The Color of Secrets (19 page)

Eva and the children didn’t wave them off when they left Aberystwyth. The last train to Devil’s Bridge left before the one to Wolverhampton, so the good-byes were said at the beach.

“Please don’t do anything hasty,” Cathy whispered as they parted. “There’s no point getting your hopes up unless he’s posted over here, is there?”

Eva stared at the sand. “He still doesn’t know where I live. If he writes again, I won’t know, will I?”

“Would you like me to call on the new people and ask them to send it on?”

Eva hesitated before answering. “Yes,” she said. “I would.”

“Are you going to tell Eddie? About the parcel, I mean?”

Eva shook her head. “Do you mind if I say the outfit was a present from you?”

Chapter 20

Three weeks after Cathy’s visit, Aberystwyth was making headlines in the national press. They called it “typhoid town.” Hundreds had gone down with the fever, and one of them was David.

Eva had written to Cathy as soon as he was diagnosed, warning her that a public health official would be contacting them because she and Mikey had been in the town on the day the outbreak was thought to have started. The letter began in a no-nonsense, practical way, giving the bare facts and symptoms to watch out for, but halfway through it took a heartfelt, harrowing turn:

The men from the council came today and took away all David’s bedding. They said they had to fumigate the house, because of the risk of the bacteria spreading to the rest of us. They took his books and most of his clothes, saying they would all have to be destroyed. I tried to be brave, but when they took his teddy, I broke down. I wanted to take it to him at the isolation hospital at Tan-y-Bwlch. It’s such an awful place. The doctors and nurses wear hooded overalls and a mask when they go into David’s room. It must be so frightening for him. I thought if he could just have his teddy, it might make him feel a bit less scared. But they said no.

Eddie and I are allowed to visit, but they won’t let us stay. I’m out of my mind with worry. An old lady died at the same hospital yesterday. They say it’s because she was weak to start with, and that it doesn’t kill healthy people. But David was weak when he caught it. He hadn’t really got over the croup. I’m so scared, Cathy. I pray every night that he’ll get better, and I’m terrified Lou’s going to get it. Please God, you and Michael are all right. I’d never forgive myself if either of you got ill because of coming here. They still don’t know what’s caused it. They say it’s passed on in water or food. I keep going over it in my head, trying to remember what we did and where we went, but I was so worked up that day it’s all just a blur
. . .

Cathy put the letter down, rubbing her tear-filled eyes with the back of her hand. She could hear Mikey playing in the street outside, and she ran to the window. He was laughing, kicking a ball about with his friends. He looked as strong and healthy as an ox. She reached for the kettle, an automatic reaction, seeking comfort in the warmth of a cup of tea. She gripped the handle so tightly her knuckles turned white.
If I lost him, life wouldn’t be worth living
. She slammed the kettle down on the stove, telling herself there was nothing wrong with Mikey. She would go to the doctor’s this evening, though, just to make sure. She shivered and hugged her arms to her body, thinking of poor little David all alone in the hospital. Eva must be going through hell.

“Come here, love.” Eddie heard Eva’s sobs and reached out for her in the dark. They were staying at a guesthouse in Aberystwyth, the same one he had stayed at when he came to find her two years earlier. It was the closest they could get to David, and meant they could visit him every day. When Eddie had asked for a twin-bedded room, the landlady had told them a double was all there was. Eva had said nothing. Both of them had climbed into it exhausted, worn down by the worry of seeing their child at death’s door.

“It’s
. . .
my
. . .
fault,” Eva stammered as she clung to him.

“Eva,” he said gently, “how can it be your fault?”

Her body shuddered with another sob. “I brought him here. To Aberystwyth. If only I’d stayed at home that day, he
. . .
” Her voice splintered and he felt her tears on his skin.

“It’s
not
your fault. Don’t ever say that!” He stroked her hair, wishing their being together, so close, had happened for the right reason, for any reason other than this.

A week later Cathy caught the early train to Aberystwyth. This time there were no families in the carriages, no day-trippers laden with sandwich boxes and buckets and spades. The bright sunshine piercing the windows lit up empty seats. No one wanted to visit a seaside town where death lurked in the cafés and ice-cream parlors.

Cathy was traveling alone. She and Mikey had been given the all clear, but it would have been foolish to take any risks. And a funeral was no place for a child. She shuddered as the words went through her head. A funeral was no place for a child, living or dead. No parent should ever have to face this. She wondered how on earth Eva and Eddie were going to get through it.

The little chapel on the hillside was packed. Rhiannon was carrying Louisa, just as she had carried David at Eva’s mother’s funeral. The thought made hot tears spring up in Cathy’s eyes. She struggled to fight them back. She must not cry. Eva was managing to stay composed and so must she.

When the tiny coffin was lowered into the ground, Eva seemed to stumble.
If Eddie hadn’t caught her,
Cathy thought,
she would have fallen into the grave
. She saw the tenderness in Eddie’s eyes as he held on to her. When Eva seemed to regain her composure, he reached out to Rhiannon to take Louisa, who had started to cry. He stood at the graveside, rocking Louisa in one arm and hugging Eva to him with the other.

Cathy couldn’t help noticing how much he had changed from the gaunt, frightening man she had seen on the stairs at the old house in Wolverhampton. He had filled out. Not fat, but muscular. His face was tanned and his hair, although still streaked with white, seemed thicker than she remembered it. But it was his eyes that had changed more than anything. The haunted look that had made him so menacing had disappeared, replaced by a soft, gentle expression that even grief could not erase. And Cathy realized with some surprise that this expression was directed as much toward Louisa as Eva.

Watching him again at the wake at the farmhouse, Cathy could detect no bitterness in him.
She
would have been bitter. Only a handful of the hundreds who had contracted typhoid fever had died. She would have raged against heaven if her son had been one of those. And it could so easily have been Michael. They had traced the outbreak to the ice-cream seller on the promenade. A carrier, they said, whose poor hygiene had led to the bacteria being passed to his customers. Michael had nearly had one of those ice creams. She closed her eyes at the horror of it. And if Louisa had been awake, she would almost certainly have had one too. She glanced back at Eddie, who was wiping cake crumbs from Louisa’s mouth. How could he not feel resentful that she had lived while his own son had died?

She went over to speak to him. She had held back up to now, fearful that he would blame her for being the cause of David’s ill-fated trip to Aberystwyth. But she had to know how things were, whether he really was going to stand by Eva now that the reason for staying together had gone.

“You’re very good with her,” Cathy said, unable to find the right words to express her sympathy. She had run through a dozen different sentences and every one of them sounded hopelessly inadequate.

“Got to take care of her,” Eddie replied in an even voice. “She’s all we have.”

“I feel dreadful about being the cause of
. . .
” Cathy stopped, conscious of tears welling up. She blinked them back.

“You mustn’t say that,” Eddie whispered, glancing over his shoulder. “It’s nobody’s fault. Even that
. . .
” he paused, biting his lip. “Even that man, that ice-cream seller, he didn’t do it on purpose.”

Cathy looked at him, wondering how he could be so forgiving. Eva was very, very lucky, she decided, to have a husband like him. She thought about Bill’s letter and wondered what Eva had done with it. She fervently hoped that the one good thing to come out of this tragedy would be a closer bond between Eva and Eddie.

One of the neighbors had offered to take her back to the station, and before she left, she sought out Eva, who had been making endless cups of tea in what seemed to Cathy to be an attempt to avoid having a proper conversation with anyone. Cathy understood this, but she needed to talk to Eva. She had no idea when they would get the opportunity to meet again.

“I’ve got to go in a minute—I wanted to say good-bye.” The words sounded feeble, and Cathy reached out to hug her friend. For a split second she saw Eva hesitate and thought she was going to pull away. But Eva put both arms around her shoulders and held her tight. When they drew apart, she saw tears in Eva’s eyes for the first time that day.

“I’ll come outside with you,” Eva mumbled, turning so that the guests in the living room couldn’t see her crying.

In the bright sunshine streaming into the farmyard Cathy could see that grief had already etched new lines on Eva’s face. People always looked terrible in bereavement. Cathy had barely recognized her own reflection when Stuart died. But it was not just Eva’s face that had changed. When she spoke, it was as if everything she said had been written down and rehearsed. She quoted lines from the Old Testament about the sins of the fathers being visited on the children.

“Eva.” Cathy frowned. “You know you mustn’t blame yourself for this.”

“But it’s
my
fault, Cathy!” she hissed. “My fault and
his
fault!”

“His fault?” Cathy thought of the ice-cream seller.

“Yes!” Eva’s eyes turned wild. “Don’t you see? He tempted me. Before I even met you that day the seed had been sown, just knowing he’d sent that parcel. In my mind I was with him again—and that’s why David was taken from me. I’ll never forgive myself, or him!”

“Bill?” Cathy breathed. “You’re blaming Bill?”

“Don’t say that name!” Eva sucked in her lips until they went white. “I’ll never speak that name again! Not as long as I live!”

Cathy caught her breath. “But Eva, you’re not being fair! Yes, Bill sent the parcel, but I’m the one who brought it to Aberystwyth and I’m the one who bought that wretched ice cream—so if you’re going to blame anyone, surely it should be me!”

“You don’t see, do you?” Eva was looking through her rather than at her. “What we had, it was wrong—from the very start. First my mother and now
. . .
” She pulled at a wisp of hair.

“Your mother?” Cathy shook her head. “That was a tragedy, Eva, but to blame Bill—”

“All I know,” Eva broke in, “is if it wasn’t for him, they’d both be here now.”

Cathy blinked in disbelief. “What about little Louisa? Would you rather she’d never been born?”

“It’s not her fault.” Eva closed her eyes and drew in a breath. “She didn’t ask to be born.”

“No, she didn’t, but one day she’s going to want to know who her father is.” Cathy reached out to take Eva’s arm. “He asked for a photograph of her, remember? Don’t you think he at least deserves that?”

“He deserves nothing!” She spat out the words, pulling her arm away. “As far as Louisa’s concerned, he doesn’t exist. Tell the new people not to bother sending on any letters. If anything comes here, I’ll throw it straight on the fire.”