‘We felt awful, ma’am, we really did, but what could we do?’ Mrs Norton had sobbed. ‘It was Mr Monty’s place to say something, not ours.’
Esther had made no comment to this. All that good people had to do, to allow evil to abound, was to do and say nothing. Mrs Norton and the others knew this well enough and were clearly feeling wretched.
When Osborne had come downstairs to tell them the news, Esther had telephoned for a taxi immediately, before going to wake Monty and tell him she was leaving. He had offered to drive her back to Sunderland, but she had declined. They would go on the train, she’d said coldly. And she would like to take with her the divorce papers, which he had been sent recently – duly signed by him. Monty had agreed without demur. In the immediate aftermath of Theobald’s seizure, while they had waited for the doctor, knowing that it was truly the end of any hope of reclaiming Esther as his wife, Monty had confessed about Caleb’s telephone call and letters. Esther had listened and then left him without a word, her silence more condemnatory than any spoken rebuke.
‘So what’s been happening?’ Eliza said now, lifting a smiling Joy up into her arms and giving the child a kiss. ‘Caleb’s been going out of his mind, when you didn’t write. You know he phoned the house one day?’
Esther sank down onto a kitchen chair. Now that she was here in Eliza’s kitchen the normality of it, after what she had left, was such a relief it was weakening, and she didn’t want to cry in front of Joy. Her face must have given away the fact that she was at the end of her tether, because suddenly Eliza became briskly busy, settling Joy on the clippy mat in front of the range with some toys and a biscuit to eat, before she put the kettle on for a cup of tea. It was only when the two of them were sitting with a cup of tea and a slice of rice cake in front of them that Eliza gently reached out her hand and took Esther’s. ‘So?’ she said softly. ‘Tell me.’
And Esther told her. Apart from Eliza’s ‘The dirty beggar!’ when Esther got to the part about Theobald and Joy, Caleb’s mother was silent throughout, and she didn’t let go of Esther’s hand. When Esther finished speaking, they continued to sit quietly for a few moments, before Eliza murmured, ‘Drink your tea, lass.’
It was a good job the old man had died, Eliza thought grimly, because when Caleb found out what had gone on, he wouldn’t have rested until he’d got his hands on Theobald. She just hoped her lad wouldn’t try and settle the score with this Monty bloke, because no good would come of it. But Esther could talk him out of that, especially now the divorce was under way. Caleb would see the sense of not doing anything to get in the way of that. Heavens above! Eliza mentally shook her head. Whatever next? But it wasn’t the lass’s fault. Nevertheless, trouble seemed to follow Esther wherever she went, bless her.
‘And so you haven’t been back to your lodgings yet?’ she said, once they had both drained their cups and eaten their cake, with Joy now stretched out on the thick rug, fast asleep.
‘I came straight here. I – I wanted to see Caleb, to put things right.’
Eliza nodded. She could understand that. Looking at the clock on the shelf above the range, she said, ‘He’ll be home in an hour or so, lass. Have another cuppa, an’ try and relax now. You’re still as tense as a coiled spring, aren’t you?’
Esther smiled weakly, a small deprecating quirk to her mouth as she said, ‘Is it so obvious?’ She wouldn’t be herself until she saw Caleb, until she knew things were right again between them. She had gone away against his wishes, and then he had heard nothing from her. What must he be thinking?
It was exactly an hour later, at six o’clock, when the back door opened, but it wasn’t Caleb who walked in, but Stanley. He stopped dead at the sight of Esther sitting with Eliza, who now had a wide-awake Joy on her lap.
Esther stared at Caleb’s father anxiously. He hadn’t hidden the fact that he didn’t approve of her, and although she could understand why he would have preferred a girl with no messy past for his son, it didn’t make communicating with him on a day-to-day level any easier. She opened her mouth to say hello, but it was Joy who got in first, sliding off Eliza’s lap and running to Stanley as she gabbled, ‘We’re back again, see? We’re home.’
‘Aye, I see, hinny,’ Stanley said and, as the little girl held up her arms, he could do nothing else but bend and pick her up.
And then to Esther’s surprise and embarrassment, once Joy was in Caleb’s father’s arms, she said, ‘We went to visit the poorly man. He said he was my grandfather, but Mummy says he isn’t. He was telling a fib. That’s naughty, isn’t it? But I want a grandfather. Are you my grandfather?’
There was a moment of charged silence. Stanley didn’t look at the two women. He didn’t look anywhere but at the small, innocent face staring into his. And then gruffly he murmured, ‘Aye, hinny. I’m your granda all right.’
Joy beamed, before turning to look at her mother for confirmation. Esther couldn’t speak, the lump in her throat was too big, and it was Eliza who stepped into the breach, saying, ‘And I’m your grandma, pet. So you’ve got a grandma and a granda, see? That’s nice, isn’t it? But let your granda take his coat off and have a sup tea, there’s a good little lassie.’
Esther had just finished telling her story again – this time to a visibly shocked and amazed Stanley, while his wife kept Joy occupied and out of earshot – when the back door was thrust open once more. Esther’s heart jerked in her breast. Caleb stood where he was in the doorway, his gaze fixed on her, as though he was scared to blink in case she was a figment of his imagination; and such was the look on his face that, before Esther was aware of it, Eliza had bustled out of the kitchen, taking Stanley and Joy with her, saying they had something to do in the front room.
Esther felt she was going to cry and was forbidding herself to do so. The last two weeks had exhausted her, mentally, physically and emotionally, and now the feeling that swamped her at the sight of his dear face made her faint. She had never felt so tired and yet so alive.
‘Esther?’ He took a step towards her, and perhaps because he too was at the end of himself, he stumbled, almost going headlong, as he had that night when they had first spoken under the stars outside the village hall. The sound of frustration that he made at his own inadequacy brought her across the kitchen and into his arms, which opened wide to receive her, before closing with an intensity that seemed to take the breath from her body. His mouth on hers, they kissed with a frantic urgency that took no account of time or place, murmuring endearments and words of love, and straining into each other as though they needed to consume and be consumed.
How long it was before they were sated enough to pull slightly apart, Esther didn’t know, but it was Caleb who first spoke coherently, his deep voice rueful as he murmured, ‘I think this is the first time I have ever witnessed my mother voluntarily taking a child into her hallowed front room. None of the grandchildren are allowed in there, not even on high days and holidays. We’re honoured.’
She breathed in the nearness of him, and it was as intoxicating as any alcohol. ‘I didn’t know, about you phoning the house – and the letters. And they took mine to you. I should have gone into town and posted them myself, but I never thought for a moment—’
‘Hey, hey, slow down, it’s all right.’ He stopped her gasping words by the simple expedient of kissing her again. When the tears welled from her eyes, he sat down on a kitchen chair, pulling her onto his lap. ‘Okay, from the beginning. So you didn’t get my letters, and I didn’t get yours. Call me old-fashioned, but am I right that Monty and Theobald play a part in this somewhere?’ Kissing the tip of her nose, he said gently, ‘Come on, no more tears. We’re together again and I tell you right now: nothing is going to separate us, for as long as we are both alive. That’s a promise. I shouldn’t have let you go, I know that now; but I was a jealous fool and by the time I realized what an idiot I was, you had gone. The thing is, I know you’re too good for me.’ And when she would have protested, he put his finger on her lips.
‘It’s true, but I’ll never let that hinder me again. I’m going to take what God has sent me and say, “Thank you very much, and keep it coming.”’ She was laughing now, as he had intended she should, and after a moment or two he whispered, ‘Okay, sweetheart, tell me.’
For the third time that afternoon she related the sorry happenings of the last few days. Eliza had been saddened and aghast, Stanley amazed and shocked; but Caleb was so blazingly angry she was frightened. In that moment she thanked God that Theobald was dead, because she knew without a doubt that Caleb would have found him and meted out his own rough justice, even if he had swung for it. As it was, when he muttered, ‘And Monty stood by, without lifting a finger to stop him? And if Theobald was confined to bed, who took the letters you wrote to me, before they could be posted?’ she knew a moment’s deep fear.
‘Listen to me.’ She took his craggy face between her hands. ‘Monty is a broken man. No, don’t jerk away like that. He is, Caleb. He lost everything during the war. The family home and his wealth and prestige; his social standing with his peers; and even his health. His hands are poor things, and he wasn’t trained to do anything but fly. But more than that, it has changed him, deep inside. He is a shell of his former self and will always be so. His self-respect is all gone.’
‘You’re sorry for him?’ he growled incredulously. ‘After how he treated you and Joy?’
‘Yes, I suppose I am. He’s got nothing and no one. He knows I despise him as much as I once adored him, and that must be hard to take. He is one of those people that the war has left in a kind of time-warp; he wants what has gone forever, the old privileged life he was brought up in, and he can’t adapt.’
‘Or won’t.’
‘Maybe.’ She nodded. ‘Yes, maybe; but whatever the case, he has nothing, and we have everything in each other. Can’t you see that? Don’t be bitter about him, Caleb. It’ll only hurt you and me in the long run. He’s agreed to the divorce; he even told me he will admit to some affairs that he had, in the months after Joy was born, if it helps to quicken things up.’
‘That’s big of him,’ Caleb muttered with scathing sarcasm.
Esther smiled, she couldn’t help it. He sounded like a sulky little boy.
Seeing the smile, Caleb had the grace to grin sheepishly, before his expression sobered. ‘I hate the fact that you once loved him,’ he said quietly. ‘That’s the truth of it. And Joy is his. You have a child that you share.’
‘No, we don’t,’ she said sadly. ‘We never did. If she had been white, Monty would have loved her as she deserves to be loved; and he only still loves me because I don’t look half-black. But I am. More than that, I am proud of it. From the little I know, my parents defied everyone for their love, and that’s a mighty heritage to live up to.’
‘Don’t cry, love.’
‘My mother gave me up because she wanted a good life for me, and she had been put in an impossible situation by her family, but I believe she and my father are together somewhere. I want to find them, Caleb. I want to know who I come from and see their faces, hear them speak, know them.’
‘We can do that.’
‘My eyes have been opened to prejudice and bigotry and all kinds of things, in the last three years, but as I speak right now I can say I wouldn’t change a thing. What does the colour of someone’s skin matter? Or their social standing, or religion or culture? I know now that I walked through the first part of my life with my eyes shut, but no more. And much as I hate the thought of Joy coming up against narrow-mindedness and discrimination, I can see it has to be, if the world is going to change. The black GI Priscilla dated for a while told us such terrible things about what went on in his country, and that’s what my father must have lived under. It’s horrible, Caleb. Unbelievable in a civilized world, and yet it’s happening.’
He drew her close again, soothing her with words of love as he promised her the moon. He had begun to believe she had gone from him, over the last weeks, and he knew now that if that had truly been the case, his life would have ended. He might have still continued breathing and walking and talking, but essentially he would have been dead. But Esther was here with him now; moreover she loved him, and the threads to her previous life were cut at last. She wanted to find her mother and father, and by all that was holy he would make it happen. He didn’t know how right now, but that didn’t matter.
‘I love you.’ He lifted her chin with the tip of his finger so that he could gaze into the depths of her chocolate-brown eyes. ‘I always will – in this world and the one to come. I promise you that, sweetheart.’
For a moment the memory of the evening Joy was conceived was vivid; Monty had said much the same thing, after they had made love for the first time. He had promised her the forever kind of love. But Caleb meant it.
She looked into the rough-hewn face, every feature of which declared his roots, and she smiled. They would never have much money, and life wouldn’t be a bed of roses, but they would have love pressed down and spilling over. That was riches indeed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Much to Esther’s surprise and relief, she found that Mr Dimple had kept her job open for her, when she went to the hotel the day after she’d arrived back in Sunderland. Within a short while she’d slipped into the previous routine, and the nightmare of the preceding weeks faded as the busyness of her working life took over. Until, that was, she discovered Theobald hadn’t been lying about making her the sole beneficiary of his will.
She hadn’t given his declaration a second thought, sure that it was just some clever ruse to keep her under his thumb. But no; according to Theobald’s solicitor, as Theobald’s daughter and sole heir she was entitled to the proceeds of the estate, his many enterprises and any monies, bonds and shares that he’d accrued.
‘It’s all yours, m’dear,’ the solicitor had assured her, when she and Caleb had visited his offices in answer to a letter she’d received. ‘Lock, stock and barrel. And may I say there are plenty of barrels, in this case.’
He smiled an oily smile, and Esther thought she quite understood why this particular individual had suited Theobald.
‘And because, I understand, you are in the throes of a divorce, your husband, Mr Montgomery Grant, has informed me that he wants to make it plain he relinquishes any claim to your late father’s estate.’
The solicitor kept his voice expressionless and did not glance at Caleb at this point. This lady was a very wealthy woman now. He did not wish to offend her by letting his avid interest in her private life show.
Esther and Caleb left the plush offices in Chester-le-Street with their heads whirling, a short time later. Eliza was taking care of Joy, and so they went for a meal in a nearby hotel before they caught the train to Sunderland. Once the waiter had taken their order for drinks, he left them with the menu, with a promise to return shortly.
It was Caleb who spoke first, raising his eyes from the embossed card as he murmured, ‘Life with you is never dull, that’s for sure.’
Esther had been unable to determine what he was thinking, when they had been talking to the solicitor, and now she said, ‘Are you upset? About the inheritance?’
‘Truthfully?’
She nodded.
‘It’s going to take a bit of getting used to, and I’m damned glad we met before I knew I’d bagged myself a rich heiress.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t look so tragic. You’ve just been told you’re a very wealthy woman.’
‘I’ll say I don’t want a penny, if it’s going to cause a problem between us.’
His smile widened. ‘I believe you would.’
‘Nothing is more important than us, Caleb.’ She reached forward and took his hand across the table. ‘And I think Theobald was trying to use this as a form of blackmail, to keep me and Joy with him. He would probably have changed the will as soon as he had got what he wanted. Who knows?’
‘Who knows indeed.’ He squeezed her fingers. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘We’ll decide t
ogether.’ The waiter was returning and, as she disengaged her hand, Esther glanced down at her menu, saying, ‘Look at the price of the chicken.’ Poultry, which had been almost unobtainable for town-dwellers during the war years, had become more available in recent months, but the price had increased in the shops to an unbelievably high two shillings and sixpence a pound, and the menu reflected this. ‘Who on earth can afford these prices?’
‘You, for one,’ said Caleb drily.
Esther glanced quickly at him, but he was smiling again. She smiled back, relieved he was taking it so well. She had been among his kind long enough to understand that the working man was quite different from the gentry and upper-class, when it came to marrying a woman better off than he was. The working man saw himself as the provider, and until the war many wouldn’t have dreamed of letting their wives work outside the home – Stanley being one of them. And he wasn’t alone. Ida, Caleb’s sister, had recently had an almighty row with her husband shortly after he’d returned from the war, simply because she wanted to continue working as a conductress on the buses.
The time of women having to ‘do their bit’, because the men had been called up, was over, he’d told Ida. He was home now. Things could get back to normal. When Ida had declared she had no intention of returning to what he called ‘normal’, they hadn’t spoken for a week, according to Eliza.
It was the same everywhere. There’d been an expectation by the male sex that women would leave their war jobs to make way for the home-coming soldiers, but although some had been happy to comply, others – like Ida – weren’t willing to sacrifice their new status. Working-class women had tasted independence, and for many there was no going back.
They ate the mediocre meal quickly, when it came. While Caleb settled the bill, Esther went to the ladies’ room. She had no wish to use the facilities, but she needed a few moments to herself. Entering one of the two cubicles, she stood with her back pressed against the door and her eyes shut.
The Colours of Love Page 32
