As she walked along the platform, Cathy saw Eva’s smile wobble. She must be tied up in knots, poor thing, Cathy thought as she went to hug her. David was hiding behind his mother’s legs, bundled up in a hat and scarf despite the hot weather.
“He’s had the croup,” Eva explained as they walked out of the station. “I’m hoping the sea air will do him good.”
“What did you tell Eddie?”
“The truth,” Eva said. “Well, most of it. I said you were coming for a day out at the seaside and wanted to meet up with me. He couldn’t have come because he’s busy with the shearing.”
“Hasn’t David grown?” Cathy reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair. “And isn’t she gorgeous!” She turned to look at Louisa, stroked her cheek, and was rewarded by a dazzling smile. She had been surprised by how light-skinned the child was. Her features were much more like Eva’s than Bill’s. A small turned-up nose, big hazel eyes, and long dark eyelashes. Her golden-brown hair protruded from under the deep peak of her bonnet in a cascade of ringlets. “Do you think she’d come to me?” Cathy asked.
“You can try.” Eva handed her over. “She’s got so heavy, she’s making my arms ache!” She gave a nervous laugh as she took the parcel from Cathy and peered at the postmark.
“What’s that, Mam?” David craned his neck and gave a short rasping cough. “Is it sweets?”
“No, my love.” Eva and Cathy exchanged glances. “It’s just something Auntie Cathy’s brought from the old house. Are you going to show Mikey your flags?”
The boy dug eagerly in his pocket, and before long he and Michael were walking ahead, deep in conversation about the paper flags Eva had bought for them to decorate sand castles.
Louisa didn’t cry when Eva handed her over. She seemed fascinated by Cathy’s hair, and as they walked along, Cathy amused her by singing “Old MacDonald.” The beach was only a short walk from the station, and it wasn’t long before the boys were filling their buckets with sand.
“I hardly dare open it,” Eva said, fingering the string on the parcel.
“I know. I was desperate to open it myself.” Cathy looked at her. “I hope you haven’t built up your hopes, too much, Eva. I’m so worried it might be . . . you know.”
Eva nodded quickly. “I thought of that too.” She untied the string, her fingers trembling. The paper fell away to reveal a box with the words “Benson’s Baby Wear” written across it in gold italic script. Eva lifted the lid. Inside was an exquisite pink lace dress with matching bootees and a hat. The label said, “Age 2–3 Years.” Beneath it was a handwritten note:
Dear Eva,
This is a little something for our baby girl from her daddy. I don’t know the exact date of her birthday, but I wanted you to know that I haven’t forgotten.
I hope things are going well for you and your husband. Please thank him from me for what he’s doing for our daughter: he’s a fine man and I don’t blame you for wanting to start over with him.
I’m back in the army now, traveling around. I’m due to be posted overseas soon, but I don’t know where yet. I’ll write and let you know when I get my new address. It would be terrific if I could have a photograph of her in this little dress, if your husband doesn’t mind.
Best wishes to you all,
Bill
For several seconds they sat staring at the piece of paper. When Eva spoke, her voice was tight with emotion. “Cathy, he thinks I chose to stay with Eddie!”
Cathy nodded, her mind reeling. “Eddie showed me the letter he sent. Bill wouldn’t have known you were in Wales, would he? He would have assumed you and Eddie had already been reunited—that he’d written with your consent on behalf of you both.” She was afraid to look at Eva. “What are you going to do?”
Eva’s face had gone very pale. “I don’t know.” She glanced at David, who was jabbing a Welsh flag into a sand castle. “He said he was going to be posted overseas. Suppose they send him to Britain?”
Cathy bit her lip. “It could be anywhere, couldn’t it? It could be the other side of the world.” She could see what was going through Eva’s mind. “You think if he came here, you and he could be together without . . .” Her eyes went to the boys.
Eva gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod, as if she was afraid someone might see her.
“What about Eddie?”
“I don’t know!” The tone of her voice made David look up. She put on a smile, which disappeared the moment he started digging again. “Oh Cathy, what am I going to do?” she whispered. “I haven’t stopped thinking about Bill since I got your letter.” Tears were spilling down her face. “I told myself he didn’t care, that I’d just been a bit of fun for him. But now this . . .” She picked up the pink dress, hugging it to her.
Louisa began to wail at the sight of her mother’s tears, and Cathy rocked her, putting her other arm around Eva’s shoulder. “You’ve got to try not to read too much into it,” she said gently. “I know this sounds hard, but there’s no guarantee he’d want you to break up your marriage for him, is there?” She glanced at Louisa, who had stopped crying but was making small, gasping sobs. “She and David are happy with Eddie, aren’t they?”
Eva nodded, sniffling and wiping her eyes.
“And you? I thought perhaps you were coming round to the idea of having him back?”
Eva looked at her through red-rimmed eyes. “I suppose I was. We’ve been getting along pretty well—much better than when we were first married, actually. But then when I think about how it was with Bill . . .” She fiddled with the string in her lap.
David came bounding up to them. “Mam, can I have an ice cream?”
“Of course you can!” Cathy steered him away from Eva. “Let’s go and get one while your Mum has a bit of a rest.”
“It’s all right,” Eva blew her nose. “I’ll be fine in a minute. I’ll come with you.” She reached out to take Louisa, and by the time they got to the promenade, the child had fallen asleep in her arms.
As they made their way to the ice-cream cart, Mikey spotted a stand selling hot dogs. “Mum, can I have one of those instead of an ice cream?” he said, sniffing the air.
“Michael Garner! I’ve made all those sandwiches!”
“Oh please, Mum! I won’t ask for any more treats all day—promise!”
“Go on, then!” Cathy raised her eyes to the blue, cloudless sky and then dug in her purse.
Leaving Michael at the hot dog stand, she took David’s hand and walked over to the ice-cream cart. Cathy didn’t much like the look of the man selling them. She noticed him giving Eva a supercilious look, glancing from her to Louisa and raising an eyebrow. His apron was dirty, and he rinsed the scoop in a rusty-edged pail of water before digging it into the tub of ice cream. But David couldn’t wait to get his hands on the enormous cone. He managed to finish it before Michael had got through his hot dog, which was so hot it burned his mouth.
Cathy glanced at Eva as they stood by the railings, watching the crowds on the beach. She had a faraway look in her eyes. It had been a mistake, coming here. Of course, Eva had a right to know that Bill cared about his daughter, just as Louisa would have a right to know, later on, who her real father was. But Cathy couldn’t help thinking it would have been better for everyone if that parcel had never reached its destination.
Eva and the children didn’t wave them off when they left Aberystwyth. The last train to Devil’s Bridge left before the one to Wolverhampton, so the good-byes were said at the beach.
“Please don’t do anything hasty,” Cathy whispered as they parted. “There’s no point getting your hopes up unless he’s posted over here, is there?”
Eva stared at the sand. “He still doesn’t know where I live. If he writes again, I won’t know, will I?”
“Would you like me to call on the new people and ask them to send it on?”
Eva hesitated before answering. “Yes,” she said. “I would.”
“Are you going to tell Eddie? About the parcel
, I mean?”
Eva shook her head. “Do you mind if I say the outfit was a present from you?”
Chapter 20
Three weeks after Cathy’s visit, Aberystwyth was making headlines in the national press. They called it “typhoid town.” Hundreds had gone down with the fever, and one of them was David.
Eva had written to Cathy as soon as he was diagnosed, warning her that a public health official would be contacting them because she and Mikey had been in the town on the day the outbreak was thought to have started. The letter began in a no-nonsense, practical way, giving the bare facts and symptoms to watch out for, but halfway through it took a heartfelt, harrowing turn:
The men from the council came today and took away all David’s bedding. They said they had to fumigate the house, because of the risk of the bacteria spreading to the rest of us. They took his books and most of his clothes, saying they would all have to be destroyed. I tried to be brave, but when they took his teddy, I broke down. I wanted to take it to him at the isolation hospital at Tan-y-Bwlch. It’s such an awful place. The doctors and nurses wear hooded overalls and a mask when they go into David’s room. It must be so frightening for him. I thought if he could just have his teddy, it might make him feel a bit less scared. But they said no.
Eddie and I are allowed to visit, but they won’t let us stay. I’m out of my mind with worry. An old lady died at the same hospital yesterday. They say it’s because she was weak to start with, and that it doesn’t kill healthy people. But David was weak when he caught it. He hadn’t really got over the croup. I’m so scared, Cathy. I pray every night that he’ll get better, and I’m terrified Lou’s going to get it. Please God, you and Michael are all right. I’d never forgive myself if either of you got ill because of coming here. They still don’t know what’s caused it. They say it’s passed on in water or food. I keep going over it in my head, trying to remember what we did and where we went, but I was so worked up that day it’s all just a blur . . .
Cathy put the letter down, rubbing her tear-filled eyes with the back of her hand. She could hear Mikey playing in the street outside, and she ran to the window. He was laughing, kicking a ball about with his friends. He looked as strong and healthy as an ox. She reached for the kettle, an automatic reaction, seeking comfort in the warmth of a cup of tea. She gripped the handle so tightly her knuckles turned white. If I lost him, life wouldn’t be worth living. She slammed the kettle down on the stove, telling herself there was nothing wrong with Mikey. She would go to the doctor’s this evening, though, just to make sure. She shivered and hugged her arms to her body, thinking of poor little David all alone in the hospital. Eva must be going through hell.
“Come here, love.” Eddie heard Eva’s sobs and reached out for her in the dark. They were staying at a guesthouse in Aberystwyth, the same one he had stayed at when he came to find her two years earlier. It was the closest they could get to David, and meant they could visit him every day. When Eddie had asked for a twin-bedded room, the landlady had told them a double was all there was. Eva had said nothing. Both of them had climbed into it exhausted, worn down by the worry of seeing their child at death’s door.
“It’s . . . my . . . fault,” Eva stammered as she clung to him.
“Eva,” he said gently, “how can it be your fault?”
Her body shuddered with another sob. “I brought him here. To Aberystwyth. If only I’d stayed at home that day, he . . .” Her voice splintered and he felt her tears on his skin.
“It’s not your fault. Don’t ever say that!” He stroked her hair, wishing their being together, so close, had happened for the right reason, for any reason other than this.
A week later Cathy caught the early train to Aberystwyth. This time there were no families in the carriages, no day-trippers laden with sandwich boxes and buckets and spades. The bright sunshine piercing the windows lit up empty seats. No one wanted to visit a seaside town where death lurked in the cafés and ice-cream parlors.
Cathy was traveling alone. She and Mikey had been given the all clear, but it would have been foolish to take any risks. And a funeral was no place for a child. She shuddered as the words went through her head. A funeral was no place for a child, living or dead. No parent should ever have to face this. She wondered how on earth Eva and Eddie were going to get through it.
The little chapel on the hillside was packed. Rhiannon was carrying Louisa, just as she had carried David at Eva’s mother’s funeral. The thought made hot tears spring up in Cathy’s eyes. She struggled to fight them back. She must not cry. Eva was managing to stay composed and so must she.
When the tiny coffin was lowered into the ground, Eva seemed to stumble. If Eddie hadn’t caught her, Cathy thought, she would have fallen into the grave. She saw the tenderness in Eddie’s eyes as he held on to her. When Eva seemed to regain her composure, he reached out to Rhiannon to take Louisa, who had started to cry. He stood at the graveside, rocking Louisa in one arm and hugging Eva to him with the other.
Cathy couldn’t help noticing how much he had changed from the gaunt, frightening man she had seen on the stairs at the old house in Wolverhampton. He had filled out. Not fat, but muscular. His face was tanned and his hair, although still streaked with white, seemed thicker than she remembered it. But it was his eyes that had changed more than anything. The haunted look that had made him so menacing had disappeared, replaced by a soft, gentle expression that even grief could not erase. And Cathy realized with some surprise that this expression was directed as much toward Louisa as Eva.
Watching him again at the wake at the farmhouse, Cathy could detect no bitterness in him. She would have been bitter. Only a handful of the hundreds who had contracted typhoid fever had died. She would have raged against heaven if her son had been one of those. And it could so easily have been Michael. They had traced the outbreak to the ice-cream seller on the promenade. A carrier, they said, whose poor hygiene had led to the bacteria being passed to his customers. Michael had nearly had one of those ice creams. She closed her eyes at the horror of it. And if Louisa had been awake, she would almost certainly have had one too. She glanced back at Eddie, who was wiping cake crumbs from Louisa’s mouth. How could he not feel resentful that she had lived while his own son had died?
She went over to speak to him. She had held back up to now, fearful that he would blame her for being the cause of David’s ill-fated trip to Aberystwyth. But she had to know how things were, whether he really was going to stand by Eva now that the reason for staying together had gone.
“You’re very good with her,” Cathy said, unable to find the right words to express her sympathy. She had run through a dozen different sentences and every one of them sounded hopelessly inadequate.
“Got to take care of her,” Eddie replied in an even voice. “She’s all we have.”
“I feel dreadful about being the cause of . . .” Cathy stopped, conscious of tears welling up. She blinked them back.
“You mustn’t say that,” Eddie whispered, glancing over his shoulder. “It’s nobody’s fault. Even that . . .” he paused, biting his lip. “Even that man, that ice-cream seller, he didn’t do it on purpose.”
Cathy looked at him, wondering how he could be so forgiving. Eva was very, very lucky, she decided, to have a husband like him. She thought about Bill’s letter and wondered what Eva had done with it. She fervently hoped that the one good thing to come out of this tragedy would be a closer bond between Eva and Eddie.
One of the neighbors had offered to take her back to the station, and before she left, she sought out Eva, who had been making endless cups of tea in what seemed to Cathy to be an attempt to avoid having a proper conversation with anyone. Cathy understood this, but she needed to talk to Eva. She had no idea when they would get the opportunity to meet again.
“I’ve got to go in a minute—I wanted to say good-bye.” The words sounded feeble, and Cathy reached out to hug her friend. For a split second she saw Eva hesitate and thought she was going
to pull away. But Eva put both arms around her shoulders and held her tight. When they drew apart, she saw tears in Eva’s eyes for the first time that day.
“I’ll come outside with you,” Eva mumbled, turning so that the guests in the living room couldn’t see her crying.
In the bright sunshine streaming into the farmyard Cathy could see that grief had already etched new lines on Eva’s face. People always looked terrible in bereavement. Cathy had barely recognized her own reflection when Stuart died. But it was not just Eva’s face that had changed. When she spoke, it was as if everything she said had been written down and rehearsed. She quoted lines from the Old Testament about the sins of the fathers being visited on the children.
“Eva.” Cathy frowned. “You know you mustn’t blame yourself for this.”
“But it’s my fault, Cathy!” she hissed. “My fault and his fault!”
“His fault?” Cathy thought of the ice-cream seller.
“Yes!” Eva’s eyes turned wild. “Don’t you see? He tempted me. Before I even met you that day the seed had been sown, just knowing he’d sent that parcel. In my mind I was with him again—and that’s why David was taken from me. I’ll never forgive myself, or him!”
“Bill?” Cathy breathed. “You’re blaming Bill?”
“Don’t say that name!” Eva sucked in her lips until they went white. “I’ll never speak that name again! Not as long as I live!”
Cathy caught her breath. “But Eva, you’re not being fair! Yes, Bill sent the parcel, but I’m the one who brought it to Aberystwyth and I’m the one who bought that wretched ice cream—so if you’re going to blame anyone, surely it should be me!”
“You don’t see, do you?” Eva was looking through her rather than at her. “What we had, it was wrong—from the very start. First my mother and now . . .” She pulled at a wisp of hair.
The Color of Secrets Page 16