The Color of Secrets (6 page)

“Well, you’re not completely wrong,” she began. “I don’t really know what my mother would say. I haven’t told her about you. She thinks I’m meeting some of the girls from work tonight.” She looked up into his eyes. “Actually, I’m more worried about my sister than my mum. She can be a real sneak. Blackmail is her specialty.”

“Hmm.” Bill cupped her chin in his hand. “Sounds like we got ourselves a problem then, huh?”

She nodded.

“But wait a minute.” He shifted his hands to her shoulders. “Didn’t you say she was with some Dutch guy at the dance?”

“Yes—the one who took us all home.”

“Will she want to see him again?”

“Going on the fact that every other sentence she utters has his name in it, I’d say yes. Why? What of it?”

“Well, you said she’s only fifteen years old, so it sounds to me like you got her over a barrel,” Bill replied. “If you really want to see me, all you have to do is blackmail her back—just tell her you’ll spill the beans about her unless she puts up an alibi for you seeing me.”

“You mean get her to say she’s going out with me, so I can meet you instead?”

“It’s perfect, don’t you think?” Bill chuckled. “That way she gets to see her fella too.”

Eva struggled for an answer, frantically trying to work out the implications of what he was suggesting. “It might not be as easy as you think,” she said at last.

“What’s the problem?”

“Well, I don’t know if I can trust her.”

“Why not? What can she say without blowing it with the Dutch guy?”

“It’s not what she might say, it’s what she might
do
that worries me.” Eva frowned. “She’s very
. . .
advanced for her age, Bill. I’m worried she might
. . .
you know.”

“Hmm.” He grunted. “I hear what you’re saying.” He hugged her to him. “In that case you and I are just going to have to play chaperone.”

“You mean go out with Dilys and
. . .
?”

“Yep—better a foursome than nothing at all.” He took her arm and led her toward the market square.

“I don’t know if I can handle going on double dates with my kid sister.”

“We don’t have to hang out with them all the time—just go to the same places, keep an eye on them, like you were doing last week.”

The strains of dance music drifted from the Civic Hall.

“Shall we go in?” He took her by the waist, waltzing her across the pavement.

“And see you get beaten to a pulp?” She tried to pull him the other way.

The music changed to a faster beat.

“Hold on,” he said. “I have a better idea!” Scooping her up in his arms, he ran across the marketplace toward the squat silhouette of the public air-raid shelter.

Chapter 7

As he ran down the steps, he held her so tight she felt dizzy.

“Bill! What are you doing?” Her voice sounded strange in the air-raid shelter, shrill and echoey. Suddenly she felt scared.

“Sorry, honey: hope I didn’t shake you up!” He lowered her to the ground, fishing in his pockets for the torch. He found a hook and hung it up, the thin beam giving the gray walls an eerie glow. Through the open door Eva could still hear the dance band at the Civic.

“What—” Before she could get the words out, he had grabbed her, clasping her right hand in his while his left hand slid around her waist.

“Okay, this is what you do,” he smiled, moving her hand in time to the music. “Watch my feet: right foot forward, left heel up
. . .
and back!”

“What
is
this?” She laughed as he spun her around.

“Well, it sure ain’t the fox-trot!” he said, watching her face as he took both her hands and slid her between his legs. “I don’t think it has a name,” he said, catching his breath as she emerged, openmouthed and speechless. “Not a proper one, I mean. But folks in Louisiana call it the jitterbug.”

She squealed as he jerked her off the ground so that her legs straddled his waist. “Bill! This is crazy!”

“Don’t you like it? I’ll stop if you want me to.”

“No!” She squealed again as her head tipped back, her hair brushing the floor. This was not like dancing. More like
. . .
She gasped for breath. Was that his plan? To get her down here, in the air-raid shelter and soften her up for
. . .

“Hold tight!” With a whoop of delight he scooped her up and threw her over his left shoulder, turning deftly to spin her around as her feet touched the ground. The music faded and she clung to him, breathless. The sound of applause drifted from the dance hall and a slower number started up.

“Guess you deserve a little rest,” he said, stroking her hair as they began to sway gently in the torchlight, “although I reckon you held up pretty well for a first-timer.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” She gave him a wry smile.

“Why yes, ma’am,” he said, sliding his hand along her shoulder to squeeze her arm. “Hey, where’d you get muscles like that?”

“You jealous?” She smiled. “They come courtesy of Great Western Railways.”

He stopped moving and held her at arm’s length. “You’re not one of those girls I saw laying track at the railroad station?”

She nodded, wondering what was going through his mind. He looked indignant, almost angry.

“Why?” He frowned. “Did they
make
you do it?”

“No.” She laughed. “They didn’t make me. I could have done something else—if I’d wanted to.”

“Well, pardon me for sounding dumb,” he said, “but why would you choose a job like that? I mean, where I come from that’s the kind of thing they make colored folks do—the
men
, that is, not the women!”

Eva took a breath and sat down on one of the wooden benches stacked against the walls of the shelter. “It’s a long story,” she said.

“Well, I’ve got time if you have.” He settled down next to her, curiosity furrowing his forehead.

“My father worked on the railway,” she said, biting her lip. “He was a signalman. He died a couple of years ago. Our house was bombed and
. . .
”

“Gee, I shouldn’t have asked.” He drew in his breath and looked at the ground.

“No, it’s okay.” She swallowed hard, wondering if she would ever be able to talk about it without getting a lump in her throat. “We had to move here, to a new house, and it was too far from the place I used to work. And anyway, my old job—in a library—suddenly seemed pretty useless. They said they needed women to do men’s jobs. I thought it’d be good to work on the railway, like Dad did. I suppose it makes me feel he’s still around, somehow.”

He took her hand and she stared at the wall, thinking of all the things she couldn’t tell him. Like how marrying Eddie had been a kind of antidote to losing Dad. And how she’d cried every morning the first week on the rail gang. Cried for Dad, cried for Eddie, and cried for David, handed over bewildered and frightened to the uniformed women at the nursery.

She felt his fingers stroking hers, and she turned to look at him. “I bet you miss your family, don’t you?” she said. “Being so far from home, I mean.”

“I guess,” he nodded. “At least, I miss my mom and my kid sister. Never knew my father.”

“Oh.” Eva hesitated. “Is he
. . .
?”

“No, he’s not dead,” Bill said quickly. “Well, I don’t know that for a fact, but I don’t think he is. Last Mom heard, he was living in Chicago.”

She looked into his eyes. The words had come out casually.
Too casually
, she thought. “It must have been hard for you,” she said, “growing up without a dad.”

He shrugged. “What you’ve never had you don’t miss.” But there was a flicker of something behind the defiant gaze. He was holding something back, just as she had been.

He took her in his arms again, kissing her neck and moving his hand slowly down her back. She arched her spine, pressing against him, her body aching for him. If he tried to take things further now, in the private gloom of the shelter, would she have the will to resist? She felt his fingers slipping under her blouse.

“Bill,” she whispered, “I
. . .
”

He pulled away. “I’m sorry: I thought
. . .
”

There was an awkward silence.
What did he think?
Eva wondered. That she was easy? Was that how all Americans saw English girls? Theirs for a bar of chocolate and a meal out? She wanted to reach for his hand, kiss him again. But if she did that now, what sort of message would she be giving?

The music came to her rescue. Striking up suddenly after what must have been the interval, it was another American number she didn’t recognize. In an instant Bill was on his feet.

“Do you know this?” He pulled her up. “It’s ‘Drum Boogie’!” he beamed at her puzzled face. “Come on, let’s dance!”

Dilys came creeping into Eva’s room as she was getting undressed that night. Their reflections were captured in the dressing table mirror—one redhead, one brunette—so different they looked like strangers, not sisters.

“Where have you been?” Dilys hissed. “I thought you were going to the pictures!”

“Shush! You’ll wake David!” Eva glared at her sister and glanced across at the cot where the child lay with his arms stretched out above his head like a sunbather.

“Did you go to the Civic? You did, didn’t you?”

Eva could hear the envy in Dilys’s voice. “No, I didn’t actually,” she said, pulling on her nightdress.

“Well, you’ve been somewhere—I can tell.” Dilys’s eyes narrowed. “
Fee-fi-fo-fum—
I smell something American!” She grabbed Eva’s bag and emptied it onto the bed. “Oh, what’s this?” she snatched up a slim, square packet wrapped in cellophane and waved it in the air.

“You little
. . .
!” Eva tried to grab it back, but Dilys leapt onto the bed, holding it out of reach.

“Nylons! Oh Eva! Whatever would Eddie say?”

Eva snatched the packet from Dilys, landing her a sharp slap on the arm with her other hand. “Don’t you dare come in here poking your nose into what’s none of your damn business!”

There was a whimper from the cot.

“Now look what you’ve done!” Eva reached through the bars, stroking David’s hair until he closed his eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” Dilys whispered, peering anxiously at the cot. “I’m just jealous, that’s all. I really wanted to see Anton tonight. I’m sure he was at the dance—with someone else.” Her lip wobbled and a tear splashed onto the bedspread.

“Oh Dil!” Eva slid across the bed and put her arm around her sister’s heaving shoulders. “Look, I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. Come on, please don’t cry.”

“But it’s not fair!” Dilys wiped her streaming nose on the back of her hand. “He’s going to find someone else—I know he is!”

“Here,” Eva pulled her handkerchief from the jumble of things on the bed. “Blow your nose, cheer up, and listen.”

Bill coaxed the ancient bike up the hill to the barracks. It was after midnight and the country lane was spookily quiet, no sound apart from the odd rustle of an animal in the hedgerow on either side of him.

He almost rode straight into the Bentley. It was parked at the entrance to a field, its black bodywork blending seamlessly with the shadow of a tree.

It was the noise coming from inside that alerted him. The steady, rhythmic creaking of the leather upholstery and a low, unmistakable moaning. He stopped dead in the middle of the lane, not sure what to do. What if it was an officer? He couldn’t risk being seen sneaking past on the bike, on his way home from forbidden territory.

“Bill!”

“What in hell
. . .
” The sound of his name hissed from the car window made him jump.

“It’s me—Jimmy—you mutt!”

“Jeez, man, what are you doing? Damn near scared me to death!”

Jimmy laughed, buttoning up his shirt. “What’s it look like?” He jerked his head toward the backseat. “Me and Philippa’s been getting acquainted.”

Bill heard muffled giggling and the sound of a zipper being pulled up.

“We got kinda bored of Bridgnorth,” Jimmy said, leaning out of the window. “So Philippa offered to take me for a drive. She’s a real beauty, ain’t she?”

“You talking about the lady or the car?” Bill said drily.

“You son of a
. . .
” Jimmy chuckled, taking a swipe at his friend’s head and missing. He jerked his thumb at the bike. “You been all the way to Wolverhampton on that thing?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Man, you gonna have blisters on your ass the size of melons! Hope she was worth it.”

Bill’s mouth clamped shut.

“Well?” Jimmy persisted. “Was she?”

“Unlike you,” Bill hissed, “I don’t feel the need to share the details of my private life!”

“Shame,” Jimmy said. “Thought we might compare notes
. . .
”

“In your dreams!” Bill turned away, pointing the handles of the bicycle back toward the road.

“Hey, man, don’t go!” Jimmy called after him. “Just give me a minute to say good-bye to Philippa and I’ll walk back up the hill with you. I want to know your secret!”

“What secret?”

“How you spent a whole night in a white town without getting seven shades of shit beat out of you. Where’d you go to—the cemetery?”

Bill kept on walking as Jimmy disappeared back inside the car to bid his girl a lingering farewell. He’d almost reached the brow of the hill when he heard the car’s engine hum into life. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the Bentley ease out of the muddy track and onto the road. The moon came out from behind a cloud, falling on the girl’s face as she leaned out of the window to blow Jimmy a kiss. It could have been a child’s face.

“Is she old enough to drive?” Bill asked when Jimmy caught up with him.

“Hell, I don’t know.” Jimmy grinned. “How old do you have to be in this country? But she sure knows what she’s doing—in the front seat and the back!” He gave Bill a sly look. “Come on, tell me: you make out or what?”

“Like I said, it’s none of your goddamn business!”

“I hope you’re not telling me you went all that way for nothing?”

Bill stared at the road ahead, refusing to rise to the bait.

“You gonna see her again?”

“Yes I am, if you must know,” Bill replied, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’m taking her out next Sunday afternoon. How about you? Are you and Philippa planning to go for another
drive
?” He gave Jimmy a sideways look. “You’d better watch out, man—I don’t think her daddy’s going to be too impressed if he catches your black ass on his shiny leather seats!”

“Makes it more of a thrill, though, doesn’t it?” Jimmy whispered as they crept past the dozing guard at the entrance to the camp. “Doing it with a white girl, I mean.”

Bill stopped dead and gave his friend a long, hard stare. “You say that,” he said, raising his hand to touch the fading bruise beneath his eye, “and you’re no better than the son of a bitch who gave me this!”