The Rainbow Years

by Bradshaw, Rita

  ‘No, of course not. I’m sorry about Kitty and your uncle.’ She let him think that was what she had meant and accepted his condolences with a stiff little bob of her head.

  ‘But we have to talk, Amy. You do see that.’

  She nodded again.

  ‘When?’

  ‘I’ve got a forty-eight-hour leave this weekend,’ she said tensely. ‘I’ll come to the house on Saturday. You do still live in Ryhope?’

  ‘Yes, I do. It’s my link with you.’

  She let that pass. ‘But let me make it perfectly clear that I don’t want anything from you, Charles. Not a penny.’

  ‘All right.’ He thrust his hands deep into his pockets, his face working. ‘But just come. Please.’

  Charles remained standing exactly where he was for some moments after Amy had left the room, his thoughts in turmoil. He had always known she would be a beautiful woman when fully matured, he told himself, but the last few years had turned her into more than that. There was a presence about her, a dignity, and it was natural. It was so like her to refuse the money. The sight of her had twisted his heart until he’d found it hard to breathe normally. He sat down abruptly.

  She hated him. Whatever she said, she hated him. And he deserved it. But to think of her with another man, loving another man. He put his hand over his eyes. He was still sitting like that when the CO returned a few minutes later.

  Chapter 23

  ‘Amy! Hey, wait. I’ve news!’ Bruce leaped out of the van he’d driven far too fast from the airfield just in time to prevent her boarding the bus to the train station on Saturday morning. He ran over to her, careless of the fact that he’d left the van in the middle of the road. ‘He’s all right, Nick’s all right. He landed in an orchard and as luck would have it, the farmer’s daughter’s in the Resistance and took him straight to a safe house.’

  ‘Oh, Bruce.’ They were both oblivious to the bus drawing away. Amy clutched hold of his hands. ‘When’s he coming home?’

  ‘Can’t say. They’re talking about getting him out via Spain but that’s all I know and even that’s hush-hush. Someone did me a big favour by telling me that much.’

  Amy nodded, her eyes shining. Still holding tight to his hands, she said, ‘I’m sorry I’ve made things difficult between you and Nick, Bruce. I’ve been so selfish, I should never have asked you to keep such a thing from him.’

  ‘I don’t really understand why you were so adamant he mustn’t know. The fact that you were separated from Charles and had no intention of going back to him would have been enough for Nick if you’d told him you were married. He’s a man of the world, not some idealistic schoolboy who couldn’t have coped with the truth.’

  She removed her hands from his and dropped her head. ‘That was only part of the truth, though.’

  ‘Part of it?’

  ‘Nick wants children, doesn’t he? It’s natural, most men do.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose he does. He’s said the odd thing about him keeping the Johnson name going now his brothers have gone, that sort of thing, when we’ve talked about surviving the war. Why?’

  ‘I can’t give him babies.’ Her voice rose with nerves. ‘I can’t get pregnant again, ever. When I had the miscarriage something went wrong due to the fall and they had to take everything away.’

  Silence followed and when Amy raised her eyes to Bruce’s face, she saw he was staring at her with a stunned expression.

  ‘Oh, Amy,’ he said softly. ‘Amy, pet. So that was why you felt you had to get right away; it wasn’t only the miscarriage. Does Charles know?’

  She nodded wordlessly.

  ‘I’m so sorry, lass.’ He reached out and drew her to him, putting his arms round her as she laid her head against his chest.

  ‘I thought the thing with Nick would fizzle out,’ she whispered. ‘He’s got a reputation for playing the field. I never expected he would want to get serious.’

  She didn’t know her own worth, she never had, thought Bruce. It was probably all to do with the circumstances of her birth and upbringing, compounded by Charles’s treatment after they were married. Right at this moment Bruce wanted to throttle Charles Callendar.

  ‘You thought Nick wouldn’t want you any more if he knew it all?’ he asked softly.

  ‘Why would he?’ she said bleakly.‘He doesn’t have to forgo being a father, he could take his pick of women and have children. And I suppose I felt that I couldn’t tell him half of it, it was either all or nothing. And so I chose nothing.Which was wrong and unfair. For him, for you. I . . . I was just so happy and I didn’t want him to look at me differently, to see me as damaged goods.’

  ‘Stop that talk.’ His face was stern as he looked at her. ‘I know Nick. That thought wouldn’t enter his mind. He loves you and you love him. That’s all that’s important. He would want to take away your hurt and disappointment, to make up for what you’ve lost. That’s how I feel and I’m just your big brother.’

  ‘But it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to give up so much even if he loves me enough to do it.’

  ‘Do you trust him as well as love him, Amy?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Then it’ll be all right. You have to tell him it all when he gets back.’

  She nodded. ‘I will tell him. I don’t expect anything from him but I’ll tell him. And regardless of how things work out with Nick, I intend to set the wheels in motion about the divorce. I should have done it a long time ago but I’ve buried my head in the sand, I suppose.’

  Bruce smiled. ‘It’s a very pretty head. Now climb in the van and I’ll drop you at the train station.’

  They talked of Kitty and Ronald on the way to the station, of how happy Ronald had been for the last few years. Amy knew Bruce had thought the world of his da and it was some comfort to him to know he’d died a happy and fulfilled man. Bruce insisted on accompanying Amy into the station, and after she’d shown the stationmaster her free travel warrant he came onto the platform with her. As the train departed she hung out of the window calling, ‘Thanks, Bruce. And ask Gertie to be your lass properly. She loves you and you love her and time’s too precious to waste.’ She lost sight of him as the train gathered speed, billows of smoke from the engine hiding him from view. But at least she and Bruce were friends for fairs again. That was one good thing to come out of this horrible tangled mess. Probably the only good thing.

  Amy reached the house just after one o’clock in the afternoon. She had been glad to leave the train, having been stuck in a carriage with two formidable ladies who for half the journey had bemoaned the fact the Government had banned the baking of white bread, before going on to the disgraceful lack of good clothing material available since the war. Considering both women were dressed to the nines in fur coats and hats, the restrictions seemed barely to have touched their lives.

  Amy took a taxi from Central Station, deciding she couldn’t stand a prolonged tram journey. Now she was here in Sunderland she wanted to get the visit over as quickly as possible and return to the air base. If she wasn’t in time for the last train, she would book into a hotel overnight, but she didn’t really want to remain in the town if she could help it.

  Large craters and blitzed buildings bore evidence to the fact that the Luftwaffe had been busy in the north-east, but Ryhope was dozing in bitterly cold March sunshine when the taxi drove up the drive of the home she had left a hundred years before - or that was what it felt like. After she had paid the driver and the taxi had disappeared, she stood on the drive for some moments. She had been utterly bereft when she had last seen this place, she thought, glancing round at the neat hedges and recently dug flowerbeds. Were they planted with vegetables in accordance with the Government’s urging, or a profusion of flowers as had been the case when she had lived here? And then she shook her head at her capriciousness. Why was she thinking of vegetables and flowers at a moment like this? she asked herself. She was going doolally.

  Her heart beating so hard she felt it would jump out
of her chest, she made her way to the front door and, ignoring the bell, brought the brass knocker down twice on the wood. And then she jumped back, her glove smothering what would have been a startled cry when the door was immediately flung open.‘You made me jump.’ She looked at Charles accusingly.

  ‘I was in the hall.’ He stood to one side, waving her into the house. ‘I’ve been in the hall since eleven o’clock waiting for you to come. Pathetic, isn’t it?’

  She didn’t answer this. She could smell the stale whisky on his breath and knew he had been drinking the night before.‘I want a divorce, Charles. I’m here to discuss a divorce and nothing else.’

  ‘I know.’ He rubbed his hand over his mouth. ‘Come into the drawing room and sit down while I fetch the coffee tray. I have a daily now, Mrs Riley, she works from eight to midday and prepares my evening meal. She got the tray ready before she left today. There’s a sponge cake but I’m afraid it’s made with dried egg. She would have—’

  ‘Charles, please.’The tone of her voice stopped his gabbling. Amy took a deep breath. ‘I don’t want coffee, thank you. I want us to sit down and talk.’

  He stared at her and then blurted, ‘Give me another chance.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m begging you, Amy. Give me another chance. I’ve been in hell since you left me. The number of times I’ve thought of ending it all but I haven’t even got the courage for that. I’ll do anything you want, I swear it, but just come back to me.’

  She took a step backwards at the same time as the air raid sirens in the town began their ominous whine, but neither of them commented on the warning. ‘There’s no question of that, Charles. I thought you knew that.’

  ‘It’s because of him, isn’t it? This pilot Perce said you were with.’

  Charles was ill. Whether it was the drink or something else Amy didn’t know, but she could see he was ill. ‘If I had never met Nick I’d still be asking you for a divorce.’

  Her calmness deflated him. He nodded, his voice more controlled when he said, ‘I had to ask. Just in case . . . But of course. I understand. After what happened, how could you ever forgive me?’

  She knew he wanted her to say that she had forgiven him. The plea was there in his eyes. But she couldn’t. They stared at each other, the familiar smell of the drawing room - a mixture of beeswax and leather chairs and thick carpet - bringing a host of memories to Amy’s mind. Painful memories. Memories she could have done without.

  She opened her mouth to suggest they got started on the details of the divorce when they heard what sounded like an aircraft rapidly losing height with a terrible whining, screaming noise. As the sound became ear-deafening, she was aware of Charles throwing himself over her and then the room exploding around them. And then . . . nothing.

  She became aware of sounds first. Clinking and voices but muffled and far away, and then the sound of a child laughing but this was cut off abruptly, as though someone had put a hand over its mouth. She wanted to open her eyes but it was too much effort and so she remained quite still, just listening.

  When she next surfaced she sensed things were different. It was quiet for one thing, and whereas before a kind of orange light had beaten against her closed eyelids, now a restful darkness covered them. She felt tired, very tired, but not so tired she couldn’t open her eyes in spite of the ache in her head and the pain all over her body.

  Slowly she turned her head on the pillow and immediately there was a movement and then Nick was bending over her, his voice soft as he said, ‘You’re awake, that’s good. Everything’s all right, darling, and I’m here. Don’t worry about a thing.’

  She wanted to ask if he was real or if she was imagining him, because he was in France, wasn’t he? And he had to come home through Spain. But she mustn’t tell anyone about that because it was secret. This wasn’t Spain. Where was she? She would ask him. But instead she closed her eyes again and went to sleep.

  The next time she opened her eyes she found her mind was clearer. The room was still shaded in darkness but when she turned her head and looked at the man slumped in the chair at the side of the bed she knew Nick was real. She watched him sleeping and as she did so she became aware of the drips and wires all around her. She was in hospital? Why was she in hospital? And then she remembered. She had been with Charles and there was a bomb.Was it a bomb? There had been a noise anyway. Oh, her head hurt. She screwed up her eyes against the pain and when she opened them again Nick’s green gaze was just above her. ‘You’re safe, darling,’ he murmured. ‘Can you hear me?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered back.

  ‘I love you, my sweet. Forgive me for being such a fool. Bruce has told me everything. Everything. And it makes no difference. I want to marry you just as soon as you’re free. There can never be anyone but you for me, I knew that as soon as I saw you. It was as sudden as that.’

  She wanted to tell him she loved him too but she couldn’t keep her eyes open a moment longer.

  The clatter of a trolley and a cheerful voice saying, ‘Are we ready to wake up yet, Miss Shawe?’ brought Amy’s eyes open to a room filled with bright sunlight. ‘That’s right.’ The nurse was middle-aged and brisk. ‘Just thought you might like to freshen up and then we’ll see if you can manage a cup of tea. No, no.’ As Amy went to try and sit up, the nurse was at her side, pressing her gently into the bed. ‘You lie still for now, dear. Don’t want to rush things, do we? Nurse Burns and I will do all the work and then once you’re comfortable we’ll see about sitting you up.’

  Amy glanced about her and saw the drips had gone. She vaguely recalled a nurse talking to her in the night and then a bit of coming and going, and now she said, ‘Nick? Has he gone?’

  ‘Your young man? Oh, hours since, once he knew you were all right. He’ll be back tonight at visiting time and Matron says you can be moved to a main ward, so that’s nice, isn’t it?’

  ‘How long have I been here?’

  ‘A good few days, dear, but the doctor will explain everything shortly.’

  Amy let them wash her without protest, she felt too exhausted to mind. When they had finished and the bed was changed and she was in a clean nightie, the two nurses plumped up the pillows and then carefully eased her into a semi-sitting position. She felt giddy and sick for a few moments and this, more than anything, brought home how ill she was. She wanted to ask lots of questions but after having a few sips of the tea she went to sleep again.

  The doctor turned out to be a middle-aged man with one of the kindest faces Amy had seen. He was already seated by the bed when he woke her up by gently touching her shoulder, and when she opened her eyes he said quietly, ‘It’s nice to see you back in the land of the living. Mr Callendar was pleased when we told him the news.’

  ‘Charles? Is he all right?’

  The doctor didn’t answer this directly. What he did say was, ‘You have been very poorly since you were admitted ten days ago but that’s to be expected. Can you remember anything of what happened?’

  ‘A loud noise.’ Why hadn’t he answered her question about Charles?

  ‘The loud noise was a German plane which unfortunately took Mr Callendar’s roof off when it chose to crash in his garden. I understand pieces of wreckage, maps and equipment were spread over most of Ryhope, along with a number of bombs which happily failed to detonate.The bomber crew did not survive the crash.’

  Amy stared at him. ‘I was only supposed to be on a forty-eight-hour leave.’

  The doctor smiled. ‘I think your CO will appreciate you haven’t gone AWOL, Miss Shawe.’

  ‘What’s wrong with me?’

  ‘The main problem as far as we have been concerned was severe concussion, but you also have a broken leg, fractured ribs and bruising and lacerations.’

  ‘And Charles?’

  ‘Mr Callendar’s injuries are more critical. There is no easy way to dress this up, I’m afraid. His back has been crushed. Having said that, he has actually been lucid since he was brough
t into the infirmary. He . . .’The doctor gave a polite cough and appeared slightly embarrassed. ‘He has informed me of your circumstances and that you have been separated for some years.’

  ‘Yes, we have.’ She was feeling very tired, she couldn’t believe how tired.

  The doctor must have realised this because he stood up. His voice low, he said, ‘Rest now. You must resign yourself to getting plenty of rest over the next weeks. We’ll talk again later.’

  ‘Can I see Charles?’ Amy roused herself to ask.

  ‘At some point, of course.’

  ‘Today?’

  ‘Miss Shawe, I don’t think you realise how serious your condition has been. It really wouldn’t do to rush things at this stage.’