The Colours of Love (26 page)

Union Jacks and bunting were hung from wooden posts in front of the bombed site, and the proceedings had been billed to start at dusk, at ten o’clock. It was clear the bonfire was the highlight of the day for the children. They had several planks supported by bricks, which were intended as seats for the elderly or infirm; and the dressmaker had promised that two strong men could carry out her piano just before the show was due to begin, and she would play for everyone.

Early that morning, when they had set off from Yorkshire, Esther had imagined they would leave Sunderland at the end of the afternoon, if not before. Now she realized that Priscilla and Kenny had no intention of starting for home until they had wrung every last moment of enjoyment out of the day. And she couldn’t blame them. A victory at the end of the bloodiest war in history was worth celebrating, after all.

At ten to nine all the members of Caleb’s family once again crowded into his mother’s kitchen, a hush falling across them as nine o’clock chimed. It was slightly eerie to think that the same reverent silence was abroad across Britain, and much of the Empire.

The somewhat uncertain voice of the King crackled at precisely nine o’clock: ‘Today we give thanks to Almighty God for a great deliverance. Speaking from our Empire’s oldest capital city, war-battered but never for one moment daunted or dismayed, speaking from London, I ask you to join with me in that act of thanksgiving. Germany, the enemy who drove all Europe into war, has been finally overcome. In the Far East we have yet to deal with the Japanese, a determined and cruel foe. To this we shall turn with the utmost resolve and with all our resources.’

Here Eliza gave a hiccup of a sob. She was terrified that her Stanley would be sent to fight the Japanese.

‘But at this hour,’ the very human voice continued, ‘when the dreadful shadow of war has passed from our hearts and homes in these islands, we may at last make one pause for thanksgiving . . . ’

Esther glanced around the assembled faces. Was Monty alive? He was her husband – the father of her daughter – and yet she didn’t know. It said it all, somehow.

‘Let us think what it was that has upheld us through nearly six years of suffering and peril. The knowledge that everything was at stake: our freedom, our independence, our very existence as a people; but the knowledge also that in defending ourselves we were defending the liberties of the whole world; that our cause was the cause not of this nation only, not of this Empire and Commonwealth only, but of every land where freedom is cherished, and law and liberty go hand in hand.’

The King’s words resonated in Esther’s heart like a physical blow. Cruelty and injustice: that was what the King was talking about. But it wasn’t just Hitler and Goering and Mussolini who were guilty of that crime; it was every man, woman or child who judged another on their position in society, the name of their ancestors, the colour of their skin, their religion or their culture. She had never seen it so clearly before.

‘In the darkest hours we knew that the enslaved and isolated peoples of Europe looked to us; their hopes were our hopes; their confidence confirmed our faith. We knew that, if we failed, the last remaining barrier against a worldwide tyranny would have fallen in ruins. But we did not fail. We kept faith with ourselves and with one another; we kept faith and unity with our great allies. That faith, that unity have carried us through to victory.’

Was Monty listening to this somewhere? And if so, would he see the irony of the King’s words? Esther thought bitterly. Monty had fought on the side of the true and righteous, according to what she was hearing, and yet he had thrown away what they’d had together, because her father was a different colour to himself. Hitler, in his madness, had waged war even in his own country against the disabled, the Gypsies, the Jews and those Germans with a different-coloured skin. Monty had seen that was wrong and had been prepared to take up arms against it, and yet towards his own wife and child he’d behaved no better than Hitler.

‘There is great comfort in the thought that the years of darkness and danger in which the children of our country had grown up are over and, please God, forever.’

The rest of the King’s words were lost to Esther; she sat in a dark turmoil of her own. Right and wrong – it really was as simple as that. It wasn’t which side you’d fought on in this terrible, bloodthirsty war. It was all to do with your own heart and soul, the bit of you that made you
you
. There were probably ordinary German people, housewives and mothers, fathers and brothers, who had been against Hitler and his Nazis and had paid the ultimate price because of it. And on the other side – the side that supposedly stood for freedom and equality of man – there were men like Monty, who had fought and risked their lives, and yet were capable of turning their back on their own child because she didn’t fit into what they perceived as socially acceptable. How could that be?
How on earth could that be?

‘Esther?’ She came back to her surroundings as Prudence took her arm. ‘Are you all right, lass?’

Amazingly, she was. ‘I’m fine.’ She forced a smile. ‘Absolutely fine.’ She could put her head on the pillow at night and sleep with a clear conscience. She had done nothing wrong, and suddenly that was of vital importance. As the GIs would say: she was one of the good guys.

It was a moment of epiphany and she recognized it as such.

A short time later, with Caleb at her side and a sleepy Joy cradled in his arms, she walked with the others to the site of the bonfire, where the chief fire-watcher was already standing, ready to light the fire at the stroke of ten o’clock. The neighbourhood children were beside themselves with excitement, and when one of the older boys who’d been designated with the honour handed the chief fire-watcher a long pole, at the end of which was a rag soaked in paraffin, a sudden quiet descended. Immediately the fire was lit, a long and sustained cheer went up.

The children danced around the bonfire yelling at the top of their voices; flares were let off and fireworks shot up into the sky, and occasionally into the crowd too, causing brief panic. The dressmaker’s piano was at the ready at a suitable distance from the flames, and soon the lady in question had begun to play a selection of popular songs: ‘Roll Out the Barrel’, ‘Tipperary’, ‘Daisy, Daisy’, ‘The Lambeth Walk’, ‘Knees Up Mother Brown’ and other rousing tunes to stir the people’s patriotism, which was tangible.

Grown-ups, young people and children joined hands and danced and sang, their voices ringing out, while other folk stood quietly enjoying the scene, and thanking God they were alive. Once the fire died down, potatoes were cooked in the ashes; and more beer, saved for the end of the day, was brought out and handed around.

‘Glad you came?’ Caleb smiled down at her, with Joy fast asleep in his arms, and Esther smiled back, nodding. Priscilla and Kenny were wrapped in each other’s arms at the edge of the flickering light, but she couldn’t pick out Eliza or Prudence or any of the others. It was gone midnight, but no one seemed to want to go home, although some mothers of small children were beginning to try and round up their offspring. Everyone seemed to feel it was a never-to-be-forgotten experience – one that so easily might not have happened, if Hitler had got his way.

‘It’s been a wonderful day,’ she said softly, ‘but I can’t help thinking that . . . ’

‘What?’ he said as she hesitated.

‘That now the future is in front of us, and everything is going to be so different from the last few years.’

‘And that’s a bad thing?’

‘No, no, of course not, but things that have been put on the back burner because of the war will have to be dealt with.’

Since that first night at the village hop, when they had talked in the moonlight and she had told him her story, Caleb had never brought up the subject of her husband. He had thought about him often enough, accepting wryly that he was intensely jealous of a man he had never met. Esther had loved him – perhaps did love him still – and her husband had let her down in the worst way possible, abandoning her and her baby. But women were forgiving creatures, and she had said herself that her husband had been her first and only love. Perhaps he hadn’t brought the subject up because he didn’t want to risk finding out how she really felt? he asked himself now. And she was right: while the war had been going on and everything had been up in the air, it had been easier to put off the inevitable. He wasn’t proud of the fact, but he had often prayed that this Monty would meet his end, courtesy of one of Hitler’s bombs.

Now, cautiously feeling his way, he said, ‘Was that a general observation, or something more personal?’

‘Both, I suppose.’

Caleb was a northern man to the tips of his toes and, in spite of not wanting to frighten her off, nothing on earth could have prevented his next words. It was speak or burst. ‘You’re thinking of him – your husband – aren’t you?’

Again she nodded.

His stomach churning, he said gruffly, ‘Have you heard from him? Is that it?’

‘No, I haven’t heard a thing, so I suppose that means he is still alive, or someone would have to let me know. And if he is alive, if I’m not a widow’ – she flashed him a quick glance, but he kept his face expressionless – ‘then divorce proceedings will have to be faced.’

‘Perhaps he doesn’t want a divorce. He might have changed his mind.’ Caleb’s lips had become dry and he ran his tongue over them before he could say, ‘Have you considered that possibility?’

She didn’t reply directly to this. What she did say, and in a tone that brooked no argument, was, ‘I want a divorce, Caleb.’

‘You do?’ Such emotion flooded through him that he felt faint.

‘I don’t love Monty any more. In truth, I wonder if I ever knew the real Monty, or whether I fell in love with what I imagined he was. Does that make sense?’

He didn’t know, but he wanted to hear the rest of it and so he nodded, his eyes never leaving her sad face.

‘I thought it was a forever love, and that nothing but death could part us. That he loved me for exactly who I was: warts and pimples and all.’ She gave a weak smile. ‘But . . . ’ She shrugged. ‘He didn’t. I’ve asked myself: if the position was reversed, and when Joy was born it had turned out that Monty was adopted or something and had a black parent, would I have felt differently about him? And I can say from the bottom of my heart that I wouldn’t. But perhaps that’s just me and I asked too much of him – of anyone in that position.’

‘No, you didn’t.’ His heart was in his voice.

She made a little inarticulate sound, her eyes holding his, and for a moment the scene in front of them faded away and the night was hushed.

But for the sleeping child in his arms, Caleb would have drawn Esther to him, then and there, and declared that she was the most amazing, beautiful, exquisite creature in all the world, and that nothing in heaven or hell could have stopped him from being at her side, if he’d been Monty. As it was, his voice shaking slightly, he said again, ‘You didn’t, Esther. The fault is his. Only his.’

The expectant hush continued for a moment more, before Esther could bring herself to murmur, ‘Thank you.’ She felt as though she was on the brink of a chasm; a chasm that had opened so suddenly it had taken her breath away. Why couldn’t Monty have been made of the same stuff as Caleb? Caleb would never have walked away and left his wife and child to fend for themselves, whatever the circumstances. There wasn’t a shadow of turning in Caleb’s big, strong frame. How was it some women ended up with men like Caleb, whereas she . . . ?

Something in her mind checked the mistake of continuing down that path – a path that could only bring further heartache. Caleb was a kind, good man, and she knew he cared about her as a friend, but he had never said one word indicating that he wished their relationship was something more. She must remember that. And why would he? When Caleb got romantically involved, it would doubtless be with a girl untainted by the past, some eager, bright young thing with no skeletons in the cupboard, who could offer him all of herself, with no reservations. And he deserved that, he really did.

Suddenly Esther felt as old as the hills and weary of life, and the corners of her mouth drooped.

Caleb saw her expression and he could have kicked himself. He had obviously done the one thing he hadn’t wanted to do and unnerved her. Had she guessed how he felt and been embarrassed? Thank goodness he was holding Joy and hadn’t been able to follow through on the desire to take Esther in his arms and hold her. She would have probably called an end to their tenuous friendship, right then and there. Damn it, he had to be more careful or he would lose her altogether.

He was as relieved as Esther when Priscilla and Kenny came up behind them in the next moment, Kenny slapping Caleb on the back as he said, ‘I think it’s time we started to make a move for home.’ And Priscilla took Esther’s arm as she breathed, ‘Hasn’t it been a truly wonderful day, darling? I’m so happy I could burst.’

‘Wonderful,’ Esther agreed quietly.

Eventually they found the others in the crowd and said their goodbyes, but only Caleb accompanied them to the truck parked at the end of the back lane, still carrying the sleeping Joy in his arms.

In contrast to Priscilla’s exuberant leave-taking of Caleb, when she flung her arms round his neck and deposited a smacking kiss on his cheek, Esther merely smiled and nodded. Caleb’s goodbye was equally subdued, and once they were all packed in the truck and it trundled noisily off, leaving Caleb standing looking after them, Esther began to have niggling regrets about mentioning Monty to him. And the more she thought about what she had said, the more she began to panic. Would Caleb think she had told him she didn’t love Monty, and wanted a divorce, because she had hoped he would declare that he had feelings for her?

She felt hot all over in spite of the chilly night.

By the time the truck reached the farm after depositing Kenny at the home, she felt like a wet rag. Joy hadn’t stirred during the journey, and as Priscilla turned off the ignition and they climbed out of the vehicle, Esther thought longingly of her bed. She needed to sleep. Perhaps she’d feel differently in the morning and see things more clearly, because at the moment it felt like the end of the world. She didn’t want to lose Caleb as a friend, or for him to think badly of her. She needed him in her life.