The Color of Secrets (40 page)

Michael nodded. “I think Bill feels really guilty about it.”

“Well, he shouldn’t—not really. What Mum said is true—there probably will be other chances for them to see her, won’t there?” She couldn’t tell Michael how she really felt. She was afraid he’d take matters into his own hands. Go to her mother and try persuading her himself.
No
, she thought,
this is something no one can talk her into doing
.
There’s something she’s not telling me. Might never tell me. Like
I’ve
got things I’ll never tell
her
. And I’m just going to have to accept it.

Neither Louisa nor Michael heard Rhiannon tiptoeing off down the hall. She had come into the house for a drink and, hearing her name, had listened at the door. Her nine-year-old face was like thunder as she trudged back to the studio, kicking at the tender heads of crocuses sprouting along the path. She stopped at the entrance, planning what she was going to say. Forcing her mouth into a smile, she went inside, where Bill was rewinding the tape.

“Granddad, I’m a bit fed up of rehearsing—could we go for a walk instead?”

“Sure.” Bill looked up and smiled. “Reckon you’ve had all the practice you need: you could do this routine in your sleep!”

“Good!” She took his hand. “I want to show you the countryside around here. Stuff you can’t really see from the car. Do you like long walks?”

He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Long as we can take some candy: keep our strength up.”

“Okay—I’ll go and get some.”

“And tell your mama where we’re going,” he called after her.

An hour later Bill and Rhiannon stopped at a stile to share the packet of Maltesers she had stuffed into her pocket.

“Where are we now?” he asked, panting from the effort of the climb.

“Up there’s Bryn Llwyd,” she said, popping three sweets into her mouth without stopping to draw breath. “It means Gray Hill in Welsh.”

“Well, it sure doesn’t look gray!” Bill wiped a trickle of perspiration from his forehead. The spring sunshine had broken through the high cloud, lighting up the emerald boughs of the pine trees that lay a few yards ahead of them.

Rhiannon looked at him, a frown wrinkling the soft brown skin between her eyebrows.

“What is it, honey?”

“I’m really thirsty, Granddad. I should have brought something to drink.” She looked about her. There was a small white bungalow a hundred yards or so up the hill, nestled in front of the thick margin of pine trees. Rhiannon let her eyes rest on it for a moment. “Do you think if we went and knocked on the door of that house, they might give us a drink of water?”

He shrugged. “I don’t suppose there’s any harm in asking.”

As they trudged toward the bungalow, Rhiannon’s heart began to hammer in her chest. She knew very well this was wrong. But she would do it. She had to.

Her eyes darted around as they walked up the path to the front door. The Land Rover was parked at the end of the track. She swallowed hard. What if her other granddad was at home? She hadn’t counted on that. Would there be a fight? She glanced at the porch and saw with relief that Eddie’s big work boots were missing from the shoe rack. Raising her hand, she knocked on the blue-painted door.

Eva was a long time getting to the door. They heard her slow footsteps and the tap of her stick on the tiles as she approached. She blinked as the sunlight caught her eyes.

“Rhiannon?” She raised her free hand to her forehead to shield her eyes. Then she caught sight of the figure standing in the shadow of the porch. The hand fell to her mouth.

“Eva?” Bill’s face was as pained and confused as hers was. He turned to Rhiannon, who instinctively grabbed her grandmother’s arm. But Eva brushed her aside, struggling back down the hallway.

“No!” Eva cried out, her free hand flailing backward, as if she was fending off flies. “I told your mother! I can’t!”

Bill sank onto the porch step, his head in his hands. Rhiannon glanced from him to the receding figure of her grandmother. She followed her into the house. Eva was slumped in an armchair, staring out of the window at the sheep grazing the hummocky field down the valley.

“Why can’t you be friends with him, Nan?” Rhiannon whispered the words, but her tone was steely. “He told me how you used to dance together in the air-raid shelter. What fun you had.” She sniffed hard, fighting back the tears that stung the back of her eyes. “Why do you hate him so much?”

Eva answered her with silence, her lips a tight, straight line and her expression blank.

“
Why
Nan?”

“You
. . .
you’re too young to understand.” Eva’s voice was like the hiss of a snake about to strike.

“I’m not a baby!” Rhiannon cried out, indignant.

“I know that.” Eva stared at her swollen knuckles. “I’ll tell you when you’re a bit older.”

“That’s no good!” Rhiannon’s voice rose. “I want you to be friends now! I want
both
of you to see me tomorrow!”

“I’m sorry.” The words came out through clenched teeth. “I just can’t. Now will you take him away?”

“I know why you hate him.” Rhiannon’s voice was quieter now, but it had a sinister edge. “It’s because he’s a black man, isn’t it? You’re ashamed of him, aren’t you?”

“No!” Eva’s face tipped upward. “It’s not
that
!”

“Yes it is!” Rhiannon’s eyes had an odd look. A mixture of triumph and fear. “And I remind you of him, don’t I? I bet you wish I’d never been born!”

“No! That’s not true!”

“It is!” She stared straight into Eva’s eyes. “Well, don’t worry—you won’t have to come to the Eisteddfod because I won’t be there! You’ll never have to see me again!”

Rhiannon shot out of the room as her grandmother struggled out of her chair. By the time Eva got to the hall, Rhiannon was running past Bill, who had been wandering distractedly around the garden.

“Hey! Where you going?” he called as she hurtled over the fence.

“The falls!” she yelled, without looking back.

Within seconds she had disappeared from his view. Then Bill saw Eva framed in the doorway, stick in hand. He leapt onto the porch. She turned away as if he was an evil spirit.

“What did you say to her?” He took her face in both his hands, forcing her to look at him. “Where’s she gone?” He searched her face. “The falls? Where’s that?” He saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. His hands fell to her shoulders. “Eva! Talk to me!”

“Please, God, no!” She was looking through him like someone in a trance. “Not my little angel! Not there!”

“We have to find her!” Bill grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the path. “You show me the way!”

“I
. . .
I can’t!” Eva’s lips quivered as she glanced down at her legs.

“Can we get there by road?”

“Y
. . .
yes,” she stammered, “b
. . .
but I
. . .
can’t drive!”

“Well, I can!”

She gave a small, strangled cry as he picked her up in his arms and ran with her to the Land Rover.

Louisa stood up and stretched. Her shoulders were stiff from sewing. She wandered through to the kitchen to make herself a coffee. “Michael!” she called. “Want a drink?” No reply. He must be in the studio with the others. As she picked up the kettle, she caught sight of a scribbled note propped against the tea caddy.

Dear Mum and Michael, I’ve taken Granddad Bill to make friends with Nan. See you later, love R.

“Oh my God!” Louisa grabbed Michael’s keys from the hook on the wall and ran from the kitchen. She had to find them. Stop them. As she revved the Jeep’s engine, she wondered whose idea this had been. Not Bill’s surely? He had promised to keep away. She sped up the track to the road, a spray of mud shooting out in her wake.

“Which way?” Bill looked at Eva as they reached the main road.

“That way.” She pointed right. “It leads straight down to the bridge.”

“And that’s where the falls are?”

Eva nodded. “Her father
. . .
” she trailed off, shaking her head like a dog shedding water.

“What about him?” Glancing sideways, Bill saw that her face had lost what little color it had.

“He
. . .
took his life.”

“Louisa told me.” Bill swallowed hard. As his eyes flicked back to the road, he caught the flash of a tear coursing down Eva’s cheek.

“Don’t worry.” He reached over and patted her hand. “We’ll find her!”

She gave a great gasp, sobs convulsing her body. “I
. . .
I’m s
. . .
so sorry,” she breathed. “All these years I
. . .
I—”

“No!” He thumped the dashboard, anguish in his eyes. “
I’m
sorry. I know why you felt that way: Lou told me—about losing your son.”

As he went to change gear, he felt her hand find his.

Louisa drove toward the bridge, her eyes scanning the fields on either side of the road. Which way would they have gone? And how long ago had they set off? Perhaps they were already there? Her insides froze as she pictured the scene. Her mother opening the door to Bill. The shock would be too much. She pictured her mother collapsing. A stroke. A heart attack. “Please, no!” she said aloud.

As she drove across the bridge something caught her eye. A flash of red. By the barrier above the falls. Rhiannon’s anorak? She pulled in at the side of the road and jumped out. Running back, she shaded her eyes, searching the steep, muddy bank that dropped away to the raging torrent below. Yes! It
was
Rhiannon! But where was Bill? And why was Rhiannon leaning over the barrier, looking down?

“Rhiannon!” Louisa shouted her daughter’s name, but a truck sped past, drowning her out. Then a Land Rover. She stared at the license plate.
Their
Land Rover. She saw it pull in on the other side of the bridge. As she ran toward it, she saw Bill leap out of the driver’s seat. She opened her mouth to call his name, but the sound died on her lips as she saw what he was doing. He was lifting her mother out of the passenger seat. Carrying her to the edge of the falls.

“Rhiannon!” He was shouting over the furious noise of the water. “Rhiannon! Look!” Louisa stared in utter amazement as her mother craned her neck to kiss Bill on the cheek.