The Color of Secrets (12 page)

It was dark when Eva left. David was asleep in the pram, and she wheeled him along the few silent streets that separated Cathy’s home from her own. She turned up the alley that ran along the side of the house and shone her torch into the yard, easing the pram into the narrow space by the door. As she backed into the kitchen, light streamed out. Pulling the pram inside, she turned quickly to shut the door.

Her mother was sitting at the table, her arms folded on the green chintz cloth. There was no one else in the room and no sound of the wireless. Eva wondered what was wrong.

“Mum?” She went across to her, shrugging her arms out of her coat. “What’s up?”

“You weren’t with
Cathy
this afternoon, were you?” she hissed.

“Yes I was—I left her house ten minutes ago!” Eva could feel her heart thumping against her ribs.

“You haven’t been there
all
afternoon, though, have you?”

“What are you saying?” Eva clutched the back of a chair.

“I got it out of Dilys. She told me you were seeing a
Yank
.” Her mother stood up as she spat out the word. “As if that wasn’t bad enough! I followed you from Cathy’s—you little slut!” She lashed out at Eva with the back of her hand. Eva dodged sideways and her mother lost her balance, knocking over a chair that clattered onto the floor in front of her. Seizing this chance to escape, Eva pushed open the door and heaved the pram out.

“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.”