Pontypridd 02 - One Blue Moon Read online

  Pulling her collar higher to avoid the rain that poured down her neck from a bent spoke in the umbrella, she stepped decisively forward.

  ‘I’ll try Springer’s shoe shop,’ she said briskly, wanting to delay the moment when she’d have to return to the café. She knew her uncle would probably be waiting for her, but she was gripped by an overwhelming sense of urgency. It was already half-past five. She had to – simply had to find a job before the shops closed at six so that when she walked back into her uncle’s house she could look her aunt squarely in the eye and say, ‘I won’t be a burden to you. I have a job. I can pay my own way.’

  ‘There’s no point in trying there. They laid off Ginny Jones last week.’ Tina dampened Diana’s hopes before they’d even begun to smoulder, let alone flame. ‘You’d stand a better chance in one of the pictures. Why don’t we walk up to the Palladium?’ she suggested artfully. ‘If there’s nothing going there, we could try the Park and the White Palace on the way back.’

  ‘I’d rather work in a shop,’ Diana protested, remembering Haydn’s complaint that his mother never saw his evening job in the Town Hall as a ‘proper job’.

  ‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ Tina said cruelly.

  ‘I’m not a beggar.’

  ‘Not yet, but it can be arranged,’ Tina said, annoyed by Diana’s refusal to go to the Palladium.

  Tina was wrong. Ginny Jones hadn’t been laid off in Springer’s. That was Ginny’s and the Springers’ story, concocted so neither party would lose face. Ginny had been fired by Beatrice Springer, the wife of the owner, Ben. Beatrice had visited the shop unexpectedly in the middle of the day and caught her husband looking up Ginny’s skirt, while Ginny was perched on a ladder lifting down a stock of miners’ boots that hadn’t shifted in months, and wasn’t likely to while the pits remained closed.

  Ginny had been sent packing with a week’s wages in her pocket, but Mrs Springer’s indignation at the sight of Ginny ‘leading a respectable married man on’ hadn’t extended as far as volunteering to work in the shop herself. She had four children and an unmodernised house with a Victorian range and no indoor plumbing to look after, and only one ‘skivvy’ to help. Ben had been left to fend for himself in the shop all week. Not over-fond of hard work, he’d resented having to do all the humping of stock himself. With no minion to order around, he’d also had to climb the ladder and wait on the ladies of the crache, who were unbelievably finicky and thought nothing of surrounding themselves with twenty pairs of shoes only to buy the first pair he’d brought out, if any at all. So when Diana walked in with her damp clothes clinging to her well-developed figure, her cheeks and lips rosy from the cold and her brown eyes sparkling with raindrops, Ben saw her as something of a godsend. He looked, he stared, he coveted, licked his lips and uttered a silent, grateful prayer that his wife wasn’t around to vet Diana’s request for a job. Beatrice had turned down five girls in a row last Monday morning, and the news travelled. Enough to put off any other girl who’d thought of applying for the vacancy Ginny’s leaving had created.

  ‘So you’re looking for work?’ he said somewhat superfluously, nodding enthusiastically, more at the sight of Diana’s breasts outlined beneath the tight bodice of her outgrown coat than at the prospect of having someone to order around again.

  ‘I’ve good references,’ Diana said eagerly, her heart pounding with excitement. He was talking to her. He hadn’t sent her on her way. That had to mean something.

  ‘Well there’s no denying I need help,’ he mused. ‘But I’d have to see those references.’

  ‘I have them here.’ Diana opened her handbag and pulled out the envelope they’d given her when she’d handed in her notice. ‘They’re from the Royal Infirmary’ she said proudly, thrusting the papers into his hands. ‘In Cardiff.’

  ‘What were you doing there?’ he asked as he opened the envelope.

  ‘Working as a ward maid.’

  ‘And before that?’

  ‘I was in school.’

  ‘Then you’ve no experience of shop work?’

  ‘Not in an actual shop,’ Diana admitted reluctantly, ‘but I’m keen, and quick to learn. It says so in there.’ She indicated her references.

  ‘All ward maids do is scrubbing and cleaning. There’s some of that here, but not much,’ he shook his head. ‘I don’t know if you’ll suit. I need someone who’s good with customers. Particularly the crache. The wrong girl will put them off. I’ve found that out to my cost before now, and whoever I take on will have to be quick on their feet, and ac-cur-ate’, he articulated the word slowly, mulling over each syllable, ‘with figures,’ he finished as he studied Diana’s legs.

  ‘I came top of my class in Maesycoed seniors in arithmetic,’ she interrupted brightly.

  ‘You’d have to dress the part.’

  ‘I have a white blouse and black skirt.’ She crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping she could squeeze herself into Maud’s blouse.

  ‘I suppose I could give you a try.’ He scratched the top of his balding head doubtfully.

  ‘I promise you won’t be sorry, Mr Springer.’

  He looked hard at Tina, who was standing next to the counter studying the pictures of shoes drawn on the side of the boxes.

  ‘I only came back to Pontypridd today,’ Diana explained, following his glance. ‘My friend offered to help me look for a job.’

  ‘She’s not looking for work herself, then?’

  ‘She works in Ronconi’s café.’ Diana didn’t elaborate on Tina’s family connections.

  ‘I’ll give you a trial. One week, starting Monday morning. Seven sharp,’ he warned. ‘I like the shop clean and tidy before it opens.’

  ‘And the wages?’ she ventured boldly.

  ‘Six shillings a week.’

  Diana swallowed hard, only just managing to contain her indignation. ‘That won’t even pay for my board and lodging,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Then your mam will have to cut corners.’

  ‘I don’t live with my mam. I have lodgings to pay for.’

  ‘And I have overheads. I can get any number of girls to work for that money,’ he replied testily.

  She hesitated.

  ‘Tell you what,’ he said airily. ‘We’ll leave it at that for the week’s trial. If it works out, we’ll talk about your wages again.’

  ‘I was getting seven and six and my keep in the Infirmary,’ Diana protested.

  ‘I might go as high as seven shillings, if you prove to me that you’re worth it.’

  ‘It’s a long way short of seven and six and my keep.’

  ‘If you liked the Infirmary so much, why did you leave?’

  ‘You will discuss a pay rise at the end of the week?’

  ‘Are you going to turn up on Monday morning or not?’ He was beginning to regret talking to this girl. Her outward appearance of youth and naivety had proved deceptive, and the last thing he needed was another forceful woman in his life. One Beatrice was enough.

  Diana took a deep breath. She knew she wasn’t going to find anything better, at least not before Monday morning. ‘I’ll be here,’ she conceded with as good a grace as she could muster.

  ‘Six days a week. Seven to half-past six, except Thursdays. It’s half-day and we close at one, but sometimes I’ll need you for stocktaking. There’s no dinner break, but if you bring sandwiches you can eat them in the back when it’s quiet.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She wasn’t quite sure what she was thanking him for.

  ‘Black skirt and white blouse, mind you!’

  ‘Yes sir,’ Diana replied meekly. She had a feeling that her training in the shop business had just begun.

  Chapter Five

  ‘You’re not really going to work for him, are you?’ Tina asked as they picked their way through the gritty puddles that filled the pot-holes in Taff Street. ‘He’s an old lech.’

  ‘Beggars can’t be choosers.’ Diana tossed back Tina’s own words. Not even the prospect of being
closeted in Springer’s shop with Ben Springer and his funny looks could dampen her spirits. Monday morning was the whole of Sunday away. And there was nothing to stop her from continuing to look for something better. It would turn up. She had succeeded in finding one job when she’d been assured there was nothing about. And everyone knew it was easier to get a position when you were already in work. She’d ask Will, Charlie, Haydn and Ronnie to keep a look-out. Between them they virtually covered the whole town. Somewhere there’d be work that paid more. There had to be. The sum total of her savings amounted to just over five pounds, and that wouldn’t last long with her aunt wanting at least seven shillings and sixpence a week to cover her keep. But she had a foot in the commercial door of Pontypridd. It was a start. The only way forward was up.

  ‘Me, Gina, Tony and Angelo are going to the pictures. It’s a good one,’ Tina wheedled. ‘Want to come?’

  ‘No thanks. Not tonight. I’ll come to the café with you and see if my uncle’s there, then I’d better get going. I want to see how Maud is.’

  ‘Do you think her mother would mind if Gina and I called in tomorrow to see how’s she’s doing?’

  ‘Maud would like to see you,’ Diana answered evasively.

  ‘What will you do, Di?’ Tina asked, with her hand on the café door. ‘I mean if he ... if he ...’

  ‘Tries anything?’ Diana supplied the words for her.

  Tina nodded.

  ‘Deal with him,’ Diana said flatly. ‘I’ve eaten his sort for breakfast before now.’

  ‘Have you really?’ Tina’s eyes were enormous.

  ‘A girl has to know how to take care of herself. Especially when she leaves home,’ Diana said airily.

  ‘Well I wouldn’t like to be alone in that shop all day with Ben Springer.’ Tina pushed the door open. ‘Hey, guess what?’ she shouted, stealing Diana’s thunder. ‘Diana’s got a job,’

  ‘Six o’clock, Ronnie.’ Gina shut the till with a bang and left her chair.

  ‘You know the rules. No leaving until the next shift comes in.’ Ronnie picked up a rag and began idly to polish the steam off the tea urn.

  ‘Come on, have a heart.’

  ‘Off to the pictures, are we?’ He looked from Gina and Tina to his brothers, who were hovering behind the curtain that covered the kitchen door.

  ‘There’s a musical on in the White Palace,’ Tina bubbled, showing more enthusiasm than she had done all day. ‘The Lady of the Rose. It has a full soundtrack. Vivienne Segal and Waiter Pidgeon are in it. Vivienne plays a bride and Alma said her wedding dress is simply stunning. Gorgeous! The best she’s ever seen ...’ Tina’s voice trailed off as she saw a strange glint in Ronnie’s eyes.

  ‘If the main picture is so good, you won’t mind missing the second feature, or the cartoon, or even the Pathé newsreel,’ he said heartlessly.

  ‘Come on, Ronnie,’ Tony pleaded. ‘It’s quiet now, and we’ve all worked ...’

  ‘Worked! Worked!’ Ronnie repeated incredulously. ‘Not one of you knows the meaning of the word.’

  ‘Ronnie, Papa said if we put in a full day we could finish at six,’ Angelo interrupted.

  ‘Don’t see me finishing at six, do you?’ Ronnie crossed his arms and glared at them.

  ‘You’re different.’ Tina’s temper flared.

  ‘May I ask how, little sister?’ Ronnie demanded. ‘Pray tell me, are there new rules governing the eldest in the family now?’

  ‘This is your business, not ours. Papa gave it to you ...’

  ‘Papa gave it to me? Gave it to me?’ he repeated as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘Let me tell you something Miss Know-it-all. I built this café up from nothing, by sheer hard work. By working seventeen-hour days when I was a damned sight younger than you ...’

  ‘And you’ve a lot more to show for it than the rest of us,’ Tony intervened, elbowing Tina out of the way before the argument grew uglier.

  ‘I suppose you’re going to the pictures too?’ Ronnie asked Tony belligerently.

  ‘Papa said the girls could go, if Angelo and I went with them.’

  ‘The sooner you go to the seminary the better.’

  Tony was about to retort that he didn’t want to go to the seminary at all, but managed to bite his tongue.

  ‘If you and Angelo both go, who’s going to work in the kitchen tonight?’ Ronnie asked softly.

  ‘You’ve got help coming in.’ Angelo untied his apron.

  ‘Only Alma, and she’s a waitress. What happens if we get busy?’

  ‘You were the one who told Papa that you didn’t want to replace Bruno when he went to Italy.’

  ‘Only because the fool will want a job when he comes back.’

  ‘He said he wasn’t coming back,’ Tina chimed in irritatingly.

  ‘One month in that backwater of Bardi is more than any man can stand,’ Ronnie insisted feelingly.

  ‘You left there when you were five. It could have changed since then,’ Gina said.

  ‘Places like Bardi never change,’ Ronnie replied firmly. ‘If you’re going, you’d better move,’ he shouted angrily, irked by the lot of them.

  ‘Oh God, Ronnie, I’m awfully sorry.’ Alma Moore ran in breathlessly, her red hair soaking wet, plastered to her beautifully shaped head, and her coat flapping, open to the cold wind and the rain. ‘I didn’t want to walk through town in this downpour, but all the trams were running late,’ she explained. ‘And then the one I was on was held up by a brewery cart that had pulled up all skew-whiff opposite the fountain.’

  ‘I must remember to complain to the tram company for delaying my staff,’ Ronnie snapped humourlessly. He stared at his brothers and sisters. ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Off with the lot of you,’ he commanded. ‘There’s no point in my trying to keep you here. I won’t get another ounce of work out of any of you with your heads stuffed full of Hollywood nonsense.’

  ‘Thanks, Ronnie,’ Tina said heavily.

  Tony hung his apron behind the door, then as he passed the counter on the way out, he reached towards a box of P.K. chewing gum. Ronnie grabbed his wrist before his fingers could close over a packet.

  ‘Not until you give me a penny.’ Ronnie held out his hand.

  ‘Ronnie, come on ...’

  ‘Come on nothing! I’ll not have anyone, especially family, eating my profits.’

  Tony fumbled in his pocket and handed over a penny.

  ‘Bye, Ronnie. Hurry up, Tony.’ Angelo, Tina and Gina had their coats on and were holding open the door.

  ‘Have a good time,’ Alma called after them. ‘I know you’ll enjoy the film.’

  ‘They’ll enjoy anything that involves sitting on their arses and doing no work,’ Ronnie commented scathingly.

  ‘Just us tonight, then.’ Ignoring his griping Alma glanced around the café. Apart from a couple of market boys on tea break the place was empty.

  ‘Just us.’ Ronnie carried a tray of pies out from the kitchen and heaved them on to the shelf next to the steamer.

  ‘What happens if it gets busy?’

  ‘We’ve plenty of pies, and Tony’s left some cooked dinners that can be heated up.’

  ‘And if the customers want egg, bacon and chips?’

  ‘You’ll have to watch the front while I make them. It’s never that busy when the weather’s like this. We’ll manage.’ He pushed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a silver lighter. She smiled at him and he gave her a scarcely perceptible wink, as he turned to one of the market traders.

  ‘A tea, a pie and a Chelsea?’

  ‘That’s right Ronnie.’

  ‘Seeing as how it’s you, we’ll call it ninepence. And cheap at half the price,’ he mocked in market-style patter.

  Diana had plenty of time to think over her day as she walked up the Graig hill towards Graig Avenue. Darkness had settled over the mountain, black, glittering with silver raindrops caught in the glow of the street lamps. The slate roofs of the terraced houses shone, slabs of
polished jet. The blank, staring front windows reminding her of the sightless eyes of the blind in the Infirmary. Occasionally an odd square of etched glass above a front door shone with a dim, subdued passage light. No one on the Graig lived in their front parlour. Even the cold, laid fires of coal and sticks traditionally set up in the grates of the front rooms against celebration or trouble times had been raided in most homes. Every stick and lump of coal was needed for the kitchen range.

  Slowing her steps, she walked beneath the shadow of the high wall of the workhouse. She jumped in shock as a basket appeared from nowhere and hit her on the head as it was lowered none too gently over the wall.

  ‘Psst! Psst!’ A harsh, cracked, disembodied voice grated through the darkness. ‘Psst!’

  ‘I’ve got it,’ she whispered. Catching the string, she pulled the basket into her hands.

  ‘There’s twopence in there, love. Get me two fags and an apple over the road,’ the voice pleaded.

  ‘OK. Hang on.’

  ‘For pity’s sake be quick, love. If the master’s around he’ll have my guts for garters. I’m in enough stick as it is.’

  ‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ she called back touchily. It was one thing to agree to do a favour, quite another to be told how to do it. She took the twopence and crossed the road to the corner shop, smiling, despite the cold and the rain, at the memory of an awful fight she’d had with her brother Will, when she’d found out that he and Eddie had once stood under the wall collecting the pennies and pocketing them. After half an hour the inmates had become suspicious, but not before the pair of them had collected one and a penny. They’d spent the entire haul on penny dabs, farthing sherbets, sweet tobacco and Thomas and Evans pop. And what was even worse, they’d refused to give her or her cousin Maud a single lick of their ill-gotten gains.