The Color of Secrets (24 page)

“Don’t you recognize me, girl? I’m your uncle Trefor. From Wales!” He laughed. A short, humorless chuckle. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

As she took his coat, images flooded her mind. This was the sneering man who had turned up at her aunt’s funeral and called her names, then thrown her and her parents out of the farmhouse when his mother was barely cold in her grave.

“I
. . .
there’s no one here,” she faltered.

“Well, you can make me a cup of tea, can’t you?” He pushed past her into the front room. Reluctantly she shut the door and followed. She saw the smug look as he took in the decor and the furniture, as if the contrast between her home and the farmhouse gave him immense satisfaction.

“No school today, then?” The smile he gave her now was conspiratorial as his eyes traveled up and down her body.

She shook her head, mortified. “Last day was Friday.”

“Well, get the kettle on, girl: I’ve come a long way, you know. And I’ve brought you something!”

She shuffled wordlessly out of the room, perspiration prickling her skin. The way he had looked at her made her feel dirty. She stayed in the kitchen while the kettle boiled, hoping her parents would be home soon to save her from having to make polite conversation with this horrible man. Then she heard his footsteps coming along the hall.

“The watched pot never boils, Louisa—didn’t your mam ever tell you that?” He took something from his jacket pocket and dangled it in front of her. A silver pendant, the shape of a diamond, with a Celtic cross engraved on it and a violet-colored gemstone at its center. “It’s an amethyst,” he said. “Belonged to your aunt Rhiannon. She wanted you to have it when you were grown up—and you look pretty grown-up to me!”

She didn’t like the look in his eyes as he said it.

“Hold still and I’ll put it on.” He leaned forward, his arms around her neck as he fastened the clasp. She stiffened, feeling his hot breath on her neck. He smelled of sweat and something else. Something sweet and unfamiliar.

“You’re very tense, aren’t you?” He pulled something else from his pocket. A small bottle of whiskey. “Here! Take a slug of this in your tea, girl! Loosen you up a bit!”

She opened her mouth to say no, but before she could get the word out, he was on her, pressing his lips against hers, shoving her against the cold kitchen wall.

“Yes, you really have grown up, haven’t you? Nigger’s child!” He pushed his hand up her skirt and she cried out, struggling to push him away. “Oh, playing hard to get, are we? I like that,” he leered. “That’s nice!”

She tried to scream, but he had his hand over her mouth now. Her head banged against the wall as he pushed her to the floor.

“Now, come on,” he hissed. “Don’t pretend you don’t want it! Like your mother wanted it—from a nigger!”

Chapter 25

The kettle hissed as Trefor pulled away and began buttoning his trousers, oblivious to the sobs that shook Louisa’s body. “Come on!” he barked. “Get up! Make the bloody tea!”

She stared at the ceiling, not hearing, not wanting even to look at him. Her limbs felt numb against the cold, hard lino.

“Get up, I said!” He kicked her in the ribs, and she yelped in pain. She struggled to her feet and cowered against the sink, fearful of more blows. “Come on,” he snarled, “don’t you know how to behave when you have a guest? Teapot! Cups!”

With trembling hands she spooned tea from the caddy and poured boiling water onto the leaves.

“That’s better!” He smirked as she set the cup in front of him.

She stiffened as she felt his hand on her behind.

“I want you to give this to your dad,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Your uncle Dai died last month, you know.”

She didn’t know. He was looking at her as if he expected her sympathy. She looked away, fixing her eyes on the pattern of triangles on the floor.

“This was left in his will.” He handed her a piece of paper with numbers written on it and the name of a bank. “It’s a check,” he said. “Don’t suppose you’ve ever seen one before, have you?”

She stared at it. Her parents’ names were written in a delicate script on one line and the words “Five Hundred Pounds Only” below.

“A tidy sum, isn’t it?” He looked about him. “Enough to get them out of this dump, anyhow.” He took her chin in his hand, forcing her head around. “Aren’t you going to thank me? I could have contested it, you know!” His eyes were boring into hers. “And I still might if you breathe a word of this to them!”

She could see his teeth between his lips. They were stained brown and lumps of white like chewed bread were stuck in the gaps where they met the gums.

“Did you hear what I said?” He shouted the words, making her jump. She nodded dumbly. “Right, then!” He drained his cup and banged it down on the draining board. “I’ll be off. And remember, not a word!

“Congratulations, young lady!” He looked over his shoulder as he stepped out into the snow. “You’ve just become the most expensive tart in England!”

Louisa was lying huddled under her sheets when she heard the front door open. She froze, thinking he had managed to get back into the house.

“Lou!” It was her mother’s voice. “I’m home!”

Louisa leapt out of bed, smoothed her clothes and grabbed a comb from the dressing table. She glanced at her reflection, afraid of the face staring back at her. She had crawled under the covers like a wounded animal when he left and lain there, paralyzed, unable to think or do anything. She felt dirty. His smell was still upon her. And she was terrified that her mother would be able to read what had happened in her face.

She walked unsteadily to the stairs. “Up here,” she called. Even her voice sounded different.

“I’m in such a state!” Her mother’s short, shrill laugh drifted up the stairs. “I had to wait an hour and a half for the bus! It’s absolute chaos in town.” A pause and then, “Would you make me a cup of tea, love? I’m chilled to the bone!”

Louisa came down slowly, gripping the banister.

“Are you all right, love?” Eva caught sight of her as she draped her coat over the wooden ball that topped the stair rail. “You look a bit peaky.”

“I’m fine,” Louisa mumbled, “just a bit of a headache.”

“Take an aspirin with your tea—it’s all that sewing, you know, that’s what’s caused it!” Eva followed her into the kitchen and saw the two cups on the draining board, one empty and the other full of cold tea. “Has Gina been round?” She took the full cup and poured its contents down the sink.

“No.” Louisa busied herself with the kettle so that her back was to her mother. “Uncle Trefor called.” Saying his name made her feel sick. “From Wales. He brought something for you and Dad.”

“Trefor!” Eva gasped. “That devil had the cheek to come to our house?”

Louisa turned and saw that her mother’s face had turned bright red. “He brought this,” she said, opening the kitchen drawer. She grasped a corner of the check between her nails, as if it were contaminated.

“What is it?”

“He said it was a check.” Louisa passed it to Eva.

“Five hundred pounds!” Eva put out a hand, bracing herself against the draining board. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“He said it was in Uncle Dai’s will.”

“Will?” Eva blinked. “Dai’s dead? When’s the funeral? We must go!”

“I think they’ve probably had it already. Uncle—” She gulped, not wanting to say the loathsome name again. “He said Uncle Dai died last month.”

“Last month?” Eva echoed, staring at the piece of paper in her hand. She shook her head slowly. “Oh, it must have grieved Trefor to part with this!” She paced the narrow kitchen, clutching the check to her chest. “Your aunt Rhiannon must have wanted us to have it—that’s what it would have been, I bet—but it would all have gone to Dai until
. . .
” She stopped, looking at Louisa. “How was he? Was he nasty about it?”

Louisa looked away. “He
. . .
er
. . .
no, not really,” she mumbled, fighting down the sick feeling welling up inside.

“No wonder he didn’t hang around!” Eva grunted a laugh. “Bet he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing my face when he handed it over!” She disappeared into the hall, returning with her handbag. Unzipping one of its compartments, she slid the check carefully inside. “Wait till your dad sees it! We’ll be able to put down a deposit on one of those lovely new houses in Fir Grove!” She beamed at Louisa, “And tomorrow we’ll go to Beatties and buy you a whole new outfit! Something really stunning for the Christmas Ball!”

“It’s okay, really,” Louisa spooned tea into the pot and emptied the steaming kettle over the leaves. “You spend it on yourself and Dad. I don’t need any of it, honest.” She left Eva standing in the kitchen and went through to the front room. Gathering up the pink taffeta, she slipped it under the foot of the sewing machine and began pumping the treadle. Pumping and pumping, as if its noisy whirring would drive the screaming from her mind.

The snow had melted by the night of the Christmas Ball, but it remained bitterly cold. Eva had insisted on buying Louisa a fur wrap to wear over the dress she had made.

“Ooh, that’s gorgeous!” Gina said when she came to the house. “It’s real, isn’t it?” She stroked the soft white fur. “What is it?”

“I
. . .
er
. . .
I don’t know.” It wasn’t a lie. She had accepted the gift but had not wanted to know anything about it. Especially not how much it had cost.

“Come on!” Gina tugged her arm. “We’d better get going.” She looked Louisa up and down and smiled. “You do realize Ray’s going to go completely gooey when he sees you?”

Louisa shrugged and followed Gina out of the house, trying to feel enthusiastic about the evening ahead. Both of them had been looking forward to it for weeks, planning what they were going to wear, and practicing their makeup. But tonight Louisa felt nothing. For the past few days she had been going through the motions of living. Speaking only when she had to. Hiding away in her room. And at night she was afraid to go to sleep. Afraid to close her eyes, because it was then, when everything was quiet, that the images in her head threatened to engulf her. And it was then that she wanted to scream.

When they arrived at the Civic Hall, the band was playing “Take Good Care of My Baby.” She wished they’d hurry up and play something faster. Like “Runaway” or “Let’s Twist Again,” so she could dance herself into oblivion. As the number faded, she caught sight of Ray. He was on the other side of the room talking to Gina’s sister and her boyfriend. She had never seen him in a suit before.
It made him look much older
, she thought. And his hair. That was different too. It was swept up in a quiff, which made him look a bit like Eddie Cochran. He turned and, catching sight of her, gave her a little wave. She stood rooted to the spot, arms clamped to her sides. The band struck up again. “Runaround Sue.” Ray was coming over.

“He’s going to ask you for a dance!” Gina squealed delightedly. “Go on!” She gave Louisa a little push. “Now’s your chance!”

“Hello, Lou.” He stood awkwardly in front of her, as if his new shoes were a bit too tight. “You look really
. . .
nice!”

She bit her lip. She didn’t feel nice. The fur and the taffeta would have looked lovely on someone else. And the makeup. When she had looked at herself in the mirror, she had seen a clown’s face staring back at her. Everything about her felt false.

“Would you like to dance?” Ray was blushing.

“Yes,” she said suddenly, grabbing his hand. “I would. Come on!”

All over the dance floor couples were moving energetically to the music, the girls’ skirts swinging out as their partners spun them around. Louisa let herself become Ray’s puppet, bending and spinning as if her body were made of rubber. Some other girl’s ponytail swished against her face like a whip, and a man’s shoe crunched her toes as the crowd on the dance floor grew into a crush. But she didn’t feel a thing. As one fast number gave way to another, she was aware of nothing but the music. If Ray hadn’t offered, she would have danced with anyone who asked her. She needed some other man’s face to obliterate the leering, sneering one that hung in the space before her eyes.

They broke off only once, both of them gasping for something to drink. Ray was still at the bar when the slow numbers came on, and Louisa dived into the ladies’ room. She dabbed fresh powder onto her face, which was streaked with perspiration. There was a bare patch of skin where she had wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. It looked very dark in the stark fluorescent light over the washbasin. She wondered if Ray had noticed.

When she emerged, Ray was standing at the edge of the dance floor with the drinks, looking self-conscious, as if he thought she’d run out on him.

“Can I take you home after this?” he asked, as they sat down.

She hesitated before replying, looking around for Gina.

“It’s okay.” Ray grinned. “I’ll give Gina a lift too, as long as we drop her off first!”

Ray’s dad’s van smelled of popcorn. Louisa was squashed between Gina and Ray, and every time he changed gear, Ray’s hand brushed against her leg. When they reached Gina’s house, Louisa felt an overwhelming urge to jump out with her.

“Have fun!” Gina winked at her from the pavement. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

As the door slammed Louisa shivered. She couldn’t get out here. How would she explain it to Gina’s parents? How would she get home?

“Are you cold?” Ray put his hand on her shoulder. “Do you want my jacket?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine, honest.” She felt sick. The way she felt every time Trefor’s smell drifted from that dark place in her memory. She took a breath. “Ray?”

He smiled. “What?”

“Could we go somewhere? Not go straight back to my house, I mean?”

“Sure, if that’s what you want.” He was still smiling, but he looked surprised. “Where d’you want to go?”

“Anywhere you like,” she replied, shocked at the way she sounded, but meaning it.