The Daughter of Victory Lights

by Kerri Turner

  The two women stared at one another. Evie, who had seen and committed her fair share of horrors, couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Bee to find herself in such an impossible situation.

  ‘What would you have done, Evie?’ Bee whispered. Her face had gone as pale as the inside curve of a light. ‘While that little girl was sobbing and cowering in the corner, would you have taken a knife to him so he couldn’t hurt her?’

  Tears slid down Evie’s face. She couldn’t answer. How could anyone know what they would do in that situation?

  ‘The second he stopped moving I took the child back to her home, making her promise she wouldn’t tell anyone what had happened that night. I think she was frightened enough to stick to her promise. I hope she was young enough to forget it all one day. Afterwards, I didn’t know what to do. I found myself wandering around a local fete. Some dim part of my brain had decided that until I made a plan I should lose myself in a crowd.

  ‘That’s when I met Humphrey. He was staring at me and I panicked and started running. Well, when someone runs, certain people have the impulse to chase. Thinking he was after something physical I stupidly tore open my coat, shouting, “Is this what you want?”. I’d meant to expose my body, not my blood-stained dress. It was a night of mistake after mistake, and the only thing I could think to do was tell him the truth. I’d heard of him, you see, a magician who ran a show on a boat which never stayed in the same place for long.’

  ‘So Humphrey and the Victory were your escape,’ Evie whispered. The tears stilled on her cheeks as she tried to take in all this new information.

  ‘Yes. For whatever reason, Humphrey chose to believe my story. He also knew that as soon as they found my husband’s body I’d be wanted for murder, and the price for that was hanging. So he brought me on board and helped me change my appearance: ammonia and peroxide on my hair, make-up to alter my features, and weight gain on a body which had been rail-thin to appease my husband’s tastes. Then he created an act which I began to perform once we were far enough from British waters, and I became Bee instead of who I was before.’

  Now that she was at the end of her story, Bee’s demeanour had changed. Gone were the tremors and the fear in her eyes, replaced with a cocked eyebrow and a confident set to her chin. It was almost as though a mask had dropped over her face, as tangible as Humphrey’s eyepatch.

  ‘Now do you see why I think Humphrey can be trusted to do the right thing?’

  Evie did. She patted her face dry, ready to put her trust in Bee as Bee had once put hers in Humphrey.

  As usual, Bee barged into Humphrey’s office without invitation. Humphrey was standing next to his bed, pulling on a striped satin eyepatch. With haste he snatched it into place, fingers checking nothing below was revealed.

  ‘What is it, Bee?’

  ‘We’ve something to tell you, and there’s no point dallying, so here it is: Evie is going to have a baby. Isn’t that wonderful?’

  Evie was shocked at Bee’s quick exposure of her secret. Yet at the same time she could have kissed her for using the word ‘we’.

  Humphrey’s eyes darted to Evie’s stomach. There wasn’t much to see there yet. Pressing his lips together—an expression that seemed concern more than anger, or so Evie hoped—he walked to his desk and sat down. He clasped both hands before him, rested his chin on his intertwined fingers, and nodded at the chairs opposite for them to sit down.

  ‘Tell me, Evie. Did anyone push themselves on you?’

  ‘What? Oh! No, not at all.’

  Humphrey’s face broke into a grin and he sat back in his chair. ‘Then it is indeed wonderful news. Although we’ll need to look at your work schedule and make some changes, I’m sure. Things can’t go on quite the way they were before.’

  Bee was looking at Evie in triumph.

  Evie, unable to believe this rapid acceptance, said, ‘You … you mean you’re not angry with me? For being reckless and foolish and causing this situation? For upsetting the balance on the boat?’

  ‘My dear girl, anger at human nature and mistakes is a wasted emotion. And I would hope that it would take a lot more than a baby to unbalance the Victory.’

  Again, Evie began to cry.

  Humphrey bustled about looking for a handkerchief. Not finding one, he handed her a piece of spangled scrap fabric instead. It was useless at mopping up her tears and Evie gave a soggy, hiccupping laugh.

  ‘I can only guess at what you’ve been going through,’ he said, coming around the desk so he was closer to her. ‘I want you to know something: our biggest trials can also lead to our biggest triumphs.’

  ‘I would like to believe that’s true,’ Evie said, sniffing.

  ‘Oh, it is. I know from experience. I was only a child when something went wrong with my eye. The doctor had a “wait and see” approach and by the time he realised it was serious I was already on the irreversible path to losing all sight in that eye. Now, children with deformities who live in small towns don’t have the easiest time of it, but I used the very thing that could have brought me down to find my place in the world instead.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  To Evie’s surprise, Humphrey clambered up onto his desk, feet planted between the pencils and sketches and shining material.

  Bee was already cackling as Humphrey opened his mouth and sang:

  ‘One-eye, Cyclops, periscope, Popeye,

  Boy with ugly head.

  Sniper, winky, blinky,

  Pirate without the peg-leg.

  Lefty, number one, Humphr-EYE,

  Scary one-eyed monster,

  With a nose so big and ugly,

  His right eye ran away from her.’

  He finished with a flourish, as though performing for an audience, and Evie clapped so hard her palms stung.

  ‘The very first song I wrote and performed,’ Humphrey said, jumping off the desk with surprising agility. A number of his belongings clattered to the floor but he didn’t bother to retrieve them. ‘Made of all the names the other school boys called me. The names stopped after I sang it to them, and my love of performing began.’

  Evie wasn’t sure she could turn an unexpected pregnancy to the same advantage, but she was grateful all the same for Humphrey’s uplifting words. Now that her secret was out, a wave of relief washed over her, making every muscle relax. The heaviness behind her eyes tried to force her lids shut, and she was unable to stop a yawn so wide it made her jaw crack.

  ‘You need rest,’ Humphrey said. ‘No work until tonight’s show. Flynn can hold the fort until then.’

  He escorted the women to the door, holding it open for them.

  Before she slipped out, Evie said, ‘Thank you, Humphrey. For being so kind. I was afraid to confront the truth, but you’ve made it easier.’

  ‘Told you,’ Bee muttered, nudging Evie with her elbow.

  ‘A baby on the boat will be a delight and make our family complete,’ Humphrey said decisively. ‘Why, I’ll feel like a grandfather. What a novelty!’

  All three heard the cry. It was a sound of despair that reminded Evie of Gussie, the Lister Twister, in the moment before she’d disappeared beneath the brick wall.

  She turned to see Flynn holding open the door between Humphrey’s ornate one and the main corridor. His face was twisted in a pained expression, and a muscle pulsated at the side of his jaw. Evie’s ears went as hot as the boat’s metal railing after a full afternoon in the sun. Even Bee was lost for words for once.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Evie muttered, ducking her head and pushing past Flynn.

  She couldn’t avoid brushing against him as she went through the narrow opening, and his touch made her want to smack her open palm across his face. Instead, she kept moving, not letting her feet stop until she was in the safety of her cabin.

  If Flynn wanted to talk to her about what he’d overheard, he could come after her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  1951: London, England

  The boat docked
in London for the winter break. It was too cold to perform, even with whisky-laced tea and lard-coated skin.

  Evie held her handbag close to her side as she walked past shops and houses she’d once known so well, and which now jarred her eyes. The terraced houses with their white-framed windows; the occasional doorway with a rusted spotlight still sitting above it, as if afraid to let its wartime guard down even after all these years. She could have remained on board the Victory, hidden away from her sisters, but she’d discovered honesty could open doors to kindness and acceptance; perhaps it could lead to forgiveness too. And there was Spencer to think of. She yearned to see her nephew again, to see how he’d grown and what new words he’d learned. To tell him he would soon have a cousin to play with.

  The weather was so cold it felt as though the frost was creeping underneath her full-length felt Utility coat, deliberately chosen in the hope its familiarity would spark some sentiment in Cynthia. The thought of their reunion warmed Evie and kept her moving despite her self-consciousness and the sensation that the word ‘unmarried’ was branded on her stomach, even though she was not yet showing.

  She was afraid someone she knew might spot her, but arrived at her sister’s front door without incident. It had been given a fresh coat of paint, and roses had been planted close by, although in winter they were just a tangle of bare, forbidding spikes. The Anderson shelter that had still been in the tiny garden when she’d left was gone.

  Evie stared at the door, hesitating. Should she knock? It would be oddly formal. Yet this was no longer her home and she probably shouldn’t treat it as such.

  She sighed and looked down at her feet. How much longer would it be before she would no longer be able to see them? Evie rested one gloved hand on her stomach. She had done her best to look nice for this reunion, going through all the clothes Bee had given her to piece together an outfit that was respectable, if old-fashioned. Her hair was pinned up neatly, exposing her ears to the cold, and a half-hat with a beaded-end hatpin was perched on her head. She didn’t feel herself. She reminded herself that she was trying to bridge the gap between the Evelyn of old and the current Evie. It was just clothing, and if it softened Cynthia towards her, it was worth it.

  She raised her hand to knock on the door, then changed her mind. She couldn’t behave like a stranger or a door-to-door salesman. She reached for the handle instead and walked in.

  Maureen was entering the sitting room from the kitchen. She looked up, a polite smile hovering on her lips, until she registered who it was.

  ‘Hello, Maureen,’ Evie said gently. She hadn’t been expecting such a powerful reaction to seeing her younger sister. She looked different yet somehow exactly the same.

  ‘Evelyn? Is that really you?’

  Her full name sounded odd to Evie’s ears, and she realised how long it had been since anyone had called her that. Once again she brought her hand to her stomach; Maureen’s eyes flicked there, not understanding for a second what she was saying. Then her face flamed with colour. She drew in a sharp breath and took a few quick steps forward.

  ‘You have to go,’ she said urgently, glancing over her shoulder.

  In the background, Evie could hear Cynthia on the telephone, boasting about the new twin tub Charles had bought her, lamenting that she didn’t know what she’d do with all her free time now washing was such a breeze.

  ‘But I just got here. And it’s freezing outside.’

  ‘If Cynthia sees you, and finds out you’re in that condition … It’s too much, Evelyn. We haven’t seen you in how long. We haven’t even met your husband.’

  ‘I don’t have a husband.’

  Evie had steeled herself for this moment, and she forced the words out before she lost her nerve. She couldn’t hide who she had become. Mended fences couldn’t begin with a lie.

  Maureen staggered back; her hand flew to her throat. ‘N-not married? But you’re … you’re …’

  ‘I know.’

  The two sisters stared at each other, one horrified, the other keeping her face determinedly still. They heard Cynthia hang up the phone, and both turned to the doorway as she walked through it.

  ‘That was Joan,’ she said. ‘She wanted to know if—’ Her eyes landed on Evie and her words died away in a strangled sound.

  Evie’s heart picked up speed.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Cynthia’s voice was ice cold.

  The pause that followed was filled with the sound of a cigarette advertisement on the television set. Cynthia walked over to it and twisted the knob, turning it off.

  ‘I … The boat is back in London,’ Evie said. ‘I wanted to visit you. See you both.’

  She gestured to take in Maureen as well, who had sunk onto one of the easy chairs—another new addition since Evie had left the house. Maureen stared up at her sisters, her hand still resting on her throat. Her eyes flicked nervously from one to the other.

  Cynthia folded her arms across her chest. ‘I can’t imagine why you would think that appropriate. Especially today of all days. I’ve several people coming for a dinner party tonight. I don’t have time to sit around and listen to your problems.’

  Evie had known it wasn’t going to be easy, but her sister’s fast dismissal still stung. She wanted to say that she hadn’t had any way of knowing Cynthia was preparing for a dinner party, but resisted the pull of falling back into old patterns.

  ‘That’s not what I want. I don’t have any problems. I just want to talk to you.’ Now was the time. She mustn’t turn coward. She forced the words out, trying to make them sound celebratory instead of damning. ‘You’re going to have a niece or nephew.’

  Cynthia closed her eyes, as though Evie had wounded her. Evie could see her nostrils flaring with fast breaths. ‘Are you going to tell me you’ve married a respectable man and this is the result?’

  Maureen’s eyelids fluttered shut, as though she wanted to block out what was coming.

  ‘No, I’m not married. But I do have everything sorted, so you don’t need to fret about that. I won’t be burdening you. I just came here because I thought … Well, a baby is a time of new beginnings. Can’t we put all the bitter words and disagreements behind us and start afresh? We used to be so close.’

  Cynthia was trembling, and Evie didn’t know if it was with rage or because she was getting through to her.

  She reached out for something to steady herself on, but there wasn’t anything close enough. ‘Look, Cynthia, could I sit down for a moment? My back is aching desperately. If we sat, we could have a proper conversation. I promise I won’t take too much of your time.’

  ‘No.’ Cynthia’s voice was shrill. She took several steps across the room, stopping a foot away from Evie as if she didn’t want to get too close. ‘I will not have you tainting my house. What would the neighbours think if they found out you were in this condition, and there’s me just allowing you to sit down and have a cup of tea?’

  ‘Cynthia,’ Maureen whispered, but her older sister didn’t even hear her.

  Evie had been afraid of such resistance, but she wasn’t ready to give up just yet. ‘Please, just let me explain. Did you read the letter I sent you?’

  Cynthia recoiled, breath hissing through her teeth. ‘No, I didn’t. And it hardly needs explaining.’

  Evie tried not to grit her teeth. This was going badly. ‘Is Charles here?’ she asked carefully.

  It was the wrong thing to say. Cynthia’s skin erupted in puce splotches, her lips almost disappearing her mouth was so tight. Evie thought she looked like a kettle that was about to start whistling. Hastily, she spoke again.

  ‘Or Spencer? I’d so love to see him again. I’ve missed him, you have no idea how much.’

  ‘That’s your fault, isn’t it?’ Cynthia spat. ‘You made your decision. You turned your back on your family in favour of your wanton ways. I’ll not have my little boy subjected to such influence.’

  ‘You won’t let me see Spencer?’ Of all the possibilities Evie had
run through in her mind, this hadn’t been one of them.

  ‘Perhaps she could stay the night,’ Maureen said timidly. Evie wondered if she spied a tinge of sympathy in her sister’s face. ‘She could look after Spencer. They’d get to spend some time together, and you’d be freed for your dinner party preparations.’

  Cynthia turned a stony glare on Maureen. ‘None of the rooms are aired out. I’m afraid it’s impossible.’

  She raised her hand and for a second Evie thought she was going to slap her. She flinched, as if the blow had already come, but Cynthia just grabbed her by the elbow.

  ‘You need to leave now,’ she said, steering her towards the door.

  Evie looked back over her shoulder. ‘Maureen?’

  Surely her younger sister wouldn’t let her be ejected like this. They’d never been as close as Evie and Cynthia, what with Maureen’s war years spent in the country, and then getting married so young and living across the city. But perhaps she’d offer for Evie to stay at her home, or try to convince Cynthia to bend just a little, at least enough to let her see Spencer.

  Maureen stared at her. ‘I’m expecting too,’ she said softly, before turning away with a tiny shake of her head, evident more from her trembling curls than anything else.

  Cynthia ushered Evie to the doorstep, and glanced up and down the street, as if anxious someone might see her fallen sister. When she was sure it was clear, she nudged Evie out, snatching her hand back as if the contact had hurt her.

  ‘Mother and Father would be so disappointed if they were here to see you.’

  ‘Lucky for us you’re showing enough disappointment for both of them.’ Evie straightened her coat and marched away from the house. Before she turned the corner, she reached up and ripped the half-hat from her head, tossing it into a gutter.

  Her soles were tender, the tips of her ears frozen. She decided to use some of her hard-earned money on a taxi back to the boat, and turned in the direction of the nearest shops where she’d be likely to find one.