The Far Side of the Sun (3 page)

Tonight Ella intended to enjoy herself. It was a fundraising party over at the British Colonial Hotel for the Spitfire Fund and all the usual crowd would be there, but she was quick-footed. She knew how to sidestep the old dullards and make for the young bucks in uniform with their laughter and cocktails and tales of manhandling one of the heavy Liberator bombers up into the air, roaring into the endless blue skies. But as she descended the wide sweep of the stairs, she saw her black maid, Emerald, hovering by the front door. Reggie’s gloves were folded neatly across the palm of her plump hand.

Ella saw the maid’s bright gaze fix on Reggie as she lay in wait like a spider, but one in a frilly white cap and with hips as broad as a barn door and a laugh that could crack a brick. Her thumb was slowly stroking the calf-leather fingers of the gloves.

‘My oh my, Mr Sanford, you lookin’ mighty fine here this evening.’

‘Why, thank you, Emerald,’ Reggie beamed.

‘I ironed you the dress-shirt real careful. All special.’

‘I appreciate that. Don’t think I don’t notice your good handiwork around the place.’

‘That’s real nice to know, sir. Real nice.’

Emerald had started shimmying her hips from side to side. Always a bad sign. Ella hurried down the last steps and headed for the door.

‘Goodnight, Emerald,’ she said pointedly.

‘Mr Sanford, sir,’ Emerald cooed sweetly as Reggie reached for his gloves, ‘I been thinkin’…’

Reggie took root in front of her bosom, puffing out his rotund stomach, happy to pass the time of day with the one person in the house who thought he could do no wrong.

‘What have you been thinking about, Emerald?’

‘About you, sir.’

‘Oh?’ He looked pleased as he slid the gloves on to his hand with a graceful movement, easing the leather down between his fingers.

‘You know I got an aunt up in Bain Town and she got a niece-by-marriage livin’ over in Grant’s Town, Mr Reggie?’

‘No, I didn’t know that.’

‘Well, seein’ as how all them folks from the Out Islands has come flockin’ to Nassau to get themselves jobs with the military and all, there ain’t much chance for a girl – even a real smart one – to find herself a job round these parts any more, and I was wonderin’, Mr Reggie, if you could find her somethin’ in your office.’

‘Ah, well, Emerald.’ He frowned. ‘Not sure about that.’

‘Nothin’ much. Just a bitty job?’

Ella paused at the door to see what Reggie would say.

He sighed. ‘I’ll see what I can do, Emerald. But I warn you, there is a strict order to these things.’

What he meant was a hierarchy. White men at the top, black men below, white women somewhere in the middle, and young black girls kicking around somewhere at the bottom.

‘Thank you, Mr Reggie. You is a good and kind man.’

Ella studied her flushed husband for a minute with fresh eyes.
Yes, Emerald, you’re right. Reggie is a good and kind man
.

Ella entered the magnificent British Colonial Hotel on Reggie’s arm and knew at once the evening was going to be a success. She had worked hard to set up this fundraiser event and was relieved to see it so well attended. There was a bright energy in the room that rebounded off the shimmering marble pillars and the gold crystals of the chandeliers, the kind of energy that sweeps through the blood.

It rose off the crowd of young servicemen in waves, flooding the room with an urgent sense of taking everything today with both hands because once you were up in one of those big silver crates in the sky, God only knew whether tomorrow would ever come. The mood was infectious and made Ella laugh out loud, though she wasn’t sure why. Even the stolid inhabitants of Nassau could feel it in the air. The noise level was rising steadily as a band played ‘By the Light of the Silvery Moon’ and all along one wall the row of tall windows stood open on to the terrace, to let the heady scents of a sultry tropical night mingle with the cigar smoke and Dior perfume.

It was obvious that New Providence Island was the paradise these young men had always dreamed of. Rich blue skies, warm turquoise seas to bathe in and white tropical beaches that dazzled the mind as well as the eye. And its capital, Nassau, was offering the kind of delights a boy from Bermondsey or Brooklyn had never thought within his grasp. Ella could feel that society was changing because of this war and something in her wanted to change with it. The old order was passing. She didn’t want to be left behind with just a rocking chair and a rum cocktail for company.

‘Hello, Reggie, old chap, how are things up in the hallowed halls of Government House? Have you heard the latest?’

Ella turned to find a sunburnt man with a vast ginger handlebar moustache greeting her husband.

‘Ella, this is Wing Commander Knightley. He’s been keeping the Duke up to date on the new intake at the Operational Training Unit at Oakes Field. They’re a group from Czechoslovakia, I hear.’

‘Good evening, Wing Commander,’ Ella said.

Beside him stood two men. One was extremely tall and dark, a stylish figure with a pointed little beard, acutely aware of his own attraction. This was Freddie de Marigny, who possessed a swarthy complexion and all the confidence of a man who has recently married the teenage daughter of one of the world’s richest men, Sir Harry Oakes. Terms like ‘fortune-hunter’ and ‘cradle-snatcher’ always trailed in Freddie’s wake.

‘Hello, Hector,’ Ella said to the second man and he kissed her cheek warmly.

‘Good evening, Ella. A great turn-out. Congratulations.’

‘We must thank Tilly for that.’

Hector Latcham was the husband of Ella’s good friend Tilly. She was the one who had persuaded Ella to march into the airbase at Oakes Field and suggest that all the men should buy tickets for a chance to dance with the Duchess this evening. The fact that the Duchess hadn’t turned up hadn’t disturbed Tilly in the slightest and she stepped into the breach herself.

‘So what’s the latest?’ Reggie asked the Wing Commander.

‘We’ve had a report that U-boats have been withdrawn from the Atlantic.’

‘That’s great news, if it’s true.’

‘They’re being pulled back to counter the possibility of an Allied invasion of Europe. That means we can free up planes from patrolling the ocean for enemy submarines.’

‘God knows,’ Reggie said, ‘those aircraft are badly needed in the Far East.’

‘About time we had some good news from you lot, Knightley,’ Freddie de Marigny smiled, flashing his extraordinarily white teeth. He clapped the Wing Commander on the back. ‘But I hope it doesn’t mean you’ll be reducing military numbers on New Providence Island. We need you chaps to keep our economy going.’

‘On the contrary,’ Knightley assured him politely, though he clearly didn’t care to be touched by the likes of Freddie, ‘we will be instructing more aircrews than ever.’

The RAF had selected the Bahamas as a training airbase because of its uninterrupted blue skies. There was no fear that the B24 Liberator bombers would be shot down by German intruders. Planes were constantly flying into Windsor Field from America before being ferried across the Atlantic to the war in Europe and Africa. It was something the island was proud of, this essential role in the war effort. The sight of RAF uniforms thronging the streets gave the islanders a sense of pride, so that Bahamians queued to sign up on the dotted line to become a part of it.

Ella left the men to their war talk and their cigars, and circulated among the crowd. She greeted friends and stopped to talk with any serviceman who seemed at a loss, but it was only when she reached the dance floor that she managed to track down Tilly. Tilly Latcham was a tall, striking woman with dark elaborately waved hair and tonight she was wearing a dramatic burgundy gown with milky pearls gleaming at her throat. But her expression was one of acute misery. She was clutched in the arms of a short pilot officer with two left feet who was singing blithely along with the band and kept bumping into other couples.

‘Tilly!’

Tilly rolled her eyes with relief and bolted off the dance floor. ‘Darling, where have you been? You’re late.’

‘I’m sorry, but Reggie had a flap on up at Government House and was wretchedly late home.’

‘Then I forgive you.’

She kissed Ella’s cheek and Ella could feel the heat rising off her. It occurred to her that there was a softness to the edges of her friend’s usually crisp words. Tilly had been drinking more than just a cocktail or two.

‘Go and sit this one out, Tilly. You’ve done your duty.’ She gave her a mock salute. ‘I’ll take over your mission here.’

Tilly laughed, her scarlet mouth relaxing. ‘You are a life saver, darling.’ She gave a shiver and added, ‘Talking of life saving, how is your family back home?’

Ella’s parents lived in the Kent countryside under the flightpath of the German bombers’ nightly run into London and their house had recently been hit. Damn rotten luck. But thank God they – unlike the poor house – had escaped with no more than minor injuries.

‘Tilly,’ she said firmly, ‘go and sit this one out. And that’s an order.’

‘Is the Duke here yet?’

‘I haven’t seen him.’

‘Oh,’ Tilly said. ‘Drat.’

‘He’ll probably drift in later, don’t worry. You’ll get your dance with him, I’m sure.’

Tilly grinned. ‘Especially as
she
is not here.’

‘Behave yourself,’ Ella laughed and turned back to the matter of Tilly’s abandoned airman. ‘Now, Mr Pilot Officer, here I come.’

She scooped him up from where he was hovering uncertainly on the edge of the dancing and twirled him expertly across the floor.

‘Had enough?’

Ella turned at the sound of his voice. She was standing at the bottom of the terrace just where it spilled down on to the beach, staring out at the vast blackness of the sea in front of her. She liked the nights best. That was when she felt the island cast off its dazzling daytime mask and let its true self emerge under the cloak of darkness. She could sense its quick hot breath on her neck, and hear the pad of its feet as it reclaimed its beaches from its colonial overlords. Only at night could she smell the sweet scent of its ancient hardwood trees that had been stripped from the island for ship building. Pines and palms and the ghostly casuarinas remained in abundance, but the island remembered its hardwoods. The island forgot nothing.

Long ago the Lucayan people had lived peacefully among the seven hundred islands of the Bahamas for hundreds of years, but they were ousted by the Spanish after Christopher Columbus discovered the islands in 1492. From then on, the Spanish, the British and the freebooting pirates spent years slitting each other’s throats over possession of these lush islands with their natural harbours and secret cays. They became a Crown Colony of Britain in 1717 but even now at night when the masters of the Empire slept, New Providence Island released its sounds and smells and breathed in the wild scent of the sea.

‘Had enough?’

‘Good evening, Your Royal Highness. Just taking a breath of air. It’s hot in there.’

‘It’s good to see the men enjoying themselves. You are to be congratulated, Ella.’

‘Thank you.’

‘A great boost to our Spitfire Fund.’

‘To the men’s morale as well, I hope.’

‘Yes, you only have to look at their faces. A grand job.’

The Duke of Windsor stood beside her in the warm semi-darkness, the lights of the elegant terrace and the brightly lit hotel behind them. He was a slight man, no taller than Ella, with soft fair hair and a face that managed to look boyish despite being deeply lined. Ella wondered why he was out here instead of carousing inside. Everyone knew that the Duke liked to party. They lapsed into silence while he offered Ella a cigarette and lit one for her and for himself, inhaling with satisfaction, as if his pleasures were few but tobacco was one of them.

‘How is the Duchess?’ Ella asked. The terrace lights caught the edge of the surf on the beach and turned it into lace.

‘She is indisposed, I’m afraid.’

‘I’m sorry. Give her my best wishes for recovery.’

‘Thank you. I will.’

If the Duchess was ‘indisposed’, it usually meant her stomach ulcer was playing up, although she had commented to Ella the other day that it had been much better recently. Maybe she just didn’t want to dance with airmen. Or just had something better to do. The Duchess of Windsor was a secretive person and there was much that went on behind her intelligent violet-blue eyes that she didn’t divulge. Ella thought the Duke always looked a little lost without her.

‘Is your husband here?’

‘Yes, Reggie’s inside.’

‘I might have a word later.’

She didn’t respond. She wanted to say
Keep your demands away from my husband tonight, let him relax. Isn’t it enough that you suck him dry each day at work? Can’t you rely on yourself instead of on him?

But she didn’t say it. No one ever said it to him. Except the Duchess.

The sound of the breakers on the beach was joined by a sudden roar overhead as a formation of bombers set off to train the new recruits in the skills of night-time manoeuvres.

‘Ella, do you like it here?’ the Duke asked in a sad voice.

‘Of course I do. It’s beautiful.’

The aircraft droned into the distance.