CATRIN COLLIER
Tiger Bay Blues
First published in Great Britain in 2006 by Orion
First published in paperback in Great Britain in 2007 by Orion
This edition published by Accent Press 2013
Copyright © Catrin Collier 2006
The right of Catrin Collier to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
ISBN 9781909840713
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental
Catrin Collier was born and brought up in Pontypridd. She lives in Swansea with her husband, three cats and whichever of her children choose to visit.
Works by Catrin Collier
The Brothers & Lovers series:
Beggars and Choosers
Finders and Keepers
Sinners and Shadows
Winners and Losers
Tiger Bay Blues
Tiger Ragtime
Other series:
Hearts of Gold
Swansea Girls
(including Black-eyed Devils – QuickReads)
Novels:
One Last Summer
Magda’s Daughter
The Long Road To Baghdad
As Katherine John:
Without Trace
Midnight Murders
Murder of a Dead Man
By Any Other Name
The Amber Knight
Black Daffodil
A Well Deserved Murder
Destruction of Evidence
The Corpse’s Tale (QuickReads)
DEDICATION
For Margaret Bloomfield, with love and gratitude for her unstinting friendship and support. A poor thank you for all her many kindnesses
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank everyone who helped me research this book and so generously gave of their time and expertise.
All the dedicated staff of the Butetown History and Arts Centre who are doing so much to preserve the spirit of the old Tiger Bay and chronicle the truly multi-cultural community that existed there before so many of its fine buildings were demolished in the 1960s.
Rhondda Cynon Taff’s exceptional library service, especially Mrs Lindsay Morris for her on-going help and support. Hywel Matthews and Catherine Morgan, the archivists at Pontypridd, and Nick Kelland, the archivist at Treorchy library.
The staff of Pontypridd Museum, Brian Davies, David Gwyer and Ann Cleary, for allowing me to dip into their extensive collection of old photographs and for doing such a wonderful job of preserving the history of Pontypridd.
And all the booksellers and readers who make writing such a privileged occupation.
And while I wish to acknowledge all the assistance I received, I wish to state that any errors in Tiger Bay Blues are entirely mine.
Catrin Collier, August 2005
Chapter One
Edyth walked out of the back door of the substantial villa that her father had built on the outskirts of Pontypridd, opened the door to the outside pantry and shivered in the draught of freezing air that blasted out to meet her. At ten o’clock in the morning, the temperature was already high, but the stone-walled pantry had been sunk below ground level. Summer or winter it remained ice-cold, which was just as well for the numerous shrouded bowls and plates ranged on the marble slabs that lined the walls. For days their housekeeper, Mari, had been marshalling all the assistance she could commandeer from family and friends to prepare salads, cold fish and meat dishes, cheeses and desserts.
‘A veritable feast,’ Edyth’s youngest brother Glyn had declared when he’d been allowed to ‘lick out’ the bowls used to mix the cakes and desserts. Although he was only six, he loved using long words, even when he didn’t have a clue what they meant.
Edyth switched on the electric light her father had insisted the builder install, even in the outbuildings, walked down the steps and picked up one of the trays of rosebud buttonholes that she had helped her mother, sisters, aunts and cousins make the night before. To her relief, all the flowers still looked fresh, as did the bridesmaids’ posies and bride’s bouquet, which stood in buckets of water on the floor.
‘God Bless Mari,’ she murmured. The housekeeper’s idea of wrapping the stems in damp cotton wool had worked, despite her sister’s Bella’s prediction that the flowers would wither in the heat and the only bridal bouquet she’d have was the faded blue and white wax one that their neighbour, old Mrs Hopkins, kept under a glass dome in her hall.
Edyth balanced the buttonhole trays on one arm, backed out and shut the pantry door before the warm air could reach the food. The plaintive notes of a lone saxophone playing the first few bars of ‘The Wedding March’ drifted from the front lawn. She stopped to listen. Two hot, clammy hands closed around her waist from behind. She jumped, almost dropping the trays.
‘The band’s arrived.’
‘Let me go, Charlie Moore,’ she commanded irritably.
‘Didn’t you hear me? I said the band’s arrived.’
‘I have ears.’ She set the trays on the kitchen window sill and turned to confront him. Charlie Moore was twenty-one and good looking, in a well-heeled, smooth kind of way. He was wealthy too, courtesy of his family’s Cardiff shipping business. But – and she had found this to be an insurmountable ‘but’, despite his family’s friendship with Bella’s fiancée, Toby, he was also arrogant and convinced that he was every woman’s dream lover.
Instead of releasing her as she’d demanded, he locked his hands even tighter. ‘You weren’t very nice to me at the reception to unveil Toby’s paintings in my grandfather’s shipping office.’
‘You weren’t very nice to me,’ she retorted.
‘All I did was kiss you. My cheek still hurts from the slap you gave me.’
‘You deserved a bruise after jumping out at me like that when I was leaving the cloakroom. You scared me half to death.’
‘Be nice to me and I’ll show you a good time,’ he wheedled. ‘My father gave me a sports car last week as a belated graduation present.’
‘Bully for you.’
‘We could go places. Cardiff, Swansea, Barry Island, Porthcawl…’
‘I’ve been to all of them.’ She dug her nails into the back of his hands, but failed to dislodge his grip.
‘Not with me.’
‘I’m particular who I go out with.’
‘Come on, Edie, I know you want to kiss me.’ He turned her around. ‘I can see your lips puckering right now.’
‘If they are it’s because you’ve squeezed me so tight I’m going to be sick.’ She opened her mouth as if she was
about to retch. He stepped back in alarm. She laughed and opened the kitchen door.
‘Always joking, aren’t you?’ he griped.
‘Only with clowns.’
‘Seriously, Edyth, you will save me some dances at the reception, won’t you?’
‘No.’
‘Come on, stop teasing. You know you’re burning to be my girl.’
‘When I say something I mean it, Charlie Moore, and contrary to your belief I am not “burning to be your girl”. Now, go away, I’m busy.’ She picked up the trays again.
‘I could carry those for you,’ he offered.
‘No, thank you,’ she refused tartly. ‘What are you doing here anyway? All the groomsmen should be next door at Toby’s, helping him prepare for his big day.’
‘He sent me over.’
‘A likely story,’ she scoffed.
‘It’s true,’ he protested.
‘Do you need help out here, Miss Edyth?’ Spatula in hand, Mari came to the door. She looked from Edyth to Charlie.
‘Mr Moore appears to have lost his way. But I’ve just reminded him that he should be next door.’ Edyth lifted the tray so the housekeeper could inspect it. ‘The flowers are perfect, thanks to your idea of keeping the stems wrapped in damp cotton wool.’
‘Toby sent me over here to get buttonholes for the groomsmen but Edyth won’t give me any,’ Charlie complained to Mari.
‘You didn’t ask for buttonholes,’ Edyth snapped.
‘You told me to go back next door before I had a chance.’
‘Here’s one for Toby and one for you.’ Edyth picked up two from the tray and held them out to him.
Charlie took them from her. ‘What about the rest of the groom’s bridal party and the ushers?’
‘The best man and one usher are here, but I suppose we can spare half a dozen for anyone who calls in at Toby’s before going to the church. If you need any more you’ll have to come back to get them. From me.’ Mari took six roses from the tray and slipped them into an enamel bowl.
‘I’ll take these into the hall so everyone can help themselves.’ Edyth balanced both trays on one arm so she could open the interior door.
‘I’ll take them for you, if you like,’ Charlie stepped in.
‘No, thank you. I can manage, Mr Moore.’
‘Your wrapper’s slipping, Miss Edyth.’ Mari retied the bow on the overall Edyth was wearing over her frock. ‘You don’t want to get your bridesmaid’s finery dirty. You still here, Mr Moore?’ The housekeeper pushed the bowl into his hands and closed the back door in his face. ‘You want to watch that one, Miss Edyth,’ she warned.
‘Don’t worry, I already am, Mari. And he’s not my type.’
‘Heartbreaker,’ Mari teased.
‘That’s me.’
‘Someone will catch you one day,’ Mari called after her.
‘I’m keeping myself for the Prince of Wales.’
Mari laughed. Unlike Bella, Edyth had never had a serious boyfriend. From babyhood she had been the tomboy in the family, always more interested in climbing trees, riding bikes and horses, and playing football, than dolls and tea parties.
The porch and front doors were open, and Edyth saw that the saxophonist had been joined by the rest of the band in the gazebo on the lawn. They’d switched from ‘The Wedding March’ to ‘You’re Driving Me Crazy’. A young, brown-skinned girl with a mature and hauntingly husky voice was belting out toe-tapping notes that drifted in through the windows, which were flung wide in hope of catching a non-existent breeze.
The whole country was basking in a heat wave. The broiling sun and cloudless sky was more appropriate to equatorial climes than Wales in July. Edyth set the trays on the hall stand and checked her reflection in the mirror. Bella was the acknowledged beauty in the family, having inherited their Spanish grandmother’s black hair and beguiling dark eyes. But she wasn’t too displeased with her own light brown hair and tawny eyes. Both held just enough of a hint of russet gold to lift her looks above the category of mousy.
Mindful of Mari’s warning about her overall, she slipped it off and studied her gold satin, floor-length bridesmaid’s gown. Fortunately, there were no smudges or signs of creasing around the waist. But she was furious with Charlie Moore for daring to put his hands on her. Damned man – when she was angry she had no compunction about using the swear words she’d picked up from her male cousins – how dare he untie her overall and take liberties with her?
The frock, cut to the same pattern as Bella’s wedding gown, clung to her figure, which she considered rounded in the right places; but was it too rounded? She stood sideways so she could see her profile. Were her hips too large and her bust too small?
A door slammed on the landing and her elder brother, Harry, left the bedroom that had been his before he’d married, and ran down the stairs, whistling an accompaniment to the band.
‘Aren’t I handsome in a morning suit, and isn’t that the perfect piece of music to set the tone for the day?’ He swept her up and quickstepped her down the hall.
‘If anyone is driving anyone crazy it’s you men,’ she countered, thinking of Charlie Moore. ‘None of you should be allowed near a wedding.’
‘Difficult to have one without us,’ he observed philosophically.
‘I’ll make an exception for the bridegroom and father of the bride, no one else.’
‘The bridegroom needs a best man and I have the ring all safe.’ Harry released her and patted the breast pocket of his morning suit.
‘Until you lose it.’
‘It isn’t like you to spit razor blades so early in the morning, sis. Who’s annoyed you? Tell big brother all, and I’ll flatten him for you.’
‘How do you know it’s a him?’
‘Because you’re only angry with men.’ Harry picked up one of the rosebuds and tucked it into his buttonhole. It fell forward at an angle.
‘You really would flatten him for me if I asked you to, wouldn’t you?’ Edyth smiled at Harry’s offer and realised that if she wasn’t careful she would allow one trivial incident with Charlie Moore to ruin the day, not only for her but for the family.
‘Hand me the wooden sword from our old toy box and I will sally forth.’
She took the flower from him. ‘Like all men, you’re as helpless as a baby without the redeeming cuteness.’ She winced as a crowd of boys, ranging in age from twelve to four, raced noisily past the front door, whooping and shouting.
‘Is that Pirate, or a Red Indian language?’ Harry asked.
‘How would I know?’
‘You see them more often than I do.’
The boys disappeared, scattering the chippings on the path in their wake. ‘See what I mean about the male sex? They’re so excited some of them are bound to be sick. I only hope they ruin their own clothes and no one else’s.’
‘Better they misbehave now than later, in church.’
‘It’s difficult to know which are worse: Uncle Victor’s boys, Uncle’s Joey’s, or your brothers-in-law. I’ve had to help Glyn change his shirt twice this morning because “someone” he wouldn’t snitch on stole a plate of chocolate éclairs from the pantry and passed them around. Thank goodness Mam insisted he dress in ordinary clothes when he woke this morning. His pageboy outfit would have been filthy by now.’ Edyth opened a drawer, took a pin from the cushion their mother kept there and secured the flower firmly to Harry’s lapel.
‘I’m on Glyn’s side. Weddings can be boring. Especially this waiting around while you girls preen and dress up in your glad rags.’ Harry could always be counted on to defend his only brother, who was nineteen years younger than him.
‘Glyn is involved, he’s a pageboy.’
Given what Harry had overhead Glyn and his youngest brother-in-law, Luke, say about their gold satin knickerbocker suits, he decided a change of subject might be tactful. ‘I saw Uncle Victor’s twins and Uncle Joey’s Eddie sneak into the laundry room earlier.’
‘Why would they go i
n there?’
‘They had bottles of beer up their sleeves and cigars sticking out of their top pockets.’
‘Honestly, they’re sixteen going on six!’ She took a small bottle from the drawer, unscrewed the gold top, pulled out the rubber stopper and dabbed perfume on to her fingertip.
Harry sniffed. ‘Nice scent, sis.’ He couldn’t resist adding, ‘It’s better than your usual eau de tennis and stables.’
‘You have my permission to shout at him, Edyth.’ Harry’s wife, Mary, led their toddler daughter, Ruth, out of the drawing room.
‘Charming, my wife and my sister ganging up on me!’ Harry looked down at his daughter. ‘Oh, my giddy aunt, Ruthie darling, you look pretty.’
Ruth held up the ballerina-length skirt of her gold satin flower-girl frock and did a twirl. ‘And a basket,’ she lisped, waving a gold-painted wicker basket in the air.
‘Which we’re going to fill with roses, aren’t we, poppet?’ Edyth slipped her overall back on to protect her dress, before picking Ruth up and kissing her.
‘My beautiful girl, or is it girls?’ Harry kissed Mary’s cheek and patted her six-month ‘bump’.
‘Please have another girl, Mary,’ Edyth pleaded, as the boys ran screaming past the front door again.
‘Girls are more trouble, especially when they try to keep up with the boys. How many bones have you broken, sis?’
Edyth ignored Harry’s question. ‘Why don’t you do something useful and take all the boys next door so they can annoy Toby? But leave Dad here. He’ll be needed to escort the bride.’
‘Edyth!’ Maggie, the next sister down in age from Edyth, called from the top of the stairs. ‘Bella’s asking where you put her bouquet and the bridesmaids’ posies.’
‘In the outside pantry. I saw them when I picked up the buttonholes. They’re perfect. Mari promised to take them out and dry the stems. Do you want me to check to see if she’s remembered?’
‘Please.’ Maggie returned to Bella’s bedroom.
‘I agree with Edyth; you and the boys would be better out of the way next door at Toby’s until it’s time to go to the church,’ Mary suggested diplomatically to Harry.
Tiger Bay Blues Page 1