A Million Tears (29 page)

‘And ask him the best place to stop. We’ll have to let the man Reisenbach sends to Pittsburgh know too. Still, the morning will take care of that.’

Although we were back in the warehouse as dawn was breaking, Sonny McCabe was already there and as the men turned up he put them to work unloading the train. Evan and I worked in the warehouse directing the wagons for unloading while Meg and three of the hired help began stacking the boxes and bags on shelves. Even Dai and Sion helped wherever they could.

It was hard work and we drove ourselves all day. By four o’clock the train was unloaded and we were left with a mountain of goods on the floor of the warehouse, a small percentage already on the shelves.

After we paid off the men we sat around drinking coffee, Sonny McCabe with us.

‘May I make a suggestion?’ he ventured after a few minutes. ‘Mr Griffiths, you and Mrs Griffiths will be busy from now until we open working out prices, so you said.’ Evan nodded. ‘We’re going to keep four men on full time and they’ll be starting tomorrow. I don’t think we’re going to be anywhere near ready for the opening next week. We need to get more men temporarily, on the same basis as we’ve had them for the last two days. That way we just might make it in time. Otherwise . . .’ he trailed off.

‘Otherwise what?’ prompted Meg.

‘Otherwise when we do open we’ll look . . . well . . . like amateurs . . . I don’t know. I guess I should keep my big mouth shut,’ his craggy features looked glum.

‘First rule here, Sonny,’ said Evan, ‘is if you’ve got something to say then say it.’ He sighed. ‘And actually, look you, I don’t disagree. I hadn’t expected it to be so much work. I guess it is because we are amateurs.’

‘All right,’ said Meg decisively, ‘that’s what we’ll do.’

The deal with the farmers recovered half the costs of the train and made us some good friends. That Saturday night, along with Sonny, we met the Germans for a night of sauerkraut, sausage, lager and schnapps. The next morning I felt like death warmed up after too many prosts the night before. A few hours sweating in the warehouse soon removed the alcohol from my blood but that night I found my bed more welcome than ever.

We opened on Monday as planned. Business started by being brisk and remained that way from seven in the morning until seven in the evening. The variety of goods we stocked was mentioned by every customer and though we were no cheaper than other warehouses with such stuff as sugar and tobacco, they still bought from us because of the other merchandise. Glassware, leather goods and our tinned foodstuffs were very popular. We were also selling German cheeses and smoked meats supplied by the farmers, a little deal Evan set up on Saturday evening.

Two weeks later Meg and Evan left for New York. We needed to replenish our stocks before they got too low. Our responsibilities had sorted themselves out by then. Sonny took charge of the men, stocking shelves and helping customers, Meg had two girls under her taking the money while I kept a general eye on things, noting the most popular brands and items and planning with Evan a better layout of the merchandise.

Evan was out of the warehouse as often as he was in. He found and bargained for different sources of tobacco, sugar and planting grain, all of which arrived by boat from the south and west. He visited the farmers and worked out deals with them for more of their produce and with the local breweries for their beer and whisky.

The sign over the door read “GRIFFITHS & Co. CASH AND CARRY”.

It took Evan five months to repay the bank loans though it left us with no cash except for the goods in the warehouse – fifty thousand dollars’ worth. Already we were thinking that the premises were too small.

Autumn, or as the Americans call it, the fall, was nearly over and winter was fast approaching. The wind coming in over the prairies was sharp and blustery, bringing heavy showers and the occasional thunder storm. We had rented a house soon after we had opened but at the end of September Meg found a house on the outskirts of town. It was in about two acres of lawn and vegetable garden, close enough to town to have electricity and with water from its own well plumbed into the house.

There were a couple of outhouses and a dilapidated barn. The house was two stories high with a veranda running all the way round the outside. There were five bedrooms upstairs, one with a bathroom adjoining. This was to be Meg and Evan’s room. The boys had a room each at the back of the house and I was alongside them with a view out of the side towards town and out of the back towards the Mississippi, about half a mile away.

Downstairs there was a dining room, a large lounge, a big comfortable kitchen and a study. The house also had the latest in plumbing and toilets. It was a lovely place, better than most of the houses in the area but nothing like the large mansions that dotted the outskirts of St Louis.

‘I don’t want a mansion,’ said Meg. ‘I prefer this. I’m going to get a cleaning woman in every day but I’ll run the place myself. I don’t want servants cluttering us up.’

I felt a stab of pain. That was exactly how I thought of myself, cluttering up the place. Perhaps it was time I found somewhere of my own to live. I dreaded the thought.

‘I just want there to be the five of us to enjoy it,’ Meg said, and I immediately felt better. After all, I rationalised to myself, when they go away I’m there to look after the boys.

‘As soon as we get the furniture after the next New York trip. Let me tell you what I thought . . .’ They walked away while I stood looking out the back at the vegetable garden. I liked the place. I was going to be happy there until the end of my days. I coughed harshly, opened the window and phlegmed into a cabbage patch.

The boys started school about then. They were put into classes according to their ages, but within a month they both complained that they were bored and Meg had to go and see about them being put up a grade. They were doing so well there was the possibility they would be shifted up a second grade after Christmas. Meg ensured that this was a certainty.

Sion continued with his interest in kites and sometimes on weekends I would go with him to a hill not far away to try out a new design. Though we were open from seven in the morning until seven in the evening Meg never came in before the boys left for school and rarely missed being at home when they returned. In fact, about the only time she was not there was when she went to New York with Evan. It was an exciting, happy time. Wales was a lifetime ago, remembered only when Meg and Evan wrote home.

Two weeks before Christmas we received a letter from John Buchanan asking if he could come and stay with us for the festivities. We were delighted, for in all the times Meg and Evan had been to New York they had never been there during one of his visits. Meg used it as an excuse to throw a party, though I think the real reason for doing so was her desire to show off her beautiful home.

She had furnished it tastefully, with dark oak furniture, which contrasted with the white walls in the lounge. The carpet was rich wine-red wool which had been imported from England. In one corner stood a tall grandfather clock that chimed the hour in muted tones and along one wall stretched a sideboard in which Meg kept her best china and the liquor. Evan was talking about building a bar one day but Meg was adamant that it would have to be in the study and not her room. Evan teased her about this, but I had no doubt where it would end up.

By the time Christmas came the warehouse was practically empty. We closed on Christmas Eve at noon, paying the staff a bonus and giving them the perishables to share out. We invited Sonny to the party on Boxing Day, much to his pleasure, and told him to bring a girl friend. Who, at that time, would have thought such a simple invitation would lead to so much?

We stood in the snow waiting for the train from Cincinnati, which was late. We were freezing and stamping around when it eventually pulled in. John Buchanan was one of the first passengers to alight. He gave Meg a hug and each of us a warm handshake.

Evan took his bag, Meg his arm and I followed behind. I was looking forward to this Christmas and though I told myself I was daft and in my second childhood it did no good. I was still excited.

We had a gig outside, a light, two-wheeled, one-horse carriage into which we piled. The horse was a big, steady animal and trotted sedately to our home.The boys were waiting for us when we arrived. They took the horse to the new stable that we had just had built to give it a rub down and a feed of oats.

‘What’s life like on the
SS Cardiff
nowadays?’ Meg asked. ‘Still fighting the ladies off ?’

‘They’re not ladies,’ John replied solemnly. ‘More like bitches in heat.’

We laughed. That first evening was like that. Remarks that were made were sometimes funny, often not, but it was a wonderful time for us all. The boys stayed up longer than usual and when they finally went to bed it was only under much duress.

‘I know them,’ said Meg, ‘they’ll be up at the crack of dawn to see what Father Christmas has left them. I’ve given them strict instructions not to disturb us before seven o’clock.’

‘So early?’ Evan wailed in mock dismay.

Downstairs was decorated with Christmas trimmings and in a corner of the lounge stood a large fir tree with lighted candles. It promised to be a good time.

I missed their initial excitement because the two scallywags were up at five o’clock but just back of six I heard them and, putting on my dressing gown, went downstairs. They were sitting on the floor around the tree, presents and paper scattered around them. I really felt a part of the family for the first time. Sion saw me first. ‘Uncle James, Uncle James,’ he called in a loud and excited voice while I tried to shush him. ‘Look,’ he said in a loud whisper. ‘We’ve both got saddles and bits and reins. And look at these boots,’ he held up a pair of ornate, high heeled boots for me to see, though I didn’t let on that I’d picked them for him. ‘And a hat, and look . . .’

So it went on. Neither boy had ever been given so much, for their parents had never been able to afford it. I thought Meg and Evan had gone overboard but seeing the youngsters I thought it was worth it. They kept pestering me where the ponies were. They had checked the stable and found nothing.

‘You’ll have to ask your Mam and Da and you can’t do that before seven. While I light a fire why don’t you two think of names to call a horse?’

It kept them amused until almost seven o’clock. By then they couldn’t stand it any longer. I let them wake their parents for a Christmas the like of which none of us had ever seen before.

22

It was the evening of Boxing Day and we were waiting for the guests to arrive. The boys, needless to say, were almost exhausted from a day with their horses. Each had a pinto pony, two years old and ideal for boys aged ten and twelve. Dai called his King because in his opinion he looked regal. To me it was just another cantankerous horse but I was assured I was wrong. Sion called his Thunderbolt, because the drumming of his hooves sounded like thunder through the earth. I was careful not to laugh in case I spoiled his day. They had also received books on how to care for horses, some of the first published on the subject, and Meg insisted that they read them, though they didn’t need much persuasion.

We were having a pre-party drink in the study. I reflected on our changing wealth. A trestle table in the dining room groaned under the weight of the food which had been prepared by Meg, Marie the cleaning lady and some of Marie’s friends eager to earn extra money even if it meant working over Christmas. There was cold chicken, trifles and things I had never seen before. Meg had been busy all day but seeing her looking so beautiful you would have thought she had spent the day pampering herself. She wore a new black dress with a pearl necklace, her Christmas gift from Evan. Although she looked elegant she was dressed simply. She was a little concerned in case she was too well dressed for the farmers’ wives.

‘Tell me something, Evan,’ said John, ‘what do you think of the current economic situation in the country?’

‘Huh?’ Evan’s reaction was similar to Meg’s and mine. We had been talking banalities for the past twenty minutes while we relaxed over our drinks. ‘You’ve taken me a little by surprise,’ said Evan cautiously. ‘In what way exactly?’

John laughed. ‘Evan, one day you’ll go into politics. In what way exactly I don’t know.’ His laugh was deep and infectious. ‘I’ve noticed the books you have lying around. Have you read them all?’ Evan nodded and John gave a low whistle whether in surprise or respect I wasn’t sure. John went on, ‘Let me ask you something else and I hope you don’t take umbrage.’

Evan shook his head. ‘I don’t suppose I will.’ ‘Did you understand all you’ve read? I mean, I don’t mean just the words, but the meaning behind them. All that stuff about trusts, corporations, tariffs, growth rate real and imagined – all that stuff.’

Evan thought a moment. ‘I haven’t always understood after the first reading,’ he paused. ‘But I keep at it until I do understand. Sometimes, I have to ponder on it for a while but, yes, I think I get there eventually.’ He took a sip of beer.

‘I see you also get the New York Times and Herald Tribune. Do you follow stocks and shares?’

‘Not really follow them. I keep a close eye on prices, especially of raw materials, but that’s all.’

‘What do you think is going to happen in the next year or two?’ John held up his hand before Evan could reply. ‘The reason I’m asking is because I’ve heard a few things and after what you said about expanding I was . . . I mean I am, going to pass on what I know. I just wondered what you thought, that’s all.’