Tiger Ragtime

by Catrin Collier

  The supervisor looked from Aled to Judy and Aiden. When she spoke she lowered her voice. ‘That girl and man are coloured, sir.’

  ‘So am I,’ Aled said. ‘The last time I looked in the mirror I was a fetching shade of pale pink.’

  ‘It’s not me personally, or even management, sir,’ she murmured, ‘it’s our customers. They wouldn’t patronise us if they knew we allowed people like that to try on our stock.’

  ‘People like what?’ Aled said loudly for the benefit of everyone within earshot.

  As they were attracting attention the supervisor tried and failed to draw Aled aside. ‘You know what I mean, sir.’

  ‘No I don’t,’ Aled bellowed.

  ‘Sir …’

  ‘Explain yourself, madam.’ Aled stood, arms crossed and obdurate.

  The supervisor coughed. ‘They clearly have Negro blood, sir. As I said, it’s not me … or even management …’

  Aled turned to Aiden. ‘I want the name of everyone in management in this store.’

  ‘Sir …’ The woman touched his arm.

  Aled shook off her hand. ‘Everyone, Aiden.’

  Aiden pulled a notebook from his pocket and went to the staff board at the top of the stairs. The supervisor tried to step in front of him. He simply picked her up, moved her aside and began writing.

  Aled returned to Judy and offered her his arm. ‘We have to go elsewhere, Miss King. On close inspection the gowns here are somewhat shoddy.’ He swept Judy past the supervisor, down the stairs and out of the store so quickly she had to run to keep up with him. He didn’t stop until they reached the pavement. He looked up St Mary Street past the grand Edwardian fronts of the rival department stores, towards the crenellated towers of Cardiff Castle and muttered, ‘Bastards!’

  Unsure she’d heard Aled correctly, Judy remained silent. He released her arm, and paced to the edge of the kerb. When he looked back at her he was calm.

  ‘Is that the first time you have been refused service in a store, Miss King?’

  ‘Yes.’ A double-decker tram pulled up in front of them and she read the advertisements plastered on its sides. It was easier to consider the merits of a tea that promised to cure indigestion than think about the embarrassment she had just suffered.

  ‘They will regret their attitude.’ There was an undercurrent to Aled’s harsh American vowels, and Judy realised that for all of Aled James’s mannered politeness, he would make a formidable enemy.

  ‘As I told you, Mr James, I’ve never shopped in Cardiff city centre before. Whenever I’ve needed to buy clothes I’ve always gone to the stores in Bute Street.’

  ‘Well, we’re not returning to Bute Street. Not yet.’ The tram moved on, two men on bicycles passed them and steered their machines towards the railway station. Aled resumed his study of the street. A large blue sign plastered on the side of the tallest, largest and most imposing building caught his eye. ‘Gwilym James. Isn’t that department store owned by Edyth Slater’s brother, Harry?’

  Judy was surprised that Aled James knew Edyth had a brother. ‘Mr Evans works there, as does Edyth’s mother and uncle, but I don’t think Mr Evans owns the store.’ Judy had assumed from the way Edyth’s brother and his family dressed, that he was reasonably well-to-do, but she couldn’t imagine any person being wealthy enough to own a store the size of Gwilym James.

  ‘I believe he not only owns this store, but several others. Shall we go inside and find out how he treats Gwilym James’s coloured customers?’ Aled asked.

  She tried to summon up enough courage to ask if they could forget about buying evening gowns in the city centre, at least for that day. But before she did, Aiden was escorted out through the doors behind them by two men.

  Aled smiled. Both men were slighter than Aiden and shorter by a full head than Freddie who had remained with him and Judy.

  ‘These gentlemen,’ Aiden indicated his escort, ‘asked me to leave when they saw me writing down the names on the board, boss.’

  ‘Before or after you finished making the list?’ Aled questioned.

  Aiden held out a sheet of paper, Aled took it from him and, without looking at it, folded it into his pocket. Freddie stepped up alongside Aiden. The men looked warily from Freddie to Aiden and retreated.

  ‘We’re going to Gwilym James.’ Aled held out his arm to Judy again. ‘Miss King.’

  Judy reluctantly complied and Aled whisked her purposefully towards the door of the department store. The uniformed doorman opened it for them, touched his cap, and said, ‘Good morning, Mr Evans, sir, madam.’

  Aled smiled. ‘I am not Mr Evans.’

  ‘I like the accent, sir, you sound just like they do in the films.’ The doorman closed the door behind them.

  ‘Could you point us towards ladies’ evening gowns?’

  Aled asked.

  ‘I see, sir, it’s a test.’ The man grinned. ‘Third floor, sir, where they’ve always been. The lift is to the right of the store.’ The doorman tipped his cap to a middle-aged woman who was leaving. ‘Thank you for shopping with Gwilym James, madam.’

  Aled headed across the ground floor to the lift. ‘Third floor,’ he ordered the young boy who opened the door.

  ‘Yes, Mr Evans, sir.’ Aled allowed the boy’s mistake to pass without comment.

  The boy followed them into the lift and pressed the button. When they reached the third floor the doors opened, and the boy shouted, ‘Ladies’ fashions, evening and bridal wear, millinery, accessories, and leather goods.’

  Judy took a deep breath and steeled herself for further insult. She hadn’t been aware of just how much her family, friends, and neighbours in Tiger Bay had protected her from racism until she had been dismissed from her first job as ‘daily’ to an elderly widow. Increasingly frail, her employer had decided to hire a live-in maid, and had offered the post to an Irish girl at a higher wage than she’d been paying Judy to live out. The widow couldn’t have made it more obvious that although she was prepared to allow Judy to scrub her floors, she was not prepared to allow her to live in her home.

  Desperate for work, before Edyth had employed her, Judy had taken every occasional cleaning and menial job she had been offered while auditioning for chorus work and minor roles in all the repertory and touring company in South Wales. The closest she had come to success was to be invited to a second call-back, only to be told, ‘Thank you but no thank you.’ The colour of her skin was never mentioned but from the whispers she had overheard she was aware that some of the auditions would have had different outcomes if she had been white.

  She knew she was being cowardly but she was loath to invite further embarrassment. Aled had insisted on making a point, and had made it, but if it had been down to her she would have preferred to have slunk out of the last department store unnoticed.

  ‘Evening gowns?’ Aled asked the floorwalker.

  ‘Mr Evans, sir,’ the boy smiled at what he assumed was a joke, ‘you know it’s the last department straight ahead of you.’

  ‘Judy, how lovely to see you.’ Harry and Edyth’s mother, Sali Evans, walked towards her, a floor supervisor following at their heels. Both Sali and the supervisor were stylishly and elegantly dressed in the Gwilym James’s female floor managers ‘uniform’ of black tailored costume and white blouse.

  ‘How are you, Mrs Evans?’ Judy asked eagerly, relieved to see a familiar and friendly face.

  ‘I am fine, thank you for asking, Judy.’ Sali kissed Judy’s cheek. ‘Edyth wrote and told me that you had a new job singing in a nightclub. I do hope you have come here to look for stage costumes. We took delivery of the new autumn evening gowns this morning and some of them would suit your slim figure perfectly. Wouldn’t they, Miss Johns?’

  ‘They would indeed,’ the supervisor concurred.

  ‘Miss Judy King, my daughter Edyth’s close friend and right-hand lady in her bakery, Miss Alice Johns, who is in charge of the ladies’ fashion department.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Miss K
ing.’ The supervisor shook Judy’s hand.

  Aled, who had remained in the background while Judy had been talking to Sali, stepped forward and raised his hat. ‘As we have come to purchase stage costumes for Miss King, Mrs Evans, I am glad to hear that you already have the new season’s gowns in stock.’

  Sali looked at him and the smile died on her lips. ‘Mrs Evans, you do remember me?’

  Sali continued to stare, mesmerised by Aled’s resemblance to Harry.

  ‘You look exactly like Mr Evans, Mr Harry Evans, that is, who owns the department store. Doesn’t he, Mrs Evans?’ Alice Johns asked excitedly. ‘In fact, you could be his twin, sir.’

  ‘So people used to say when we were boys,’ Aled said. ‘My mother looked after Harry for a few months when you were ill and unable to care for him yourself, Mrs Evans. It must be more than twenty years ago now.’ Aled knew exactly to the day how long it had been, but he chose not to emphasise the fact. ‘I remember you picking Harry up from Bush Houses in Clydach Vale, which is where we lived at the time. He held out his hand. ‘Aled James. I changed my surname to my father’s.’

  ‘Mr James.’ Sali shook Aled’s hand but she couldn’t bring herself to utter any platitudes such as, ‘pleased to see you again’. She remembered Aled, but she also remembered his mother, and that was a part of her and Harry’s past that she would have preferred to have left buried and forgotten.

  ‘You look like Mr Evans but you don’t sound a bit like him,’ Alice chattered. ‘You talk like a film star.’

  ‘So I’ve been told. I’ve spent the last few years in America.’ Aled sensed Sali’s discomfort and smiled. ‘We’re looking to buy at least a dozen evening gowns for Miss King, Mrs Evans, as well as day clothes, coats, and accessories. In fact, we’re here to purchase an entire new wardrobe for her.’

  ‘I don’t need day clothes, Mr James,’ Judy demurred.

  ‘Yes, you do.’ Realising he’d spoken sharply and the inference that could be drawn from his insistence, he added, ‘I own the nightclub Judy will be singing in and I’m contracted to buy her stage costumes.’

  ‘Edyth wrote and told me that the club will be opening soon in Bute Street.’ Sali leaned against a pillar for support. Aled’s resemblance to Harry was so strong she found it unnerving, particularly as his eyes were hostile.

  ‘I’m calling it the Tiger Ragtime. You and your husband must come to the opening as my guests so you can see Miss King’s debut.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sali murmured politely.

  ‘As Miss King will be representing the Tiger Ragtime both on and off the stage she will have to look well turned out and fashionable at all times.’

  ‘We’ll do all we can to ensure she looks both.’ Sali took Judy’s arm. ‘Let’s go into one of the private rooms. I’ll get the girls to model the gowns for you to narrow your choice so you won’t have to try on too many.’

  ‘I’ll order coffee and biscuits, Mrs Evans.’ Alice scanned Judy’s figure. ’34-22-34?’ she asked.

  ‘How did you know?’ Judy blushed.

  ‘It’s my business, madam. I’ll bring the evening gowns first. It won’t be long before word gets out that they’ve come in. And once it does, our account customers will swarm in like ants on honey. Have you any particular designers in mind?’

  ‘I don’t know any designers,’ Judy confessed.

  ‘Dior, Chanel, de Regny,’ Aled replied, surprising Alice with his knowledge of fashion.

  ‘Colours?’ Alice enquired briskly.

  ‘White, cream, black, brown, gold, silver, green to match Miss King’s eyes, and,’ Aled studied a crimson silk strapless gown draped on a model in the centre of the room, ‘scarlet, and that model. It is silk?’

  ‘It is, sir,’ Alice confirmed.

  ‘Accessories, stoles, shoes, handbags, hats …’

  ‘I get the picture, sir.’ Alice scurried off. She had served many wealthy customers in her time, but she had never seen a man so certain of what he wanted. Not even the elderly baronet who set aside a day at the beginning of every new season to purchase his young mistress’s lingerie.

  Judy had expected the ‘private room’ to be an office. She was amazed when Sali showed them into a sizeable and comfortable sitting room that reminded her of the residents’ lounge in the Windsor. It was decorated with green and cream striped wallpaper, oil paintings of city landmarks, and furnished with leather armchairs, mahogany side tables and, somewhat incongruously in a sitting room, a clothes rail.

  A uniformed waitress brought in a tray of coffee and petits fours and Alice walked in ahead of two young assistants who were the same height and build as Judy. They wheeled in a second rail full of calico-draped gowns.

  Sali sat alongside Aled and Judy as Alice donned white gloves and unbuttoned calico covers from gown after gown so the assistants could display them. After only ten minutes, Judy was bewildered by the array of velvet, silk, satin, organza, and lace frocks, but Aled looked at each in turn and approved or dismissed them within a few seconds. The ones he approved of were modelled by the girls. He selected about three-quarters of them to be hung on the empty rail so he could check the quality of the fabric, the stitching, the seams, and the cut.

  To Judy’s surprise her uncles would have approved of Aled James’s choice, with the possible exception of the low-cut, strapless, crimson silk. Most had sleeves, either long or short, and all were floor-length. And to her astonishment he didn’t ask the price of any of them.

  The empty rack soon became full, as gown after gown was set aside for her to try on. A green satin with a flowing skirt, a classically draped Grecian white silk that Aled liked so much he asked to see it in every colour they had. A long black beaded shift with a matching beaded jacket, sequinned gold, silver ame, deep burgundy velvet, cream lace, and Aled asked the assistants to drape matching silk and velvet stoles across every gown he chose.

  Alice took Judy into an adjoining fitting room to try on the gowns Aled had picked out. She modelled twenty, and to her embarrassment he insisted they buy all of them and the matching stoles.

  ‘Mr James, I couldn’t possibly accept all these,’ Judy protested after he asked Alice Johns to replace the covers on the ones he had chosen.

  ‘You signed a two-year contract, Miss King. I intend to get my money’s worth out of you.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘You’ll need underwear, cosmetics, jewellery – and fur coats,’ he added decisively. ‘A long one for evening wear, an elbow-length evening cape for warmer weather, and a short coat for day wear. But we shouldn’t buy anything in a hurry. You have a matinee tomorrow?’

  ‘I do,’ Judy confirmed.

  ‘Could we return the day after tomorrow at the same time, Mrs Evans, to look at day wear and furs?’

  ‘Unfortunately I will be in our Pontypridd store that day,’ Sali apologised.

  ‘But I will be here and I’ll have everything ready and waiting for you, sir. Will you be taking these gowns with you, Mr James?’ Alice asked.

  ‘No, I’ll pay for them now, but I would like you to hold them and everything else we buy until the builders have finished decorating Miss King’s dressing room in the club, then they can be sent on there. You shouldn’t have to keep them for longer than two weeks. He removed a card case and his cheque book from the pocket of his suit and handed her a card. ‘The address of the club. I also want to set up an account for Miss King.’

  ‘We’ll hold these gowns until your account is set up, Mr James,’ Sali offered. ‘Miss Johns will see to it and have the necessary papers prepared for you to sign when you come in the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Evans.’ He gave Alice Johns an apologetic smile. ‘I am afraid we are making a lot of work for you, Miss Johns.’

  ‘Not at all, sir, it’s always a pleasure to dress a beautiful lady.’

  Aled glanced at his watch again. ‘Time to get the beautiful lady to the theatre. I’m sorry, Miss King, we’ve no time for tea.’

  ‘I don’t think I could
eat one after that lunch, Mr James.’ Judy left her seat.

  ‘Good day, ladies. Thank you for your help.’ He tipped his hat to the assistants and Sali and Alice.

  As Aled and Judy walked away he overheard Alice Johns say, ‘He’s a proper gentlemen just like Mr Evans, for all he talks like an American picture.’

  His smile widened when he heard Sali’s reply: ‘He is, Miss Johns, but I have a feeling that Mr James is a very different kind of businessman to Harry.’

  ‘Lunch again in the Windsor, the day after tomorrow?’ Aled asked Judy when they were sitting in the back of the car and Freddie was chauffeuring them to the theatre.

  ‘Please don’t feel that you have to, Mr James.’

  ‘I enjoy your company. Don’t you enjoy mine?’ he asked frankly.

  ‘Of course I do, it’s just that,’ she found the courage to say what was on her mind, ‘I feel dreadfully guilty for taking all those clothes from you.’

  ‘They’re not clothes, they’re stage costumes,’ he asserted.

  ‘My grandmother used to say that the only person who should buy a woman’s clothes, besides herself and her parents, is her husband.’

  ‘I’m not offering to marry you, Miss King.’

  Judy blushed crimson. ‘I wasn’t suggesting …’

  ‘I know you weren’t. I was making a joke – a bad one. And your uncles and Micah Holsten wouldn’t have allowed me to write your stage costumes into your contract if they considered there was something wrong with the idea, now, would they?’

  ‘No they wouldn’t have,’ she agreed, ‘but there’s nothing in the contract about fur coats and day clothes.’

  ‘So, you’re going to turn up at the stage door of my club wearing last year’s mac over your stage costumes?’

  ‘Who’ll see me?’ she challenged.

  ‘The photographers from the local and national newspapers. This club is only the beginning for me, and you, Miss King. I intend to make you a star, and in the next couple of years open more clubs, in London and other places. And you’ll be headlining in all of them.’

  ‘London?’ She looked at him in amazement. ‘You never said anything to my uncles about London.’