim rolled easily off Harry’s tongue but he glanced at Mary to check she was out of earshot. There were some things he’d never told her about his past, simply because he preferred not to think about them. He’d been five years old when his mother, Sali, had married his stepfather. Lloyd Evans had never made him feel less than his son by birth and both his parents had tried to answer his questions about his real father. He knew Mansel James had planned to marry his mother but had been murdered before she had known she was pregnant. And, after being shown photographs of Mansel, he also knew that he looked exactly like him.
Since he had taken an interest in the businesses h
e had inherited from Mansel’s family, which were being held in trust for him until his thirtieth birthday, he had discovered that he wasn’t Mansel’s only illegitimate child. The trustees had paid out considerable sums of money over the years to settle more than a dozen claims from different women. And the family solicitor had warned him there were rumours that Mansel had fathered even more children whose mothers either hadn’t thought to approach the trust or had been paid off by Mansel before his death.
He hadn’t discussed the existence of his half-brothers and sisters with either of his parents, but the facts were undeniable. His real father had been a philanderer who hadn’t been averse to using his wealth and position to seduce young girls. He had found the fact difficult to come to terms with.
‘Same colour hair, same colour eyes, I went right up to him and called him Harry,’ David continued.
‘That must have been a surprise for the poor man.’ Harry bit into a fruit tart.
‘At first I really thought it was you, but then –’
‘You took a second look and saw he wasn’t me?’ Harry interrupted, hoping to put an end to the conversation.
‘I knew he wasn’t you because of his clothes. He was dressed like a sailor. He also had an American accent.’
‘I’ll have to see this man for myself.’
‘David told me about him but I’ve never seen anyone who looks like you in Tiger Bay, Mr Evans.’ Judy handed Harry a cup of tea. ‘And I know everyone who lives here, except the foreign seamen who only stay for a short while between sailings.’ Conscious that she’d done little to help serve the food, Judy took the empty tray from her aunt. ‘I’ll fill this up for you if you like, Auntie May.’
‘Thank you, Judy, but you’ll have to do it in Doris’s. We’ve run out of cups.’ May ran after her two-year-old son who had left the blanket to follow the older children who were climbing the park railings.
‘I didn’t realise how hungry I was until I started eating.’ David helped himself to another sandwich.
‘Here, try one of these, they’re delicious, I have no idea who made the pastry but it’s as light as air.’ Knowing his brother-in-law had a sweet tooth, Harry dropped a strawberry tart on David’s plate.
‘Moody made them,’ Judy said.
‘Edyth’s baker Moody?’ Harry asked.
‘He made the pasties as well. You should try one of them.’ Judy carried the tray across the road to Doris’s house.
David bit into the tart. ‘You’re right, Harry, this pastry is light.’
‘Lighter than mine?’ Mary looked over David’s shoulder to see what he was eating.
‘Almost as light,’ David amended tactfully. ‘Mary, you should have seen this man I met earlier. He could have been Harry’s twin.’
‘Really?’ She took one of the tarts from the table, broke off a piece of the pastry crust and examined it.
‘Where are the children?’ Harry asked Mary.
‘With my sister. They’re watching the sack race.’
The Christina Street Musicians struck up a swing number and David looked around for Edyth. He saw her standing in front of a table where another of Judy’s aunts was dispensing home-made blackberry wine. ‘Here,’ he thrust his plate at Harry, ‘take this for me, will you?’
Mary watched him run up to Edyth, grab her hand and drag her towards the other dancers.
‘He’s as keen on her as he ever was,’ she murmured disconsolately.
Harry set his own and David’s plates on the table and slipped his arm around Mary’s waist. ‘We’ll have him back on the farm tonight, darling. A couple of days and he’ll be the old David again, immersed in his cows, lambs, and chickens.’
‘I’m not so sure, Harry.’ She bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling. ‘He hasn’t been the same since he came out of hospital. His heart doesn’t seem to be in the farm any more.’
‘As your sister is looking after the children, let’s dance.’
‘You’re trying to distract me to stop me from worrying about David.’
‘Yes,’ Harry answered truthfully.
‘It won’t work.’
‘I know it won’t. But at least we’ll have fun while we worry.’ He slipped his fingers beneath her chin, lifted her face to his and kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘Come on, we can’t let the single people have all the fun.’
Half an hour later, when the Bute Street Blues Band had taken over from the Christina Street Musicians, Harry saw a man standing alone on the edge of the crowd: a man who resembled him in every way, a man he knew. He was certain of it.
He had a sudden flash of half-forgotten memory. Two small boys playing in colliery slag. One boy bigger and heavier than the other had used his superior strength to beat the younger boy. And that younger boy had been him.
Judy was singing ‘West End Blues’ and the man was watching every move she made. Harry shuddered, suddenly and inexplicably afraid – not for himself but for Judy. He caught Mary’s hand and led her away from the dancers. The man saw him, nodded and strolled off. But by the time Harry reached the corner of Loudoun Square there was no sign of him.
‘Are you sure I can’t persuade you and Mary to stay the night, Harry?’ Edyth coaxed. The sun had sunk low over the rooftops of the imposing Victorian houses in the square but the advent of evening hadn’t interrupted the music or dancing, only brought out hoarded bottles of whisky and brandy that the men were dispensing to make the tea their wives were still pouring ‘Irish’ and ‘French’. ‘It’s tempting, sis, but we have to get back to the farm.’
Harry took the sleeping baby from Mary.
‘I’ve a light supper all ready in my larder. And although it will be a bit of a squash I can put you all up,’ Edyth offered.
‘It’s good of you, Edie, but we’ll stay another time. Ruth is exhausted. If we’re lucky she’ll bypass the grumpy stage and go to sleep on the train. David and Mary have the farm and dairy to run and I have work waiting in my office at home.’ Harry peered at his wrist watch. ‘As it is, it’s going to take us at least two hours and probably longer to get home.’ He kissed his sister’s cheek. ‘But thank you for the invitation.’
‘I’ve found a taxi. It’s waiting for us on the corner.’ David joined them.
‘See you soon, Mary.’ Edyth hugged her sister-in-law dropped a finger kiss on the forehead of the baby sleeping in Harry’s arms, then she kissed Ruth and Mary’s sister, Martha. Harry’s two young brother-in-laws had disappeared, but they always did when the women started kissing.
‘David, see you soon.’ Edyth held out her hand, then, on impulse, kissed his cheek.
‘You will,’ he answered with conviction.
Edyth walked with them to the taxi. Harry embraced her again before taking the front seat. David helped his sisters, brothers and the children into the back before climbing in and lifting Martha on to his knees.
‘I’m too big to sit on your lap,’ she complained irritably.
‘Then you’ll have to run behind,’ he joked.
‘Everyone in?’ Harry pushed the window open, looked behind him and checked. ‘Good. Bye, Edie; bye, Judy.’
Edyth and Judy linked arms and stood side by side, waving them off and blowing kisses. David looked back until the driver turned the corner into Bute Street.
David shifted Martha on to one knee, sat back and stared out of the window at the ornate three-and four storey buildings that housed banks, hotels and enormous well-stocked shops, so different from the corner shops in the small Swansea Valley villages that he was used to.
Then he saw them – and wondered why he hadn’t spotted them on the taxi drive into the Bay. THE CHINESE SEAMAN’S HOME – JOHN CORY SAILORS’ AND SOLDIERS’ REST – THE SEAMAN’S INSTITUTE – lodging house after lodging house.
He’d been a fool. Instead of waiting for Edyth to notice him, he should have followed her to Tiger Bay. There was no way she would ever live on the farm, not with her baker’s shop to run. But if he moved here and
took a job as a seaman …
He knew nothing about ships but sailing couldn’t be any more difficult than farming – could it? And in between sailings he’d be able to spend whole days ashore. Days in which he could see Edyth. Maybe she’d even allow him to help out in her bakery. And once they spent time together he knew she would fall in love with him. He just knew it.
Chapter Three
‘I wasn’t sure what to expect from the carnival but it was fun. I enjoyed it – and so did Harry, Mary, and the children. It was good to see them, if only for a few hours.’ Edyth picked up the last of the plates on the scrub-down table she had covered with a sheet because she didn’t have a large enough tablecloth, and carried them to the sink. Having invited all the members of the Bute Street Blues Band and their families, as well as her own, to supper, she had laid it out in the enormous kitchen of her shop.
‘You miss your family?’ Micah took the sheet from the table, folded it and hung it on the back of a chair.
‘Of course, but not enough to give up the bakery and go back to Pontypridd.’ She smiled when she saw Judy standing over the sink with her eyes closed.
Micah touched Judy’s arm. ‘Bed, miss, now. You’re falling asleep on your feet like a horse.’
‘I was just blinking,’ she mumbled.
‘So I saw.’ He took her by the shoulders and propelled her out of the kitchen, through the shop to the foot of the stairs. ‘It’s quite simple. You hold on to the hand rail, lift one leg, then the other and walk straight ahead. Don’t forget to wash off that greasepaint or you’ll be scrubbing your sheets for a week.’
Too tired to respond to Micah’s sarcasm, Judy did as he ordered.
He returned to the kitchen. Edyth had lifted the last of the plates from the washing-up water and left them to drain on the zinc draining board.
‘I’ve put the leftover food in the pantry. Everything else can wait until morning. Drink?’ she asked.
‘I’ve consumed more tea today than there’s water in the West and East docks combined.’
‘I said drink, not tea.’ She took the last flagon of beer from a cupboard and set it on the table next to him before pouring herself a small sherry from the bottle she’d opened for her guests. ‘This is cosy.’ She sat next to him at the table.
Tiger Ragtime Page 4