One Blue Moon (10 page)

‘I wanted to thank you for carrying Maud out of the station yesterday, only you didn’t stay around long enough.’

‘It was nothing,’ he said shyly.

‘You want anything?’ Tina asked, tired of waiting for him to order.

‘Whatever it is it’ll have to be warm by the look of you. Tea?’ Diana asked.

‘Yes please. And something to eat. Whatever’s easiest for you,’ he said to Tina.

‘I can warm you up a dinner in the stove, or a pie in the steamer. Anything else and I’ll have to roust Ronnie out of the back.’

‘A dinner will do me fine. Thank you.’

‘If you sit next to the stove, I’ll bring your tea over.’ Diana pointed to the tables next to the stove in the front area.

‘Taken up waitressing, Diana?’ Tina whispered as Diana remained next to the counter waiting for her to produce Wyn’s tea.

‘If I’m going to work for Ronnie the sooner I start learning the ropes the better.’

‘You know he’s ... he’s ...’ Tina glanced around furtively. When she was sure no one could overhear them, she continued. ‘A queer,’ she blurted out.

‘That’s why I suggested he sit by the stove in here and not next to the fire in the back room with the boys. Will and Haydn can’t stand him, and Eddie’s always moaning that he shouldn’t be allowed in the gym.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘Thanks for the tea. Give me a shout when the dinner’s ready,’ Diana said loudly, cutting Tina short as she took Wyn’s tea over to him.

‘You always go for long walks through mud on rainy Sundays?’ Diana asked tactlessly as she dumped Wyn’s tea down in front of him, slopping it in the saucer.

‘Only sometimes.’

She sat in the chair next to his. Alma had left the café for the kitchen, probably to see to Wyn’s dinner, and Gina had taken herself and her magazine over to the counter where she was whispering and giggling with her sister. ‘Something wrong then?’ she asked.

Wyn lifted his wet face to hers. ‘You don’t want to be burdened with my problems,’ he said quietly.

‘Oh I don’t know. They’re not my problems, so I won’t really feel burdened by them, not enough to cry about them any road. And you’ll feel better for talking about them, because by telling someone else your troubles you’ll have halved your load.’

‘Who says so?’

‘My mam for one.’

Diana looked at Wyn and remembered a time when Will had been railing against queers in general, and Wyn in particular, and her mother had looked at him and said, ‘Poor dab. You just remember, William Powell, there but for the grace of God goes you or any man. And the world would be a lot poorer place if there was no room for anyone who was a bit different.’

‘It’s my Dad,’ Wyn admitted. ‘We had a row.’

‘Before you had your Sunday dinner.’

‘You’ve got it in one.’

‘That’s bad luck. Before dinner I mean, but then most families row from time to time. You should have seen me and my mam.’

‘Really?’

‘At it hammer and tongs. Next door used to complain like anything.’

‘Dad and I have always had trouble getting on, and it’s grown a lot worse since Mam died.’

Diana looked at the thick mud on his shoes, and instinctively knew where he’d been.

‘You’ve been to the cemetery, haven’t you?’

‘Mam’s buried in Glyntaff. It’s not too far to walk ...’

‘On dry days.’

‘I know she’s not there,’ he smiled self-consciously. ‘Not really there, but it helps to go and talk to her as if she could hear me. You think I’m crazy, don’t you?’

‘No,’ Diana said seriously. ‘Not in the slightest. Rhiannon Pugh used to spend a lot of time talking to her son and old man after they both got killed in a pit accident. It was only natural really, they were all she had. And it was my mam who suggested she do it. You see my dad got killed in the war before I was born. Mam used to keep two photographs of him, one in the kitchen and one next to her bed, and she used to talk to him every night before she went to sleep, and every morning before she got up. She said it was no different from when he was alive. He never used to listen to her then either. But it helped her to say what she had to say and to get it off her chest.’ She looked wryly at Wyn, ‘I’m sorry, I know I’m probably not making much sense. Will, that’s my brother, he’s always telling me off for gabbling. But what I mean is, Mam would have gone to a grave if she’d had one. But she didn’t, at least not here. And it’s not the same talking to a cenotaph. Although she used to go to the sunken garden in the park a lot. It helped war widows you know, having the Memorial Park dedicated to all those who were killed in the war.’

‘Your mother sounds a sensible woman. I was sorry when I heard what happened.’

‘Yes well, couldn’t be helped I suppose. She broke the law and ended up in clink. Although I still think the sentence she got was a bit much. And I do miss her. Like hell!’ she exclaimed feelingly.

‘I can see why.’ He tried to remember the
Pontypridd Observer
article he’d read on Megan Powell’s trial, but he couldn’t recall how long she’d been sent down for so he decided against reminding Diana that she was luckier than him, because at least she’d get her mother back some time, whereas he’d never see his again.

‘So you want another cup of tea with your dinner, or after?’ she asked.

He looked down at the table and realised that Alma had put his meal in front of him. Two thick slices of breast of lamb, four round ice cream scoops of mashed potato, four roast potatoes, two scoops of stuffing, a pile of mashed swede and sliced carrots, the whole covered with thick, piping hot gravy.

‘After, please,’ he said to Diana. ‘Thank you,’ he shouted to Alma, who’d retreated behind the counter. ‘This looks great.’

‘We don’t usually do dinners this late in the afternoon, but it should be all right. If you want more, just give me a shout.’

‘I’ll be doing fine if I manage to eat all this.’ He picked up his knife and fork and began.

‘If you’ve anything better to do I won’t keep you,’ he said between mouthfuls to Diana as he heard a loud burst of masculine laughter coming from the back room. A girl like Diana was bound to have a boy in tow, and the last thing he wanted was to have his quiet talk with Diana Powell misconstrued by an over-protective, jealous boyfriend.

‘I’ve nothing better to do,’ Diana replied.’ And I certainly don’t want to go and sit in the back with that noisy rabble,’ she shouted, trying to make herself heard above another deafening roar.

‘If you’re sure.’

‘I’m sure. My cousin Eddie says you train down the gym at the back of the Ruperra. You a boxer too?’

‘No, I’m not quick enough on my feet, but I play rugby now and then on a Saturday, when my father can spare me from the shop.’

‘Tell me, what’s it like running a sweet shop so close to the New Theatre? Do you get to meet the stars?’

‘Once in a while.’

‘Bet they buy pound boxes of chocolates.’

‘Two-pound sometimes,’ he grinned. ‘Now it’s your turn. Tell me about Cardiff and the Royal Infirmary.’

Diana told him, and he listened and commiserated on the hardships she and her cousin Maud had endured at the hands of over-zealous supervisors; as they talked Wyn reflected that he had never found a woman so easy to get on with before, except of course his beloved mother. Not even his older sister Myrtle. He finished his dinner and persuaded Diana to let him buy her a tea and a slice of apple pie, scarcely daring to hope as they ate companionably together that this could be the beginning of a real friendship. He’d never experienced anything that remotely resembled a real, unselfish, disinterested friendship, outside of his family, in his entire life. 

Chapter Ten

At five o’clock the rain turned to hailstones. Ronnie looked around: the café was relatively quiet, and in this weather nothing was likely to happen that Tony, Angelo and Alma couldn’t handle between them.

‘If you’re going to see Maud I’ll run you all up in the Trojan,’ he said to his sisters.

‘You’ll never get all of us in the Trojan,’ Haydn protested.

‘The back’s empty,’ Ronnie said carelessly. He felt most peculiar. A strange excitement was curling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to analyse the feeling, knowing it was in some way connected with the prospect of seeing Maud, and he wondered if he was turning into a ghoul like Mrs Richards, Glan’s mother, who made it her business to visit everyone on the Graig who was in the remotest danger of ‘passing on’, taking it upon herself to issue bulletins on the patient’s progress, or lack of it, right up until the day that Fred the dead, the undertaker, was called in.

Alma touched his arm and smiled at him, breaking into his reverie. ‘Are you going to be long?’ she asked pleasantly.

‘Not long,’ he replied irritably, ignoring the touch of her hand as he reached over and took a box of best-quality chocolates from one of the shelves. She said nothing as she moved away, but his curt response hurt. She’d half hoped to be included in the small excursion. They could have driven back down the hill together after leaving everyone in Graig Avenue. Stopped off for a few moments somewhere quiet. It wouldn’t have had to be anywhere special. The car park of the closed White Hart provided privacy enough on a Sunday night.

She busied herself clearing away the dishes left on the tables as Tina and Gina fussed around getting their coats and Trevor’s from the kitchen. Glan ordered a meat pie, and by the time she’d heated it in the steamer, the girls were shouting goodbye. She looked up, just in time to shout, ‘Give Maud my love’ as Diana shut the door behind her.

‘Three sugars, Ronnie?’ Diana asked pointedly as she made tea for everyone in the back kitchen of Graig Avenue.

‘You’ll have to impress me with more than that if you want me to give you a job,’ he mocked, pulling the kitchen chair he was sitting on closer to the stove and, incidentally, closer to the easy chair Maud was half lying, half sitting in. ‘Ronconi waitresses have to remember all the customers’ likes and dislikes, or they’re out of a job, right Tina?’

The Powells’ square back kitchen was furnished in old fashioned, clumsily carved oak furniture. A huge dresser dominated the back wall opposite the oven. A large oak table and dark-stained deal kitchen chairs commandeered what little space was left, which meant that the Ronconis and Powells were squashed into close proximity whether they liked it or not, and it was fairly obvious to anyone who took the trouble to look that Tina and Gina did like it. They sat either side of William on the arms of the easy chair that he, with his innate love of comfort, had organised for himself, shrieking with laughter at his bad jokes. Eddie wasn’t so fortunate. He knelt on a chair in front of the dresser, the furthest point in the room from the warmth of the fire, leaning over the table as he watched Charlie and Haydn play chess. Only Diana was moving around, stepping cautiously over William’s long, outstretched legs as she set the kettle on to boil.

‘Your mam and dad out?’ Ronnie asked Maud, for once apparently unconcerned about his sister’s flirtation with William.

‘Mam’s in chapel, Dad could be anywhere,’ she said carelessly. ‘He has a lot of friends. ‘

‘I’ve noticed.’

‘When do you think you’ll be opening your new restaurant’?’ she asked.

‘As soon as we get around to finishing everything that needs doing in the place. It’s a tip at the moment.’

‘One week? Two?’

‘The impatience of youth,’ he said in a grand tone more suited to a forty-seven than a twenty-seven-year-old. ‘It’ll be months not weeks before we open the doors, but don’t worry –’ he pulled his cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and offered them to Charlie, Haydn and William, ‘– there’ll be a job for you there when you’re up to working again.’

‘Do you mean that?’ Her eyes glittered with excitement – and fever.

He glanced round the room to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. He knew from signs and symptoms he’d seen in others that it was extremely unlikely that Maud would ever work again, but what use was there in reinforcing her worst nightmares and telling her that? With nothing to look forward to she’d only wither and die all the sooner.

‘I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean.’ He pulled the box of chocolates out from under his coat. ‘Here, if you eat all these by yourself you may put some meat on your bones. God knows you could do with some,’ he murmured, ashamed of his own generosity.

‘Thank you ...’ she gasped, overwhelmed by the quality and size of the box.

‘Quick, hide them,’ he hissed. ‘Before Gina sees them. Another pound around her waist and she’ll be fatter than Mama.’

Maud laughed as she pushed them beneath the blanket that covered her, and the laughter brought on a short-lived coughing fit. Ronnie watched helplessly as she spat blood into the handkerchief that had become a permanent fixture in her hand.

‘You know what you should do, don’t you?’ he asked seriously.

‘Go into the Graig Hospital?’ she answered bitterly.

‘No,’ he contradicted flatly, disregarding the underlying hint of fear in her voice. ‘When the fine weather comes, spend as much time as you can on the mountain. Fresh air is what you need.’

‘So they told me in the Infirmary.’

‘They were right.’ He lit his cigarette and puffed it carefully, blowing the smoke away from her face.

‘Trevor said I should go into hospital.’

‘What does he know?’ Ronnie asked laconically. ‘He’ll be lucky if he keeps himself out of the place, and I don’t mean as a doctor. The fool got soaked earlier, walking down the hill to the café when he’s got a car sitting outside his front door. You should have heard Laura shout at the state of him when I dropped him off at Graig Street.’

‘I can imagine,’ Maud laughed again. Her laughter triggered off yet another coughing fit. Ronnie sat by, helplessly watching her shoulders shake with the effort. Haydn and Eddie looked across from the table.

‘Want me to open the window, Maud?’ Diana asked briskly, handing her a clean handkerchief and removing the soiled one. Taking care of Maud in an alien environment for three months had given her the confidence to tackle even the most unpleasant aspects of her illness.

‘No! No thank you,’ Maud gasped breathlessly, ramming the clean handkerchief into her mouth. Ronnie saw fresh blood stain the cloth. He made tight fists of his hands, butting his knuckles together. He wasn’t used to sitting idly by, witnessing things he didn’t like. He’d always charged at problems, bull at a gate, demolishing them whenever possible, tackling them head on when he couldn’t. He found it intensely difficult to accept anything unpleasant as inevitable, especially the progression of a potentially fatal illness.

‘Maud, I think it’s time I took you upstairs,’ Haydn said with an air of authority he only dared to assume when his father was absent from the house.

‘I’ve been there all afternoon,’ Maud snapped.

‘You look tired,’ he persisted.

‘I’m not!’ she retorted vehemently. The room fell silent, everyone assuming a sudden interest in Haydn and Charlie’s chess game. Charlie brought his rook down with a flourish, displacing Haydn’s queen.

‘Do you play chess?’ Ronnie asked Maud quietly, finally shattering the stillness.

‘Check!’ Haydn shouted gleefully.

‘You fool,’ Eddie reprimanded. ‘You’ve walked right into his trap.’

‘I’m nowhere near bright enough to play,’ Maud murmured in answer to Ronnie’s enquiry. ‘Bethan and Haydn got all the brains in this family.’

‘It doesn’t take brains to play chess,’ Ronnie mocked. ‘At least not the sort that matter.’

‘And what sort are those?’ Maud asked.

‘The brains that enable you to count the money you’ve earned.’

‘And you have those?’

‘In vast quantities,’ he winked. ‘If you’re good I’ll let you come and watch me bag my gold some time.’

‘You’re risking it, Ronnie,’ Gina crowed from the corner.

‘Risking what?’ he demanded laconically.

‘Leaving Tony and Angelo in charge of the café for so long. They’ve probably eaten the whole day’s profits by now.’

‘If they have, you two will be working for nothing next week.’

‘You wouldn’t dare ...’ Gina began.

‘Wouldn’t I just? You’re only half-trained girls and everyone knows what they’re worth,’ Ronnie taunted mischievously.

‘Papa’, Tina asserted haughtily, ‘would never stand for it.’

‘That’s just what I mean,’ Ronnie continued. ‘Women can never stand on their own two feet, they always have to hide behind a man’s coat tails.’

‘Why you ...’ Tina didn’t know whether to be angrier with Ronnie for his outrageous teasing, or her sister for drawing his attention to them in the first place.

‘Time for goodbyes,’ Ronnie rose to his feet. ‘Please accept my apologies, everyone, for my ill-mannered sisters. I won’t let them out again until they’re on their best behaviour,’ he joked heavily, blanching at the sight of the high spots of unhealthy colour on Maud’s cheeks.

‘If you’re in a hurry to go back to the café I’ll walk the girls home, Ronnie,’ William offered lightly.

‘There’s no need to put yourself out, Will,’ Ronnie replied evenly. ‘As it’s past their bedtime I’ll take them up now.’

‘Ronnie!’ Tina whined.

‘It’s Sunday night, Tina,’ Ronnie smiled condescendingly. ‘You know how Papa likes to have all the little ones home and tucked up in bed by seven.’ Ronnie put his teacup on the table. ‘See you tomorrow, Diana,’ he said as he walked towards the door. ‘Let me know how Springer’s goes.’

‘I will, and thanks.’

‘For what?’ He stepped aside and looked at his sisters pointedly, leaving room for them to walk past him to the door.

‘For letting me know about Alma’s job.’

‘You’re not brilliant,’ he smiled, ‘but there’s a lot around who are even more incompetent, and if you work mornings in the tailor’s it’ll leave your afternoons free for when I need you.’

 ‘Thanks a bundle Ronnie, you really know how to make a girl feel wanted,’ she complained.

‘Any time. You two moving or not?’ he asked in exasperation.

Tina rose clumsily, falling as she tried to rise from the arm of the chair, and landing right in William’s lap.

‘Tina!’ Ronnie snarled.

‘Sorry William, sorry Ronnie.’ She bit her lower lip hard, to stop herself from laughing.

‘See you,’ Haydn left his chair and showed them out. When he returned to the kitchen Maud was slumped against the back of the chair.

‘Bed for you, my girl.’ He wrapped the blanket containing the chocolates around her frail figure and lifted her high into his arms. This time Maud made no protest. Too tired to argue, she allowed him to carry her out of the room and up the stairs.

Ronnie didn’t go into his house. He dropped Tina and Gina off in the street and waited only as long as it took to see them safely inside. He’d noticed the way Tina and William had looked at one another, and didn’t entirely trust her, even now, believing her quite capable of sneaking back down to Graig Avenue. Once the door had closed on them and the light had dimmed in the passage, he turned the cumbersome vehicle laboriously in the narrow road, pointing it towards the end of the street and town. He drove slowly down the hill, but he didn’t go straight to the café. Instead he turned right, up Graig Street, and drew the van to a halt outside Laura and Trevor’s house.

‘Mama mia!’ Laura exclaimed as he walked through the kitchen door. ‘Twice in as many days. You out to set a record?’

Ignoring Laura, Ronnie took one look at Trevor sitting huddled in a red tartan dressing gown and striped pyjamas, his feet soaking in a bowl of hot water and mustard, and burst out laughing.

‘Sure you’ve wrapped him up well enough, Laura?’

‘You men,’ she burst out angrily. ‘You’re all the same. Think it’s clever to go out and get yourself soaked. Never give a thought to the poor women who have to stay at home and nurse you.’

‘No one has to stay at home and nurse me,’ Trevor protested mildly.

‘And I suppose that
you,
like him, believe that brandy is the cure for all ills,’ Laura continued, this time targeting Ronnie.

‘Now that you mention it, that’s not a bad idea.’ As Ronnie sat in the vacant easy chair he noticed the brandy bottle and glass on the table in front of Trevor. ‘Got a spare glass, dear sister?’

Laura stormed across the tiny kitchen and lifted down a small, uncommonly thick glass from the dresser. She almost threw it at Ronnie. He picked it up and held it to the light.

‘Wedding present from Tony,’ Trevor explained. ‘I think he won them on the fair.’

‘I hope you make him drink out of them when he comes to visit.’

‘Join us?’ Trevor smiled lovingly at Laura.

‘Some of us’, she tossed her head as high as her five-foot-three inch frame could reach, ‘have more important things to do.’

‘Like what?’ Ronnie sneered, filling both glasses to their tiny brims.

‘Mary Price asked if I’d take a look at her baby.’

‘Don’t you want to eat, woman? You’re doing your own husband out of a job.’ Ronnie touched his glass to Trevor’s and started to drink.

‘Alf Price drinks everything the dole gives him, even the penny a week Mary tries to earmark for the doctor. The children only know what breakfast is because the Salvation Army dishes it up three days a week in Jubilee Hall before school.’

‘I’d look at her baby for nothing,’ Trevor protested in a wounded voice.

‘I know that, sweetheart,’ Laura said gently, ruffling his unruly mop of hair. ‘And so does Mary, but like most people around here, having to beg for charity sticks in her craw. It hurts having to rely on handouts to feed and clothe your kids. And then again,’ she bent to kiss Trevor’s cheek as she lifted her coat down from the peg on the back of the door, ‘if it’s something serious you know I’ll call you. See you, Ronnie.’ She pulled the rug a little higher over Trevor’s shoulders before she walked out of the door.