The Color of Secrets

by Lindsay Jayne Ashford

  “Where d’you think you’re going?”

  “Away from here!” Eva shouted over her shoulder. She paused for a split second, fumbling in her bag for her torch.

  “Don’t you dare run away from me, you little madam!”

  Eva lurched forward, the torch abandoned, so desperate was she to get away. The pram bumped against the walls of the alley. She couldn’t trust herself to defend what she had with Bill. Not without letting on about the baby. My God, she thought, as she stumbled off the pavement into the road, she’d bloody well kill me if I told her.

  “Eva! Come back here!”

  She heard the door slam shut, footsteps echoing up the alley. Eva quickened her pace. As she crossed the road, she heard a car. No lights. It must be in the next street. She bumped the pram up the curb and turned the corner, heading back toward Cathy’s house. Her teeth were rattling. She was shivering and sweating at the same time. There was a sudden screech of brakes. Silence. Then a chilling sound echoed through the street. A man shouting. Crying out for help.

  Chapter 13

  Cathy’s arm was wrapped around Eva’s shoulders. She lifted a glass of brandy to her friend’s mouth, but Eva was shaking too much to drink it. “Come on,” she whispered, “take a deep breath.”

  She glanced across at David, who had slept through all the frantic activity going on around him. Ambulance men, the police, and that grim-faced doctor. All of them had gone now. Cathy felt numb. Useless. What on earth could she say to Eva to calm her down?

  “It’s . . . my . . .” Eva’s teeth knocked together as she tried to speak.

  “Don’t try to talk,” Cathy said gently. “Just drink that up—it’ll make you feel better.”

  “But it’s . . . all . . . m . . . my . . . fault!” She clutched the brandy glass to her chest, the liquid slopping over the sides and soaking into her woolen scarf.

  “No!” Cathy breathed, “You know that’s not true!”

  Eva nodded her head. Up and down, up and down, as if unable to stop.

  “She . . . f . . . followed . . . me.” Her teeth chattered like rattling bones. “She . . . s . . . saw . . . him!”

  “Oh, God, no!” Cathy gasped as it sank in.

  “We . . . had . . .” Eva faltered, tears brimming her eyes.

  “A row?”

  Eva nodded again, took a gulp of brandy.

  “You walked out and she was coming after you?”

  Eva shut her eyes tight. “Dilys!” she whimpered. “How—”

  “You can’t,” Cathy broke in. “You mustn’t. Dilys doesn’t need to know.”

  Eva’s eyes snapped open. She stared at Cathy, uncomprehending.

  “Of course, she has to know that your mum is . . .” Cathy bit her lip, unable to say the awful word. “But please, Eva, don’t tell her what you’ve just told me. The two of you are going to need each other more than ever now.” She hesitated, not wanting to spell it out. God, she thought, Dilys would never forgive her. Never in a million years.

  Three days later the ice and snow had all gone, giving way to torrential rain. Cathy paused outside Eva’s house. She shivered, feeling the dampness around her neck where the rain had penetrated her overcoat. She knew it wasn’t going to be easy, trying to persuade Eva to get on with the funeral arrangements. Yesterday her friend had just sat in a chair staring into space, giving monosyllabic answers to everything Cathy said.

  As she raised her hand to knock, the door swung open. Eva stood there, dressed as if for a special occasion, her cheeks rouged and her hair swept up in a bun.

  “I was upstairs and I saw you coming,” she said, taking Cathy’s dripping coat. “What do you think? Will this do for Friday? I haven’t really got anything black.”

  “You look very smart,” Cathy said, trying to conceal her surprise at the change in her. “Do you want to borrow my black hat?”

  Eva nodded. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t: I can wear a headscarf.” She followed Eva into the kitchen and saw a pad and pencil lying on the table. “Now,” she said, “tell me what you need doing.”

  “Well,” Eva began, “I’ve ordered the flowers and I’ve sent a telegram to my aunt and uncle in Wales . . .” Her voice broke and tears trickled down her cheeks, leaving pale tracks in the rouge. “I’m sorry.” She pulled out a clean, folded handkerchief and dabbed at her face. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do that today.”

  “Hey, don’t apologize!” Cathy put her arm around Eva’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “It’s better to let it out than bottle it all up—believe me, I know.”

  “Well I won’t do it again,” Eva sniffed. “I can’t—there’s too much to do.”

  “But you don’t have to do it all on your own.” Cathy took the pad, scanning the list. “Have you told Bill yet?”

  Eva shook her head. “I can’t face it, Cathy. I feel so . . .” She twisted the ends of her handkerchief into tight spirals.

  “And Dilys?” Cathy frowned. “You haven’t said anything, have you?”

  Eva shook her head quickly and looked away. “She’s going away, you know. They’re sending her to the south coast.”

  “Oh Eva—that’s awful! You’re going to be all on your own!”

  “Serves me bloody well right, doesn’t it?” There was a faraway look in Eva’s eyes, but her fingers were working away, smoothing out the screwed-up ends of the handkerchief, then twisting them up again.

  “You can’t go on blaming yourself for this!” Cathy put her hand on her friend’s arm. “It was an accident—a terrible accident. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Of course it was my fault!” Eva’s voice was an agonized whisper. “If I’d killed her with my own hands, I couldn’t be more guilty!”

  “No, Eva!” Cathy pleaded, “You mustn’t talk like that!”

  “Why not? It’s what Dilys would say if she knew the truth.”

  “You must never, never tell her. Promise me you won’t—for her sake as well as yours. She’s only a kid, for God’s sake. Life’s going to be tough enough for her, being sent off down south with no friends or family! Promise me, Eva?”

  Eva looked at her with big, frightened eyes. She nodded slowly. “And you won’t tell anyone?”

  Cathy’s hand crisscrossed her chest. “I’ll never tell a living soul.”

  Nearly every pew was full, and nobody noticed when Cathy crept in at the back ten minutes after the funeral service had started. She could just see the back of Eva’s head through the sea of heads in front of her, the auburn hair coiled into a neat bun beneath the borrowed hat. The sight of her made Cathy feel utterly wretched. With all Eva was going through, how on earth was she going to tell her what she’d just found out?

  When the service was over, Cathy stepped out of the pew to follow the rest of the congregation to the graveside. She had seen Eva go past, arm in arm with Dilys, her features hidden by the black net veil of the hat. Behind her was a tall woman with gray hair and skin the pale-brown of hazelnuts. She was carrying David, who had fallen asleep. Beside her was a short, stout man with white hair and a weather-beaten face. This must be the aunt and uncle from Wales, Cathy thought.

  As the pews emptied, she tried to get nearer to Eva. It was difficult to squeeze past people without pushing, but eventually she managed to find a space just behind her. Eva’s shoulders were rigid in her military-style jacket. Its length concealed her bump completely. She must be nearly six months, now, Cathy thought, but no one would ever have guessed.

  When the coffin was lowered into the ground, Dilys crumpled. She looked so grown-up in her ATS uniform, but her tears suddenly revealed the child inside the woman’s shell. She clung to Eva, who put a protective arm around her. Cathy could hear her whispering reassuring words. However was she managing to stay so strong?

  Eva stumbled slightly as she bent to scoop up some earth to throw on the coffin. Instinctively Cathy put out a hand to help her. But it wasn’t needed. Eva steadied herself
and walked in a slow, dignified manner to the funeral car waiting by the railings.

  By the time Cathy got to the house, it was crammed full of people eating fish paste sandwiches and jam tarts. She hurried into the kitchen to help make cups of tea and found Eva about to carry a heavily laden tray into the front room.

  “Here, let me take that,” she said.

  Eva shot her a grateful smile.

  “I bet you’re worn out, aren’t you? You should sit down—you mustn’t overdo it.”

  “It’s better if I keep busy,” Eva whispered, glancing at her aunt, who was over by the sink, filling the kettle and chatting with Dilys. “If I sit down, I’ll just start crying again, I know I will.” She took in a breath. “As soon as everyone’s gone, Anton’s going to drive me over to see Bill. I really need to . . .” She paused, seeing the look on her friend’s face. “What is it? Cathy? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Come into the hall,” Cathy said quietly. She pushed the door open with her foot and glanced up the stairs before setting the tray down. “Bill came looking for you this morning. He was in a hurry.” She saw the agitation in Eva’s eyes. “They were all getting on a train, heading for some new camp down south: he didn’t know where.”

  “What?” Eva’s face had turned deathly pale.

  “He said he’d write as soon as he gets there and you . . .” Cathy never finished the sentence. Eva slumped against the hall table, sending the tray of sandwiches crashing to the floor. Cathy caught her as she fell, bracing herself against the banister rail to stop herself from falling too.

  The noise brought Eva’s aunt rushing out of the kitchen with Dilys following behind.

  “She’s okay,” Cathy gasped, as they both ran to help. “Just worn out, I think.”

  “Fetch some brandy, Dilys!” The aunt bent over, cradling Eva’s head. “Dai!” she shouted. “Where are you?”

  Eva’s uncle emerged from the front room, a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. “Good God!” He dropped the sandwich on the floor when he caught sight of Eva. “Is she sick, Rhiannon?”

  “Come and help us get her upstairs!”

  Then Anton appeared. He scooped Eva up and carried her up to the bedroom, where he was promptly shooed out by Aunt Rhiannon. Before Cathy could stop her, she was unbuttoning Eva’s jacket.

  “Iesu mawr!”

  “What?” Dilys appeared at the door with the brandy bottle. She ran to the bed and saw what her aunt had seen: a gaping skirt zipper held together at the waist by a thin strip of elastic pulled so tight it had left a red imprint in Eva’s belly.

  Rhiannon took the bottle from Dilys and unscrewed the top. Turning to Cathy, she said, “How many months?”

  “About six, I think.”

  “You knew?” Dilys gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me? How could you have let her carry on doing that terrible job?”

  “Shut up, Dilys!” Rhiannon hissed as Eva’s eyelids fluttered. “It’s not her fault!” Turning to Cathy again, she whispered, “Who’s the father?”

  At that moment Eva opened her eyes wide, staring at the ceiling. “His name’s Bill,” she murmured. “He’s an American. And he’s gone.” She reached out and touched her aunt’s arm. “I’m sorry.” A tear ran down her cheek and splashed on the faded pink eiderdown. Rubbing her wet face with the back of her hand, she looked at Dilys. “I was going to tell you,” she said softly. “Honest.”

  Rhiannon took Eva’s hand in both of hers. “You can’t stay here on your own, cariad. Not with that little lad to look after. You’re coming home with me and your uncle Dai.” She glanced at Dilys, then at Cathy, as if daring them to challenge this decree.

  Eva looked broken, defeated, as if the last bit of fight left in her had ebbed away. She nodded slowly, a faraway look in her eyes.

  “Fetch a sandwich for her, would you, bach?” Rhiannon said to Cathy. “And then we’ll need to pack a suitcase.”

  Chapter 14

  APRIL 1944

  Eva lay on a blanket on the grass, drowsy in the afternoon sun. The only sound was the bleating of the sheep on the hill behind her and the odd whistle from Uncle Dai to his dogs. David had gone with them, running through the grass, his legs pink and chubby in the new boots Aunt Rhiannon had bought him.

  He was so happy here on the farm, and she knew it should make her happy to see him thriving. But every time she closed her eyes, the ghosts were waiting. Mum glowering at her across the kitchen table, spitting out those awful words. Eddie with that disappointed look he’d had when he first set eyes on David. And Bill. Not a ghost. Not yet, at least. But every time he floated into her head, his eyes were full of anger, the way they’d been that night in the air-raid shelter. She tried to blot the picture out with better memories, like lying beside him in the cornfield on that hot August afternoon. But the images were growing fainter every day, like snapshots bleached by the sun.

  She felt a sudden, sharp kick under her ribs and caught her breath. She moved her hand to the spot, feeling the tiny elbow or foot or whatever it was as it jabbed her again. She wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. It was as if Bill was saying I’m still here—don’t you dare forget about me!

  As if she ever could. Lying in bed at night, listening to the strange calls of owls and foxes, she would try to imagine where he was, what he was doing, and whether he was thinking of her and the baby. And she would play back that last meeting in the café over and over again. If only they hadn’t argued. If only she hadn’t run out on him. If only her mother hadn’t seen them. If only . . .

  “Eva!” Her aunt was half running across the farmyard, waving something in her hand.

  “What is it?” Eva propped herself up on one elbow.

  “A letter—with a US Army postmark!” Rhiannon was breathless with excitement. “Cathy sent it with a pile of mail.”

  Eva tore it open. The date at the top was March 13: three days after her mother’s funeral. The handwriting was small and sloped at an odd angle across the page, as if it had been done in a hurry. Her hand was trembling as she shaded her eyes against the sun.

  “My darling Eva,” he had written, “I tried to find you at the railroad and your friend told me what had happened. I was so sorry to hear about your mother. You must be going through a terrible time right now and I wish I was there to help you through . . .”

  Eva caught her breath, tears welling in her eyes. The words blurred and swam on the paper. She swallowed hard and they came back into focus.

  We have been moved to a new camp in the south of England, near a town called Newbury. I tried to get a 24-hour pass to come see you, but all leave has been canceled. They won’t tell us what’s happening, but it’s pretty clear that we’re about to start some big operation.

  I know how you feel about sending our baby to the States, but please think about it. My aunt Millie lives in Chicago, where there’s no law against black and white people being together. She raised five kids of her own and I’ve written her to ask if she would take care of ours for the time being. What do you say, honey? I think it would be for the best.

  I don’t know how long we’re going to be here, so if I don’t hear from you, I’ll write again from the next place we go. I miss you so much. I’ll never forget the time we had together. I guess those crocodiles swam too fast for us, didn’t they?

  Take care of yourself and the baby.

  With love,

  Bill

  Eva pressed the letter to her chest. She could feel the thud of her heart through the thin fabric of her smock and her mouth was as dry as the mud caking her boots. What was he saying? It was all about the baby, wasn’t it? No mention of her going to the States. No words of hope for a future together.

  “Does he say where he is?” Rhiannon sank down on the blanket next to her.

  Eva took a breath. “Near Newbury, but he could have gone somewhere else by now.” It sounded to her like someone else’s voice. Rational, composed, unnaturally calm. “If only I’d known earlier,” she
went on, “I could have gone down there and found him, talked to him.”

  “What? Go chasing off on a train in your state of health? I don’t think so!” Rhiannon reached over to pat her shoulder. “And anyway,” she went on, “do you really think it would have done any good, seeing him again? I thought he . . . well, you know,” she said awkwardly.

  “You thought he’d . . . abandoned me?” Eva was looking straight ahead as she said this, unable to meet her aunt’s gaze. “Well, he hasn’t. He didn’t want to leave me. Didn’t have any choice in the matter, that’s all.”

  Rhiannon picked up the envelope from where Eva had dropped it on the blanket. “He’s addressed it to E. Melrose. No Miss or Mrs. Does he know that you’re married with a child?”

  Eva swallowed hard. “He didn’t at first, but he does now.” She turned away, pulling at tufts of grass. How could she tell her aunt about Bill? It was hard enough for her to cope with the fact that there was an illegitimate baby on the way. How would she react if she knew its father was a colored man? And that her sister-in-law would still be alive if she hadn’t spotted Eva walking out with him?

  Eva brushed the fallen grass off the blanket. Somewhere behind her a sheep called to its lamb. A buzzard soared overhead on silent wings. It was so peaceful here. So safe.

  Rhiannon squeezed her arm. “Don’t talk about him if it’s too painful. You’re with us now.” She smoothed the white apron that covered her dress, then stretched out her legs. “You know, it’s a long time since I’ve seen Dai looking as happy as he has these last few weeks. Having young David around has been a real tonic for us both, with Trefor away so long.”

  “I’m glad,” Eva replied, thinking how ironic it was that she had Trefor to thank for this unconditional welcome. Her horrible cousin, who had made childhood holidays in Devil’s Bridge an utter misery with his endless spiteful tricks. And now he was in Italy, no doubt taking the role of conquering hero beyond all reasonable expectations. God help them, she thought.