The Colours of Love (28 page)

Walking back to her chair, she sank down, her whole body trembling with reaction. She sat there for long minutes, her head in her hands, but after a while she straightened. She was tired, so tired, but one thing was certain in her weary mind. It was over. She would never go back to him and she didn’t want Monty within a hundred miles of Joy, although that might prove more difficult, because she believed him when he said he would fight. If the future had seemed an uphill struggle before, suddenly it looked a whole lot worse. But she wouldn’t waver. The Bible said that a house divided against itself would fall, and that’s what any home with Monty would be: divided and just waiting to fall.

Chapter Seventeen

Theobald’s hard, jet-black eyes were fixed on his son-in-law. Monty had just helped himself to ham and eggs from the covered dishes on the sideboard and had sat down at the breakfast table. When he began to eat without speaking, Theobald barked one word: ‘Well?’

Monty raised his eyes, swallowing the food in his mouth before he said, ‘I presume you’re enquiring how I got on yesterday?’ The reply was cool, but there was no trace of irritation at his father-in-law’s manner in Monty’s voice, even though inwardly it irked him.

‘Of course, what else? You were damned late back, weren’t you? I didn’t get to bed till gone three, and you weren’t in then.’

‘Esther had gone out for the day when I got to the farm, so I had to wait until she returned.’

‘So she was there, then? You found her?’

‘Yes, I found her and the child.’

‘And?’ Theobald leaned forward, his body radiating impatience.

Monty shrugged. ‘I’ve made contact.’

‘You’ve made contact?’ Theobald’s voice had risen. ‘What the hell does that mean: you’ve made contact? Did you spell out the benchmarks when she comes back, because I’ll expect her to toe the line.’ There wasn’t a trace of doubt in his mind that Esther would seize the opportunity to resume her position in the family. ‘She’ll do as she’s told, under my roof.’

‘It wasn’t like that.’ Monty took a sip of his coffee.

‘Give me strength – it’s like pulling hen’s teeth. Are you doing this on purpose, to spoil my breakfast?’

‘She told me she wants a divorce. Is that clear enough?’

Theobald sat back in his chair, let out a long, irritable sigh and said, ‘All right, let’s have it all. Word-for-word.’

And Monty gave it all to him, word-for-word, including his wife’s comments about Theobald. When he had finished speaking there was silence for a moment or two. He could see that Theobald was furious, for he had flushed a deep puce, and in spite of his own chagrin and deep disappointment, Monty admitted to feeling a certain satisfaction at his father-in-law’s vexation. Since leaving the air force and coming to live at the house, there had been many occasions when he had almost decided to throw in the towel and tell Theobald what he really thought of him; but the fact that he knew he was ‘living in clover’, as his air-force pals would call it, had stilled his tongue. But really, he asked himself now for the umpteenth time, was it worth it? The more he’d learned about Theobald, the more he’d begun to despise and loathe him – and himself. He had allowed himself to be bought, he knew that, and any time he didn’t jump as high as Theobald told him to, his father-in-law dangled the carrot of the wealth Monty would inherit in the future. When he had objected to a particularly blatant bribe that Theobald was offering a supposedly righteous pillar of the community recently, Monty had been told to shut up or clear out. Of course he had done the former, as Theobald had known he would, and when a similar occasion had occurred a few days later, he had followed orders once again.

But it wasn’t just Theobald’s dubious business dealings that made him feel dirty, Monty thought now. Within a short while of living at the house, he had been woken one night by shrieking. Startled out of a deep sleep, he’d sat for a minute or two wondering if he had dreamed it, because the night was quiet again, but then a muffled scream had drawn him out of bed and onto the landing. Armed with a poker from the fireplace in his bedroom, he had crept to the stairs that led down to the floor below, where Theobald’s suite of rooms was. He had been genuinely concerned that some ne’er-do-well had got into the house and attacked his father-in-law. Quite what had made him hesitate outside the door to Theobald’s rooms, he didn’t know. Some sixth sense perhaps. As he’d stood there, his ear pressed to the door, he’d distinctly heard Theobald’s deep baritone laugh and then a female voice, sounding urgent and distressed, although he couldn’t make out the words.

Despite knowing that he should leave well alone and go back to bed – whatever was happening inside, Monty felt satisfied Theobald wasn’t in danger – he’d stealthily tried the handle of the door instead. It had opened and he’d pushed it so that he could hear through the crack. The voices had been clearer now. The female was saying, ‘You’re too rough. Look at her, she’s bleedin’. I didn’t bring her along for you to do this.’

Someone else was crying in the background, low muffled sobs, and then his father-in-law had growled, ‘For crying out loud, don’t make such a fuss. Look, I’ll give you both double, all right? Now that’s fair. Untie her, and we’ll get down to the real business.’

Monty had often wished since then that he hadn’t opened the door further, so that he could see into the room. The sight that had met his eyes was burned into his mind now. A young girl, no more than eleven or twelve years old, was spreadeagled on Theobald’s bed, face-down, with ropes securing her wrists and ankles. Blood was visible from the weals marking the naked white body, and a second girl, just a year or two older, was kneeling beside the bed, pulling at the cords securing the first girl. Theobald, as naked as the day he was born, was watching them, the whip he was holding dangling from one hand.

Monty had stopped breathing. He knew he’d stopped breathing because, when he had to take a breath, it had come in a gasp that had alerted the occupants of the room to his presence. As he had met his father-in-law’s eyes, panic had made him bang the door shut and hightail it back to his quarters. When he’d reached his room he’d sat for some minutes on the edge of the bed, waiting for Theobald to storm in. But he hadn’t.

The next morning Monty hadn’t known what to expect, but the last thing he’d imagined was Theobald behaving perfectly normally when he came down to breakfast. There was no sign of the girls; presumably they had been packed off to wherever they had come from. And so the two of them had sat and eaten their meal, Theobald seemingly engrossed in his newspaper. But just before he had risen from the table, his father-in-law had put down his paper and said, ‘You’re welcome to join me for some entertainment, Monty. You don’t have to creep about the house spying on me. A young man like you has his needs, I know that.’

‘I beg your p-pardon?’ He’d hated himself for stuttering.

‘Night recreation. Tell me the sort of thing that tickles your fancy, and I’ll arrange it. We’re both men of the world.’

He had stared at Theobald. Instead of the well-dressed individual in front of him, he’d seen in his mind’s eye a swarthy body, liberally covered in hair like an animal. And the obscene erection. Stammering even more, he’d got out, ‘I–I didn’t mean to p-pry. I heard something – n-noises.’

The gimlet eyes hadn’t left his face. ‘Aye, well, if you hear anything more, you’ll know what it is, won’t you, lad? I’ve made the decision that in future I’m having my entertainment brought to the house. More private, that way.’

He’d swallowed hard. ‘Those girls?’

‘There’s a woman who supplies me,’ Theobald said shortly.

When his father-in-law had left the table without further conversation, Monty had sat staring after him for a long time. It was then that he should have packed his bags and left this house, where the very air was contaminated by its owner, he thought now. But he hadn’t. He had stayed, and in so doing had shut his ears to sounds in the night, along with many other things that went on.

Theobald surprised him when he spoke now. Instead of the tirade of curses and swearing Monty had expected, his father-in-law said softly, ‘She always did have spirit. I used to think she got it from me, as Harriet was a spineless individual, but no matter. And you saw the child, you say? What’s she like? Black as the ace of spades?’

For the first time since his daughter had been born, Monty felt a surge of defensiveness on her behalf. Coldly he said, ‘Actually, she’s lovely. Beautiful in fact, with the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen and golden-brown curls.’

Theobald’s eyes narrowed. ‘So she looks white?’ That would make things easier all round.

Monty hesitated. ‘No, no, she doesn’t. Her skin is too dark for that.’

‘So the problem remains? Still, it doesn’t have to be broadcast. There are plenty of good boarding schools where the girl would be well treated, and Esther could visit her whenever circumstances allowed. Did you explain that to her?’

‘We never got that far. I told you, she has no intention of coming back. She was adamant in that regard.’

‘Oh, she’ll come back, if I’ve a mind for her to, lad. Don’t you fret about that. Certain of our associates would drop us quicker than a dose of salts, if divorce was mentioned – mainstays of the church, some of ’em. They’re up in arms about this modern wave of divorce that the war has caused, as it is, pious lot.’

Monty kept his face blank with some effort. Theobald was a lecher of the worst kind, and most of his business dealings were questionable, to say the least; and yet to those associates that he’d mentioned he acted as though he was as pure as the driven snow. Furthermore Theobald insisted that Monty accompany him each Sunday to the parish church, where his father-in-law sat as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, as holy as you like. Since he had got to know Theobald better, Monty had found himself glancing round at people and wondering what they were really like under the outward veneer – something that had never crossed his mind before.

Theobald tugged at his brocade waistcoat, which had been fitted to disguise the enormity of his protruding stomach, and glared at Monty. Esther’s husband was a pathetic excuse of a man and as weak as dishwater, and yet, he supposed, that worked to his advantage on a day-to-day basis. ‘See to it you tell her what’s what, when you go back there. Women are like horses: they need a firm hand, and to know who is in control. Do you understand me?’ He paused on the threshold of the room. ‘When are you going back to the farm, by the way?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, make it soon. I’ve got enough on my plate, with the war finished and one or two things up in the air. It won’t be long before the Japanese surrender an’ all, and everything will go haywire, you mark my words. I keep my ear to the ground; I know what’s going on, and people don’t want to go back to like it was before the war, with the dole, the means test, unemployment marches, and the like. The business will need to diversify, because I wouldn’t be surprised if Labour get in when there’s an election.’

Monty stared at his father-in-law. The Labour Party had never had an overall majority in British electoral history, and Churchill was the people’s hero. Of course the government of the country would continue to be safe in Tory hands.

‘You don’t believe me?’ Theobald correctly read the expression on Monty’s face. ‘We’ll see, my lad. The common horde might cheer themselves hoarse for Churchill – like yesterday in Whitehall, when he was on the balcony in his famous siren suit and homburg hat – but their loyalty is fickle. They’re peasants, and they’ll give their allegiance where the wind blows. The only way to deal with the working class is with an iron fist – it’s all they understand. The vote! Worst thing they ever did when they gave it to the common man; gave ’em ideas above their station.’

Monty had heard it all before. Just to annoy his father-in-law, he said mildly, ‘Women carry as much weight as men in the voting stakes now, don’t forget.’

Theobald snorted. ‘When did you ever hear a woman say anything worth listening to? Their brains are inferior, everyone knows that, and their grasp of politics is non-existent.’

Monty found he couldn’t stand listening to another of Theobald’s bigoted rants that morning. He’d had no sleep, arriving back at the house as dawn was breaking and then sitting at his bedroom window for some time before he had a bath and a shave. Seeing Esther in the flesh had made him want her, to the point where he could think of little else, and he had been cursing himself for ever walking away from her. But what else could he have done? he asked himself for the umpteenth time. She’d had a black baby, and he couldn’t just ignore what she carried in her genes, damn it. Unlike her, the child would never pass for white, that was for sure. Nevertheless, Joy was outstandingly lovely and that was the important thing for a girl as she grew older. Or it had been, before this war had turned the world on its head. He recognized that, in the absence of fathers and breadwinners, women had dug the land, driven trucks and large vehicles, taken hard and dirty jobs in factories and had held their own in a previously all-male environment. Consequently they’d become tougher and more independent, and certainly free-thinking in a way that would have been unbelievable a decade ago. Pandora had been let out of her box.

He didn’t like it. His jaw clenched. He wished the world could go back thirty, forty years, back to the old ways. His mother might have been an elitist, but she had been right in so many things.

He stood up, brushing past Theobald. ‘I need to have a lie-down for an hour, I’ve got a stinking headache.’

‘Aye, well, only an hour then.’ Theobald followed his son-in-law out of the room. ‘There’s work to be done, don’t forget. And don’t leave it too long before you sort out your wife. Sweet-talk her, charm her, use brute force if necessary – I don’t care – but I don’t want that harpy causing me problems. She was fair barmy about you, as I recall, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to get her back here and behaving herself.’

‘That was then; this is now. I told you, she’s different.’

‘Different, is she?’ Theobald’s meaty hand clamped itself on Monty’s arm, swinging the younger man round to face him. ‘Well, maybe she is and maybe she isn’t, but you’re much the same, as far as I can see, and unless you’ve lost your touch with the ladies, this should be a walk in the park.’ His grip tightened. ‘See it clearly, for crying out loud. She’s on her own with a brat to feed and clothe, isn’t she? So compare that to living in the lap of luxury with the man she loves. Come on, lad, even you can see the gods are with you.’