Who Was Angela Zendalic Read Online Free PDF Page B

‘A wood carving or a bright scarf. I’ve got a drawer full.’
    â€˜Any plans for tonight?’
    â€˜There’s a J.B Priestley play on the radio.’
    â€˜That’s no way to spend a Friday night. Come up to The Institute with us. There’s a crooner coming. He’s ever so good. Does a wonderful Frank Sinatra. Go on. Ted’s been arm-wrenched so he’ll be there.’
    Peggy shook her head. ‘Thanks all the same, but I’m really tired after a long week.’
    Edie looked at her wistfully. ‘You could do a lot worse than Ted, Peg. He’s got a real eye for you.’
    â€˜I know,’ she said kindly, ‘but he’s not for me.’
    Edie shrugged. ‘Oh, well, if I can’t persuade you.’
    Peggy rushed inside. The parcel contained a ring; a large, glittering diamond, set in gold, and her heart soared. But the accompanying letter dropped from her hand.
    My dearest Peggy,
    The enclosed ring I bought for you to wear as my betrothed. My only thought is to place that ring on your finger, and to add to it a wedding ring as soon as possible, but my heart is breaking as that is not to be.
    The political situation here has suddenly become very tense and our marriage has been forbidden by my father. The even worse news is that he has ordered me to marry a cousin. I don’t love her, in fact I hardly know her, but I am forced to do this. As a student in Oxford I could make my own decisions and lead my own life. I was so happy, and so free, but here I am overpowered. I am thus forced to comply with my father’s wishes. No – not wishes but orders. I am unable to leave the country as he has closed my bank account, and confiscated my passport, so I do not have the means to run away. I am, thus, a virtual prisoner. Even writing this letter to you could cause me great punishment, so I have had to be very careful I am not discovered. Therefore, I can never write again, and if you write to me I know I won’t get the letter as all my post is being censored.
    Peggy, dearest Peggy. I will always love you, but I must say goodbye. Please wear my ring, so that every day you look at it you will think of me. Every day when I look at myself in the mirror I will think of you, and wish that you were standing beside me, as my Princess.
    With all my love I send you my final farewell.
    Joseph
    Her face flushed, her heart thumped, and the old wall clock ticked as loudly as falling bombs. Her life was over. She placed her hands on her womb and clutched with tight fingers. There was no-one to tell, and who could she tell who would pat her hand, and find soothing words of the ‘everything will be all right’ variety. It would never be alright. Any baby born out of wedlock mattered, tainted forever with the tag of bastard by the judgmental rules of respectable society, and the echo of a shotgun rang out loud and clear for many Jericho families. (‘She’s not the first and she won’t be the last’ was the usual brave statement.) But any black baby born to a white woman, legitimate or not, mattered even more. You weren’t just the normal tart or slut. You were reviled – the sort of girl of such loose morals that no white man would ever want you again. After the jaw-clutching shock had passed, the high and mighty Peggy Edwards would be a laughing stock. Grammar school girl, fancy posh job, do-gooder, and holy Josephine, no better than a common whore.
    Even if she rose above the slander, how would she manage with two mouths to feed, rent to pay, and a house to run? A pariah, with debt and poverty her only attendants. Adoption was the only answer and she would have to go away before her scandalous secret was discovered. She’d say she was going on an important library school training course in London, but it would have to be to an unmarried mothers hostel that hid the afflicted away. Her precious baby would be given away to a so-called better