Tiger Ragtime

by Catrin Collier

  ‘Did you go out with a lot of boys in the Rhondda before you came here?’ he asked curiously.

  ‘One or two.’ Gertie took a pack of cigarettes from her bedside table, opened it and pushed one between her lips. She picked up a box of matches and glanced at David. ‘Sorry, I should have offered. Do you want a ciggie?’

  ‘That depends on what you’re going to charge me for it.’

  ‘You – you – monster!’ Her anger turned to laughter when he made a face at her. ‘I suppose I do go on a bit about money. But I have to pay Anna three quid a week to live here, and I send a pound a week home to my mother.’

  ‘Three pounds!’ he exclaimed. ‘I pay Mrs Brown seventeen shillings and sixpence. And that includes my washing, a cooked breakfast, and a cooked high tea every day.’

  ‘Mrs Brown doesn’t have to pay the coppers to look the other way when you walk down the street. And it’s all found here. All meals, washing, coals, gas.’ She pointed to the fireplace that had been boarded up to house a small gas fire. ‘Anna even pays our doctor’s bills. She takes care of us. It can be tough down here, making a living the way we do, when you’re on your own.’ She slipped another cigarette into her mouth, struck a match on the side of the cabinet, lit both and passed one to David.

  ‘Thanks.’ David took it and inhaled. He had smoked the cigarettes and cigars Harry had offered him enough times to know that he didn’t like the taste of tobacco but he didn’t want to risk hurting Gertie’s feelings.

  ‘You got any brothers as well as sisters?’ Gertie asked.

  ‘Two brothers, why?’

  ‘Just wondering.’ She plumped up the pillow behind her and sat up, deliberately allowing the sheet to fall to her waist. She was proud of her breasts and enjoyed David’s blatant admiration. ‘I’m the eldest of ten but two died when they were nippers. One of TB, one of typhoid.’

  ‘That must have been tough.’

  ‘Not as tough as when my dad got killed in the pit just before our youngest was born. He fell in front of a tram. Didn’t stand a chance – or so his buttie told my mam. One minute they were standing together talking, the next a runaway tram came crashing towards them and knocked him flying. Mam was determined not to go into the workhouse or put us in there, so we had to survive on ten bob parish relief, which covered the rent, and what she could make scrubbing out the local pub and taking in washing, which meant I had to leave school to look after the little ones.’

  ‘How old were you?’

  ‘Ten.’

  ‘You’re lucky you went for that long. I didn’t go to school at all.’

  ‘You never learned to read and write?’

  ‘My brother-in-law taught me a couple of years ago.’

  ‘I was a good scholar,’ she said earnestly and David sensed that she wasn’t boasting. ‘The headmaster told my dad I was clever enough to win a scholarship to go to college. He said I could become a teacher. But,’ she picked up an ashtray from the cabinet, flicked her ash into it and handed it to David, ‘I had to give up on that idea when Dad was killed.’

  ‘Are you sorry?’

  ‘No,’ she giggled. ‘Women teachers are supposed to live the life of dried-up spinsters. They’re not allowed to marry, and I like what we’ve just done too much to give it up. As for doing anything else, this is a damned sight easier and better than skivvying for my keep plus a couple of quid a year below stairs in some posh London house. Or scrubbing out filthy pubs and taking in washing like my mam has had to do for years and still does.’

  ‘What about your brothers and sisters. Now you’ve left home who is looking after them?’

  ‘Molly, she’s the next one down from me. When she got to be as good as me in taking care of them and helping Mam with the washing and housework, Mam said I had to go out and earn my keep. Mind you, she didn’t mean here. Just after I registered with a domestic agency one of the girls in our village came home to visit her mam and dad. She was living with Anna at the time, although she’s moved on to London since. She had lovely clothes. Silk frocks, new shoes – not boots – and a fur coat – real fur and she had a matching fur hat, gloves and scarf. She told me that I could earn a lot more here than I could in service. Mam was furious when she found out I’d talked to the girl. She told me that if I went with her she’d never allow me over her doorstep again. But I came down here anyway, and ever since I’ve sent Mam a pound a week. She wrote to tell me that she doesn’t like where it comes from but she’s never sent it back.’

  David squashed his half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray. ‘When I came down here Harry warned me about places like this and girls like you. He’d laugh if he could see us now.’

  ‘Why?’ she demanded, instantly on the defensive. ‘Because this room and this house, or what I’ve seen of it, is so ordinary.’

  ‘What did you expect?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’ She laughed again, an infectious chuckle that made him laugh as well. ‘You expected roomfuls of naked girls that you could take your pick from, exotic dancing and snakes.’

  ‘I definitely didn’t expect snakes. But you can’t blame me for imagining all sorts. There was nothing like this –’

  ‘On the farm?’ she finished for him.

  ‘Or in Pontardawe or Brecon.’

  ‘You can take it from me that if there are men around there’ll be a “house.” And Brecon has soldiers stationed there, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Close by.’

  ‘Then I take that back. There won’t be one house, there’ll be dozens.’ She crushed the remains of her cigarette on top of his, removed the ashtray and slid back down in the bed. ‘I like you, David. You’re easy to talk to. Can I call you Dai?’

  ‘If you want to.’ He moved restlessly away from her when she slid her hand between his thighs.

  ‘I haven’t had a Dai before.’ She propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him. ‘You going to become one of my regulars?’

  ‘What would that mean?’ he asked warily.

  ‘Coming to see me a couple of times a week. Not going off with one of the other girls if I’m busy, and waiting for me downstairs until I’m free. It’s cosy in our kitchen and there’s always a fresh pot of tea on the table.’ She kissed the base of his neck.

  ‘That doesn’t sound too bad.’ He played with her nipples.

  ‘And in return, I’ll be good to you. Awful good,’ she murmured, moving her body slowly and languorously over his until she drew him inside her.

  ‘That was a good afternoon’s shopping.’ Aled offered Judy his arm after they left Gwilym James.

  ‘I dread to think how expensive an afternoon’s shopping,’ Judy qualified.

  ‘That’s for me, not you, to worry about. And we have time for tea in the Park Hotel.’ Aled turned to Freddie, who looked hot and ill at ease in his woollen chauffeur’s jacket and cap. ‘We’ll walk to the Park and, as it’s only a few minutes from there to the theatre, you can go back to the Windsor. I’ll telephone you there if I need you again today.’

  Freddie tipped his cap and returned to the car.

  Aled waited for a motorcycle and side car to pass before crossing the road. ‘I spoke to George Powell this morning. Your dressing room will be finished by the middle of next week. I’ll give it a day or two to make sure the paint is dry before asking Gwilym James to send the clothes there. And you’ll need a dresser – someone who knows how to apply theatrical make-up, and cut and style hair, as well as care for quality clothes. Do you have anyone in mind?’

  ‘One of my aunts?’ Judy asked hopefully. ‘I could teach them about stage make-up.’

  Aled shook his head. ‘I want someone who knows every trick in the theatrical trade, not an amateur. What about the wardrobe mistress in the theatre?’

  ‘She’s been in the New Theatre for ever and although she knows clothes she knows nothing about make-up.’

  ‘The make-up artist?’

  ‘There isn’t one. We apply our
own, even Peter Pan and Captain Hook. But there is Mandy. She’s the head chorus girl, and she knows everything there is to know about make-up and clothes.’

  ‘But she’s a dancer.’

  ‘She told me that she’s thinking of hanging up her dancing shoes after this run.’

  ‘Mandy’s the tall blonde who always takes centre stage in the dance numbers?’

  ‘Yes,’ Judy confirmed.

  ‘She is getting on a bit for the chorus,’ he said callously. ‘Does she live on the Bay?’

  ‘No, she’s from West Wales but she’s played all over the country. England as well as Wales.’

  ‘A well-travelled lady indeed,’ Aled commented with a smile. ‘I’ll have a word with her after I’ve spoken to Lennie.’

  ‘You offered him the job of comic?’

  ‘Yes, and he’s taken it on principle but we still have a few details like salary to thrash out.’

  The doorman bowed to Aled before opening the door of the Park Hotel. Aled acknowledged the man and strode into the foyer as if he owned the place. Half a dozen people were waiting to be attended to at the desk. A bell boy was loading luggage on to a trolley next to the lift. Two old ladies were sitting side by side on a sofa, gossiping. The receptionist glanced up, saw Judy and froze.

  Judy’s grip tightened on Aled’s arm when every head in the room turned in their direction. All conversation ceased. She met the receptionist’s look and steeled herself for another scene. But Aled walked her straight to the lift. The bell boy moved the trolley away from the door; the lift boy stepped out and lifted his hand to his pork pie hat.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr James.’

  ‘And good afternoon to you, Tommy.’

  Judy saw Aled slip something into the boy’s hand. She’d noticed that Aled tipped wherever he went but always surreptitiously and, from the service he received whenever she was with him, she suspected, generously.

  They left the lift on the second floor. Aled walked down the corridor, took a key from his pocket and opened a door.

  ‘You have a room here?’ Mindful of her uncles’ directive never to be alone with Aled James, especially in a hotel room, Judy hung back.

  ‘A suite I use as an office,’ he explained. ‘The Windsor is too far from the centre of the city for some people’s convenience.’ He picked up a telephone from a desk set in front of the window and dialled a single number. ‘Room service? Tea for two, but bring a pot of coffee instead of tee … That’s right, sandwiches, scones and cakes. You recognise my voice? Then you’ll know to bring it to Room 22.’ He replaced the receiver and held out his hand. ‘Give me your jacket. I’ll hang it in the wardrobe.’ He opened a door and walked into an adjoining bedroom.

  ‘There is a bedroom here?’

  ‘And a bathroom. The restaurant is crowded with gossiping middle-aged, middle-class civil service wives and widows at this time of day. I thought we’d be more comfortable here.’ He opened the window. She joined him and looked down on the street below. A boy was standing on the corner, holding an armful of newspapers and shouting ‘Echo’. Well-dressed men and women strolled arm in arm, enjoying the warm summer sunshine. A street cleaner pushed a brush along the gutter, his stained and ragged blue canvas overalls shabby against the summer cream, white and pastel finery of the shoppers.

  ‘This suite and the one in the Windsor must be costing you a fortune,’ she said, awed by the elegance of the furniture and I.

  ‘A small one, but together they’re cheaper than buying a property, and they’ll do until the club opens. Once that is underway I’ll have time to look around and organise a more permanent office.’

  ‘In the city or Tiger Bay?’

  ‘Both. There’ll be an office suite in the club next to your dressing room.’ He sat in one of the brown leather armchairs and opened his cigar case. ‘You’re happy with your repertoire?’

  ‘I’ll be happier still after I’d had a chance to practise it.’

  ‘I’ve hired an orchestra leader. Stan Peterson recommended him, so he should know how to handle musicians. He’s arriving next Monday and he’ll be holding auditions in an upstairs room in the White Hart next week. Aiden’s sorting it, so tell your uncles to have a word with him if they if they want to apply.’

  ‘I’ll pass on the message.’

  ‘You don’t think they’ll be interested?’ He reached for his lighter.

  ‘It’s a regular job and everyone on the Bay is looking for one of those. But an Argentinian ship is leaving the docks at the end of the month. My Uncle Tony has been taken on as ship’s carpenter and he’s recommended Uncle Jed and Uncle Ron to the skipper, although it’s not certain they’ll get berths.’

  ‘Your uncles would prefer to go to sea than stay at home and play in a band?’

  ‘The sea’s their profession, the band’s a hobby. Just as Pastor Holsten – Micah – said: the Bute Street Blues are amateurs.’

  ‘Except for you.’

  ‘Sometimes when I wake in the night I have to pinch my arm to convince myself that I am performing on a professional stage.’

  ‘The only wonder is that you weren’t picked up by an impresario sooner. I’m glad I came along when I did. When I spoke to Stan Peterson on opening night he was talking about offering you work in London.’

  ‘He did,’ she said briefly.

  ‘The bastard – pardon my French – the swine,’ he amended in response to the startled look in her eyes. ‘Did he offer you more money?’

  ‘Not until after he asked what you were paying me.’·

  ‘You told him?’

  ‘Shouldn’t I have?’ She turned the question back on him.

  ‘I suppose there was no reason not to. Did he offer you more?’

  ‘He offered me the same plus three pounds a week lodging allowance.’

  ‘And you turned him down?’

  ‘Obviously,’ she smiled, ‘as I signed a contract with you.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I love Cardiff Bay. It’s my home, I know practically everyone there. And I like living with Edyth above her baker’s shop. It’s close to my family and,’ she smiled grimly, ‘I might need their kindness if I fall flat on my face on opening night in the club.’

  ‘You won’t,’ he said confidently.

  ‘But if I do, I can always go back to working with Edyth in her shop.’

  ‘That’s the last thing you’ll be doing. Good, our tea – or rather coffee.’ He opened the door and a waitress wheeled in a trolley.

  ‘Shall I pour for you, sir?’

  ‘No, Miss King will. Thank you.’ Aled signed the chit the girl handed him and slipped her a coin before closing the door behind her. ‘Mine’s milk and two sugars.’

  ‘I remember from the lunches.’ She picked up the coffee pot. ‘It seems odd to drink coffee at this time of day.’

  ‘I lost the habit of drinking tea in America. They drink coffee at all times of the day – and night.’ He took the cup she handed him and watched her set a plate and knife on the table beside him. ‘You look quite at home.’

  ‘Serving tea? I should do. I was a maid for long enough after I left school.’ She took her coffee and a cucumber sandwich and sat in a chair opposite his. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Not trying to get served in the restaurant downstairs. They wouldn’t have waited on me.’

  ‘Like the Windsor, they wouldn’t have dared not to, the amount I pay them for the use of this room.’

  ‘If they had, it would have been unwillingly and only after an unpleasant scene.’

  ‘At the risk of sounding tactless, it’s time you developed a thicker skin.’ He lifted two ham sandwiches on to his plate.

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘You haven’t come across prejudice before?’

  ‘Never in Butetown.’

  ‘And outside it?’

  ‘The only times I ever left it, apart from auditions, was on outings with my grandmother
or uncles and aunts when I was small. Looking back, I realise how much they must have shielded us children from unpleasantness.’

  ‘I knew you hated me making a scene in that first department store we went to, but life won’t get better for Negroes, or any coloured people, unless you yourselves make a stand. There’s a society in America called the Society for Advancement of Coloured People.’

  ‘I’ve heard of it. Uncle Jed reads a lot of political papers.’

  ‘Then you must know that people and their attitudes won’t change unless you force them to sit up and take notice of the injustice that’s being meted out in your direction.’

  ‘If you’re trying to tell me that I am a coward, I know I am.’

  ‘Not always, Stan told me that you had a go at the theatre manager over the way he treated your family and friends on opening night.’

  ‘I snapped at him, that was all.’

  ‘And there’s been no problem with your friends and family from the Bay coming into the New Theatre since?’

  ‘No, but that’s mostly down to Micah Holsten and Mr Peterson – and you. Uncle Jed told me that you were the one who suggested that Mr Peterson deal with the situation.’

  ‘Bigots despise the poor every bit as much as they despise coloured people and I was poor for long enough to develop a dislike of prejudice. Don’t let the cakes go to waste.’ He lifted a chocolate éclair on to his plate.

  She took another bite of her cucumber sandwich. ‘What’s America like?’

  ‘That’s like asking, ‘what’s Europe like?’. It’s a big country and some parts of it are as different as Russia is from Scotland. I spent most of my time in New York but I visited New Orleans a couple of times. That’s where I learned to appreciate jazz and good blues singers like you.’

  ‘I love listening to the records the sailors bring in. If they have something new they take it to the Norwegian Church Mission, so Micah can play it on the gramophone. That’s where the band practises and if Micah likes a piece we try to put it into our act.’

  ‘Talking about practising and rehearsing, I’ve decided to open the club on a Saturday night. A week to the day after Peter Pan closes. That will give you six days to rehearse with the orchestra and get used to them, provided the conductor can get one together next week.’