‘I know that my uncles and their families are grieving as much as I am,’ Judy murmured, ‘although they didn’t live with her. They were only a few doors away but it’s not the same as living in a house with someone. I’m not just losing the only parent I’ve ever known, Mr Holsten, but my home. I’m not ungrateful, and it’s not that I don’t love Uncle Jed and his family, but it won’t be like living with Gran. The evenings we spent together were so special. She was always rushing around working in the day but after tea in winter we’d sit in front of the range and in summer we’d carry our chairs out into the street.’
‘I often saw the two of you. And your hands were never still.’
‘Gran was always making something: stitching quilts or knitting pullovers for the boys, or making dresses for the girls. Sometimes we’d talk, sometimes it was good just to sit together and not say a word.’
‘You all right, Judy?’ Jed stood behind them and leaned over Judy’s chair.
‘Yes, thank you, Uncle Jed.’
‘If you pack your things this afternoon, I’ll carry them round to our house. The rent’s paid until the end of the week but it’s probably going to take us that long to clear and clean the house. You do know that Mam left you all her jewellery and china?’
‘It should be shared.’
‘Your mother was Mam’s only daughter so it’s fitting it goes to you, Judy,’ he said decisively. ‘I want to thank you and Helga, Micah, for laying on this spread.’
‘I was just telling Judy, we didn’t. All we did was put up the tables; they filled themselves.’
‘It’ll still be a lot of work to clear up after this lot.’ Jed looked at the children running around with slices of cake in their hands, oblivious to the crumbs they were scattering in their wake.
‘Mr King … Mr King …’ Patterson’s butcher’s boy ran up the stairs and looked around frantically for Jed. He was red-faced, and puffing and panting so much he couldn’t get another word out.
‘Come on, boy, what is it?’ Tony was annoyed at the interruption that had diverted the attention of his audience from the tale of the thieving African monkey his father had brought home from one of his voyages.
‘Mr Patterson said I was to get you and that you were to come at once. He was delivering meat to your street when he saw it outside Mrs King’s house. Mrs King that was …’ He gave Jed’s wife a sideways glance.
‘Saw what?’ Tony demanded.
‘A lorry. They’d loaded up all her all furniture and everything …’
Jed, Tony and Ron didn’t wait to hear any more. They dashed out through the door, their boots clattering a staccato drumbeat on the wooden staircase. Judy charged after them. Micah caught up with her, took her hand and ran after the brothers.
‘I tried arguing with them.’ Brian Patterson pushed his cap to the back of his head and faced the three King brothers. ‘But they had a legal bill of sale, signed by your brother-in-law, Joshua Hamilton. I told them straight that the house contents weren’t his to sell. Even sent the boy to get the police. But they’d finished stripping the house before I arrived and they drove off before the boy even reached the end of the street. Not that it would have made any difference. Constable Jones came round on patrol five minutes after they’d left, and he said it would be a matter for the courts.’
‘You seen the lorry driver before, Brian?’ Jed asked.
‘Never set eyes on him. Nasty piece of work, gave the impression that he was looking for trouble and didn’t care where he found it. He said his boss had paid for the goods, fair and square. He’d been ordered to pick them up, and pick them up he would. I would have tried to keep him here until you came, but he had five other men with him. Great big hulking brutes they were, too. Looked like bailiffs. And they’d just about cleared the place by the time I got here.’
‘Did he say anything else that you can recall?’ Jed pressed.
‘The driver said the man who’d sold the contents to his boss was most particular about the time they had to be picked up. Today between ten and eleven in the morning. Any other time and the deal was off.’
‘When we were in the cemetery burying Mam.’ Jed clenched his fists impotently.
‘The bastard,’ Tony swore, forgetting his niece’s presence. ‘We told him to stay away but it wouldn’t have taken much asking around for him to find out the time of the funeral.’
‘When I find Joshua Hamilton, I’ll kill him.’ Ron, the quietest of the brothers, was vehement.
‘The milkman said he sailed out on the Sukhov last night, bound for Russia.’
Judy walked past her uncles and went into the house. The parlour had been stripped of everything except the linoleum on the floor and the wallpaper. She turned away, not wanting to see the lighter squares where her grandmother’s precious family photographs had hung, protecting the walls from the smoke of the occasional rare fire that had been lit in the room.
The bed her grandmother had bought as a bride, in which she had given birth to all her children, and died, her furniture, linen, even her clothes had gone. Nothing remained. Judy ran upstairs. The doors to all three bedrooms were open. The only object left in her room was a single hairclip lying on the bare floorboards.
Micah Holsten followed her. When he saw her shoulders shaking he held out his arms. She went to him, buried her head in his chest and started crying. Not the resigned, silent tears she had shed over her grandmother’s death but sobs that shook her entire body. ‘I have nothing left. Nothing! Just this black dress. There was six shillings in the box on the mantelpiece: it’s gone. Everything’s gone. Our dishes … the family photographs … her clothes … all the ornaments … the family Bible … her jewellery … all gone … ’
Micah knew it wasn’t the few shillings or even her grandmother’s things that Judy was crying for, but the way of life that had suddenly been taken from her. And she didn’t even have a single keepsake left to remember it by.
Jed came up the stairs, Tony and Ron behind him.
‘Two quid. Two bloody quid!’ Tony’s voice was hoarse from shock. ‘He sold Mam’s entire life for two quid.’
‘We could try to buy it back,’ Ron suggested.
‘With what?’ Tony asked.
‘We could borrow the money if we have to,’ Jed said.
‘But Brian Patterson said the driver and all the men were outsiders. They could have come from anywhere – Swansea, Newport, Bridgend. Our mam’s things could be lying in a warehouse or on a market stall right now. We’ll never find them.’
‘I’ll go to the police and find out if there’s anything we can do,’ Ron muttered.
‘Tony, go with him,’ Jed ordered. He looked in what had been Judy’s bedroom and Micah pushed his niece gently towards him.
‘I’ll ask round the Bay. Perhaps one of the other delivery boys saw something,’ Micah said.
‘It’ll probably be a waste of time,’ Jed said flatly.
‘Judy needs clothes and things. I’ll ask my sister to see what she can do.’ Micah clasped Jed’s shoulder and walked back down the stairs.
The month of September and early October passed in a surreal whirl of preparations for Edyth. Her arm turned blue from the number of times she pinched herself to prove she wasn’t dreaming. Most days she felt as though she were in a theatre watching a play unfold on stage rather than one of the principal participants in an actual event.
Almost by default the decision had been made. She was to marry Peter. It was what she wanted – wasn’t it? It was the reason she had run away from college. But she tried not to think too hard about the life beyond the wedding ceremony that had been suddenly mapped out for her, especially at night when she couldn’t sleep. Instead she concentrated on her love for Peter, his for her, and the practical decisions that had to be made. Like what flowers she should have in her bouquet and the menu for the wedding breakfast.
Her parents ignored her repeated assertions that she would be happy to marry Peter in sackcloth, and contin
ued to insist that they couldn’t do any less for her than they had for Bella. So, her mother and younger sisters threw themselves into planning the day, but Edyth knew, as did her father, that her mother was simply keeping busy to conceal her misgivings about the way she’d forced them to give their consent to her marriage.
Her father was uncharacteristically silent and taciturn, especially in her presence, but although their relationship had been irrevocably damaged by her flight from college, he signed the bills her mother left on his desk without a murmur about extravagance or expense.
Edyth only wished that she could have enjoyed the excitement of preparing for her wedding as Bella had done less than two months before, but the knowledge that her parents, and especially her beloved father, disapproved of her choice of husband blighted any happiness she might have felt. Not that either of them gave her any cause for reproach. Her father attended the discussions over menu and decorations at the New Inn Hotel, her mother oversaw her dress fittings at Gwilym James and helped her pick out her sisters’ bridesmaids’ dresses, but both of them constantly deferred to her, reminding her that it was ‘her and Peter’s day’ not the family’s, a phrase she couldn’t remember ever hearing when Bella’s wedding had been at the planning stage.
In addition to paying for the wedding, they bought her and Peter a bedroom suite but left the selection to her and, when Sali abdicated all choice of music and hymns in favour of Peter’s preferences, Edyth took it as an indication that her parents couldn’t care less about the ceremony.
She only saw Peter once during the month, when he visited Pontypridd to discuss the arrangements for the church service over lunch with the Reverend Price and the Bishop, thankfully for their stomachs, at the Bishop’s invitation in the Park Hotel. The Bishop asked her parents to join them but they refused, citing a longstanding engagement with the committee of the miners’ welfare fund. And if, as Edyth suspected, it was a tactical engagement, neither Peter, Reverend Price nor the Bishop questioned their absence.
Apart from that one brief day with Peter, when they met in the jeweller’s in Market Square so she could select her wedding and engagement rings from a tray he had arranged for the assistant to show her, most of her waking hours were spent in Gwilym James department store in Pontypridd.
Even after she had chosen her wedding dress, there were endless fittings and accessories to be chosen, both for herself and the bridesmaids. And for her new home, cutlery and china patterns, bed and table linen, and kitchen utensils to be picked out and decided on. But Peter insisted that they defer the actual buying until after they had received their wedding presents.
Peter was so busy with parish affairs that he couldn’t spare another day to visit her in Pontypridd, but he did manage to steal enough time to make occasional visits to Gwilym James’s sister store in Cardiff to view her choices. To her surprise, unlike Harry and her father, who left all domestic decisions to Mary and her mother, she discovered that Peter had very definite ideas on tableware, ornaments, linen and even bridal accessories and her trousseau.
He sent her daily epistles, relating details of the new church societies he was setting up, improvements he had made to the old ones, happenings at the weekly meetings of the parish council and descriptions of the friends he was making – friends, he reminded her, that would soon be hers. And, at the end of every letter, he outlined the improvements the builders and decorators, employed by the Church at the behest of the Bishop, were making to the vicarage in Cardiff Docks. His letters were more practical and informative than the romantic love letters she had dreamed of receiving when she was growing up, but what they lacked in passion they made up for in plans for their future together.
Affected by the strain of trying to pretend that her relationship with her parents was as close as it had ever been, she retreated to her room as often as she could during her last month at home. She packed boxes of personal possessions to be sent on to the vicarage by carrier to await her arrival after her honeymoon. And she looked for clues in Peter’s letters that would help her to visualise the new life that awaited her in Cardiff docks.
… In addition to redecorating every room in the vicarage, the Bishop has ordered the builders to modernise the bathroom and the kitchen. To Mrs Mack’s delight, they have already installed a new kitchen sink, stove and bathroom suite. I don’t think you saw either room on your short visit here. They certainly needed updating. The enamel on the sinks and the bath was crazed with black lines that Mrs Mack insisted no amount of scouring with Vim would remove. We will also have constant hot water available from the very latest design in gas boilers.
You have probably received a letter from my mother, if not, she intends to write to you very soon to tell you how delighted she is with our news. She has offered us her furniture, which was placed in storage after my father’s death. Most of it is antique Regency which my father inherited from his grandmother. She realises that it may not be to your taste, and she won’t be in the least offended if you decide to refuse it. However, as the Reverend Richards has given his furniture to his brother who runs a boarding house in Porthcawl, I won’t need to remind you that we are in need of all the help we can get in setting up home.
I confess, Edyth, I rather like the idea of being surrounded by the trappings of my childhood. As Mother pointed out, the pieces are only deteriorating in storage and if you really don’t like them we can discard them as soon as we can afford to replace them with new, although I warn you that is not likely to be very soon.
I am sorry I was so angry when you came to see me on the spur of the moment in Cardiff. I understand now that you only had my interests at heart and I regret that I wasn’t more sympathetic on hearing about your ordeal.
Just as Micah Holsten said it would, the fracas has been forgotten and I doubt that anyone will connect you with the girl who was attacked outside the church in the early hours of the morning.
She didn’t believe for one minute that Anna and the other women who had kicked and thumped her would forget it – and nor would the police.
After checking with the Bishop I have decided to ask Micah Holsten to be our best man, although he is a Lutheran. It seems fitting as he rescued you that night. I trust you will approve. As the saying goes, things have worked out for the best. God truly does move in mysterious ways. I only hope that I will be deserving of your unselfish love.
All my love, now and always,
Your Peter
Edyth set down the letter. Carried away by the excitement of setting up her own home with Peter, she had been happy to go along with all his suggestions. She had already furnished the vicarage in her mind’s eye with tasteful Regency pieces, even going so far as to seek out complementary fabrics for curtains and cushions in Gwilym James and earmarking them for future purchase.
The telephone rang in the hall but, unable to decide between an imaginary green and gold Turkish rug and a red and dark blue Bokhara for the sitting room, the sound barely registered until Maggie shouted up the stairs, ‘Edyth, it’s for you.’
She walked out on to the landing. Maggie was standing at the bottom of the stairs with her lips puckered. She made a theatrical sucking noise. ‘It’s Lo-ve-er Boy.’
‘Why so childish, Mags?’ Edyth ran down the stairs and snatched the receiver from her sister.
‘Ooh, we mustn’t tease the vicar or his fiancée, must we, Edyth?’ Maggie chanted in a sing-song voice.
Edyth covered the receiver with her hand. ‘When are you going to grow up?’
‘When I go to college, which is more than you’ll ever do, Miss Forget the Promise You Made to our Father,’ Maggie goaded.
Edyth took a deep breath in an effort to contain her temper. ‘Privacy, please,’ she snapped, an expression Bella had used when she had been courting Toby. Turning her face to the wall so she wouldn’t have to look at Maggie, she spoke into the telephone. ‘Hello, Peter.’
‘Hello, Edyth, that, I take it, was Maggie.’
A lump rose in
Edyth’s throat. Peter sounded so close she felt that he could almost have been in the next room. ‘You’re right, it was.’ She glanced in the mirror. Her sister was hovering in the hall, rearranging the dahlias their mother had cut that morning. She placed her hand over the receiver again and hissed, ‘Clear off.’
‘Pardon me for living.’ Maggie flounced into the sitting room, only to turn at the last moment and seize the receiver from her sister. ‘We’re all so looking forward to the wedding tomorrow, Peter. I can’t wait to have another brother. And Edyth’s positively dying for the honeymoon …’
Edyth grabbed Maggie’s arm and twisted it until she dropped the receiver, then pushed her through the sitting-room door. Maggie slammed it behind her. She heard Maggie’s voice loud in complaint and her mother’s softer tones.
‘Sorry about that, Peter,’ she apologised. ‘How are you?’ She lowered her voice when she heard a door open upstairs.
‘You’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve finally settled in the locum curate so I can look forward to tomorrow with a clear conscience. You?’
‘Missing you.’ Just hearing his voice had given rise to an overwhelming wave of longing. ‘For two pins I would grab my hat and coat and run down to the vicarage … you are with Reverend and Mrs Price?’
‘Not yet. I’ve been held up on church business. But please don’t run down to the Bay, not after what
happened last time.’
‘I didn’t intend for things to turn out that way.’
‘Edyth, that was a joke,’ he broke in swiftly.
The slight misunderstanding made her realise just how little time they had spent together. In some ways she felt as though she had known Peter all her life; in others – especially his church ways – she didn’t know him well enough to sense when he was being serious or not. Her knees trembled. She lifted the telephone from the table, sank down on the stairs and cradled it in her lap. In less than twenty-four hours they would be married. Married. She continued to shake at the enormity of the step she was taking while Peter talked.
Tiger Bay Blues Page 22