The Daughter of Victory Lights

by Kerri Turner

  He could hardly believe what he’d done. He’d known for some time that things couldn’t go on with Evie. That very morning he’d lingered over his kiss, some small part of his brain knowing it would be the last he gave her. Why couldn’t he have just told her then? Why did he have to be so cruel?

  He knew why. If he told Evie the truth—that the war had crept under his skin and he couldn’t rid himself of the smell of death in his nostrils, or the memory of the hundreds of men whose remains he had sifted through like a jigsaw puzzle, looking for the one thing that would identify them—she wouldn’t give up on him. Already he’d seen the sympathy in her; the way she wanted to try and repair him. When he’d thought there was a chance of success, he’d been happy to go along with it. But he knew better now. He couldn’t give her the chance to find the words that would convince him to stay with her. Better to have her hate him for the weak man he was than stuck for a lifetime trying to help him.

  The magician’s assistant swayed a little on the spot, reaching for the door handle.

  ‘No.’ Flynn’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. Her expression was startled, confused. Someone else he was hurting for no good reason. ‘I’m sorry, I just … I’m too drunk. I need to go to bed. Alone.’

  She raised one eyebrow, then shrugged and said, ‘Suit yourself. Maybe some other time.’

  Maybe. But Flynn doubted it.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  1951: Tours, France

  Since the night of the party Flynn had behaved as though nothing more than work had ever occurred between him and Evie. Without really knowing why, Evie followed suit, pushing down the pain that gnawed at her every time she saw him or caught his familiar scent. Inside, she shifted between missing his company, telling herself she was glad to be rid of his temperamental ways, and barely suppressed rage.

  She tried to bury herself in the soothing distraction of the lights, often managing to find ways of doing her work without needing to be in the same place as Flynn. Of course, one of the disadvantages of being on a boat was that they were always, technically, in the same place. Evie caught herself staring whenever she registered his presence nearby, searching for hints of a hidden relationship with the magician’s assistant.

  She was driving herself crazy and it affected her work. She very nearly missed one of her most important cues—a spotlight on Humphrey for the opening magic tricks—and had made the lights too bright on Alvin’s act, diminishing the effect of his flames. Humphrey had given her a talking-to and she’d had to resort to the age-old excuse of women’s troubles to explain her unusual inattentiveness. Which got her thinking …

  Evie sat on her bed, counting on her fingers the weeks since her last menstruation. It was sometimes hard to keep track, what with there being no regular weekly routine on the boat, but one thing became clear very quickly: it had been too long.

  Colour drained from her face and she ducked her head between her knees. On the floor was a single cigarette butt, a forgotten remnant of Flynn’s nighttime visits. She kicked it away. Shame washed over her, all the way from London and the sisters who would be mortified if they knew what she’d done.

  She was going to be sick.

  ‘Oh, god,’ she whispered, realising sickness was another symptom.

  She was shaking. She wanted to escape this moment; pass it on to someone else who was better equipped to handle it. But there was no changing the matter. Like it or not, she was fairly sure she was pregnant.

  Evie was trying hard to hide the changes in her body beneath her siren suit, but her slowly rounding belly was beginning to press against the fabric. The bouts of nausea that came over her at odd moments were mild compared to the seasickness she’d suffered in her early days on the Victory and she was able to bear them with little more than a film of sweat and some deep breathing. The truly difficult part was going about her work as though nothing had changed. Because of course it had. It had changed in a huge, irreversible way.

  She hadn’t told Flynn about her pregnancy. It was easier to continue ignoring him than to force out the words she knew she should say. She would have to tell him the truth eventually, but if she opened her mouth now all the hurt and fury and confusion she felt would pour out instead, and who knew where that would take them.

  Evie knew she should make plans for when it—she couldn’t yet bring herself to think of ‘it’ as a baby—came, but so far she hadn’t come up with a single rational thought about what she would do. All she could think about was how she would no longer be respectable Evelyn, nor rash, impulsive Evie who had run away from her normal life to join a boat and work with her hands. She would be one of ‘those’ women: a woman who’d got herself into trouble.

  She knew she would have to leave the Victory. The only thing she could do was return to Cynthia’s home in the hope her sister would take her in. Evie was filled with a desperate terror at the thought of grovelling on her sister’s doorstep, asking to be let into the home she’d shunned.

  And even if Cynthia did find forgiveness in her heart, the lights of Evie’s life would still be dimmed. There would be no excitement; her life on the Victory would be long gone, and she wouldn’t even have the dinner parties, dances or hated set-ups with eligible men that Cynthia used to push on her. She’d be the sister whose shame needed to be hidden away.

  ‘Come with me,’ Bee demanded one day, taking Evie by surprise as she was standing on the deck, squinting up at the masts. Climbing the webbing to get to the mounted lights was going to get increasingly difficult over the coming months, and she was making a list of the things she needed to do before it became impossible. Before she was kicked off the boat.

  ‘I was just—’ Evie began, but Bee cut her off.

  ‘Never mind that. You can come back to it later.’

  She grabbed Evie’s elbow firmly and steered her below deck to her own cabin, shutting the door behind them. For a second Evie was startled by the mess. There were tins of make-up and nylon stockings scattered everywhere, the floor was strewn with discarded shoes, and colourful dresses disguised the pieces of furniture. The cabin was bigger than Evie’s but felt smaller with all the clutter.

  ‘What is it, Bee?’ Evie said, turning to her. ‘I’m really quite busy—’

  ‘Are you pregnant?’

  A flare of heat ran across Evie’s face, then her heart faltered. It couldn’t be happening already. She wasn’t ready to leave yet.

  She forced herself to reply in as steady a voice as she could manage. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Don’t lie. You’re terrible at it. It’s actually a rather endearing quality.’

  Evie thought about trying to lie anyway. But the thought no sooner appeared than she knew it was pointless. They would all know the truth sooner or later. Her shoulders slumped, and unconsciously her hand went to her belly.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered, struggling to keep the tears at bay.

  Bee’s scarlet lips pressed together in a line, but all she said was, ‘How far along?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out. I’ve missed two, maybe three periods now, but I’ve always been a bit irregular so it took me a while to notice.’

  An overwhelming tiredness was clawing its way up Evie’s body. Her feet ached, and the pain in her heart at being discovered and knowing this life was all over was too much.

  Bee must have noticed her wilt, for she cleared a space on the bed and told her to sit. Sandalwood perfume enveloped Evie as she sank onto the counterpane, as though Bee had sprayed the sheets with it. She wouldn’t be surprised if she had.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Bee asked. Her voice was gentle and her expression sympathetic as she pulled a cigarette out from inside a shoe and lit it with a lighter she found underneath a tin of toothpaste.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, do you want to have the baby?’

  Evie glanced up sharply. ‘What do you mean?’

  Bee blew out a lungful of smoke, o
bscuring her face as she said, ‘There are things that can be done if you don’t want it. Ways of taking care of the matter.’

  ‘I … I know. I mean, I know some women do that. But I’m not sure I could.’

  ‘It would make your life easier. Things could go back to the way they were before.’

  ‘I understand. But … I don’t know, Bee.’ Evie sighed, leaning back against a pile of assorted clothing. It felt as though there was a shoe somewhere beneath the pile, digging into her back, but she didn’t bother looking for it. ‘I’m just so frightened. If only there was a way to support myself without relying on my sisters.’

  ‘Would that make your decision easier?’

  ‘Perhaps not easier. But then I wouldn’t only be thinking about my fear. I’m not sure fear is the best driving factor. When I think of how frightened I was of joining the Victory and how it’s come to be a life I adore, a life I never thought I’d be able to have …’ She choked up, unable to go on.

  Bee sat down next to her and rubbed a soothing hand over her thigh. ‘Then forget the fear for a second. Imagine you don’t have to rely on your sisters. Would you choose to get the baby “taken care of”?’

  Evie stared at the ceiling of Bee’s cabin, considering the question. Her thoughts had been so wrapped up in losing her place on the Victory and begging forgiveness from her sisters that she hadn’t even begun to wonder if she could be a mother. It was the life she had always avoided. But no, that wasn’t quite true. That life had all the trappings of a convenient yet halfhearted marriage, and the domesticity that went with it.

  ‘I can hardly believe I’m saying it, but that choice doesn’t feel the right fit for me. I don’t think I would.’ An unexpected and strange little thrill ran through Evie, followed by a quick stab of disappointment. ‘But it doesn’t matter, for I do have to rely on my sisters. Either they’ll take me in to be their disgraced burden, or they’ll try to find some man so desperate for a wife he’ll pretend the baby’s his.’

  ‘Awfully grim,’ Bee said. ‘Why not just stay here? You’ve got income, food and a roof over your head.’

  ‘Humphrey won’t want an unmarried pregnant worker on his boat. And even if he was somehow fine with that—which would be a miracle in itself—he definitely wouldn’t want a worker with a baby.’

  ‘You leave Humphrey to me. So, it’s sorted then? You’re having the baby?’

  It seemed impossible to have come to a conclusion in such a short time.

  ‘If Humphrey really would allow me to stay on board and work for him …’

  ‘You might not know this, but Humphrey has always been one for giving people chances in the strangest of circumstances.’

  Bending over, Bee pulled a trunk out from underneath her bed. Evie sat up to watch as she rifled through the collection of clothing within, muttering ‘no, no, yes,’ and tossing some back into the trunk and others onto the bed next to Evie. Finally satisfied, she shoved the trunk back under the bed with one foot. The increase in mess was barely discernible.

  ‘There you are,’ she said, nodding to the pile she’d made.

  ‘What’s all this?’ Evie picked up the nearest item, a printed georgette dress that looked as though it had once been expensive but was no longer fashionable.

  ‘Clothes that used to fit me but haven’t in a long time. I figure you’ll be needing some bigger dresses before too long.’

  ‘Oh,’ Evie whispered. The dress, only a moment ago seeming old and unfashionable, was suddenly beautiful thanks to the kindness of the gesture, and she gathered it in her lap, letting her fingers run through the folds of fabric. ‘Bee … I … thank you. This is very generous.’

  Bee shrugged. A smile danced on Evie’s lips, the first since she’d realised she was pregnant.

  Bee returned the smile, then a crease formed between her brows. ‘Look, I know you were unhappy with me for not warning you about Flynn, and I’m sorry about that. I feel I should say something now though. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t steal a lifeboat and row himself into the distance the minute he finds out about this baby.’

  ‘I know.’ It hurt to hear, but it didn’t make Evie waver. Flynn had proved what kind of man he was; she didn’t need to consider him in her decision.

  ‘Good. Although I don’t know why the man couldn’t have worn French letters and saved you all this trouble.’

  Evie blushed. Miroslaw had always used latex condoms which he had somehow procured. Evie, as an unmarried woman, had no access to such things.

  ‘He … he always … withdrew, before … you know. I thought you couldn’t get pregnant that way. We both thought it.’

  ‘Ah. Well, you’re not the first to fall into trouble under that misconception. Shame they don’t teach girls about these things, but never mind. You’ve lain in your bed, now you’ve got to make it.’

  ‘Don’t you mean I’ve made my bed and now I have to lie in it?’

  ‘I think you’ve done enough lying in that bed to last yourself a long while. Now it’s all about taking care of business. Come on, let’s go see Humphrey.’

  ‘Wh-what? Now?’ Evie’s voice had gone shrill. When Bee had said to leave Humphrey to her, she’d hoped it meant Bee had some kind of plan. Not just marching straight to him with the truth. ‘Bee, I need some time. I can’t risk getting kicked off the boat right now. I have to save, figure out where I’m going to go …’

  ‘If Humphrey Walsh sacks you over this, then I’ll eat Alvin’s fire myself. That’s how sure I am of him.’

  Evie looked at her, sceptical, and Bee gave a slow exhalation. She went to the door and pressed her ear against it. Apparently satisfied at the lack of noise, she came back to the bed and sat down next to Evie, as close as she could get. She leaned in so her blonde curls were brushing Evie’s shoulders. Her face had never looked so grim. In fact, Evie never would have guessed Bee capable of such an expression. It was as though she was frightened and angry all at once.

  ‘I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anyone else except for Humphrey. The story of how I came to join the Victory.’

  ‘Oh?’ Evie hadn’t been expecting that. How could such an anecdote have the power to make Bee come over all twitchy and furtive?

  ‘I am trusting you with my life here, Evie. I need you to understand that.’

  Evie laughed, thinking it a joke. But Bee didn’t join her. She kept the same unnerving expression, and Evie cut off the sound as fast as one might switch off a wireless.

  ‘I was married quite young.’

  ‘You’re married?’

  ‘If that much shocks you you’re not at all prepared for this story.’

  ‘Sorry. Go on.’

  ‘My mother had a large brood and no resources to feed us. So I was married off to the first man looking for a wife—any wife—to make himself appear respectable. There was a brief, formal consummation—something my new husband seemed to find unpleasant but necessary. And then … nothing. His lack of interest in me made me feel as worthless as my mother had always deemed me. But then I met a boy. A sweet nobody who was my own age—unlike my husband who was decades older—and his attentions made me feel valued and beautiful. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I won’t lie to you: I didn’t even attempt to stop myself.’

  Evie could understand. It was how she’d felt with Miroslaw, with Flynn. Denial of one’s desires was much easier in thought than in practice.

  ‘Then my husband caught me with the boy. That was the second and last time he touched me. He dragged me upstairs and tried to force himself on me. It was ugly, sweaty and stinking of anger, and in the end mostly unsuccessful.’

  ‘Oh, Bee …’ No wonder she’d considered Flynn’s actions towards Evie the night of the party just a little hurtful. Comparatively, that seemed so small.

  ‘I was an insult to my husband after that, but he wouldn’t grant me a divorce. It was his way of punishing me. I began to wonder then if he had certain other proclivities which satisfied him be
tter.’

  ‘You mean he preferred men?’

  ‘It would’ve made sense. He could be jailed for loving another man, and that would be enough to make anyone tired and angry with the world. In my naivety I was actually relieved. I figured we could come to an arrangement, one which suited us both: he could give me some of the freedom I craved, and I could help him keep his secret. But how to broach the subject? He might simply deny what I suspected. I decided the best thing was to catch him in the act. Then there could be no denial, and in the worst-case scenario I could blackmail a divorce out of him.’

  ‘And did you? Catch him in the act, I mean.’

  ‘I wish. It turned out he wasn’t interested in men either. His proclivities went somewhere far less natural.’

  A nervous somersault flipped Evie’s stomach and she clutched it with both hands, as though settling the baby. All of a sudden she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. But they’d come too far now, and Bee was forging ahead in a voice barely more than a whisper.

  ‘I was hiding in his study and saw him bring in a young girl. Young enough to be his daughter. Young enough to be my daughter. He began behaving with this girl in a way he’d only ever behaved with his wife twice.’

  ‘No.’ The word tumbled out of Evie’s mouth, tasting of vomit.

  ‘That’s what I said. Or rather, I screamed it when I jumped out of my hiding place. The child was crying, trying to get away from my husband, and I just ran at him, spitting and swearing. He must have been in shock, for he was still long enough for me to get the poor girl out of his grasp. Then he went wild, screaming at me that no one could ever find out. But he knew he couldn’t trust me—I’d already proven that, hadn’t I? He came at me.

  ‘I’m not a strong person, Evie, but I am quick. That’s one good thing about growing up one of twelve: you learn how to fight for your place. I grabbed the letter opener from his desk at the same time he grabbed me, and just as he put his hands around my throat, I put it into the soft skin of his belly. Enough times that his hands slackened and he let go of me.’