Broken Rainbows

by Catrin Collier

  Haydn’s last words, ‘Enjoy what you have while you have it. That’s what I do, sis’, still bothered her, as did his continued absence and Jane’s reluctance to talk about him. But at least he was alive and working in comparative safety.

  She looked across at the trees, their thick, summer leaves bathed in the soft golden light of the dying sun. Penycoedcae hadn’t changed, and wasn’t likely to. The vegetables were growing, a miracle of nature that never failed to thrill her: crops that would feed the whole household through the winter, raised from small, shrivelled roots and seeds. She and the children were well, she was too busy to see much of her mother-in-law, and relations between her and Andrew’s father were better than ever. Life was bearable.

  ‘One bourbon and branch water for madam.’

  David walked out of the house carrying a tray like an experienced waiter, a cloth folded over his arm, the tray laid out with a bottle, glasses, a jug of water and, miracle of miracles, a bag of peanuts.

  ‘Wherever did you get these?’ she asked, fingering them.

  ‘Not one of your shops. And before you count them and divide them up for the children, there’s a bag ten times that size in the kitchen, so you can eat them without feeling in the slightest bit guilty.’ Setting the tray down on a low wall, he poured a large whiskey for himself and a smaller, weaker one for her.

  ‘To summer and light evenings.’ He touched his glass to hers. ‘How is your father?’

  ‘I was just thinking about him and all the family. He’s coping, thank you.’

  ‘Have you heard from your brother lately?’

  ‘You’re thinking of Jane and Captain D’Este?’

  ‘I ran into them the other day in the New Inn. They seem to be spending a lot of time together.’

  ‘He works such long hours she hardly ever sees him except when he brings her home after her weekly visit to the hospital.’

  ‘Some would argue that’s all it takes.’

  ‘I don’t think there’s any more to their relationship than there was with Alma and Chuck Reynolds, or us,’ she added evenly.

  ‘The loyal sister-in-law?’

  ‘I’ve grown close to Jane. She would never do anything to jeopardise her marriage.’

  ‘She must have been very young when she and Haydn walked up the aisle.’

  ‘Eighteen, but that’s not to say their marriage won’t survive. Things will be different after the war.’

  ‘Perhaps Britain will acquire the same high divorce rate as America?’

  ‘You’re a cynic.’

  ‘I wasn’t when I was a kid, but you -’ he shook his head admiringly. ‘I don’t know how you do it. Looking after a house full of kids, taking on four orphaned girls as well as your own two, working full time, nursing your crippled father, surviving the loss of a brother and sister and your husband’s imprisonment. Tell me, where do you get your serenity from?’

  ‘Serenity! Take a good look at me the next time I’m shouting at the children.’

  ‘I’ve never seen you anything but patient.’ He sat beside her on the bench. ‘You remind me of my mother. She was an oasis of calm. All of us rushing around like madmen, my father screaming for a clean shirt, or his keys and papers, my sisters demanding new clothes, my brothers and I sportswear, and somehow, with no apparent effort she conjured everything we wanted, before returning to the swing on the porch and carrying on with her embroidery. I’ve seen you do the same thing. Walk in after a twelve-hour day that would flatten most men, and pick up conversations, solving domestic problems, soothing children …’

  ‘What a wonderful portrait you’ve drawn of me, Colonel. I assume you’ve only ever seen me at the beginning and end of the day when I’m less fraught than usual.’

  ‘No one in the house sees you any other time.’

  ‘True.’ She sipped her drink. ‘This tastes like I’ll regret drinking it in the morning.’

  ‘If you finished the bottle it might.’

  She smiled at him, mischief glowing in her eyes. ‘Now that might be a hangover worth having.’

  ‘So, you didn’t get sent out with the others?’

  ‘Don’t you think I would have told you if I was going to be?’

  ‘It wasn’t part of our agreement. “Love me and leave me”, remember?’

  ‘That’s what you wanted, Jenny, not me.’

  Following her around the side of the shop he stood back while she unlocked the storeroom door.

  ‘You coming in?’

  ‘Am I invited?’

  ‘For the present.’

  ‘What Tina said tonight about me loving and leaving …’

  ‘Is exactly what I want and expect from you.’

  ‘Maybe I did too, when I first met you,’ he qualified, as he followed her inside. ‘But not any more.’

  ‘Not another word.’

  ‘You don’t know what I’m going to say,’ he protested indignantly.

  ‘No? You want to marry me?’

  ‘You guessed?’

  ‘I don’t have to guess, Kurt. Eddie asked me once. Alexander used to propose at least twice a week. The last thing I need is another husband, particularly a soldier who is going to get himself killed.’

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘You love my body.’ She brushed her hand over the front of his trousers.

  ‘No.’ He gripped her hands and looked into her eyes. ‘I love you. Your mind, your soul … whatever it is that’s inside your head …’

  ‘Thoughts of an empty stomach right now.’ Turning, she ran up the stairs ahead of him. ‘What do you want, a dried egg omelette, or mock goose?’

  ‘Both sound disgusting.’

  ‘An omelette it is.’

  He followed her into the kitchen. Leaning against the door frame, he watched as she opened cupboards.

  ‘I’m moving out of my billet,’ he announced, giving up on trying to convince her that he loved her.

  ‘Mrs Llewellyn-Jones fed up with you?’

  ‘She’s been fed up with me since the day I moved in.’

  ‘Where are you moving to?’

  ‘Ebenezer Chapel.’

  ‘With the men?’

  ‘There’s a sort of private cubicle.’

  ‘How private?’

  ‘Not enough for you to visit.’

  ‘You could move in here.’

  The offer came so quickly, so unexpectedly, he couldn’t be sure he’d heard her correctly.

  She continued to measure spoonfuls of egg powder into a bowl. ‘I have a spare bedroom, use of a bathroom and kitchen.’

  ‘What about the neighbours?’

  ‘What about them? I’m a respectable widow.’

  ‘And how long do you think you’ll stay respectable after I move in?’

  ‘Who cares?’

  ‘I care about your reputation.’

  ‘My reputation won’t matter when we’re all dead.’

  ‘Will you stop talking about death! We have a lot of living to do first.’

  ‘Perhaps, perhaps not. Do you want to move in or not?’

  He knew he should check out her offer with Colonel Ford before accepting, but the thought of sleeping in a damp basement that stank of unwashed underwear, socks and male sweat as opposed to between the clean, white sheets, thick blankets and eiderdown on Jenny’s bed, made the decision for him. It wasn’t just the comfort and warmth, or even her soft, willing body. It was the prospect of living with her, seeing her every day, perhaps even the hope of persuading her that he really did love her. He gazed into her blue eyes, wanting to hold on to her and the way she made him feel.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Move in whenever you like, as long as you understand nothing’s changed between us. I’ll make up a bed in the front room over the shop. You’ll close the blackout in there every night for appearances’ sake, but if you want, you can share my bed. You know me, or you should by now. I’m game for a good time, but this arrangement means nothing more than that. And when it’s y
our turn to be shipped out, I’ll expect you to recommend another officer to take your place.’

  ‘Jenny …’ he laid his hand over hers. She shrugged it off.

  ‘And as I’m putting myself out by having you here, you can start by assembling the bed.’

  *……*……*

  He screwed the bed together, fetched his things from the vestry, and shared a scrap meal of dried egg and tinned beans with her, but he couldn’t help but notice that as soon as he’d agreed to move in with her, she’d fallen unusually quiet.

  He helped her wash up after they’d eaten, then he moved his clothes into the wardrobe in the front bedroom that had once held her husband’s things. She didn’t offer to help. By the time he’d finished she’d gone to bed.

  He joined her, and their lovemaking was as good and adventurous as it had ever been. Afterwards she rolled away from him, and when he heard her breathing steady to a quiet, even pace he assumed she was asleep.

  It was later, much later, when he was dozing in a half-drowsy, half-awake, state that he heard a catch in her throat. He realised then that she was crying. He put his hand on her shoulder and whispered her name into the darkness.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ came the angry reply.

  For the first time he ignored what she said. Drawing her close, he held her, letting her tears fall on to his chest. And eventually, exhausted, they both slept.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jane walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. Picking up the bundle of letters Maisie had collected from behind the door, she flicked through them. There was one envelope addressed to her in Haydn’s handwriting. Leaving it on the table, she lifted Anne into her high chair, and reached for the saucepan to make porridge.

  ‘I’ll do that, Mrs Powell. You read your letter,’ Maisie offered as she bustled in from the pantry.

  ‘I could save it until break time in the factory.’

  ‘Why, when you’re early for once? Sit down while I make the breakfast. If there’s any news from your husband, Mrs John will be pleased to hear it. She worries so much about everyone.’

  Sitting down at the table, Jane took a knife from the drawer and slit open the airmail envelope.

  Dear Jane,

  The tour will have finished by the time you read this, and I’ll be on my way back to Britain. I’m heading for Bristol again, and I intend to go straight there and sort out rooms suitable for all of us so you can bring Anne down to stay for a few days, that’s if you want to. As soon as I’ve done that, I’ll try to wangle a couple of days’ leave.

  We have to talk,

  Love, Haydn

  ‘From Haydn?’ Bethan asked as she walked in with Eddie and Rachel.

  ‘His tour has finished and he’s on his way back to Bristol.’

  ‘Will he get leave?’

  ‘He doesn’t know yet.’

  ‘Let’s hope he can manage it. My father was only saying yesterday that it seems like years, not months since he was home.’

  Jane stared down at the plate of porridge Phyllis had placed in front of her, remembered the kiss Tomas had given her only yesterday, and didn’t know what to hope for.

  ‘I don’t think you should go into work.’

  ‘I’m not ill, Mother. Just jilted.’ Anthea handed her untouched breakfast plate back to the maid.

  ‘I do wish you wouldn’t talk like that in front of the staff,’ Mrs Llewellyn-Jones reprimanded as the maid carried the plates out of the dining room.

  ‘Why? If they don’t know Richard’s left me by now, they will soon enough. I must be the talk of the town.’

  Her mother reached out and stroked her hair in a rare maternal gesture. ‘You don’t look at all well to me. It’s a pity Fiona’s left London for Scotland. You could have gone to stay with her until all this has blown over.’

  ‘London’s a bomb site, not the hub of social life it was before the war. Besides, I’m needed in the bank.’ She looked to her father for support.

  ‘We can manage without you for a day or two, Anthea.’

  ‘Will you both stop fussing,’ she snapped. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘You won’t be fine. Not while you’re still wearing Richard’s ring.’

  Anthea removed it and stuffed it into her pocket. ‘Satisfied?’ she demanded of her mother.

  ‘I’ll take care of it for you, Anthea.’

  ‘We may need it as evidence, for the breach of promise action,’ her father explained.

  ‘Richard gave it to me, and I intend to keep it.’

  ‘Anthea …’

  ‘I’ll see you in the bank, Daddy.’ Running into the hall she grabbed her cardigan and opened the door. The sooner she solved her immediate problem, the sooner she could get on with living the rest of her life and leave Richard Reide’s desertion and betrayal behind her.

  Anthea knew that all the staff were talking about her and the American captain who had duped her and her parents. There was an inordinate amount of whispering going on, and whenever she or her father approached, everyone fell silent, offering her sympathetic glances that set her teeth on edge. But swallowing her pride, she took her colleagues up on their suggestion that she visit the White Palace with them after work. Realising that his wife wasn’t making the situation any easier for their daughter, Mr Llewellyn-Jones was only too delighted to see her go.

  As they entered the cinema Anthea excused herself, pleading a headache. Two of the girls offered to take her home, but she refused. Insisting all she needed was fresh air, she waited in the foyer until they went in, then she left.

  After glancing up and down the Tumble to make sure no one was watching her, she made a bee-line for the White Hart. At that time in the evening the back room was almost deserted. Two Negro soldiers were sitting at a table in the corner, eyeing four girls who had commandeered the central table.

  The girls were wearing too few clothes and too much make-up, and one had instantly recognisable curly brown hair. Weak with relief at finding Vera so easily, Anthea went to the bar and asked for a lemonade. The barman stared at her as though she were a German spy, but he served her without comment. Taking her drink, she walked over to the girls’ table.

  ‘Lost your Yank?’ Vera asked as she stood awkwardly beside them.

  ‘He left with the others.’

  ‘I heard. Want to join us?’ Vera pushed out a chair, and Anthea took it gratefully. ‘I know what a dirty trick he played on you. I’m sorry.’

  Anthea looked into Vera’s eyes. There was compassion not mockery in them. ‘I was hoping to find you here.’

  ‘You, looking for me? Don’t tell me, your mother’s thrown you out and you’re desperate for advice on how to play the field?’ Vera nudged Anthea with her elbow as she hooted with laughter.

  ‘You want me to throw you out again, Vera?’ the landlord warned sternly from behind the bar.

  ‘Sorry, Fred, bad joke. Just got carried away. I’m only having a quiet drink here with my friend.’

  ‘You know Vera?’ he asked Anthea sceptically, eyeing her bank ‘uniform’ of blue serge skirt and high-necked white blouse.

  ‘We were in school together,’ she lied.

  He moved out of earshot, but continued to watch them from a distance.

  ‘Seven o’clock train’s due in, Vera.’ The other three girls left the table.

  ‘Got to go, duty’s calling.’ Vera finished her drink.

  ‘Please, stay. I really do need to talk to you.’

  ‘Look, love, if you think I can get George Rivers to tell me where that rat of a boyfriend of yours has gone, forget it. George never tells me anything… well, anything important.’

  ‘It’s not that.’

  Vera studied her for a moment. Anthea looked ill as well as shell-shocked, and she kept glancing at the door as though she was terrified of seeing someone she knew walking through it. ‘See you over there, girls,’ Vera called as her companions left. ‘I can’t stay long,’ she warned Anthea. ‘Time is money. And I meant
what I said about George. I haven’t seen him in days.’ She sat back, hitching her skirt higher for the benefit of the two Americans she knew were watching her every move. ‘So, you’ve joined the pudding club?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? Girl like you coming in here, looking for me.’

  ‘I’m desperate.’

  ‘I bet you are. Well don’t worry. Auntie Vera will sort you out, but it’s going to cost. Did that bastard leave you any money?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I don’t know why I even bothered to ask. George said his wife has expensive tastes.’

  ‘His wife?’ Anthea gripped the table as the room whirled around her.

  ‘He’s married with four kids and from what the boys told me, you’re not the first girl he’s pulled that engagement stunt on. He reckons it’s cheaper to fork out for a ring than pay a professional for services rendered. Tight bugger. According to George he finds himself a nice, willing virgin wherever he goes, and Bob’s your uncle. For him, but not for you. You’re the one left holding the baby. Literally.’

  ‘You knew he was married that night we met in here?’

  ‘It was obvious. I can spot them a mile off’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Would you have listened?’ Vera offered her a cigarette. ‘Look, love, I’d like to stay and chat, but as I said, time’s money.’

  ‘But you will help me?’

  ‘At a price. A tenner for the room, and fifty for the operator.’

  ‘Fifty -’

  ‘Not so loud. If word of this gets around we’ll all be for it. Besides, what’s the problem? You can afford it?’

  Anthea swallowed hard. ‘I have some jewellery I can pawn.’

  ‘When do you want it done?’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. You haven’t got the money, and it won’t be like having a tooth pulled. We’re talking about an all-night job.’

  ‘I can’t stay out all night, my parents wouldn’t let me.’

  ‘All right, all day. When?’

  ‘I have next Wednesday off. I’ll tell my mother I’m going shopping in Cardiff.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Vera glanced at her watch and left her seat. ‘Just be at this address with the money.’ She whispered in Anthea’s ear. ‘Got that?’