A large woman approached her. ‘Ruby, I noticed the tags. This was my old house; this dish was my mother’s.’
A rush of pleasure ran through Ruby’s body and she opened a large drawer in the desk now sited at the far end of the room, housing a large till Helen had purchased as a gift. Ruby pulled out her book and ran her finger down the pages until she found the code number which matched the tag.
‘Yes, here it is,’ she said and crossed out the item using a ruler and pencil. Neat and tidy was her father’s motto, and she intended to keep her books in such a way.
‘How much?’ the woman asked.
Ruby shook her head. ‘Gracious, nothing. It’s yours. I’m happy for it to be returned to its rightful owner.’
‘Well, you aren’t going to make much money doing that, duck. Let me pay you something; you had to do the dirty and dangerous bit of retrieving it for me. And all the hard work of cleaning it and storing the darn thing. It’s ugly but it was my mother’s, and we haven’t got much left to call our own.’
‘A penny. I’ll take my first penny from you,’ Ruby said, and in a louder voice she called out to the others in the room. ‘If you find your address and an item which is yours, I’ll take a penny for my efforts. If it isn’t yours and there is no label, then it is the price marked.’
A buzz of voices shared their approval.
Helen smiled at her and walked over to the desk. ‘I must go. I’ll call in at the end of the day and see how many pennies you’ve earned.’
The woman with her dish placed a penny in front of Ruby. ‘Good luck to you. I’ll be back when I get paid. I’ve a fair few things needed for my new home.’
Fred kept Ruby supplied with cups of tea and a sandwich at lunchtime. By the end of the working day, he came to her and saw the last of the customers leave. ‘I’ll pull the blinds and turn the sign. Helen will come around the back. I’ll have a sweep up and tidy whilst you count your pennies. What a turnout, and you look exhausted.’
‘Tired but happy, Fred. So many items returned to their rightful owners, and they were so thrilled to have them back. It made my heart sing whenever anyone clutched something tight to them and declared it as a family heirloom.’
Fred clicked the lock above the door and turned the key. ‘When you gave me my photograph I felt like that, Ruby; you gave me something of my past but also my future. You did the same for a lot of folk today. Well done. Now, get your books in order, for I think tomorrow will be another busy one for Shadwell’s.’
CHAPTER 10
March 1941
With her business growing and the joy of reuniting people with family items, Ruby quickly gained a reputation as someone to be trusted.
The scrapman, Bill, proved to be a friend and reliable source of trading. He’d bring her salvageable items in return for her unwanted goods. No money changed hands. Slowly, the house filled to the point of bursting.
Helen heard of a building where the owners wanted to let it out as they were leaving the city. She’d spoken on Ruby’s behalf and a peppercorn rent was agreed. The couple were impressed – and touched, by Ruby’s efforts and kindness. Another chapter in her life was about to begin, and Ruby embraced it with great enthusiasm. Her leg ached, but she struggled through the pain. Once the physical work was over, she’d have the opportunity to rest.
Bitter winds didn’t stop Ruby’s enthusiasm on moving day. Once again, Helen and her ribbon and good wishes were called upon to decree the doors of Shadwell’s open. Chamber pots, saucepans and jewellery came and went, all recorded and ninety per cent paid for this time around.
Just as Ruby went to turn the closed sign, a small voice called out, ‘Wait up missus.’
Ruby grinned back at the boy through the glass. He waved his arms and his grubby face made her heart lurch. His eyes wore a worried look and Ruby swung open the door and ushered him inside.
‘What can I do for you, young man? Are you hungry, lost, need help?’ Ruby said as she knelt down to look him in the eye. Her hand resisted the urge to sweep the curl of red-brown hair drooping over one eye, leaving the deepest chestnut one free to look back at her.
‘Me auntie’s lost everyfing ’cept this,’ he said.
‘Ah, you are selling, sir. Well, that is serious business. Let’s go to my desk and have a look at the goods,’ Ruby said, adding a teasing note to her voice.
The serious-faced child clambered onto the seat facing hers. He knelt to see over the top. Ruby guessed him to be no older than five years, and it was obvious he’d suffered during the Blitz. He had a bruised cheek and a healing cut across his eyebrow. His bottom lip sported a scab from another gash.
‘Show me. What are you selling? Your auntie’s, you say?’
The boy nodded and handed over a silver bracelet. It was a narrow band with intricate markings depicting a vine twisting its way around the bracelet. Ruby thought it beautiful.
‘It’s very pretty. Your aunt must be sad to part with it; I know I would be. I’m not sure of its value, though. I might have to get a professional to take a look and then give you the fair price.’
With a quick shake of his head, the boy reached for the bracelet. ‘She needs food today. And she’s got rent to pay. We didn’t get bombed out and the landlord wants his money,’ he said.
Ruby found him older than she’d first thought. ‘How old are you?’
‘Six,’ the boy said. Ruby hid a smile as he lisped the word. Two missing top teeth didn’t help him with pronunciation.
‘That’s a great age to be. Do you think your auntie might be better off keeping it and having a word with the landlord? It seems a shame she should sell her jewellery –’
Ruby stopped in her tracks as the lad burst into tears. She rushed to his side and knelt beside the chair. ‘Whatever’s the matter – er … what’s your name?’
‘T-Tommy, miss. Tommy Jenkins.’
Ruby handed him her handkerchief. ‘Why the tears, Tommy?’
‘I’ll be in bother if I don’t take back some money. We’re living with her and she’s strict. Nasty to me mum. We moved ’ere from Isle a Dogs when Dad joined up. We ‘ave to stay ‘ere now ‘cos ‘e wrote an’ asked me auntie. I ’eard me auntie say she ’ates me mum for it, ’cos her brother married an Irish woman. She don’t like kids neiver, so Mum ’as to move out soon. We ain’t got money though.’
As she looked at him, cuffing a snotty nose against a rough black jacket too short in the sleeves, Ruby came to the conclusion that this was a moment when she had to make a serious decision. Children of this age shouldn’t have to hear cruel words against their parents. Nor should they be homeless. Tommy was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
‘I’ve never heard of the Isle of Dogs, but I bet you miss your old home. I know I’d miss this place.’
‘It’s in London. I come from the capital city of the country. Learned that at school on me first day. I miss it every day,’ Tommy said between sniffles.
Touched by his story, Ruby turned the bracelet around in her hand. She liked it for herself and, although she had no idea of its value, to the child it meant far more. He’d not get into trouble and he’d eat. She could afford to treat herself, and had already considered creating a collection of her own for any future family she might be lucky enough to have – when she was married and old enough, it was her dream. To settle down. Coventry was too important to her to leave. The spirit and blood of her family had been spilled here; it stained the soil of a beating heart which Ruby clung to, for her sanity.
‘I’ll give you two pounds. If it isn’t a fair rate your aunt will know and come tell me, I’m sure. She sounds a tough one. Now, tuck it into your pocket and dry your tears. Run along – it was nice to meet you, Tommy. Stay safe.’
The child scrambled from his chair and gave her a grateful smile. He looked nothing more than a ragamuffin, but Ruby fell for his charm. As he scampered away down the street, she watched him and knew she’d done the right thing, but her heart b
roke as she remembered another young boy. His gangly legs splaying out as he ran towards her with his arms wide open in readiness for a swooping swing. Ruby snatched at her chest and a small cry of angst left her lips before she could quell the pain. The loss of her little brother and sister had sneaked up and nipped at her heart when she’d least expected it, and seeing Tommy had opened a raw wound.
‘You all right there – are you hurt? Can I help?’
A startled Ruby looked over from where the voice projected itself; it wasn’t an accent she recognised. She saw a young man in uniform step into the doorway. He beamed out a smile, one which begged to be returned. Ruby dried her eyes and gave a half smile.
‘Tommy –’ she pointed to the back of the little boy, jumping over bricks ‘– reminds me of my brother … he’s dead.’ Unsure why she’d confided that snippet of her private life, Ruby gave a brighter smile, not wanting to put off a potential customer. She’d seen the camera around his neck, and recalled his face from the community funeral. ‘Can I help? I’m closing shop for the day, but can stay open a few more minutes if you want to browse.’
The soldier stepped closer, and held up his hand. ‘I won’t keep you. I just wanted to ask if you knew when the next bus leaves town. I’ve missed my train.’
Ruby closed the ledger she’d written inside when she made her sale to young Tommy, and gave a short sigh. ‘I’m afraid you’ve missed that too.’
‘Oh. Really? I was due to return to London tonight.’
‘I don’t recognise your accent as a London one,’ Ruby said.
The soldier gave a laugh. ‘That’s because I’m Canadian. From Canada.’
Ruby, irked by his last remark, replied with deep sarcasm. ‘Really? Is that where Canadians come from?’
With both hands up in surrender, the soldier gave another of his beaming smiles.
‘Forgive me. I wasn’t being patronising.’ He put his arms down and held out a hand for her to shake. ‘Jean-Paul Clayton, but you can call me John – my friends do. My family stick to the formal.’
Ruby took his hand and felt his firm grip. ‘Ruby Shadwell. Nice to meet you, John.’
His fingers wrapped around hers and she looked into his face; he gave a slight wink and Ruby sensed a warmth rush through her skin. She hoped her face was not as red as it felt. The man was handsome, and Ruby doubted there was a woman who would argue it wasn’t the case. His eyes shone, and their handshake lingered beyond what was usual for two strangers meeting. Ruby was disappointed when he pulled his hand away and pushed it into his pocket.
‘I’ll have to find somewhere for the night if that’s the case. A guest house, bed and breakfast. Maybe you know of one?’
Unable to think of a place in Coventry which would not be full or destroyed, Ruby suggested one or two she knew of out of town, with only a twenty-minute walk. It was windy, but not raining. Weather a soldier could handle.
‘I’m grateful to you, Miss Shadwell.’
Ruby watched John walk away. Then he turned around, waved for her to stand still and photographed her in the doorway. When he lifted the camera for a second time, she giggled and closed the door, retaining her own image of him. Of one of the most handsome men she’d ever spoken with – the first male she’d ever noticed as desirable. His photograph of her would be black and white, but her image of him was filled with colour. Brown eyes, dark hair, neatly cut, tanned skin and a white smile beneath full lips. A sharp jawline, tapering to a neat chin, with a slim neck and not a sight of a protruding Adam’s apple. His voice was velvet-smooth and natural, not forced to be suave, and the way he’d thanked her was as much a caress as his fingers might have felt on her cheek. It was deep, with a husky tone. She’d heard and looked up in a dictionary the word sensual, but now she understood its physical form.
Ruby felt shaken by the way a young man, in his twenties at most, she guessed, had affected her heart rate. She felt daring and in need of a small adventure. He’d brought something new with him, a slight air of mystery, and she wanted to learn more about him. It wasn’t every day she got to meet someone from another country. She turned the key in the lock and called out to him. ‘Soldier … John. John Clayton – wait. I’ll walk you through the streets to the main road. It’s not easy to find your way out of the city.’
After she said the words Ruby felt a little foolish. Here was a soldier who’d found his way from another country to Coventry, and she expressed concern about him trying to find his way to the end of the road. This time she knew the blush was there, burning beacon-red and showing him her naïve ways.
‘That’s mighty kind of you – thanks,’ John said, and Ruby liked him even more for not dismissing her as a foolish girl. She tried not to rush and stumble as he waited for her to join him.
‘Is Canada safe from the war? From the bombs? I haven’t got a clue who’s attacking who, and where in the world. Ignorant but, to be honest, it’s enough dealing with what’s going on here, in my own city – country,’ Ruby asked as they picked their way through the bombed-out streets.
‘We’re in it, but nothing like this. I cannot imagine Toronto being brought to its knees like Coventry. We are a resilient race, and I’d like to think we’d handle it as well as you all have, but it frightens me to even consider we’d suffer an attack on such a scale.’
The silence which fell between them gave her a chance to suppress the string of questions she wanted to fire at him, but as they trod closer to the point she’d have to turn around and leave him, she couldn’t retain her curiosity any longer.
‘I saw a picture of Canada once. Nothing but snow for miles, and so deep! I’ve never seen snow so deep! Is it like that every winter?’ Ruby exclaimed, lifting her arms to show an imaginary heap of snow above her head.
‘It gets cold, I’ll grant you that. Colder than Britain – Scotland. Double figure minuses. I ski when I can, but sometimes even I baulk at the depth of snow and the cold.’
Taking it all in, Ruby envisaged herself trying to ski, and laughed. ‘I can’t imagine stepping out in such temperatures, let alone enjoying a sport in them. I’m definitely sure I’d not like the cold, but I do love the spring. Is Canada seasonal?’
‘Yes, and springtime is my favourite season – in both countries. Britain has such glorious spring days, and I love to sit and take in the calm it brings with it. I witnessed the prettiest spring in Yorkshire; it will stay with me for ever.’ John’s voice sounded wistful, and Ruby wondered how much of the fighting abroad he’d seen. She didn’t like to ask, and let him continue talking without interrupting; she found his voice soothing. ‘Maple trees in Canada bud and bloom, and tell us the winter has long gone. I miss walking through Allan Gardens. A visit to the greenhouses can transport me to a warmer place on a damp day.’
‘You’ll have to drop by the shop and tell me more about where you live. Fred would love to chat with another soldier. He fought in the last war, and I know he’d share one of his stories too.’
‘I’ll take you up on that, Ruby. Fred – is he a friend or your grandfather?’
‘Kind of both, I guess … yes, both. Since Christmas.’
John pulled a face, suggesting he did and didn’t understand. Ruby just smiled back.
‘What did you do, before the war?’ she asked.
‘Banking. Mundane work. It paid well enough, but photography is my dream. I want to own a shop with a gallery, to capture the beauty of the world we live in – after the war, of course. I want families to gather and smile back at me once more. All I see at the moment are haunted faces.’
John’s voice faded away with his last sentence. Ruby understood only too well that vision.
‘You’ll do it one day. I wanted to own a shop, and look at me, sixteen and a half and a business owner,’ she said with pride in her voice.
‘It’s yours?’ John’s voice held an impressed tone.
‘My name is on the licence, yes. I have a guardian, Helen. She keeps my legal things – legal.’ Ruby shrug
ged with the words.
‘Impressive. A hard worker with brains and beauty. I’m in good company.’
Unsure of how to handle the compliment, Ruby gave a quiet giggle. ‘This shop, or gallery of yours – will it be in your home town in Canada?’
‘Probably not. I’ve family to consider, but Britain has captured my heart too. It has such history and incredible architecture. I feel a connection with my ancestors here. When the war is over, I’m going to make the biggest decisions of my life, I’m sure, but I’ll definitely choose England if I ever choose to leave my home.’
‘Lucky England,’ Ruby said with a cheeky grin. The flirtatious words slipped out before she had chance to suppress the thought.
‘Lucky me, if all the girls in England walk you to the end of the road.’ John’s reply was followed through with a wink.
Ruby sensed another blush, but had little control. She flicked her hair and said nothing.
At the junction, she stopped. A sinking feeling in her gut told her she’d enjoyed the last of his company, and she pointed out the direction for John to take.
‘This is us, then. Turn left after the postbox. I know of four guest houses along that road, and I’m sure there’ll be a space for you. If not, return to Garden Cottage, Spon Street, and Fred will help find you somewhere.’ Ruby didn’t like to say she’d find him a space in her home, it was far too forward for a first meeting, and for a young girl to suggest to an older man.
‘Thank you, Ruby. I’ll see you around.’
John held out his hand, and Ruby didn’t hesitate to shake it goodbye; she wanted the physical contact with him again.
‘I hope so. I really would love to learn more about Canada in the springtime.’
She watched him stride away. Tall, well over six foot; his back was upright and straight and his body swayed with a relaxed rhythm. He walked with a purposeful stride, not a swagger.
‘Drop by the shop any time,’ Ruby called after him.
‘Will do,’ he shouted back.
Ruby smiled to herself. She’d gone out of her way to walk with John and, although her leg ached and she still had to walk home, it had been worth the effort. He fascinated her with his quiet, calm ways. Other soldiers she’d met walking through town were loud and leery. John behaved with good manners, and she was reluctant to let him disappear without finding out more about him. What little she’d learn she’d live with and what she didn’t know she’d make-believe.
The Orphan Thief Page 7
