‘This sitting up waiting for David is getting to be a habit.’ Micah left his chair when the hands on Helga’s clock pointed to ten o’clock. ‘Another few hours and you’ll have to be up and working, Edyth.’
‘I can’t go home without seeing David.’
‘He’s been a stupid silly boy today. He’ll still be a stupid silly boy tomorrow,’ Helga said philosophically. ‘I don’t know why you two insisted on waiting for him. Surely you don’t think for one minute that he’s going to listen to either of you.’ She removed her needle from the patch she’d been stitching and jabbed it into her needle book.
‘As usual, you’re probably right, Helga.’ Micah stretched his arms above his head.
Helga folded her quilt and held out her hand to take Edyth’s needle. ‘Of course I’m right. Edyth, it’s time you were home and in bed. And don’t bother to come back here, Micah. The boy’s telling-off can wait until tomorrow.’
‘You always were a bossy boots, Helga.’ Micah picked up Edyth’s cardigan and held it out to her.
‘One more thing, if you’re going to tell the boy off, I’d rather not be around while you do it.’ Helga finished folding the quilt and pushed it into the cupboard. ‘I have to carry on living in the same house as him and it might be as well if I don’t hear what you have to say. That way he can think I’m still on his side. Or at least neutral.’
‘I just hope he’s all right.’ Edyth took the cardigan Micah handed her and slipped it over her frock.
‘That boy seems to have nine lives and as far as I know he’s only used two of them,’ Micah observed.
‘Four,’ Edyth corrected. ‘There are a few accidents you don’t know about.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’
Helga straightened and rubbed her aching back. ‘You two look good together,’ she said, smiling when Micah wrapped his arm around Edyth’s waist.
‘We know we do.’ Micah winked at Edyth. ‘Ready?’
‘I suppose so. But I really would rather wait until David gets back.’
‘If he’s in one of the pubs having a good time buying rounds with whatever he was paid to run the betting book –’
‘I know, he could be gone for hours,’ Edyth interrupted.
‘So let’s go, you need your beauty sleep.’
‘And you don’t, Micah?’ Helga asked.
‘Pastors can lie in bed all day if they choose to, because they won’t be missed.’
Helga kissed Edyth then Micah. ‘See you both tomorrow, but remember what I said about not dragging me into your argument with David.’
‘I will,’ her brother replied.
Micah and Edyth left Helga’s and walked out on to the pavement. Like most warm summer evenings in the Bay the street was almost as busy as it was in the day. Children were playing, neighbours were sitting on window sills gossiping, a group of youngsters were standing in the middle of the road practising a jazz piece on an assortment of home-made instruments, including papercovered combs, spoons, and saucepan drums. Micah looked up at the sky. ‘Make the most of this weather – it can’t last. The rains will start at the end of August.’
‘Now you can predict the weather?’
‘I come from a long line of seamen who lived their entire lives by the weather.’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘I told you my grandfather was a fisherman.’
‘So you did, but I didn’t realise he was one of a line.’
‘Have you ever thought that our generation and perhaps the ones before us are the lucky ones?’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Not all of us are bound by what our fathers did. Take David, he’s left his family farm. As the eldest son that would have been unheard of in Wales a hundred or even twenty years ago. My father set tongues wagging in our home village when he became a pastor instead of going into the family fishing and farming business.’
‘The Great War changed things for so many women. My mother has friends who worked in the munitions factories and they carried on working in shops and offices when the factories closed simply because there was no one left for them to marry.’
‘Your mother is exceptional; she is married, has a family, and works in a full-time job.’
‘In a family business,’ Edyth reminded him. ‘And she always put us children first.’
‘I wasn’t criticising, Edyth,’ he said. ‘I just wondered if that was why you bought the bakery. To be like your mother?’
‘I bought the bakery because I wanted to do something besides live off my parents, as so many girls do until a man knocks on the door and asks them to become a wife. But then,’ she smiled wryly, ‘I rather messed up any ambition I had to be a good wife when I married Peter.’
‘You’ve achieved what you wanted to now: your independence. And you had a choice as to whether or not you bought the bakery. It wasn’t a business you inherited. But perhaps I’m not entirely right,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘You, David, and I had a choice, but for most of the girls on the Bay there are generally only two options, service or helping their mother run the house, and then only if their mothers can afford to keep them.’
‘Or a third,’ Edyth said, looking at a girl wearing thick make-up who was leaning against the wall of a house smoking a cigarette. The girl saw Micah and lifted the hem of her skirt to her thighs.
‘That option is not open to decent women.’
‘Anna Hughes and her girls told me the only option they had was to sell themselves, or starve. In my opinion that’s not a choice.’
‘Don’t tell me you still have tea there?’
‘Not since Peter left the Bay and I stopped being a vicar’s wife, but only because I haven’t had time for afternoon tea parties with anyone.’ She led the way through the yard to the back door. ‘Are you coming in? I’ll make coffee in the kitchen so as not to disturb Judy.’
‘That sounds tempting.’
‘When I last looked there were a couple of pasties left.’
‘You’ve sold me on the idea.’
Edyth opened the door and they saw Judy and David sitting at the large scrub-down table, a teapot, cups and a plate of pasties set between them.
‘We’ve been looking everywhere for you, young man,’ Micah said sternly.
‘If you’re going to give him a lecture on his new career as a bookie’s runner, Micah, I’ve already done it.’ Judy went to the cupboard and fetched two more cups and saucers for Micah and Edyth.
‘Did you take any notice?’ Edyth asked David.
Judy answered for him. ‘None whatsoever.’
Twenty minutes later, Micah and David left the bakery. And, as Edyth had prophesied, none of them had succeeded in persuading David to give up working as a bookie’s runner – not even Edyth’s threat of writing to Harry, although she had made it clear she would do just that before going to bed that night. The only concession, if it could be called a concession, that David had given them, was he’d look around for a legal job while he continued to work as a runner.
Micah and David were walking back towards Helga’s house when Micah said, ‘You have to be more careful, David.’
‘No more lectures,’ David pleaded. ‘I’ve told you, I’ve made too much money on my first day as a bookie’s runner to drop the job. And it’s work that might lead to a full-time position. I don’t need anyone to tell me that jobs are going to be scarcer around the Bay than flying pigs when the work’s finished on the Sea Breeze. You’re also forgetting that Aled James said he’d look after me.’
‘Even though Aled James has no experience of the way things are done on the Bay?’
‘He bought his nightclub, didn’t he? He knew how to get the licences he needed. From what the men on the site told me today, that couldn’t have been easy.’
‘David. I’m not going to go through all that with you again,’ Micah said wearily. ‘Edyth, Judy, and I have all warned you. You won’t listen to us, so be it on your own head.’
‘Then why should I be more careful?’ David asked.
‘That scent I can smell on you. It’s the one Anna Hughes and her girls use. It’s sweet, it’s sickly, and everyone on the Bay can recognise it half a mile off. You’re risking more than your wallet in that house. You’re risking your health and that is far more serious. Once you lose that, it may take a long time to recover it, that’s if you ever do.’
‘The girl I see is young …’
‘Youth is no guarantee of good health in that profession.’
‘She’s –’
‘Likely to give you any and every disease her last customer was suffering from. Just give it some thought before you see her again, there’s a good lad.’
‘I suppose this is the last order we will be packing for the old Sea Breeze.’ Judy’s aunt, May, dropped a box of pasties into the cardboard crate Edyth was filling with rolls and baked goods.
‘The last for the old hotel,’ Edyth concurred, ‘and unfortunately for business, I can’t see us making up many for the new Tiger Ragtime.’ Edyth tried to be philosophical. Her profits had soared courtesy of the workmen who had effected the transformation of the old hotel into the new club, but although she was optimistic by nature, she couldn’t see the nightclub staff buying a fraction of the goods that the men on the building site had done.
May checked the contents of the box against the scribbled order. ‘It’s a small box compared to the one we made up yesterday.’
‘Tony told me the workmen finished everything that needed to be done late last night. The only people going in this morning are the cleaners Aled James hired to put the finishing touches to the place ready for the grand opening tonight. This buffet is his thank-you to them for coming in early this morning.’
‘You looking forward to going to the opening?’ May asked.
‘I’m looking forward to hearing Judy sing, and spending some time with your family, but since I started running the bakery I’ve lost my enthusiasm for late nights. This candle’s getting too old to burn at both ends.’
May laughed. ‘You’re only nineteen.’
‘Some days, like today, I feel ninety.’ Edyth glanced at the clock. It was only half past six but she felt as though she had already done a full day’s work. ‘As it’s quiet, I’ll take my breakfast break. But if it gets busy, give me a shout.’
‘I will.’ May lifted the box they’d packed on to the back counter next to the till to await collection. Edyth pushed open the door to the kitchen and found Moody sitting with the postman, Bobby Harding. They were eating jam doughnuts and drinking tea. Bobby had been accustomed to taking his ‘second breakfast’ with Mordecai Goldman before Mordecai had sold the shop to Edyth, and he had seen no reason to alter his routine simply because the business had changed hands.
‘Tea’s fresh.’ Moody fetched another cup for Edyth. ‘Would you like a doughnut or a French breakfast roll?’
‘Both, thank you, Moody. Eating might keep me awake.’ Edyth sank down on a chair opposite Bobby. ‘This morning seems to be lasting for ever and I’ve only been working for an hour and a half.’
‘Time passes more slowly when you’re not busy.’ Moody poured Edyth’s tea. Knowing she didn’t take sugar, he pushed the milk jug towards her.
‘And we won’t be for a while, unless someone decides to convert another building nearby.’ Edyth took a doughnut from the plate on the table.
‘I can’t see that happening.’ Bobby opened his mailbag and flicked through the mail.
‘There might be another Mr James landing in the dock this minute.’ Moody wiped a dab of jam from his chin with his finger.
‘I don’t think so. Aled James is one of a kind,’ Edyth declared.
‘Post to cheer you up, and judging by the number of letters, somebody loves you.’ Bobby dropped a bundle of mail on the table in front of Edyth.
‘Thank you, Bobby.’ Edyth looked at it. There was one from Mary and she knew before she opened it that her sister-in-law would have filled nine-tenths of the pages with enquiries about David. What he was doing? Was he eating enough and properly? Was he making friends? Harry had made her promise not to write any news that might worry Mary about David. As a result Edyth had come to dread every letter she received from her sister-inlaw because she felt as though she was lying when she answered it – and that had been before David had taken a job as a bookie’s runner.
There was a letter from her estranged husband’s aunt, Alice Beynon. Edyth smiled and set the letter aside as a treat to be read over lunch. She and Aunt Alice had become good friends and, as Alice was an amusing and witty correspondent, she looked forward to Alice’s weekly epistles, which were full of wickedly accurate and caustic comments about Peter’s sanctimonious and hypochondriac mother.
There was a bill from the coalman and another from the wholesaler, which she knew would be for last month’s flour. It would be enormous but she took comfort in the thought that it would be covered by the increase in last month’s sales.
There was also a large fat brown envelope, postmarked Buenos Aires, addressed in a hand she recognised only too well.
She murmured, ‘Thank you,’ to Moody when he set a French roll in front her, took a knife from the drawer in the table and slit the packet open before dropping the knife into the bowl of utensils waiting to be washed. She removed the bundle of papers it contained and glanced at them.
‘Bad news, Mrs Slater?’ Moody asked when she remained silent.
‘No, Moody, just business.’ She bundled the papers together with her other letters. ‘Bills for the coal and flour and the like.’
‘I wouldn’t like to pay our flour bill for the last few weeks,’ Moody said feelingly.
‘It’s large,’ she agreed, ‘but as there was very little wastage, we sold enough goods to meet it.’ She left her chair and held up the bundle of papers. ‘I’ll put these in the office before I lose them.’
Moody nodded and topped up his own and Bobby’s cup, emptying the teapot. Edyth went into the small ante-room off the kitchen and deliberately allowed the door to swing shut behind her. She dropped her personal letters and the bills on top of her in-tray. Then she looked at the contents of the large envelope again. Written on the top sheet in large bold print was ANNULMENT OF MARRIAGE OF PETER GEORGE SLATER AND EDYTH RHIAN SLATER NÉE EVANS. A note fell from inside the typewritten pages.
Dear Edyth,
This is your copy. I have sent the originals to my solicitor and asked him to file them. By the time you read this we will no longer be married.
I am sorry for all the pain and trouble I have caused you. Please don’t spare me another thought. I am well and as happy as I can be in this life. I will be sailing out of Argentina for a new country very soon, and although I now no longer use the name, I will send you what love I can and all sincere good wishes for your future, this last time as Peter Slater.
‘Sincere good wishes for your future’ – the future – her future as a single woman. She opened the bottom drawer in her desk where she kept the old bills that she had paid. She lifted them out, set them aside and dumped the papers and the envelope into the bottom before replacing the bills on top.
She was free. The moment she and Micah had been waiting for had actually happened. There was nothing to prevent them from marrying – nothing at all except her own reluctance to move into the mission and take second place to his life and profession.
She closed the drawer, turned, and looked in the mirror she had hung on the back of the door. She patted her hair into place, forced a smile and went out to finish her breakfast with Moody and Bobby.
Edyth was just putting a final dab of powder on her nose when she heard a knock on the door that led directly from the street to her rooms above the shop. As everyone on the Bay used the back door of her baker’s shop as an entrance, even to her private rooms, she went into her living room, opened the window and looked down. Harry was standing on the pavement beneath her in his evening suit.
‘Harry, what on earth are you doing here?’ she called down.
‘I thought I’d attend the grand opening of the Tiger Ragtime. It is tonight, isn’t it?’ he checked.
‘Yes,’ she confirmed.
‘I saw it advertised last week in the South Wales Echo but I didn’t make a note of the date. Do you know if it’s invitation only?’
‘I’m not sure, but my invitation said “and guest” so you can come with me if you haven’t your own. Hang on a minute and I’ll come down. Or better still, why don’t you walk around to the yard and come in through the shop’s kitchen?’
‘Will do.’
Edyth returned to her bedroom, sprayed herself with lily of the valley scent, and picked up her stole. She walked into her small upstairs hall just as Harry was climbing the stairs.
‘Where are Mary and the children?’ she asked.
‘Safe and sound at the farm, or at least they were when I telephoned there from Gwilym James this afternoon.’ Edyth opened the door to her sitting room. Harry walked in, stripped off his jacket, unbuttoned his waistcoat, loosened his bow tie and sank down on the sofa. ‘It’s hot out there. Talk about Indian summers and heatwaves. I’ve never known anything like it so late in the day or the year. It’s September next week and there’s no sign of the weather breaking.’
‘So it would appear, for all of Micah’s predictions of rain. I’ve never known summers like this one and last.’
‘Next year it will probably tip down with rain all through June, July and August to make up for it.’
‘Can I get you something?’ Edyth asked. ‘I only have beer, sherry, and brandy, but I could make you a meal or a sandwich …’
‘I’ve only just eaten, but a glass of water would be good. I don’t want to start drinking alcohol this early. If I do, I’ll fall asleep before we even get to the club.’ Edyth went into her small upstairs kitchen and poured Harry a glass of water from the pitcher Judy filled every morning. She carried it into the sitting room and gave it to him.
‘Thank you. I’m parched. I thought a stroll down Bute Street would be pleasant after working in the office all day, but the street has doubled in length since the last time I walked it.’
‘It seems to grow when you’re tired.’ Edyth arranged the skirt of her long black silk frock so it wouldn’t crease and sat opposite her brother. ‘I thought you knew that I always left the back door of the shop open.’
‘I assumed that with the club opening and half of the people of Cardiff heading into Tiger Bay tonight, you’d have the sense to lock it.’
‘I probably should have.’ Edyth remembered Micah saying the same thing to her on the day of the carnival.
Harry finished his water, set his glass down and smiled at her. ‘You look very glamorous, sis.’ He sniffed. ‘You smell nice too.’
‘You say anything about it not being my usual eau de tennis and I’ll clock you.’
‘Ever wondered what “clock you” means?’
‘No.’
‘Neither have I until now. And that joke wore thin a long time ago.’
‘What possessed you to come to the opening of the Tiger Ragtime? I thought after the conversation you had with Aled James you wouldn’t want to go near him or his club.’
‘I was working in the Cardiff store. The meeting I had with the manager overran and I thought, why not stay overnight with my loving sister in Tiger Bay, who keeps reminding me that she has two spare bedrooms that I can use anytime? And incidentally see Judy’s debut.’
‘And talk to David,’ Edyth added quietly. She had sent the letter telling Harry of his brother-in-law’s exploits in a plain brown business envelope that she had asked Judy to address, lest Mary get suspicious.
‘If I can find him.’
‘That shouldn’t be difficult. David went to Aiden Collins’ “gambling school” every day last week. After training bookie’s runners Aiden moved on to instructing the unemployed in the finer points of card-dealing, roulette, and rolling dice.’
‘So Micah told me.’
‘You’ve spoken to Micah about David?’ she asked in suspense.
‘Yes.’
‘When?’ she asked.
‘On the telephone every day this week,’ he confessed.
‘And he told you that we couldn’t do anything to dissuade David from working for Aled James.’
‘Yes.’
‘We have tried, Harry,’ she said apologetically, ‘but you know how stubborn David can be.’
‘I do,’ he said in a resigned voice.
‘Yet, you had to come because you thought you’d have more success than us?’
‘I know I won’t.’ Harry ran his fingers through his thick blond hair. ‘But I have to try, although I know it’s useless. I also happen to know that you’ve been writing to Mary, and thank you for not telling her exactly what her beloved brother’s been up to.’
‘Does David write to Mary?’
‘A once-a-week duty letter to her and the others, which is full of stories about the Bay, the people he’s met, and the variety of shops and ships and anything and everything that isn’t personal. I wish he wouldn’t. He’s got Matthew and Luke so excited about the glamorous life they think he’s leading that they’re both talking about leaving the farm and coming down here to join him as soon as they’re old enough.’
‘Matthew’s – what? – eleven, and Luke is only six,’ Edyth said. ‘It will be a while yet before they’ll be able to leave the farm.’
‘That doesn’t stop them talking about it, and it upsets Mary. David mentioned in his letter that he has a job in the nightclub but he said he’s working as a barman. Micah told me that he’s working on the roulette wheel.’
‘As Micah seems to know everything that’s going on around here, I’d be more inclined to believe him than David. You do know that even if you see David in the club tonight, he may not want to talk to you.’
‘Yes, but as I said I have to try. I owe it to Mary – and to David, in the absence of any closer family – to try to steer him into a legal occupation.’
‘Given the shortage of jobs, there’s nothing wrong with working in a nightclub that’s licensed for gambling,’ Edyth said in David’s defence.
‘There’s a lot wrong with being a bookie’s runner. All Mary can talk about is what they’ll do when David returns to the farm.’
‘I hate to dash your and Mary’s hopes, Harry, but I’ve talked to David a few times since he’s come down here and the one thing he is adamant about is that he won’t return to the farm.’
‘I know.’
‘And that’s all Mary writes about in her letters.’
‘I know that too.’ Harry picked up his empty glass and looked at it. Edyth took it from him, went into the kitchen and refilled it with water.
‘You sure I can’t get you anything to eat?’ she asked.
‘I’m sure, thank you.’ He took the glass from her. ‘I knew that David was intent on leaving the farm for some time before he finally went. And before you say anything, it wasn’t just that he thought he was in love with you, Edyth. He was restless. Every glimpse I gave him of the world – the pictures in Pontardawe, the beaches on the Gower, shopping trips to Swansea, the visits to Pontypridd – made him hungrier for even more new experiences.’
‘So what happens when Mary realises that he isn’t coming back?’
‘I don’t know.’ Harry cradled his glass of water. ‘When I married Mary I thought we would live on her family farm for a few years, six or seven at most, until David was old enough to take over the running of the Ellis Estate. Then Mary and I and our children and her younger brothers and sister would move to the house the trustees built for me in Pontypridd. But I’ve had to face facts.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Mary would wither away if she left that farm. She belongs there – she’s rooted there,’ he added slowly. ‘She fought and struggled to keep it in the family for so long when she should have allowed the bailiffs to take it, she’s unable to let it go. She insists she only did it to keep the farm in the family, and it was all for David and her brothers and sister, but it wasn’t. She did it for herself and I love her too much to take her away from there now.’
‘But where does that leave you, Harry?’ Edyth asked in concern.
‘Where I am now. I’ll continue to run my businesses from the farm as much as I can so I can spend every spare moment with Mary and the children. And it’s not as if Mary isn’t prepared to travel. She’s happy enough to spend a few days in Pontypridd from time to time.’ He smiled deprecatingly. ‘I even managed to get her there for a whole week last month when I had urgent business with the board and my solicitor, but by the end of it she was pining for the Beacons.’
‘You’re sacrificing a great deal to keep your wife and children happy.’ She had a sudden stab of guilt. If she loved Micah so much, how could she allow him to carry on thinking that she wasn’t free to marry him? Wasn’t that tantamount to lying? And wasn’t a lie doubly bad when it was told to the one person you loved above all others?
Harry smiled. ‘No, I’m not. I’ve got what I wanted most out of life: the person I love, and the bonus of two adorable babies. I really am blissfully happy.’
‘Doing all that travelling?’
‘I get to see the country and when I get fed up of my car breaking down on country roads I can always take the train. I’ve no idea if it’s true that the railway line was put into Craig-y-Nos for Madam Patti on the express order of the late king, but if so, I take my hat off to him. It’s certainly made my life a lot easier.’
Edyth jumped up as a door closed downstairs. ‘That will be Micah.’
‘Does he have his own invitation to the opening?’
‘Yes, so you could be his guest or mine,’ she reassured him. ‘We arranged to meet Judy’s family and Micah’s sister and Moody at the club.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s only a ten-minute walk down the road, and we’re not due to meet them for another hour. Are you sure you don’t want a sandwich before we go?’
‘I had a huge tea in the store, but thank you for asking. I’m not cramping you and Micah’s style by coming here, am I?’ he asked when he heard Micah’s step on the stairs.
‘Far from it. And I’d like you two to get to know one another better.’
‘He’s a good bloke.’
‘You never said that about Peter.’
‘I never thought Peter was a good bloke.’
‘He wasn’t a bad one, either,’ she said seriously. ‘But he was no good for you, Sis.’
‘I hope that’s not me you’re talking about,’ Micah said as he walked in.
‘Who was it that said, “Eavesdroppers never hear any good about themselves”?’ Edyth left her chair and kissed Micah lightly on the lips. ‘Hungry, thirsty?’
‘I could murder a glass of beer and a smoked pork sausage.’
‘The beer I can manage, the sausage I can’t.’
‘But I can.’ Micah pulled a packet from the pocket of his evening jacket. ‘One of the sailors brought it in this afternoon. His mother made it and it tastes like heaven. Hello, Harry, good to see you.’ Micah shook Harry’s hand.
‘It’s good to see you too. I take it this sausage is already cooked?’
‘No, we Norwegians like our food raw and bloody, didn’t Edyth tell you?’
‘Enough teasing! Beer and sausage, Harry?’ Edyth asked.
‘It will make an honorary Norwegian of you, and give you special Scandinavian powers,’ Micah joked.
‘If it will help me to persuade David to be sensible, give me the smallest of small portions please, Edyth,’ Harry answered.
‘This dressing room is fabulous, the best I’ve ever seen.’ Mandy laid out sticks of greasepaint on a marble slab. ‘And I’ve played the London theatres. Not that I ever had a dressing room of my own, ever, and none of the shared ones were a patch on this. But I visited the star quarters for cast parties. And no matter how big the name they were never given a sitting room, a walk-in wardrobe for their costumes, or a bedroom – and as for a bathroom with plumbed-in hot and cold water – that is real luxury.’
‘This suite is identical to Mr James’s office suite next door. Perhaps it was just as cheap to put in two as one.’
‘I can’t see that. The bath, toilet, and washbasin alone must have cost a pretty penny without all those fancy tiles.’ Mandy tied a silk kimono over Judy’s dress to protect it. ‘Sit down and I’ll start on your make-up.’
Mandy picked up a stick of base foundation just as there was a knock on the door.
‘You girls decent?’ Aled called.
‘I can’t imagine what you think we’re doing, Mr James,’ Mandy answered.
Aled opened the door. He looked at the few inches of white silk showing beneath the black kimono. ‘You decided on the white Grecian classical dress, Judy?’
‘It was the one you suggested I wear on opening night,’ Judy reminded him.
‘You don’t have to do everything I say. Keep your robe on over your dress, there’s something I’d like you to see in my office. Mandy, fetch some more vases from the storeroom, will you? I’ve a feeling the ones here aren’t going to be enough to take all of Judy’s bouquets.’
‘Certainly, Mr James.’ Mandy disappeared down the corridor. Mystified, Judy followed Aled into his office. There was a window behind his desk and he had angled the Venetian blinds in front of it so he could look outside without being seen. He beckoned Judy forward.
‘You see those people trying to get in to the club.’
Judy was already nervous and she began to shake when she saw the size of the crowd queuing to get in. ‘There’s hundreds.’
‘I didn’t bring you here to see the size of the crowd. But those people, there, on the right, with Aiden and Freddie. Recognise them?’
Judy saw half a dozen men and four women who appeared to be arguing with Freddie and Aiden.
‘That woman seems familiar,’ Judy murmured.
‘She should do. She refused to serve us in the first department store we went in when we were buying your stage costumes. She and her colleagues are now getting a taste of what it feels like to be on the receiving end of discrimination.’
‘You saw them trying to get in and sent Aiden and Freddie out to stop them?’
‘No. I asked Aiden to make a note of the names of everyone in senior management in the store.’
‘I remember.’ She looked at him.
‘I sent them complimentary tickets to the opening, to make sure they’d come.’
‘You invited them just so you could turn them away?’
‘Yes.’ He saw the troubled expression on her face.
‘You don’t approve?’
‘No, I know just how humiliated they feel. And they won’t know why they are being turned away.’
‘Yes they will.’ He closed the blinds. ‘I told Aiden and Freddie to tell them exactly why they are being turned away. I also told them to tell them that their complimentary tickets will be honoured on the day they start serving coloured people in their store and not before.’
‘And you think that will make them change the store’s policy?’ Judy smarted at the memory of the supervisor referring to her and Aiden as ‘people like that’, but it still didn’t make what Aled had done right in her eyes.
‘I thought it was worth a try. You’re obviously not so sure.’
She bit her lip. ‘No, I’m not.’
‘It was probably childish of me to want revenge, but from where I’m standing,’ he flicked the blinds again so he could see out, ‘it not only feels good, it feels right.’
‘My grandmother used to say two wrongs don’t make a right.’
‘She was undoubtedly a wise woman and more generous and forgiving than me.’ He looked at her. ‘I’m sorry. I should have known you’d disapprove.’
‘You’re my employer. It’s not for me to approve or disapprove of anything you do, Aled.’
‘I wish you’d stop thinking of me as your employer,’ he said seriously.
‘That’s difficult when you pay my wages.’
‘You’re going to open with “You’re Driving Me Crazy”.’
‘I am.’ She smiled, happy that he’d changed the subject. He kissed her forehead. ‘Go out there and kill them.’
‘Break a leg, you mean,’ Lennie shouted through the open door.
‘Come in, Lennie,’ Aled invited. ‘I was just about to open a bottle of champagne.’
‘I drink after a show, not before, thank you, boss.’ Lennie came in and gave Judy an enormous hug. ‘Not nervous, are you, darling?’
‘A condemned prisoner waiting for the hangman couldn’t feel any worse,’ Judy admitted.
‘After all the rehearsing you’ve done, you could do your act in your sleep,’ Lennie encouraged her.
‘Then why have I forgotten all the words to my songs?’ Judy asked, suddenly panic-stricken.
‘We’ll go through them while I finish your hair and make-up,’ Mandy said, coming into the room with a bouquet of two dozen roses. ‘And while you recite them you can smell these. They’ve just arrived.’
‘You’ve already filled the dressing room with white lilies and roses,’ Judy reproached Aled.
‘These are nothing to do with me,’ Aled said. ‘And my congratulatory bouquet won’t be delivered to you until after the performance – and on-stage.’
‘He’s hedging his bets in case you corpse on stage. If you do he’ll save the florist’s bill,’ Lennie quipped. He saw Judy’s stricken face. ‘Sorry, bad joke. You’re going to be fantastic.’
‘Here’s the card.’ Mandy handed it to her. Judy opened the envelope and read the message as she followed Mandy back to her dressing room.
Sorry for all the arguing. If you sing like you did at the carnival, everyone in the audience will love you, including me, David Ellis.
‘Two dozen red rosebuds. Best quality.’ Mandy smelled them before handing the bouquet to Judy after she’d sat down. ‘Someone knows the way to a girl’s heart.’
‘Not really, they’re from a friend.’ Judy returned the card to the envelope.
‘I’ve never had a friend send me two dozen red roses. Not an uninterested one, that is,’ Mandy warned. ‘Now, do we use the gold stick on your eyelids or the rich cream?’