Ruby had the feeling that Wilf understood Frank’s lifestyle but preferred to keep quiet, or to ignore his eldest son’s choice of companion. Wilf was never happier than on the Thames working as a lighterman, and would be just as happy sleeping on his boat and doing his work, although she knew that he cared deeply for Stella and his children.
She wondered about retiring to bed – but then, she’d need to be up for when the children returned. Pat still slept on a small bed in Ruby’s large bedroom. George had the larger of the spare rooms, with the smaller back bedroom being made up for when Frank stayed or, come to that, one of George’s friends.
To keep herself busy, she boiled a kettle of water and pulled out four stone bottles from under the sink, filling them carefully with the water and screwing the stoppers tightly to avoid leaks. She made two trips upstairs putting them under the bed covers so they’d all be cosy and warm whatever time they got to bed. Settling back down with her knitting, she tried to relax. She was making a cardigan for Pat, which made a welcome change from the balaclava helmets she’d been donating for men fighting at the front. Again, her mind wandered back to what she could do to help the war effort. A few knitted items did not seem enough. She’d been going to ask Stella what she thought, but doubted the woman was now in the right frame of mind. How could she ask about helping with a war that had killed her youngest son? Next time Ruby went to the church hall to join the knitting circle, she’d ask the advice of the women she’d got to know there. Yes, she thought to herself, that’s a very good idea.
Her eyelids closed and her head started to drop as the knitting slipped from her fingers before she suddenly became alert to sounds outside in the street. Whistles were being blown frantically, while the horns of several cars were sounding long and often. That means something, she thought to herself as she tried to clear her foggy brain. Then it hit her – that’s the signal there are planes in the sky. She could be in danger. Her first thoughts were for her children and she rushed to the front door, swinging it wide open just as a policeman passed her gate on his bicycle. He stopped suddenly, pulled the whistle from his mouth and shouted at her to take cover.
‘But my children are over the road. I need to get them,’ she cried.
‘Not now you don’t, love. Your neighbours will be taking care of them and you need to do the same for yourself.’ As he spoke, there was a large explosion and the ground beneath Ruby’s feet shook. She screamed as slates from the roof clattered around her. The policeman jumped from his bike, which crashed to the pavement, and dived at her, pushing her back in through the front door. ‘Where is the best place for you to take shelter?’ he asked as he helped her to her feet and pushed the door shut behind them.
‘The cupboard under the stairs,’ she said, pointing with a shaking hand.
‘Then let’s go there now. I hope your husband won’t mind,’ he joked as he followed her into the small space.
‘Perhaps we should be circumspect and leave the door slightly ajar,’ Ruby chuckled, trying to hide her fear. ‘Under the circumstances I’m sure my husband will understand. He’s probably taking cover himself right now,’ she added.
‘Is he at work?’ the officer asked.
‘No, he’s over on the Somme somewhere. I think that’s where he is – he’s fighting for our country,’ she said proudly.
‘Then I think he’ll understand,’ the policeman agreed.
Ruby lost track of how long they sat there talking. She’d lit one of the candles to give them a little light, and it had burnt down quite a way. She learnt that he had a son who was younger than her George, and the boy was hoping to join the police force himself when he was old enough.
Ruby wondered if George knew the lad. ‘Are there any other policemen in your family?’
‘Yes, my father – so if our Mike joins up, that will be three generations,’ he added proudly.
Ruby told him about George and his apprenticeship at Vickers, along with her worries that he would soon be joining the army.
‘With your boy’s skills, he will be much in demand over there. I doubt he will be fighting like most of the lads. He’ll be needed to keep the guns working.’
Ruby was comforted by his words. ‘My good friend lost his brother; we only heard the news today. His mother is beside herself with grief. Is it wrong of me to think that could be me? I don’t want it to happen to my son.’
The policeman patted her hand. ‘Every mother in the land is thinking the same. My wife is overjoyed that Mike is too young at the moment to be conscripted. Then in the next breath she’s telling me she feels guilty for her thoughts. I can’t say I blame her; I feel the same. We live in a very strange world at the moment. Hark, listen: that sounds like the Boy Scouts with their rattles and bugles. It must be the all-clear,’ he said as he helped Ruby to her feet and they both brushed themselves down. ‘Perhaps we should go outside and see the damage?’
Out in the street, Ruby couldn’t believe her eyes. The long road of bay-fronted houses was a mess. Gates were hanging off, windows were missing their glass. One house had lost its roof completely, while others, like hers, had only lost a few slates. The road seemed to be shrouded in dust and smoke, and she wrinkled her nose at the smell of burning. Looking around in disbelief, she heard the shouts of residents as they emerged from their homes. Further up on their side of the road was a gap where once there had been a family home. Ruby put her hand to her mouth to stop herself screaming in shock as the policeman took her by the elbow and guided her to the small wall between her house and next door. ‘I need to go and help,’ he said. ‘Will you be all right?’
‘Yes, yes, I’ll be fine. You must go and do your job. Thank you for looking after me, Sergeant . . .?’
‘Jackson – my name is Bob Jackson,’ he said as he gave her a nod and went to retrieve his bicycle from where it still lay on the pavement, luckily undamaged.
Ruby hurried across the road to number fourteen and was pleased to see that everyone was fine. The shock of the raid had brought Stella to her senses and she was busy making hot drinks for everybody. ‘I’ve never been so pleased that I’ve still got my coal-fire stove,’ she remarked. ‘With all this damage, they’ve turned the gas off.’
Ruby smiled. With all that had happened out in the street, she was relieved that Stella seemed more like her old self. Frank and Wilf looked out the front door. ‘We need to go and give a hand,’ Wilf said. ‘Will you be all right here with Ruby?’
‘You go,’ Stella said. ‘There are lots of people that will need help, I would think, going by all the noise we’ve heard this evening.’
Ruby helped Stella make a tray of tea using all the cups she had in her cupboard. ‘People will be glad of something hot as they help with the clearing up,’ Stella said.
‘I’ll go and get my cups as well. Then there should be enough to go around. Would you like to come and help me, Pat?’ Ruby asked.
‘You stay here; I’ll help your mum,’ Stella told her. ‘We can carry more between us,’ she added as they headed back across the road. Stella stopped for a moment to look up at the destruction and tutted in sympathy. ‘We definitely need more cups,’ she said as they walked up the path to Ruby’s house. ‘Goodness, next door’s windows are a mess. Almost every pane has been broken.’
‘Oh, I do hope Miss Hunter is all right. I know she is the most irritable person on earth, but I’d hate to think she’d been injured. Do you think it will be all right for us to look through the window?’
‘Well, we’re not going to know otherwise, are we?’ Stella said, and rather than go back round through the gate, she lifted her skirt and climbed over the low wall. As Ruby followed suit she heard Stella gasp in horror. ‘Oh, my Lord, she’s been hurt. Quick, call my Frank – he knows a bit of first aid and might be able to help.’ She started to pull shards of glass from the window frame to clear a way to get through to Miss Hunter.
Ruby rushed off to find Frank and was dismayed to see two bodies laid out on the p
avement further up the road, covered with ripped curtains that must have been pulled from the bomb-damaged house. She told Frank what had happened and he hurried back with her, beckoning to a couple of men nearby to follow, calling out that someone had been injured as they all approached number fifteen. Frank shouted to his mother to step back out and away from the window, and with the aid of the other men, they broke the front door down. Ruby and Stella followed Frank into Miss Hunter’s front room.
Frank bent down and felt for a pulse. ‘She is still alive, but going by the blood and the way she’s lying, she’s been injured badly. Can you get a cup of water, Ruby? And Mum, you pull those cushions off the settee so we can make her more comfortable.’
A couple of the other men went out to flag down an ambulance as Ruby returned with the water, passing it to Frank. He propped up Miss Hunter’s head. ‘Here, take a sip and you may feel better.’
As the water touched her lips, the woman’s eyes shot open. As she looked around her she recognized Ruby and then looked at Frank, pulling away as she did so. ‘Get your hands off me,’ she muttered, her lips covered in dust from where the lath and plaster had fallen from the ceiling. ‘I don’t want the likes of you touching me. I’m a God-fearing woman, and men that share beds with other men will burn in hell for eternity. I’ve seen the pair of you coming and going from that bookshop. You should think about closing your curtains of an evening,’ she spat out, before collapsing back against a chair.
Stella looked at her son and frowned, then turned to see Ruby’s shocked face. ‘I can’t believe she knew,’ Ruby blurted out before stopping dead, realizing that Stella would have heard her perfectly.
Stella glared at Ruby and then turned to her son. ‘It all makes sense now,’ she said harshly as she got to her feet and pushed past Ruby to get out of the house.
Ruby started to follow, but Frank called her back. ‘Leave it for now – we have much more important things to deal with. Nothing that’s said now will alter what my mother thinks of me.’
13
Christmas Day 1917
Ruby looked at the table. She had done her best to make their Christmas Day meal festive. In years past, there had been more people sitting down to dinner. Sadly, this year there was only Frank representing the Green family, and even though he’d brought Stephen along at her insistence, it still felt like a very small group. George had asked if he could bring Irene, and although Ruby had taken a dislike to the posh young lady, she had agreed. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate her son. She’d also tried to make peace with Stella, but when her friend had crossed the road rather than speak to her, Ruby had decided to let things rest. The last thing she wanted was to be snapped at in the street and for nosy neighbours to make more of their falling out than they already had.
Smoothing out the white tablecloth, she stepped back and smiled. Her sisters had both promised to visit later in the afternoon for tea – at least that was something to look forward to. Never before had she entertained her own family to a special meal. Perhaps it was because both their husbands had joined the army, although Fanny liked to remind Ruby that they were both officers.
Pat was in the front room, playing with the beautiful doll that had been her gift from Frank. With its pretty china face and soft body, dressed in the most delicate lace gown, Ruby knew it would have been hard to come by and probably quite expensive. When she scolded Frank for spending too much, he shrugged off her comments by saying he had picked it up in a house sale.
Frank had gone back to the bookshop to check everything was fine, and would return with Stephen in time for their meal. Frank’s friend, as he liked to call him, was as quiet as Frank, and both would have their nose in a book when Ruby visited, making the bookshop the perfect peaceful haven for browsers. Whatever their relationship when the front door of the shop was locked up at night, it did not bother Ruby. Live and let live was her philosophy of life. Only if her loved ones were ill-treated would she ever get involved in someone else’s business. Apart from a few white feathers handed to both men, which did upset her, the men’s life was peaceful.
George had gone to collect Irene, who lived in one of the posher houses at the top end of the Avenue. Ruby didn’t know much about Irene’s family and she didn’t like to pry in case George thought she was interfering. Perhaps one day he would tell her; there again, she hoped that the couple would drift apart, as she didn’t feel Irene was the right person for her George – far too prim and proper. Now, if it had been Maureen it would’ve been a different kettle of fish, as the girl was likeable and bubbly. Of course, she was taken – not only that, but she’d recently given birth to a beautiful baby boy. Young Alan was the opposite of his mother, being fair-haired, although they shared the same laughing eyes. Ruby thought it would be lovely to one day be a grandmother, but she shrugged off her fancies, laughing at herself as she heard a knock at the front door. There were plenty of years before a new baby was likely to join the family.
Wondering if Frank had forgotten his key, she opened the door to find a stranger on her front step. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked, wondering if the man had knocked at the wrong door.
‘I’m sorry to bother you on such an important day in the Lord’s calendar. I have some news to impart about your dear neighbour, Miss Hunter. I’m Reverend Gilroy, from Queen Street Church.’
Ruby frowned. Miss Hunter had been in hospital ever since her injury on the night of the bombing raid. ‘I don’t really know her that well,’ she said, wondering if perhaps he wanted her to do something for the old lady. She did feel a little guilty at not having visited her in the cottage hospital with some flowers, but there again, the woman had made her life hell. Ruby feared a visit could easily turn into a nasty scene. She could well imagine the old woman throwing the flowers at her and making spiteful comments as she fled from the ward; she shuddered at the very thought of it.
The man coughed, and Ruby snapped out of her thoughts. ‘I’m sorry – what is it I can do for you?’
‘I’m afraid Miss Hunter has passed away,’ he said, looking even more sombre, if that were possible.
‘Oh dear, I’m so very sorry,’ she replied, wondering whether she should invite him in. ‘Does she have family? I can’t say I’ve ever seen anyone visit – not that I’m one to pry, you understand,’ she added, thinking of all the times the woman had peeped from behind her curtains whenever Ruby or the children left the house. She was still smarting from the comments that had caused the rift between her and Stella.
‘There is a distant cousin, I believe,’ the man said thoughtfully. ‘I just wanted to inform her neighbours.’
‘That’s very kind of you. I would like to pay my respects. Would you be able to let us know when the funeral is arranged? And I’ve been so rude, forgive me. Can I offer you a cup of tea?’
‘No, thank you – I’m just going to give the news to the people at number seventeen, and then I’ll be away to my own dinner. My wife will be expecting me.’
Ruby thanked him and wished him as good a Christmas as they could have in these times of war, then closed the door and went back to the kitchen, peeping into the oven to see if the goose was ready. She wondered who her new neighbours would be. For a fleeting moment she thought she’d better tell Stella about Miss Hunter’s passing – but then she remembered that Stella wanted nothing to do with her, which made her very sad.
‘Who was that at the door, Mum?’ Pat asked, coming out to join her, still hugging her new dolly.
Ruby stroked her hair. ‘It was a man to tell us that the lady next door has gone to heaven.’
‘Was it the bomb?’ Pat asked with sudden interest.
‘No, my love; she was just a very old lady, and poorly,’ Ruby said. There was no need for Pat to know that Miss Hunter’s death was a result of the bombing. The child still had a morbid interest in bombs.
‘So, she will be in heaven with Donald?’ Pat asked.
Ruby smiled at the thought, remembering the time Donald
had been chased up and down the street by Miss Hunter after a ball he’d been kicking about had bounced off her window. It had taken Wilf to come out of his front door in his slippers, shirt undone and braces hanging around his waist, to stop the woman in her tracks. Miss Hunter had been even more horrified by Wilf’s attire than by the ball incident, and had rushed into her house shouting loudly about the terrible family at number fourteen. ‘Why don’t you put Dolly to sleep in the armchair and help me place the knives and forks on the table? Everyone will be here soon, and it will be lovely if it’s all ready for them.’
Pat set to, helping her mother and chattering nineteen to the dozen at the same time. They’d just finished when George let himself in the door, ushering Irene in front of him. ‘Hello, Mum, is anyone else here yet?’
‘I am,’ Pat said. ‘Do you want to see my new dolly?’
Irene ignored Pat and stood still as George slipped her coat from her shoulders.
A Mother Forever Page 21
