All That Glitters (24 page)

‘Four not two?’

‘If she agrees to do more than this one session.’ He clapped his hands loudly. ‘Ready for front shots now, ducky. Mandy, show her how to stand, and where to put her legs and the hook of that hockey stick. Hold the shirt together. Under, not over your tits, they need pushing up, not covering up.’

Judy took Jane’s hand and manoeuvred it into the position Merv wanted, carefully arranging the hockey stick so it concealed the scrap of cloth welded between her thighs. ‘Breathe in and push your chest out,’ she ordered. ‘That’s it, as far as it will go. All right Merv?’

‘Get her a fraction sideways, there isn’t much of a curve, but taken at the right angle it might do.’

With orders being flung at her from all directions, Jane had no time to worry about her nakedness. Between remembering to hold her breath, her position, her smile, and imagining the camera lens as Haydn’s eyes, the whole experience passed so quickly she was surprised when Merv shouted it was over.

‘As soon as I develop them, I’ll give you a set.’ He unhooked the camera from its stand and carried it into the darkroom.

‘When will they be ready?’ Judy asked, walking towards the screen that closed off the corner Merv had grandly referred to as the ‘dressing room’.

‘Tomorrow morning soon enough for you?’

‘I’ll pick them up.’

‘You’ll get your money then.’

Jane looked at the other two. She’d been expecting her money straight away.

‘Standard practice, love,’ Judy reassured. ‘If something goes wrong with the film, or the pictures are duds, the photographer’s entitled to another session.’

‘Don’t worry, nothing’s likely to go wrong with these.’ Merv read the crestfallen expression on Jane’s face. ‘Here, as it’s your first time, take a fiver on account.’

‘Thank you.’ Clutching the shirt to her chest Jane tried to pass him.

‘You’ll be available again. Perhaps next week?’

‘I don’t know,’ she answered doubtfully looking from Judy to Mandy.

‘Up to you, love, we’ll be gone by then.’ Judy said.

‘Without Mandy and Judy I’d have no one to do the make-up, or the hair.’

‘No need to worry about that, ducky. I’d get someone in to help.’

‘I’ll think about it.’ Now that it was finally over, all she wanted to do was get behind the screens and dress.

‘Hold on to the top of the screen and clench your teeth,’ Judy ordered as she followed her. ‘And try not to scream while I pull this triangle off you.’

Merv was sitting, talking to Mandy when Judy and a red-faced Jane finally emerged from behind the screens. He noted Jane’s simple, black work dress, so very different from Judy and Mandy’s elaborate ‘walking-out costumes’. The girl looked as though she was on her uppers, and in his experience it was the poor ones who were generally the hungriest for work, and incidentally made the most profit for him.

‘Mandy tells me you’re not with the Revue, you’re an usherette.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Look, I meant what I said earlier about putting more work your way. As you live in Pontypridd, on the job as it were, I could make you quite a wealthy girl.’

‘Would you want me often?’ Jane ventured, tempted by the money, but disinclined to repeat the experience without Judy and Mandy’s support.

‘Depends on the reception the portfolio I took today gets. My customers are always on the lookout for something new, and at the moment you’re new. Then there’s always the camera club. That pays more, of course …’

‘No,’ Mandy broke in forcefully. ‘No camera club. What kind of a girl do you take Jane for?’

‘The kind who wants to make money.’ Merv shrugged his shoulders. ‘But if I’ve offended, sorry I suggested it.’

‘What’s a camera club?’ Jane asked as they left the studio.

‘A lot of dirty old men who pay Merv to use his studio. In return for their money they get the use of a camera without a film in it and a model. Generally a girl who’s desperate or naive enough to work completely in the nude.’

‘And with one girl and anything up to twelve or more men in one room I give you one guess as to what can happen to the girl.’

‘If you do decide to work for Merv again, then make sure you lay down the rules,’ Mandy advised her seriously. ‘Only him in the studio, no one else. And you’re safe enough with him, he’s as queer as they come. Insist on a locked door, check the rooms to make sure no one is hiding, and always, always …’

‘Take a girlfriend, if not two or three with you. Preferably big, heavy ones.’

‘Has anything ever happened to you?’

‘No, because we’re too bloody careful, but it has to some of the other girls. It’s a way of making a living, love, but let’s face it, it is slightly tacky.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Mandy retorted.

‘I was, actually,’ Judy answered, regretting the greed that had led her to manoeuvre Jane into a position where she could be used and abused by Merv, and with the Revue moving on, no one to turn to for help after next Sunday. ‘Look all I’m saying is if you take your clothes off again, just be sure you don’t do it where a man will be able to take advantage of you. Promise me you’ll remember that much of my advice even if you forget the rest?’

‘I promise.’

‘And if you can, come into the New Inn lunchtime tomorrow and I’ll give you your money, and your photographs.’

‘What are you going to do with the ten pounds, Jane?’ Mandy asked. ‘Buy a new wardrobe?’

‘Save it,’ Jane answered decisively. ‘I’m going to open a Post Office account.’

‘Wise girl. My mother used to tell me that a Post Office account was a girl’s best friend. The type of relationship you could always fall back on provided you put enough into it.’

‘I’ll tell you something for nothing,’ Judy said caustically. ‘It’s the only one that will never let you down.’

Chapter Thirteen

‘You look as though you’re in a dream, love. Everything all right?’ Harry Griffiths asked his daughter as she stood in front of the shop window, dressed in one of her new frocks and her mother’s ‘best’ embroidered apron.

‘On top of the world.’

‘Seen Haydn yet?’ he ventured apprehensively, wary of stepping into an emotional minefield.

‘It’s over between us, Dad.’

‘You sure?’

‘Absolutely certain.’ She gave him a bright, insincere smile, as Eddie walked into the shop dressed for an outing in a light grey sports coat, well-pressed, dark grey trousers, clean white shirt and a lurid red and blue tie.

‘Hello, Mr Griffiths, hello Jenny.’ He pushed a shilling across the counter. ‘Packet of Woodbines, please.’

‘You look smart, Eddie. Off to a match?’

‘Not exactly, Mr Griffiths.’

‘Charlie must be doing well if he can afford to pay you enough to dress like that.’

‘So well he bought a van today.’

‘Times must be getting better.’

‘For everyone since they’ve re-opened the Maritime.’

‘Your dad going back on shift there?’

‘I don’t know, Mr Griffiths. If he is, he hasn’t said anything to me about it.’

Harry was suddenly aware of Jenny hovering at his elbow. As he reached down the packet of cigarettes he glanced from her to Eddie. ‘I’d better get those sacks of potatoes in from the yard before they get damp. Will you give Eddie his change, love?’

‘You won’t be long will you, Dad? I was just about to go out.’

‘Two minutes,’ Harry closed the storeroom door behind him.

Eddie didn’t notice Jenny’s new dress. Only that she looked prettier than usual. He couldn’t help wondering if she’d made the effort for him. ‘Where we going for our walk then? Town?’

‘How about Shoni’s? It’ll be light for a while yet, and it’s warm enough to sit outside.’

Shoni’s was the only place on the Graig where the trees grew thick enough for a courting couple to find a spot that wasn’t overlooked.

‘Suits me,’ he mumbled, running his tongue over his lips.

‘I’ve packed a picnic tea.’

‘I could eat something.’

‘I’ve yet to meet a man who couldn’t. Just give me a couple of minutes to get my hat and I’ll be with you.’

The storeroom door opened.

‘I’ll wait outside,’ he called to her, hoping to avoid exchanging more small talk with her father. He backed out into old Mrs Evans, almost knocking her over.’

‘Sorry Mrs Evans,’ he tipped his cap apologetically.

‘That’s the trouble with you young people today,’ she muttered darkly from between toothless gums. ‘Always barging around, never considering anyone except yourselves.’

‘Really sorry …’

‘Can I help you, Mrs Evans?’ Jenny stepped in, enabling Eddie to escape.

‘Two ounces of sugar, on the slate.’

‘So that’s the way the land lies,’ Harry Griffiths observed as Mrs Evans left the shop, only to continue lecturing Eddie on the pavement.

‘What way?’ Jenny opened the door that led to their private quarters and lifted her hat and jacket from the stand.

‘Don’t play innocent with me, it doesn’t wash, young lady. Has Eddie taken over where Haydn left off?’

‘How could he, when I haven’t been out with Haydn in over eight months?’

‘All right, I’ll put it another way. How long has this been going on between you and Eddie?’

‘Nothing’s “going on” as you put it. Eddie took me to the theatre the other night.’

‘And?’

‘And I enjoyed myself, so I thought I’d repay him with a picnic. I made some sandwiches earlier with the shop’s ham and roast pork. I hope you don’t mind.’ She picked up a bulging shopping bag she’d stashed under the coats.

‘I don’t care what you take from the shop, as long as it’s in moderation, you know that. But I’m warning you now, watch what you do with Eddie Powell. Behave yourself and see that he behaves. You know what I’m talking about?’

‘Dad, we’re going on a picnic.’

‘And Eddie’s Haydn’s younger brother. Just don’t go doing anything silly like trying to get back at Haydn through Eddie. Blood’s thicker than water. And when push comes to shove, the Powells have always been a close-knit clan, and Eddie – well, he’s a nice enough lad, or at least I’ve always thought so, unlike some around here. Good boxer too, with a great future if Joey Rees is to be believed, but he has a quick temper.’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I’d hate to see it turned on you, or his brother. I know you, Jenny; if you cause an argument between those two boys and either of them gets hurt, you won’t be able to live with yourself.’

‘Dad.’ She left the hall, leaned over the counter and kissed his grizzled cheek. ‘You’re worrying about nothing. I promise you, nothing’s going to happen between Haydn and Eddie, or between Eddie and me. We’re just friends, that’s all.’

‘As long as it stays that way.’

‘And what other way is there? Expect me when you see me.’

‘It had better be early. Your mother’s home and it’s a week night,’ he called as the shop bell clanged behind her.

‘Ready, Jane.’

‘For what?’ She eyed Haydn suspiciously as she stood in front of the confectionery kiosk. ‘Three Fry’s Five Boys bars, and a bag of dolly mixtures please, Mrs Brown.’

‘Sweet tooth?’

‘Buying them for the girls.’

‘They can buy their own, you know.’

‘I don’t mind running errands for them.’

‘Because they pay you?’

‘Only to do their mending.’

‘Not to mention the pennies you make on the pasties you buy by the dozen in Charlie’s.’

‘I’m trying to make a living. One day I hope to earn as much as you.’

‘
Touché.
’ He watched as Lil Brown handed her the sweets and her change. ‘You were the one who wanted dancing lessons and as I’ve half an hour to spare, I thought we’d fit another one in.’

‘Now?’

‘Right now.’

‘But what about Rusty?’

‘What about Rusty?’

‘Won’t she mind?’

‘What if she does?’

‘I know why you’re giving me the lessons. But you’ve got it all wrong. I haven’t said a word to her. I wouldn’t, not to anyone …’

‘I know you wouldn’t,’ he broke in irritably. ‘Now do you want this bloody dancing lesson or not?’

Her legs were still aching from the last one, but she hesitated for only a moment. Opportunities had to be grabbed before they were snatched away. Haydn might be willing now, but it was anyone’s guess as to what mood he’d be in tomorrow, with her – or Rusty. ‘I’ll be with you just as soon as I’ve taken these sweets to the girls.’

Haydn insisted on going on to the stage. The garden set had been erected by the stagehands less than five minutes after the final curtain had fallen on the first performance, and it was the one area of the theatre that could be guaranteed to be deserted between houses. Most of the cast were in their dressing rooms, eating, smoking, quarrelling or playing cards. The theatre staff were in the bar and would remain there until the doors opened again. And the manager, Joe Evans and Norman Ashe were ensconced in the office, talking business with a brandy bottle at their elbow.

Jane followed Haydn out from the wings. Even with the curtains closed she found the surroundings bizarre, the floats lending a maze-like, nightmarish quality. Close up, the trees and flowers were just so many clumsy brushstrokes on canvas. They bore little resemblance to the luxuriant foliage of the magical garden that had enchanted her from the auditorium. An entrancing, glittering wonderland that, like Alice, she’d assumed she was doomed to catch tantalising glimpses of from afar, and never enter. It might have been better for her if she never had, she decided as she surveyed the scuffed wooden floor and worn fringes on the silk curtains. That way she could have clung to her fantasies.

Haydn walked confidently towards centre stage, the taps on his shoes ringing out over the boards, making their own music; her soft shoes, already showing sad signs of wear, shuffled uncertainly behind.

‘Stand here,’ he ordered brusquely like a sergeant-major on parade. ‘Here. Facing me.’ He stood with his back to the curtain. ‘Watch every move I make, and copy it.’

He lifted his right leg; she followed suit. He brought it down sharply, crashing the toe tap on the staging. It rang out, killing the soft thud of her thin-soled shoe. He repeated the movement using the other leg; switching from one leg to the other he escalated the pace. Watching his every move intently Jane struggled to keep step with the tempo he set, determined to give him no cause for complaint.

‘I was right, you do have a little talent,’ he acknowledged after ten minutes of arduous foot gymnastics.

‘Then it’s worth me persevering?’

‘That depends on what you intend to do with what you’ve learned. You have something in mind?’

She looked at her feet. She hadn’t needed Mandy and Judy to tell her that she hadn’t much going for her. Thin, skinny, with hair and features like a scruffy kid, and an undernourished kid at that. How could she even begin to tell Haydn, six feet two in his stockinged feet, well built, with the figure and face of an Adonis, and talent to match, that she wanted to go on stage? She’d never even attempted to dance a step until he’d swept her along the dressing-room corridor, and apart from hymns in school assemblies and church, she’d never sung a song through from beginning to end.

‘You have nothing in mind?’

‘Not at the moment.’

‘No aspirations to be a chorus girl?’

When she didn’t answer, some devil provoked him into goading her. ‘Because if you have, you’ll never make it. As I said, quite apart from looks, you haven’t the height. There isn’t a girl in Revue or Variety who’s under five foot three or above five foot five. You might occasionally find the odd show with a taller chorus, but I’ve yet to hear of an impresario who hires midgets under five foot.’

‘I might have some more growing to do.’ She drew herself up to her full height.

‘I doubt it. How old are you anyway? Sixteen, seventeen?’

‘Eighteen.’

‘You look about twelve.’ He was aware that he was damaging more than her pride, yet was unable to stop; in some peculiar way, needling her eased his own frustration.

‘Well then, perhaps I should forget about the chorus and become the British Shirley Temple.’

There was such a fierce, angry expression on her face he burst out laughing. ‘There may be something in that. I could buy you a frilly frock and knickers and teach you to sing “The Good Ship Lollipop”. Then when my star goes into decline you can keep me.’

‘Jane?’ Ann’s voice echoed down the aisles.

‘I have to go.’

‘If you wait behind after the show I’ll give you another half hour lesson.’

‘You don’t have to. Really. You misunderstood -’

‘For pity’ sake, woman, stop apologising. I believe you.’

‘Then why do you want to carry on?’

‘Because it gives me something to do between houses other than cavorting with nudes in my dressing room.’

‘I would never have told Phyllis that if I’d known you were Evan’s son.’

‘Isn’t that bloody typical of a woman? First you ask me for dancing lessons, then, just as you show signs of a little – only a very little, mark you – talent, you start apologising and finding excuses as to why I shouldn’t give them to you.’

‘You were the one who said there was no point in my learning how to dance.’

‘I merely asked what you intended to do, once you’d learned.’

‘That’s my business.’

‘Do you, or don’t you, intend to stay on at the end of the show tonight?’ he demanded in exasperation.

‘Yes.’

‘In that case I’ll see you in the rehearsal room as soon as I’ve changed out of costume. There’s mirrors there that will show you precisely where you’re going wrong.’

‘The bluebells are still out.’ Eddie pointed to a light dusting of colour brightening the green and brown shadows beneath an elm tree.

‘Those aren’t bluebells, silly, they’re violets.’

‘Same difference.’

‘Most certainly not.’ Jenny smiled to take the sting from her contradiction. ‘Violets are smaller and sweeter.’

‘Eat them, do you?’

She laughed at his poor joke then stretched out her arms to the warm evening air. ‘It’s good to get out like this. I feel as though the winter has lasted for ever. And it seems a million years since Christmas.’

‘It always does once it’s over. You’re looking nice.’

Jenny smoothed the skirt of the blue dress she was wearing, the second of the two she had bought with the unexpected windfall from her father. ‘Thank you.’ She reached for his hand. It wouldn’t have been much of a compliment coming from anyone other than Eddie, but she knew him well enough to realise it was the nearest he’d get to poetry.

‘Where do you want to stop?’

Shoni’s pond lay in front of them, its dark, tree-fringed expanse shimmering with the sparkling crimson and gold beams of the slowly dying sun. Willow boughs bent low, fingering the surface, sending ripples over the undulating surface to break against the bank. The flat rock known to all the Graig children as the diving rock lay on their right, half lost in undergrowth that would be trodden flat before school reopened for the autumn term. On the left bank a narrow meandering path led deeper into the valley, past secret copses and groves where lovers had held trysts since houses had been built on the Graig.

‘How about we walk a little further?’

‘If we go much further we’ll be walking back in the dark.’

‘Five minutes,’ she pleaded.

He picked up the shopping bag and shouldered it again. It was heavy. He’d asked her what was in it, but she’d refused to tell him. Ten silent minutes later she was still leading the way, following the bed of the stream deeper into the woods. ‘That’s it, absolutely it.’ He left the path and walked into a clearing. Jenny studied their position, trying to recall, from her outings with Haydn last year, where they were in relation to a sheltered, thickly wooded spot that couldn’t be overlooked from either the path or the hill above.

‘Here.’ She ran a little way ahead on the opposite side to where he was standing. ‘There’s more wood violets. I can pick a posy for my room.’