‘I’m looking for record sleeves, not handbags, and I’ve just found them.’ Maggie filched two from the magazine stand and waved them in the air.
‘I know I brought my bag downstairs. I’m sure I put it on the sofa – ’
‘Try the hall table, darling.’ Sali carried in the crocodile-skin handbag that she and Lloyd had given Edyth for her eighteenth birthday. ‘You look nice, Edyth, That shade of green suits you.’
‘Thank you, Mam.’ Edyth took the handbag from her mother. ‘I should have remembered I’d left it with the cosmetics I sorted for the girls in the club.’
‘None of mine, I hope.’ Maggie returned the last record to the cupboard, slammed the door and dived out into the hall.
‘I only cleared my own and Bella’s dressing tables of the things we no longer use,’ Edyth called after her. ‘Although I bet there are just as many abandoned lipsticks, half-empty bottles of scent, and tubs of face powder that aren’t suited to your complexion in your bedroom if you’d take the trouble to look.’ She checked her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace and adjusted the angle of her straw hat.
‘I don’t need to look in my room because I’m nowhere near as wasteful as you.’ Maggie appeared in the doorway and held open the brown paper and string shopping bag that Edyth had filled. ‘Mam, have you seen what Edyth’s put in here? There has to be at least ten shillings’ worth of bits and pieces. That’s an awful lot of money to waste.’
‘Everything in that bag is either an unwanted present or has been paid for out of my own or Bella’s allowance.’ Edyth snatched the bag from her sister. ‘And better the things in there are put to some use, than left to spoil until they’re no good to anyone.’
‘Does Belle know you’re giving her things away?’
‘She told me to take whatever I wanted from her room.’
‘I bet!’ Maggie retorted belligerently.
‘Girls! Stop bickering, you’re disturbing your father,’ Sali intervened sharply. ‘Maggie, darling, there are times when you sound more like a fishwife than a young lady, and given that Mari was complaining only this morning that she was hard put to find space in your room for your clean washing, it might be an idea for you to follow Edyth’s example and clear out the things you no longer need from your wardrobe and dressing table.’
The colour heightened in Maggie’s cheeks. She turned her back to Sali and stuck her tongue out at Edyth. Edyth decided it was more diplomatic to leave than retaliate. ‘If I don’t go now, I’ll be late. Bye, Mam, Dad. Maggie,’ she added brusquely. ‘See you later.’
‘Don’t forget to invite Peter Slater in if he walks you home, Edyth,’ Sali called after her.
‘Must we watch him make gooey eyes at Edie across the supper table every church youth club night?’ Maggie complained irritably.
Pretending she hadn’t heard her sister, Edyth called back, ‘All right, Mam,’ and closed the front door behind her.
The weather had, if anything, become even warmer since Bella’s wedding. The air was still, hot and devoid of oxygen. Edyth breathed in the scent of the white cabbage roses that her mother loved, and stole a moment to watch the bees and butterflies hovering above the lavender and geraniums.
The church clock chimed the quarter of an hour, she glanced at her wristwatch and realised she was going to be late if she wanted to be in the club when Peter arrived. She raced down the long, sloping drive, hopping, skipping and swinging her bag like a child.
To her surprise, Peter was waiting for her at the gate. He lifted his hat when he saw her and offered her his arm. ‘Good evening.’
‘It is a good evening, isn’t it?’ Familiarity hadn’t lessened the quickening of her heartbeat every time she caught a glimpse of him. In fact, it added to the excitement she felt, even if it was only a momentary sighting across crowded Taff Street. ‘What are you doing here at this time of day?’
‘If I had no regard for the truth, I would say waiting for you so we could walk to the church hall together, but the Reverend Price asked me to deliver a basket of fruit to Mrs Hopkins.’
‘She’s suffering from another attack of gout. Mam and Mari called to see her this afternoon. They said she was poorly and very uncomfortable in this heat.’
‘I didn’t find her at all well. She was –’
‘Complaining long and loudly?’ Edyth suggested when he paused to search for the right word.
‘Constant pain must be wearing,’ he answered diplomatically.
‘Mrs Hopkins wasn’t the happiest of our neighbours even before she had gout.’ She hooked her arm into his.
He took the bag she was carrying from her. ‘More cosmetics for the girls in the youth club?’
‘Just a few odd things that were cluttering Bella’s and my dressing tables. I’m glad they can be of use.’
‘You’ve improved those girls beyond all recognition in a few short weeks, and not only in their appearance. They’re behaving more like young ladies and less like the hooligans I saw when I first arrived.’
‘They were teasing you. A young, good-looking curate should expect to attract attention,’ she said lightly.
‘That is not the sort of thing an attractive young woman should say to a minister of the church.’ There was a hint of seriousness in his voice.
‘That’s why I said it,’ she flirted boldly.
‘Edyth …’
‘Yes, Peter,’ she prompted when he didn’t continue.
‘I waited for you at your gate because I was hoping to speak to you before youth club.’
‘About the play?’ She swallowed hard. Had she been too forward, too obvious? Was he about to embarrass her by asking her to cool her friendship towards him?
‘Not about the play.’ He began again. ‘Edyth, I …’
She braced herself for rejection, but when his voice trailed a second time she said, ‘I had hoped that we knew one another well enough by now to say almost anything, Peter.’
‘You are only eighteen,’ he blurted uneasily.
‘Guilty.’ The comment made her all the more certain that he wanted to tell her that they could never be more than friends.
‘There’s ten years between us. I will be twenty-eight on my next birthday.’
‘When will that be?’
‘The twentieth of August.’
‘I’ll put it in my diary and bake you a cake,’ she rejoined flippantly, in a desperate attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere that had fallen between them.
‘I’m not one of your brothers or cousins.’ He slowed to a halt.
She released his arm and looked into his eyes, but found it difficult to read the expression in them. ‘Does that mean you won’t allow me to tease you any more?’
‘No.’ He didn’t even smile. ‘But the Reverend Price spoke to me this morning. He said there’s been talk in the town.’
‘About us?’
‘He reminded me that I’m a curate and you are a lively and attractive young woman. He went on to talk about my position in the Church and my hopes for advancement, and finished by saying that the last thing I can afford to do is attract gossip or cause a scandal.’
‘Reverend Price thinks it’s scandalous that you walk me home from youth club and occasionally stay to supper?’ she questioned indignantly.
‘Of course not. But –’
‘I hope you reminded him that this is nineteen thirty, not eighteen thirty,’ she broke in heatedly. ‘Surely even curates are allowed friends of the opposite sex in this modern day and age?’
‘I didn’t dare remind him of anything of the kind. But then my parents were middle-aged when I was born, and compared to yours they brought me up in an old-fashioned way. One of the first lessons they taught me was not to question my elders and betters. As you know, my father was a vicar and the Church has always moved slower than the era it finds itself in.’ He clasped her hand and replaced it in the crook of his elbow. ‘But we might pre-empt damaging rumours if you allow me to ask your father�
��s permission to call on you and court you formally with a view to our becoming engaged in the future.’
‘Engaged!’ she exclaimed in astonishment. ‘I thought you were going to suggest that we didn’t see so much of another.’
‘Surely you must have realised how fond I have become of you.’
‘I …’ She was completely taken aback. Then she realised that, although she had fallen head over heels in love with him, he hadn’t attempted to kiss her, or mentioned love once. Not that she’d minded too much. After fighting off Charlie Moore, and a few other boys who’d tried to ‘take liberties’ she hadn’t been prepared to give, she’d found his gentlemanly conduct refreshing – at first. But he had said ‘fond’ – and fondness was a long way from love. She was fond of the family’s cat.
‘If I’ve misunderstood our friendship, please tell me now, before I say anything more that will embarrass us both.’
‘No, you haven’t misunderstood me,’ she said quickly, setting aside her thoughts until later.
‘I dared to hope that you felt the same way about me that I do about you. And, I realise that to someone of your warmth and spontaneity, “fond” might seem a cold word. But, as you know, my father died when I was young and I had to assume responsibility for my mother’s affairs as well as my own. I have always been wary of rushing into anything. And we have only known one another a month, although it seems longer. In fact,’ he smiled broadly, ‘I can’t imagine life without you now.’
‘That’s a beautiful thing to say.’ She was still reeling at his suggestion. If that wasn’t rash after an acquaintance of only a month and not one single kiss, she didn’t know what was.
‘I could tell you I love and adore you and it would be the truth, Edyth,’ he said earnestly. ‘How could any man not love and adore someone as attractive and lively as you. But you are young –’
‘A fault time will correct,’ she interrupted, her spirits soaring. He did love her. He loved her!
‘And there is the practical side to consider. My father left me a small annuity, which is a welcome addition to my income as a curate, but combined they’re barely enough for one person to live on. And the Church lodges married curates in rooms, hardly the best place for any couple to start married life. We couldn’t even consider marrying until after I am given my own parish.’
‘Have you forgotten that I’ve promised my father I’ll go to college in September?’
‘No, and I know you won’t qualify for three years,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Edyth, have you any idea what I’m asking you to give up? If you became a teacher you would earn an excellent salary, be able to keep yourself in comfort and, in time, even buy your own house. If you marry me, I couldn’t possibly hope to offer you the same standard of living. Vicars’ stipends have never been generous. They have to pay rent to the Church and can only live in their vicarage as long as they are able to carry out their duties. My salary will provide for our needs but few if any luxuries.’
‘You’re warning me that we will be poor?’
‘We certainly won’t be rich,’ he said decisively, ‘even after I get my own parish. Not if we remain in Wales.’
‘With my family here, I can’t imagine living anywhere else.’ Edyth meant it. She had never considered moving away from her parents.
‘You know Reverend and Mrs Price. You’ve seen how hard she works for St Catherine’s.’
‘She sits on as many charitable committees as my mother and father combined,’ she agreed. ‘And that’s without running the jumble sales, Mothers’ Union and Young Wives, organising the Sunday school and its annual outings, and overseeing all the parish’s Christmas activities. You know her nickname in the town is Mother Jesus.’
‘That’s very Welsh – and disrespectful.’
‘It’s not meant to be,’ she explained. ‘People are very fond of her.’ She couldn’t resist repeating the word he’d used, but if he saw the joke he didn’t smile or comment on it.
‘Some people say it’s unfair of the Church to expect vicars’ wives to act as unpaid secretaries and helpers to their husbands, but that’s simply the way it is. I can’t see things changing. I’m asking you to sacrifice a great deal, Edyth. Your own career and social life in favour of mine,’ he continued soberly.
‘I know that, Peter.’
‘Do you, really?’ he asked seriously.
‘Yes.’
‘And you still want to continue seeing me?’
‘More than anything else in the world.’ She lifted her face in the hope that he’d finally kiss her. But he simply began to walk on again.
‘This last month, working alongside you with the parish children and in the drama group has been wonderful. I would have spoken sooner if I hadn’t been concerned that I was asking you to give up too much.’
‘Nothing is too much to ask of the person you love,’ she said softly.
‘Then I have your permission to ask your father if I can call on you?’
‘Yes, although I warn you, I don’t know what he’ll make of your request after the rather obvious way Toby chased Bella.’
‘Toby didn’t ask your father’s permission to court Bella?’
‘To get engaged and marry her, yes. But court her?’ She laughed. ‘No. Toby didn’t need to. He followed Bella around with a hangdog expression on his face from the very first moment he saw her – or so my mother and father say.’
‘I can’t believe that you love me.’
‘I do.’ She laughed again, when she realised that she had unwittingly repeated the vow from the wedding service.
‘If we don’t hurry we’ll be late.’
He quickened his pace and she fell into step alongside him. A curtain moved in one of the bay windows when they passed a terrace of houses. The Reverend Price was right; she and Peter had attracted gossip and she realised that meant Peter would never risk kissing her in public. But if he stayed for supper after he had spoken to her father, and she walked him to the gate when he left, anything could happen under cover of darkness.
She recalled the confidences Bella had entrusted to her, glanced at Peter and wondered what he would look like naked. She blushed when she caught him looking back at her. It was only then she considered her parents. She had no idea how either of them would react to Peter’s proposal that he ‘court her with a view to becoming engaged’.
She consoled herself with the thought that it wasn’t as though she was asking their permission to forgo college for marriage, only courtship. A courtship she was a hundred per cent certain would lead to a perfect and wonderful new life with the man she loved.
As for college – how could she bear to leave Peter in Pontypridd and go to Swansea? Forty miles and an hour and a half away by train had never seemed so distant.
Chapter Five
Judy Hamilton tied the laces on her tap shoes, straightened her shorts and blouse, and joined the two dozen girls vying for position in front of the long mirror fixed to the wall of the dressing room. Before she had a chance to catch more than a glimpse of her reflection, a brisk, business-like woman, dressed in a black skirt and white blouse, shouted, ‘Numbers eighteen through twenty-three, inclusive. Follow me to rehearsal room nine.’
Judy knew her number was twenty-one, but she checked the card she’d been given before joining the other girls rushing out of the door.
Rehearsal room nine was a large hall at the end of a long corridor. Three walls were covered in mirrors with practice barres screwed in front of them. Two men sat on chairs close to the door. Both were holding pencils and notepads. An enormously fat woman flowed over a stool in front of an upright piano that had been pushed into a corner. She ground out the cigarette she’d been puffing when the girls clacked, taps ringing, into the room.
‘You’re all third recalls, right?’ one of the men asked. He waited for the girls to answer.
‘We’re doing “What France Needs”, chorus and King. You’ve all had the score and practised the dance steps?’
‘King?’ the man shouted.
A middle-aged man wearing thick theatrical greasepaint, which made him look positively geriatric, walked in front of the line of girls.
‘And piano … go!’
Judy sang, danced and acted for all she was worth. She tried to practise all the maxims her dance teacher had taught her, but it wasn’t easy. She wasn’t in the mission hall of Old Angelina Street now, and the stern-faced producers were very different from kindly Mrs Rossiter who had taught her and the other Bay girls basic ballet and tap.
She could hear Mrs Rossiter’s voice in her head: ‘Head up, chest out’; ‘Shine, but not so much that they mark you as an individual, or they won’t want you in the chorus’; ‘Smile as though you’re having the time of your life - so what if your feet are killing you? So are everyone else’s’; ‘Acting is reacting to everyone else on stage’; ‘Sing for the man in the back row of the gods.’
The piano player hit the last note, the ‘King’ walked off without glancing at the girls. The two men conferred. After five minutes the younger of the two shouted.
‘In a straight line. Numbers at waist height.’
Most of the girls, Judy included, were still gasping for breath after the energetic dance, and she found it an effort to hold her number steady. But she was determined not to show any sign of nervousness.
The two men carried on whispering and making notes. Judy saw them looking at her several times. Once she even thought that they were going to comment on her performance, but they merely carried on pointing and scribbling.
‘Thank you, girls, you can go and change. But don’t leave yet. Miss Hedley, we’ll have the next- half-dozen in.’
Miss Hedley led the way back to the dressing room and the girls trooped after her. Judy held her head high and tried not to look dejected. She was the only coloured girl there, although there had been three at the first audition. But, she reminded herself, it was a call-back. And no theatrical impresario ever invited a performer to a call-back unless he was seriously considering that person for a role.
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