‘Hello, it’s a nice evening,’ she called over the garden wall.
‘It is, but cold for young ladies to be out without a coat.’
She peered into the gathering twilight. ‘Jack?’ she murmured hesitantly.
‘Brian Powell. We’ve met, Miss Griffiths, but I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.’ He stepped closer and extended his hand over the wall. ‘How do you do?’
Roy opened the door quietly and trod as lightly as he could down the passage, but he needn’t have bothered. Norah was sitting in an easy chair in their kitchen-cum-living room, hemming a skirt for a customer. ‘I thought you’d be listening to the wireless in the parlour with the girls.’
‘This needs finishing. Your supper’s on the table.’ He lifted the cloth on a plate to see beautifully cut and presented ham sandwiches.
‘The mustard’s in front of you.’
‘I don’t deserve a sister like you.’
‘You don’t.’ Norah bit the end off a thread, and reached for the cotton reel on the small table next to her. ‘But I can’t say I blame you for taking refuge down the pub with all that wailing earlier. Not that Katie knows anything for certain one way or the other, and there’ll be no peace in the house until she does.’
‘Katie’s right, she hasn’t got the job.’ Roy sat at the table picked up a knife and reached for the mustard pot.
‘You can’t possibly know that.’
‘I met John Griffiths in the Rose. He didn’t know Katie had an interview at Thomas and Butler’s, but he told me Helen had and she’d been given the junior’s post.’
‘That girl!’ Norah laid down her needle in indignation. ‘She wouldn’t get a place in a bus queue on her own merit. This is Esme Griffiths pulling strings again ...’
‘Before you say another word it might be for the best.’
‘How can you even think that? Helen only has to click her fingers to get whatever she wants. Money, clothes, and look what that led to on Saturday night. John is far too lenient on her. That girl’s never been disciplined in her life. Mark my words, there’ll be more trouble there. Besides, poor Katie needs the money far more than Helen Griffiths with her overflowing wardrobe and pocket money that would keep a family of four in food for a week.’
‘When I told John that Katie had applied for the junior’s post and was upset because she didn’t think she’d got it, he offered her a job in the office of his warehouse. His secretary is leaving but she’ll have time to train Katie before she goes. Two pounds five shillings a week for a month’s trial. If Katie’s not up to the work he’ll find her a place in his warehouse; if she is, he’ll keep her on in the office and up her wages.’
‘John offered Katie a job?’ Norah stared at Roy in disbelief.
‘She can start when she likes. As far as John is concerned, the sooner the better. He suggested she go round there for a chat, but it is only a formality. The job’s hers if she wants it.’
‘Good for John. I always did like that man. Well?’ Norah peered at Roy over her glasses. ‘What are you waiting for? Call the girls and tell Katie to go round there.’
‘Now?’
‘It’s not yet ten o’clock, or has John Griffiths had even more to drink than you?’
‘We had two pints,’ Roy remonstrated mildly.
‘Some might believe you, I don’t. Go on, Roy. Find the girl and make her day, if not her week. She’s had nothing but bad news since she came home to find Annie in a mess on Saturday night.’
‘Could I do with a swim!’ Robin sighed, watching Geraldine disappear down Sketty Road.
‘Cold shower more like,’ Joe observed caustically as he pulled away from the kerb.
‘She is so ... so ...’
‘Hot?’ Joe suggested.
‘It was hot in that studio.’ He looked across at Joe. ‘You want a dip?’
‘I don’t want a late night. I have an early start in the morning.’
‘Ah, ha, you’ve been shunted on to Thought for the Day. That’ll teach you to be nice to vicars.’
‘It’ll be a new experience.’
‘Working on Thought for the Day is the kind of experience I never want to have.’ Robin craned his neck to catch a last glimpse of Geraldine. ‘I don’t have to go in until six o’clock tomorrow evening. One hour from now I intend to be tipsy, two hours from now drunk. Very, very drunk. In fact, so drunk I won’t be able to crawl out of bed until five tomorrow afternoon, that way I might succeed in avoiding my parents for the next twenty-four hours. You wouldn’t believe the lectures I’ve had since Saturday.’
‘You told your parents what happened?’
‘The duty police surgeon was on the phone to my father first thing Sunday morning. God! The sparrows hadn’t even woken up. You can always count on the doctors in this town to tell one another everything. If you want to spread a rumour forget the newspapers, just whisper it into the medical grapevine.’
‘What did he say?’ Joe asked, recalling that Helen had been forced to undergo the indignity of a medical examination.
‘That Larry behaved as no gentleman would and should have been put in the cells and left to rot.’
‘What do you think?’
‘That I’d be doing pigs a disfavour by saying Larry behaved like one. Even allowing that he was drunk and didn’t know Helen was your sister, he shouldn’t have treated any woman the way he treated her. Everyone I’ve talked to has said the same thing. As of Sunday morning, Larry’s been officially, universally and publicly shunned by all who matter, including and especially my people.’
‘You’re not just saying that because Helen is my sister?’
‘We all have sisters. And it’s not only Angie my father is concerned about. I have been expressly forbidden to socialise or even communicate with Larry because Larry has, and I quote, “embraced evil, become embroiled in the devil’s ways and is likely to sway me from the paths of righteousness”, or something along those lines. My father goes in for biblical language when he lectures on moral rectitude.’
‘My father will be pleased to hear that no one wants to know Larry. I think if he had been able to get to him on Saturday night he might have killed him.’
‘And you?’
‘I’ve decided to jump Larry on the first day of term.’
‘Larry’s not worth being sent down for, or the aggravation I’ve been subjected to. Endless, boring lectures from my mother on how to treat females as ladies and it was no better when I escaped to the billiard room. All I got there was my father telling me that no gentleman ever forces his “companionship” on a woman, much less rips off her dress. And then came the worst bit; he poured out the whisky and after a couple of glasses got all chummy and suggested that if I ever have an overwhelming, uncontrollable urge he knows a woman he can fix me up with.’
‘How embarrassing. What did you say?’
‘It’s what I didn’t say. I could have begun with the night we picked up those tarts outside the Museum.’
‘You didn’t tell him about that!’
‘What do you take me for?’ Robin looked sideways at Joe as he slowed the car and changed down a gear. ‘You’ve never talked about that night.’
‘Because I’d rather not.’
‘If you promise to keep your mouth shut, I’ll tell you something.’
‘About Larry?’
‘Me. I paid that woman two pounds but I didn’t let her near me. I couldn’t. She was old, ugly and covered in sores. It was horrible. I couldn’t even bring myself to kiss her.’
Joe burst out laughing. ‘My experience wasn’t any better.’
‘Then you didn’t do anything either?’
‘Not that night.’
‘I’ve been thinking. What Larry did to your sister was foul and he shouldn’t have done it to any woman but forgetting all that, I think it – I mean sex – has to mean something. When all’s said and done we’re not bloody animals.’
‘This coming from the man who was pan
ting after Geraldine five minutes ago?’
Robin sat silently as Joe drove through the gate to the garaging and parking area in front of his house. ‘You ever done it?’ he asked suddenly.
‘What?’
‘Stop being so bloody obtuse. Slept with a girl.’
‘I’ve played around.’
‘We’ve all played around. I got Emily to take off her blouse yesterday.’
Joe stared at him, as much taken aback by the revelation as the fact that Robin got Emily to undress for him.
‘Just her blouse. And I needn’t have bothered. The man who built the vaults in the Bank of England probably designed the corset she was wearing underneath it. Park by the door. As I intend to spend tomorrow in bed nursing my hangover, you may as well borrow the car.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘I told you I intend to get drunk and sleep away most of the day. You can pick me up in the evening and drive me to work.’ Robin left the car and slammed the door. He rang the bell. ‘Damn, I forgot.’ He patted his pockets. ‘Pops and Mums have taken Angie to some boring party or other. They gave Mrs John the night off and it looks like I’ve forgotten my keys. Come on, let’s go round the back.’
Picking up the spare key from its hidey-hole behind a loose brick in the garden wall, Robin unlocked the door to the sun lounge at the rear of the house, switched on the inside and outside lights, pulled off his pullover and slung it on one of the cushioned rattan chairs. He gazed at the long narrow pool that filled the area between the patio and the lawn.
‘Thank God we’ve the place to ourselves. I can’t wait.’ Kicking off his shoes, he left them where they lay. It never ceased to amaze Joe just how carelessly Robin flung his clothes around the house. If he’d done the same his mother would have shouted at him for a week. But then the Watkin Morgans had a live-in housekeeper as well as a maid, while his mother, as she was so fond of telling his father, had to put up with a daily, and an incompetent one at that.
‘Bring the whisky and a couple of glasses, will you,’ Robin shouted, as he dived naked into the deep end of the pool.
Joe didn’t need a second invitation. One of the best things about his friendship with Robin was the Watkin Morgans’ hospitality and the way they encouraged him to treat their home as his own. It had taken him a while to become accustomed to the blasé attitude ex-public schoolboys like Robin had to nudity but now he had no qualms about joining in Robin’s all-male swimming parties.
Tossing his clothes on to a chair in the sun lounge, he dived to the bottom of the pool. As the cool, clean water closed over his head he was filled with gratitude towards Robin. Not only for his friendship but for the way he had dismissed Larry. He hated any kind of unpleasantness and it would be far easier to ignore Larry along with everyone else than to confront him.
Chapter Eleven
‘I don’t have to go to an interview?’
Roy tried not to smile, lest Katie think he were laughing at her. ‘Not in an office, but Mr Griffiths would like a word with you.’
Katie glanced at the clock. ‘Now?’
‘It’s late but not that late.’ Norah knew there was no way Katie would settle until she heard the job was hers from John Griffiths.
‘We walked up from the pub together so he’s in now.’
‘I wouldn’t be disturbing him?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Roy prised the lid off one of Norah’s cake tins and foraged for a rock cake. ‘He said Mrs Griffiths and Joe were out.’
‘I could see Helen while Katie talks to her father.’
Norah frowned at Lily.
‘Just talk, Auntie Norah,’ Lily pleaded. ‘There’s no harm in that. Joe said she wasn’t allowed out. I can’t stop thinking about her. She must be feeling just awful, and lonely,’ she added, sensing her aunt wavering.
‘All right, you can go, but I want both of you back in this house before half past ten. You’ve got work tomorrow, Lily. Katie, take one of the walking sticks out of the stand in the hall. Whatever you do, don’t put any weight on that ankle or you’ll find yourself in bed for a week. And, Lily, not too sympathetic with Helen, please. She did take that dress from her father’s warehouse without asking.’
‘We heard you on the radio, Joe, you too, Robin. The play was good.’
‘Emily, Angie, clear off, we’re not fit to be seen,’ Robin shouted as Emily Murton Davies and his sister walked out of the sun lounge on to the patio that bordered the pool.
‘We listened to every word.’ Angela draped herself elegantly along a deckchair, hiked up her skirt and crossed her long, slim legs to display them to their best advantage. ‘The doorman was wonderful. He spoke completely in character and really made you believe in him as a doorman; the chauffeur, on the other hand, was dreadfully wooden.’
‘I couldn’t give a damn what you thought of the play. Clear off, both of you.’ Robin looked for something he could throw at his sister but seeing nothing within reach, he gave up and swam to the side of the pool to join Joe who was pressing himself rigidly against the side.
‘Neither of you has anything we haven’t seen. We’ve both been to life-drawing classes.’
‘For God’s sake, Angie, I’m your brother.’
‘Joe isn’t.’
‘All the more reason for you to go inside.’ Joe moved closer to Robin as Emily walked down the side of the pool, presumably in the hope of getting a better view.
‘Help! We’re drowning.’
‘There’s no one to hear you, Robin. Mums and Pops are still at the party and from the jolly state of Pops and the way they were both enjoying themselves they won’t be home for hours.’
‘So you intend just to lie there.’ Joe flushed crimson as Angela coolly parried his scowl.
‘Only until you come out of the water.’ She picked up a towel from the deckchair next to hers. ‘Then, I’ll dry you off.’
‘These are my certificates and Miss Crabbe – that’s my teacher in night school – wrote a testimonial.’ Katie’s hand shook as she handed John Griffiths the envelope Richard Thomas had barely glanced at.
‘Thank you, Katie, please, sit down.’
‘My marks were good.’ Katie perched on the edge of the uncomfortable sofa in the Griffithses’ lounge and tried to look anywhere other than at Helen’s father as he scanned her papers. The skin on one side of his face was purplish red, blotched, puckered and heavily scarred, his left hand skeletal and claw-like. She’d never been so close to him before but, strangely, she wasn’t repelled by his disfigurement as she’d expected to be, more fascinated in some peculiar way. Realising most people would react as she was, she made a conscious effort not to stare.
‘Not just good but excellent.’ John replaced the papers in the envelope and handed it back to her.
‘But I have no real experience of office work, only my classes in night school, Mr Griffiths.’
‘You’re not supposed to emphasise your shortcomings when you apply for a job, Katie.’
Unnerved by his cautionary advice and even more by his gentle smile, she fell silent.
‘I gather you have worked,’ John prompted, finding her lack of confidence endearing, particularly when contrasted to his daughter’s surfeit of self-assurance before last Saturday.
‘Just in the cafe, Mr Griffiths, and Mr Thomas from Thomas and Butler’s more or less said that didn’t count. So are you sure you want me to work for you?’
‘I am sure your Miss Crabbe didn’t tell you to ask that question at a job interview, Katie, but as we’re being honest, no, I’m not sure I want you to work for me.’ In an attempt to put her at ease John deliberately left the lounge door open as he sat in a chair opposite her. ‘And I won’t be sure until you have worked alongside my secretary for a few weeks. If you cope you can have her position when she leaves at the end of the month. If you can’t, I’ll find you a place in the warehouse. Is two pounds five shillings a week while you’re training all right?’
‘Yes, Mr Griffiths
.’ Katie’s eyes sparkled in the lamplight.
‘Will you be able to start on Monday?’
‘I should think so, but I’ll have to give notice in the cafe.’
‘Let me know. The sooner you start the better from my point of view because there’s a lot for you to learn. I don’t know what you’re used to but we work long hours in the warehouse. Eight till six, five days a week and eight till one on Thursdays. Occasionally, at busy times of the year, like Christmas and the end of the summer school uniform rush, there’ll be overtime but you’ll get an extra hourly rate to compensate.’
‘I wouldn’t mind working on for nothing ...’
‘I’m an employer, Katie, not an exploiter. Would you like to ask me any questions?’
Katie racked her brains in an effort to come up with something intelligent but, too excited to think of anything coherent, she shook her head. ‘I don’t think so but thank you, Mr Griffiths.’
‘Then hopefully I’ll see you next Monday. If you can’t make it, drop in and let me know when you can start.’
‘I’ll call in on my way home from work tomorrow night. I’ll know by then.’
‘By the noise I’d say Helen and Lily are in the kitchen. Why don’t you join them?’
‘Thank you, Mr Griffiths, and thank you for the job.’
As Katie left the room John went to the cocktail cabinet, opening and closing it quickly to minimise ‘Stranger in Paradise’, a tune he was rapidly coming to hate. Taking the whisky bottle and glass he had snatched, he sat back and basked briefly in the warm glow that engulfed him whenever he made a charitable donation or managed to help someone less fortunate than himself. But after a few moments all thoughts of Katie were forgotten as he tried to make sense of the welter of conflicting emotions Esme had generated.
The more he contemplated his marriage, the more he wondered if Esme had ever cared for him, or if he had merely been a solution to a problem. His inability to pinpoint her whereabouts on Saturday night had brought home to him just how far they had drifted apart. Esme had been keeping late hours for years, but it had been humiliating when he’d been forced to admit publicly that he didn’t know where his wife was at one in the morning. And the blame wasn’t entirely hers. He had chosen not to question Esme as to where she went and what she did a long time ago, because it had been easier to continue with the pretence that their marriage was fine rather than confront the reality that she no longer loved him. That’s if she ever had. The only wonder was she had married him at all – but then perhaps there hadn’t been another naive, trusting fool around at the time.
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