All That Glitters (16 page)

‘Right foot forward, hands up, half-turn to the right, and another half-turn and another … That’s it.’ Haydn relinquished his grip on Jane’s hands. ‘And …’

‘And now I’ve got to take these pasties to the bar.’ Jane retrieved her bag from Billy, and dashed through the cordon of girls.

‘Give the kid her due, she’s actually got talent,’ Billy said admiringly.

‘But not stage presence,’ Rusty declared flatly. ‘She’s too short and skinny, and that’s before you look at her face.’

Haydn said nothing; he was too busy watching Jane’s legs as she ran along the corridor away from him.

Chapter Nine

‘You going out tonight, love?’ Harry Griffiths asked his daughter as he dragged two boxes of tins into the shop ready to restock the shelves that had been emptied by Friday’s wages and dole money.

‘Not tonight, Dad. I was out last Tuesday, remember, and I’ve promised to go down the café tomorrow with the girls.’

‘In that case you won’t mind watching the shop for me?’

‘Of course not. You off somewhere special?’

‘Just picking your mother up from your Aunt Edna’s. If I go over to Trallwn early I thought I might call in the Queen’s.’

‘For a game of cards?’

‘I haven’t had one in months.’

‘I wouldn’t mind if you did.’

‘Don’t you dare go saying anything to your mother.’

‘As if I would,’ she protested indignantly.

‘I know you wouldn’t say anything intentionally, love, but I also know what your mother can be like when she’s ferreting around after my doings.’ He ripped open the top of a box, took out a couple of tins and pushed them on to the shelf. ‘Who did you go out with on Tuesday?’

‘Diana Powell,’ she lied.

‘Then you must have been back early. I saw her passing the windows of the Morning Star on Tuesday night before ten o’clock.’

‘It was somewhere around then when I came home.’

He looked hard at her. ‘Sure you’ve got the right Powell there?’

‘There’s nothing going on between me and any of the Powells, Dad.’

‘Look, love, I’m not angry, just concerned. I know how upset you were when Haydn went away. I half expected him to turn up on the doorstep when he came back, I suppose I sort of hoped he would. You seemed happy enough together before you had that row.’

‘I suppose we were,’ she conceded.

‘I know, it’s none of my business.’ He pushed the last of the tins from the box on to the shelf and punched the box flat. ‘I’m just trying to tell you that if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. That’s all, and if you need money for a new dress or anything else...’

‘Now you’re talking, Dad.’ Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of that? Haydn spent all his working time in the company of glamorous girls. Girls who travelled the country, and made enough money to patronise good shops like Gwilym Evans, and even expensive department stores like Howell’s in Cardiff. She’d had hardly anything new in the last six months. ‘There’s a dress in the Co-op I’ve been fancying.’

‘How much is it?’

She held her breath, hoping he was prepared to dig deep into his pockets. ‘One pound seventeen and six.’

‘Well, seeing as how you’re minding the shop for me tonight, here’s five pounds.’ He pulled a large white note out of his wallet. ‘Call it an early birthday present. Go and spend it on some nice things for yourself.’

‘Dad, you sure?’ She took the note and untied her overall, giving him no time to reconsider.

‘Just mind you’re back here before five o’clock.’ He smiled fondly at her as she went to the door. ‘I’d like ten minutes to change before I go out.’

‘I’ll be here.’

She ran up the stairs, pulled her large felt tam on her head and picked up her short coat, checking the clock as she went out through the front door. She had two hours. Time enough to buy a new dress, some cologne, a little make-up – not too much or she’d end up looking cheap, like the chorus girls who occasionally called into Ronconi’s for tea and cakes between shows at the New Theatre. Then after she’d bought everything, all she had to do was dress up and waylay Haydn as he walked home. It would be simple to inveigle him into the shop on some pretext or other. When they were alone she’d tell him she still loved him. It wouldn’t be that difficult, not when she remembered all that they’d had to say to one another before last Christmas. And if Eddie had already boasted to his brother about his night out with her, she’d tell Haydn the truth. That she’d only gone out with Eddie twice in her life: the first time to hurt him after their argument and the second because it was the only way she could think of seeing him on stage.

‘Hello, Jenny.’

‘Hello, Mr Richards.’ She caught sight of her reflection in the large mirror that flanked the porch of Richards’ barber’s shop. She didn’t compare too badly with what she’d seen of the girls in the Revue, and once Haydn saw her in a new outfit, her hair freshly washed and waved, and smelling of the best scent she could find, he wouldn’t be able to resist her. But first she had to buy the clothes and watch the hill. Sooner or later Haydn had to walk up it. It was simply a matter of time, patience – and waiting for the right moment.

‘We’ll lend you one of the long wigs from the costume department.’ Mandy brushed bright green powder on to Jane’s eyelids with the largest, bushiest paintbrush Jane had ever seen. ‘I realised your hair was short, but I had no idea it was this short. Good job you have an usherette’s band to hide it under. What on earth possessed you to cut it like this? There isn’t even enough left to take an iron waver.’

 ‘I burnt it trying out a home perm.’ Jane repeated a tale of woe she’d overheard one nurse tell another in the workhouse.

‘Take a tip from me,’ Mandy dropped the brush on top of a mess of squashed sweets and spilt powder on her shelf, and proceeded to attack Jane’s eyebrows with tweezers. ‘Never, never, touch a home permanent. If you can’t afford to pay a good, and I mean a good, hairdresser to do your hair, then leave well alone. Tie it back, put it up, or cover it with a headscarf until you can beg, borrow or steal the money. What do you think?’ She looked at Judy who’d been watching her efforts.

‘More rouge, and lipstick?’

Mandy stood back. ‘You’re right.’

‘Can’t I see yet?’ Jane pleaded. Mandy had turned the chair away from the only mirror in the room, so Jane couldn’t watch what was being done to her.

‘Absolutely not until I finish. Do me a favour, Judy, fetch one of the Lady Godiva wigs.’

‘Black or blonde?’

‘Blonde, oh please, blonde,’ Jane begged.

‘Blonde would be disastrous with your colouring,’ Mandy declared decisively. ‘You need blue or grey eyes and a fair skin to get away with blonde hair. Dark lashes, brows and eyes like yours are a sure-fire giveaway to the dyed blonde.’

Judy slipped on a wrap and left the dressing room. She was back a few minutes later with a waist-length black wig.

‘And we don’t even have to pin your hair back to go underneath it.’ Mandy pulled it down over Jane’s head.

‘It’s tight,’ Jane complained.

‘You have to suffer to be beautiful.’

‘I’d have to do a lot more suffering to achieve that.’

‘Turn around.’

Jane left the chair. She turned and stared at her reflection in disbelief. Her skin had the smooth, artificial, highly-coloured porcelain quality of a mask. And the hair transformed her. It cascaded to her waist, soft, shimmering strands of fine silk that caught the electric light and reflected its glow, lightening her face, lending it an ethereal, translucent quality.

‘We have to call the other girls in to see this.’ Mandy put her hand on the doorknob.

‘No,’ Jane protested.

‘Come on, sweetie, I’m proud of my handiwork. I want to show it off.’

‘Someone might be around. The manager or one of the other usherettes.’

‘She’s right, Mandy, management might not like it.’

‘Management might not, but I know someone who will. We called in the photographer’s today to tell him you’re coming. You haven’t changed your mind?’

Jane hesitated.

‘Ten pounds, remember,’ Judy reminded.

‘I said I’d go with you.’

‘Right,’ Judy pulled a cigarette from a packet in her skirt pocket and lit it with a small silver lighter. ‘It’s fixed for next Tuesday, two o’clock.’

‘Where will I meet you?’ Jane asked nervously.

‘His place will probably be best. It’s the photographic studio on top of the furniture shop. You know it?’

Jane shook her head.

‘Why don’t we meet in the New Inn again?’ Mandy suggested, remembering her own first time in front of the camera. ‘We could have coffee and sandwiches there, like we did the other day.’

‘That would be nice,’ Jane agreed in a small voice, despising herself for allowing Mandy to see just how uneasy she was.

‘Don’t worry, it’s going to go fine. Just close your eyes and think of the money.’ Judy patted her arm encouragingly.

‘If we’re going to send the usherette and not the glamour puss out on duty it’s time to turn the princess back into Cinders and wipe this lot off your face.’ Mandy picked up a wet sponge, the jar of cold cream and set to work.

‘You sure you know what you’re doing, introducing that girl to Merv?’ Mandy asked after Jane had gone.

‘You heard Merv, two pounds for every usable new girl we introduce him to, and four for a local within easy distance who’d be prepared to work for him again.’

‘But Jane’s such an innocent. An absolute baby.’

‘An innocent baby who’s greedy for money, just like the rest of us. Come on, Mandy, have you been in this business so long you don’t remember what it was like to work forty-eight hours a week for ten bob? The girl’s ambitious, and if she’s got what it takes, she’d have found her own way in sooner or later. All we’ve done is give her a head start. And if the worst comes to the worst and Merv turns her down, there’s no harm done.’

‘Isn’t there?’

‘For pity’s sake, the man’s after photographs, not some of the other.’

‘But both you and I know what photographs can lead to.’

‘Only what you want them to lead to.’

‘Sometimes I think all you care about is money and that bloody shop you want to open.’

‘Too royal. I’m not getting any younger, and we all know what happens when the wrinkles come out and the firm bits start to sag. Make money while the men are smiling, that’s my motto. And they don’t smile at us for long in this business. Rusty told me London’s coming next week to see the show.’

‘They got new girls they want in?’ Mandy asked anxiously. Judy and Rusty were the oldest in the Revue, but it wasn’t always the oldest who were laid off. She’d put on a pound or two recently. She’d hoped no one had noticed, but what if Norman had, and he’d wired London?

‘Who knows? All I know is last time they came up, Ginger was in and Alice was out on her ear.’ Judy threw the dog end of her cigarette into the bin. Three years! If she could only last three more years she’d have enough to buy not only a shop outright, but one in a good area of London with a flat above it. And then, God help anyone who tried to tell her that sinful employment leads to tragedy, as her vicar cousin had done the time she’d worn a fur coat into his church.

‘I changed extra quick so I wouldn’t keep you waiting.’

‘And I told you last Tuesday that I wouldn’t walk home with you again.’

‘But I knew you didn’t mean it.’

‘I most certainly did.’ Jane turned her back on Haydn as she removed her usherette’s cap and pulled on her tam.

‘I thought our dance changed everything.’

‘It changed nothing.’

‘My, but you can be hard-hearted towards a fellow when you want to be.’

‘I don’t like people who fool around and make fun of others.’

‘Well if that’s the way you want to play it, why didn’t you say so?’ He fell to his knees and laid his hand theatrically over his heart, much to the amusement of three passing chorus girls, who couldn’t resist knocking on Rusty’s door to get her out to witness the spectacle. She was just in time to hear Haydn declaiming in his best Shakespearean voice, ‘I promise faithfully to be most serious, walk beside you without taking advantage … and …’ he gazed at Jane with round, pathetic eyes ‘most definitely not buy you any chips.’

‘I’d still rather walk home alone.’ Jane turned on her heel and followed the other usherettes out of the door, leaving Haydn to run after her.

Jenny had bought not one but two new dresses. She was wearing one now, a thin red crepe, that was dressy enough to go out in, but not too dressy, she hoped, to wear in the shop without exciting comment from the customers or her mother. She should have closed and locked the front door hours ago. Her father wouldn’t be pleased if he knew she’d stayed open this late, especially on a Saturday when there were likely to be drunks around. She looked up at the clock. Half-past ten. The people who’d been to the pictures had already walked up the hill. She could lock up now and keep a lookout, but when she saw Haydn she wanted their meeting to appear accidental, not contrived. She’d spent all evening planning it. She’d step outside, look up and down the street as though she were checking to see if there were any last-minute customers. He would see her, stop and say hello and then … then … then what? She could hardly invite him in straight away or blurt out that she loved him in the street. No of course not – he’d say more than ‘hello.’ He’d ask her how she’d been. She’d answer, ‘Lonely.’ Or would that be too obvious? Perhaps she should play hard to get. But what if that put him off, when she wanted him so much?

She looked across the road. The small grocer’s had closed hours ago. Then she heard a laugh she’d recognise anywhere. Haydn was standing beneath the lamp in front of the shop, talking to a couple of boys from Leyshon Street. Standing next to him was the small, slight figure of a girl. A tiny, mousy girl wearing a plain black dress, without a single ornament. She wasn’t even wearing a coat, although the night was cool enough for all the boys, including Haydn, to be wearing theirs. Jenny craned her neck trying to make out features that were half hidden below an enormous beret. But all she could see was a wide-lipped mouth and the tip of a nose. Whoever she was, she certainly wasn’t any Powell Jenny knew of, and none of the Graig girls she could think of were quite that short.

One of the boys staggered slightly. He must have come from either the Graig or the Morning Star. Haydn moved protectively closer to the girl and put his hand on her elbow. She shrugged it off. Did that mean they’d quarrelled? Or weren’t they going out together, after all? Well, even if she couldn’t see Haydn alone, she could still make sure that he saw her. Patting her hair to make sure the waves she’d created were still in place, she left the counter and opened the door. The clang resounded across the road. She looked up and down the hill, but Haydn didn’t turn her way, although he must have heard the shop bell. The other boys were looking at her, but not him. Trembling from a peculiar mix of emotions including anger, resentment and a sudden fear that it might be even more difficult than she’d thought to get Haydn back, she leaned through the open door and turned the sign from OPEN to CLOSED.