The Color of Secrets (25 page)

Ten minutes later Ray pulled into an unlit road that quickly turned into a single-track country lane. He swerved suddenly to the right and turned off the engine. Through the windscreen Louisa could just make out a farm gate. Ray reached for her in the darkness, his arm slipping around her shoulders, pulling her to him. She stiffened as she felt his lips on hers.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Relax!” He kissed her again. This time she felt his tongue sliding into her mouth. She backed away.

“You haven’t done this before, have you?” he whispered. She shook her head violently. “Don’t worry,” he put his hand on her knee as he came closer. “I won’t hurt you. Promise.”

She let him kiss her neck but flinched as his mouth slid toward the neckline of her dress. As his hands began fumbling with the zipper, she felt the numbness overwhelming her again. She shouldn’t, wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for
. . .
She slithered down onto the seat, putting up no resistance when Ray slid his hands inside her bra. She had to blot out that terrible memory. Ray seemed kind. He had told her she looked nice: something no boy had ever said to her before. Now, when she closed her eyes, she would see Ray’s face instead of
. . .

“Are you sure?” She could hear the uncertainty in his voice as he pushed away the rustling layers of her skirt, pressing himself against her.

“Y
. . .
yes,” she whispered. “I
. . .
it’s okay.”

He didn’t hurt her the way Trefor had. She had her eyes tight shut and lay motionless as he rocked on top of her. She thought of Elvis in
Blue Hawaii,
but it didn’t help.

When it was over, Ray offered her his handkerchief. She wondered whether he was being a gentleman or was just worried about messing up his dad’s van.

“Are you all right?” he said, as she smoothed out her dress.

She caught her breath, her throat tight with the threat of tears. “Yes,” she mumbled. Perhaps she would be. Perhaps next time it would be better.

Chapter 26

A
PRIL 1962

Gina turned the record player up to full volume and grabbed Louisa, who was perched on the edge of the bed. As Sam Cooke belted out “Twistin’ the Night Away,” Gina shimmied her way down to the floor and back. Louisa watched, stubbing out an imaginary cigarette with the toe of her left shoe, a token attempt to join in.

“Come on, Lou!” Gina shouted. “What’s wrong with you? I thought you loved this!” She reached over the bed and turned down the music. “He hasn’t broken up with you, has he?”

Louisa shook her head.

“So what’s wrong? Come on, tell me! What’s up?”

Louisa hunched herself up on the bed and stared at the Cliff Richard poster on Gina’s wall. “I think I’m pregnant, Gina.”

The music gave way to the slow, rhythmic scratch of the needle in the groove. It was a mournful sound.
No more dancing for you
.

“Say something, for God’s sake.”

“Oh, Lou—please say you’re joking.”

“I’m not joking.”

“You mean you’ve actually done it with him?”

“I knew you wouldn’t approve. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

Gina flopped down beside her on the bed. “But I thought you weren’t all that keen on him! Why did you let him, Lou?”

“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “Maybe I just wanted to know what it was like.”

“How many times?”

Louisa shrugged again, staring at the ceiling.

“God, Lou! What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know!” Louisa’s voice wobbled and broke, tears spilling onto the pink candlewick bedspread.

“You’ll have to tell him.” Gina put her arm around Louisa. “He’ll have to marry you, won’t he?”

Louisa didn’t reply. She burrowed frantically in her sleeve for a handkerchief.

“Do you want to marry him?”

“If he wants me.” Louisa sniffed. “Why not?”

“If
he
wants
you
?” Gina jumped to her feet. “What about what
you
want?”

“Well, let’s face it. No one else is going to want me, are they?”

A few hours later Louisa was in Ray’s dad’s van, hurtling along the same country lane he had pulled into that first night. It looked very different in the dying sunlight of a spring evening. There were sheep grazing beyond the fence on one side, hay piled into a rusty metal manger near the gate where Ray had pulled in. It looked so bucolic and innocent until you spotted the shriveled remains of used condoms lying on the muddy grass verge. Why hadn’t Ray used one of those?

He was taking her to a fair in one of the nearby fields. She didn’t feel like going, but she didn’t want to talk either. She hoped the noise and the people would keep her safe: prevent her from giving away what was on her mind. She’d been rehearsing ways to say it for the past three months. Every time she opened her mouth to tell him, she clamped it shut again, terrified of the consequences, of the net that was closing around her.

Ray had just been paid and insisted on taking her on every fairground ride at least twice. As their bumper car lurched into life for the second time, Elvis Presley’s latest hit boomed out from the loudspeaker: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You.” Ray sang along, steering with one hand and squeezing her shoulder with the other.

Louisa flinched as another car bashed into them. He was so happy, and she was going to ruin his life. It was all her fault. She was the one who had led him on. He had been willing enough, but she sensed Ray was the type who would have settled for a good-night kiss on the first date. And if they had stuck to that, if they had waited: might she feel differently about him now?

There was a loud bang as a car hit them from behind, sending them crashing into the barrier. Louisa suddenly felt sick. She scrambled out of the car and jumped over the barrier, oblivious to Ray’s shouts.

“What did you do that for?” he gasped as he caught up with her a few minutes later. “We still had five minutes left!”

“I don’t feel very well,” she mumbled. “All those bangs and crashes
. . .
”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart!” His round, blue eyes were full of concern. “Do you want to go and sit down somewhere?”

There was nowhere to sit but the grass, so Ray threw his coat down for her. He put his arm around her and held her close. A few yards away the Ferris wheel tumbled and turned, casting spangles of colored light across their faces. Roy Orbison’s “Dream Baby” drifted across the field.

“I love you, Lou
. . .
”

He was nuzzling her hair with his face, and her eyes filled with tears. He had never said that before. She could tell that he was waiting for her to say it back.

“Ray,” she began, “there’s something I’ve got to tell you.”

“Marry her!” Eddie Melrose stared at the gangling teenager standing on the brand-new carpet in his brand-new living room. Ray’s face had gone bright red, which made his latest crop of spots even more noticeable. His blond quiff had wilted in the heat from the Melroses’ new gas fire. He looked a mess, Louisa knew that, and she felt desperately sorry for him.

Was that how she was always going to feel? Would she ever be able to tell him she loved him and mean it? She had a sudden image of herself in an apron, cooking his dinner. Day after day, year after year. Was that what it was going to be like? A tide of panic rose inside her.

“I’m sorry, son,” Eddie said, his face as livid as Ray’s, “I can’t possibly give you an answer until I’ve talked to my daughter about it. So if you don’t mind
. . .
” He held open the door and ushered Ray out into the hall. “Stay there, please,” he said to Louisa as she tried to follow. “You can come back this evening,” he called after Ray. “I’ll have an answer for you then.” Louisa heard the door slam shut. For a moment the house was absolutely silent.

When Eddie came back into the room, there were beads of sweat on his forehead. “Does your mother know about this?”

“No, Dad.” Louisa stared at the swirls on the pristine carpet. The new house. Her parents were so proud of this fresh start. Now she was going to ruin their lives.

“I’m going to ask you a straight question, Lou, and I want a straight answer.” She could hear the fear in her father’s voice. “Has this
. . .
this Ray, put you in the family way?”

She nodded, eyes glued to the carpet.

“I’ll kill him!” Eddie leapt to his feet. “I’ll bloody kill the little bugger!”

“Dad, please!” She ran over to him, trying to take his arm. “It wasn’t his fault!”

“What?” He shook her off. “You mean you
. . .
” He trailed off, unable to put it in words. “Oh God, Lou!” He slumped back into the armchair, which was still in its plastic wrapping. “I thought we’d brought you up better than that!”

“You have! You did!”

The look on his face was too much to bear. But she couldn’t tell him, couldn’t explain why it had happened. Knowing the truth would tear him apart.

“Please, Dad, don’t be cross!” Tears spilled from her eyes. As she rubbed them away, she saw that he was crying too.

“Do you love him?”

“I
. . .
” she gulped back a sob.

“Because if you don’t, you don’t have to marry him. You know that, don’t you?”

“Wha
. . .
what are you saying?”

“You could have the baby adopted.”

“What?” Her mouth fell open. She was staring straight at him, wondering if he had said the same words to her mother.

“Do you love him?” Eddie repeated.

She nodded once, twice, not trusting herself to speak, knowing it was herself she was trying to convince.

He sighed and wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. “We’d better tell your mother, then.” He put his head in his hands. “God knows what this is going to do to her!”

Louisa followed him to the door. She felt strangely relieved. As if in letting this secret out, she had made up for the months of keeping silent, of watching her parents spend that dirty money. And now she was going to marry Ray and have his baby.
His
baby. She wouldn’t allow herself to believe anything else.

“Louisa’s got something to tell you,” Eddie began as Eva kicked off her shoes and settled down with a cup of tea at the kitchen table.

“I’m getting married, Mam,” Louisa mumbled.

“What?”

“I’m getting married to Ray from the Odeon. And we’re going to have a baby.” The words came tumbling out like a shopping list, breathless and bereft of emotion.

Her mother froze, the teacup halfway between the saucer and her mouth.

“Say something, Mam,” Louisa pleaded. “I know it’s not what you and Dad wanted, but
. . .
”

“A baby?” Eva blinked. “You’re having a baby?”

“Yes.” Louisa held her breath.

“But you’re seventeen!” Her mother’s eyes ranged wildly around the room.

“I know I need your permission. Ray came round this morning to ask Dad.”

Eva’s frantic gaze fixed on Eddie. “And you agreed?”

“No, love.” His face was anguished. “I told him to come back tonight when we’d had a chance to discuss it.”

She turned to Louisa. “What about your exams? You were going to be a teacher!”

“I never said that, Mam. It’s what you and Dad wanted. I—”

“Sounds like you’ve made your mind up already!” Eva cut in. “Does he know? This
. . .
Ray?”

“Know what? That I’m still at school? Of course he does!”

Her mother’s face told her this was not what she meant. Louisa went cold. Had Trefor said something? Had he written to her parents?

“Know what?” she repeated.

Eva hesitated. “About
. . .
your real father. About him being
. . .
you know.”

Louisa stared at Eva in blank amazement. This was the first time in six years her mother had spoken of him.

“Why on earth would I tell him that?” Louisa’s expression was a mixture of defiance and curiosity. “Do
you
want him to know?” She wanted to add: “Because you never wanted
me
to!” But she stopped herself. She didn’t want to hurt her mother any more than she’d wanted to hurt her dad.

“I just don’t want there to be any
. . .
you know,” Eva paused and gulped her tea. “Any surprises.”

Louisa frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Does he realize the baby could be
. . .
”

“Could be what?”

“Colored.” Eva pressed her lips together so that all the blood went out of them. “Dark-skinned, anyway. Darker than you.”

“Darker than me?” Louisa’s voice bounced off the walls of the kitchen. “How could it be darker than me? Ray’s got blond hair and blue eyes!”

“Yes, but it doesn’t always work like that,” Eva said quietly.

“What do you mean? How do you know?”

Eva let out a long breath. Her eyes were fixed on the table. “When I was pregnant with you, I went to see a doctor,” she whispered. “He told me I should put you in a children’s home. He said I’d only be storing up misery for myself if I kept you, because the color would come out for generations and generations.” She reached for her teacup, cradling it in her hands. “He warned me I might have a light-skinned child who could give birth to a
. . .
” she faltered, staring into the cup. “To a black baby.”