by Maureen Lee
Never again, Ruby vowed as she brushed the mess up, put the cloth in the laundry basket, and wiped the table, wincing at the screams coming from outside where the girls and Pixie were organising the games. Next party, she’d go out and leave them in complete charge.
For the next few hours, Ruby, never that keen on entertaining other people’s children, cowered in the kitchen and listened to her garden being wrecked. Children came in frequently to demand a drink, something to eat, the lavatory, have a cut bathed, or to complain about something or other.
Pixie had brought a portable wireless which was being switched on and off. Ruby assumed they were playing musical chairs – without chairs – or statues or pass the parcel. She couldn’t be bothered looking, just wanted everyone to go.
An unusually bright-eyed Daisy came running into the kitchen followed by Clint. ‘Can I show him me colouring book, Gran?’
‘Of course, love. Go in the bedroom, it’s quieter there.’
She was pleased the two had paired off. Daisy needed a friend outside of the twins. When she looked in some time later, she and Clint were sprawled on the floor taking turns colouring in a picture.
Only another half an hour to go. Ruby sighed with relief as she filled a tray with glasses of lemonade and chocolate biscuits to take outside, where she was pleased to find a couple of mothers had arrived to collect their children – the sooner the better as far as she was concerned.
‘I bet you’ve had a helluva day,’ one of the women remarked. She looked about Ruby’s age, very slim, with short brown curly hair and smiling eyes. ‘I was dead relieved when my other kids grew out of birthday parties – I’ve a boy and girl in their twenties – but right out of the blue I had Will, and now I have to start all over again.’ She groaned. ‘He’s five next week. The girls have been invited to his party.’
‘Which is Will?’
‘The blond one in the blue T-shirt. I won’t ask if he’s behaved himself, because I know for sure he won’t have.’ Ruby recognised the impish Will as the instigator of the jelly-flicking. ‘He hasn’t been so bad.’
‘You’re only being nice. You’re Ruby, aren’t you? I’m Brenda Wilding. Oh! And this is my husband, Tony. He’s been parking the car.’ A good-looking man with Will’s blond hair joined them. ‘Tony, this is Ruby.’
‘Pleased to meet you. Ruby.’
‘Excuse me! There’s a child stuck up a tree. I’d better rescue him before his mother comes.’
‘I’ll do the rescuing,’ Tony Wilding offered, ‘If you fetch Will’s coat we’ll take him off your hands. We’re in a bit of a rush, we’re going to the theatre tonight.’
‘He didn’t have a coat, just a jumper,’ Brenda laughed. ‘It was cream when he put it on, but it’ll be black by now.’
Ruby found the jumper, still recognisably cream, on the hall floor. When she took it into the garden, Brenda Wilding was leaning back against her husband who had slid his arms around her waist and was nuzzling her neck. Ruby stopped in her tracks and a feeling of pure envy swept over her. They must have been married for a quarter of a century, yet were still obviously in love.
More parents arrived and the garden thankfully emptied. Pixie noticed Clint was missing. ‘And where’s Daisy?’ enquired Heather.
‘They’re in the bedroom,’ Ruby said.
Ellie ran into the house. ‘That’s not fair,’ she cried. ‘He should be playing with me.’
Ruby couldn’t see anything unfair about it, but said nothing. She’d had enough. ‘I’m going to lie down for a while,’ she announced. The students had gone hiking and weren’t coming back for tea, but tomorrow there would be a grown-up party to which the Whites and the Donovans had been invited, which meant she had another hectic day ahead.
She threw herself face down on to the bed and punched the pillow. ‘I’m fed up,’ she informed it. ‘Fed up to the bloody teeth. Why aren’t I going to the theatre with a dishy husband?’
The pillow remained mute. ‘Stupid thing!’ Ruby gave it another punch, then buried her head in the feathery mound with a deep, heartfelt sigh. She hadn’t been out with a man since Chris Ryan. Her entire life, from the age of seventeen, seemed to have been centred around children, first her own, and now her daughters’. And housework, endless housework. She was sick to death of cooking, washing, ironing, cleaning. She’d never been to the theatre, the last dance she’d gone to was during the war, and she couldn’t remember when she’d last been to the pictures or out for a meal.
There was a knock on the door. She folded the pillow over her ears so she wouldn’t hear if the person knocked again and gave a little shriek when she felt a hand on her back.
‘Ruby,’ said Matthew Doyle.
She sat up, outraged. ‘This is a bedroom,’ she gasped.
‘I thought I could hear you crying.’
‘I wasn’t crying, but if I had been, I’d’ve thought it a reason to stay out, not come in.’
He had the cheek to sit on the edge of the bed. It irritated her that he seemed to regard himself as a member of the family, though that was Greta and Heather’s fault. They encouraged him, asked him round, invited him for meals – he was coming to tomorrow’s party. The little girls adored him and called him ‘Uncle Matt’.
‘I brought some presents for the twins. I got something for Daisy too, in case she felt left out. What’s the matter, Rube?’
‘Nothing.’ She resented him calling her ‘Rube’. And why couldn’t he have brought the presents tomorrow?
‘You look down in the dumps.’
There seemed little point in denying it. ‘So what?’ she said churlishly. It had been a tiring, unpleasant day, and seeing Brenda and Tony Wilding together had been the last straw, though she wasn’t going to tell him that.
‘You need cheering up.’
‘Do I?’ She did. She definitely did.
‘Let’s go out somewhere. I need cheering up too.’
‘Why?’
‘Caroline’s divorcing me.’
Ruby wasn’t surprised. He must spend more time with the O’Hagans than he did with his wife. ‘What have you done?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s what I won’t do that’s the problem. She’s fed up with Liverpool. Daddy’s retired to the South of France, to Monaco, and she’d prefer to live there. I flatly refused and she ses I’m being awkward.’
‘So, she’s divorcing you for being awkward?’
‘Seems like it.’
He’d never said anything horrible about Caroline, but he’d never said anything nice either. She sensed he wasn’t particularly upset, but the end of a marriage, even if it hadn’t been blindingly happy, was always sad.
‘What about us going out?’ he said encouragingly. ‘Last time I asked – it must be five or six years ago – you turned me down because I was married. Now that hardly applies. I’ll be a bachelor again in no time.’
‘A divorcee,’ she reminded him. ‘You’ll never be a bachelor again.’
‘Don’t nitpick. Let’s have a night on the town.’
Normally, Ruby wouldn’t have walked to the end of the road with Matthew Doyle, but tonight she felt tempted. She would never cease to dislike him, but he seemed to like her, and was easy to talk to. She would express astonishent when her daughters said they considered him good-looking. ‘He’s too gaunt and hungry-looking,’ she would protest yet wonder why he so often caused a riot in her stomach. Always impeccably dressed, today he was wearing grey trousers with a knife-edge crease, a navy-blue blazer with brass buttons, and an open-necked shirt. He looked as if he was about to leap on to his yacht. She was surprised he wasn’t wearing a white peaked cap.
If she stayed in, what did the evening ahead have to offer? Lord knows what time Pixie would leave. She was another who was coming to regard the house as a second home. If Pixie stayed, Heather would have a face on because she didn’t like the way she monopolised Greta and the children wouldn’t go to bed while Clint was still there.
She shuddered
. A night out with almost anyone was preferable. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘But I’ll need a while to get ready.’ She must look a wreck.
He jumped off the bed with alacrity. ‘I’ll wait downstairs.’
Ruby looked in the wardrobe for a dress fit for a night on the town but, as expected, could find nothing. Along with all the other things she hadn’t done in years, she hadn’t bought much in the way of clothes. The only thing faintly suitable was the fuchsia dress she’d bought for the girls’ weddings which was badly creased. She took it downstairs to the kitchen, set up the ironing board, and was just finishing when Heather came in looking sulky.
‘When’s she going?’ She nodded towards the lounge from which Pixie’s shrill voice could be heard above the even shriller chatter of the children.
‘I don’t know, love. Soon, I expect. Clint’s bound to be tired.’
Heather frowned. ‘Why are you ironing your frock?’
‘Matthew’s taking me out,’ Ruby said with a happy grin. She couldn’t wait to get away. Tonight, her daughters’ needs seemed second to her own.
‘And you’re leaving us by ourselves?’
Ruby put the iron down with a crash. ‘For goodness’ sake, Heather, you’re twenty-six years old. Do you really expect your mother to stay in with you at your age? Greta’s been so much better lately.’
‘Oh, and I suppose that’s all that matters!’ Heather’s sternly pretty face went red. ‘Greta’s better and there’s no need to worry about me. Have you ever cared about how I feel? My husband died too, you know.’ She burst into tears. ‘The minute she’s better, Greta doesn’t want me any more.’
So that’s what the tears were all about. Greta had been surprisingly thoughtless since Pixie had appeared on the scene. And it was an undoubted fact, Ruby thought guiltily, that no one had been overly concerned how Heather felt over the past five years. All their attention had been focused on Greta.
‘I’ve always been sidelined,’ Heather sobbed. ‘Greta’s everyone’s pet.’
Ruby put her arms around her younger daughter. This was serious. Heather was a stalwart and hardly ever cried, not even when she was a child and had hurt herself. ‘She wasn’t Rob’s, was she, love? Nor is she mine. It’s just that she’s always been so frail, she’s needed more attention.’
‘Just because I’m strong, it doesn’t mean I don’t want people to love me.’
Matthew appeared in the doorway. Ruby shook her head over her daughter’s heaving shoulders and he gave a reluctant nod of understanding. The night on the town was off.
‘There’s something burning,’ he remarked.
It was Ruby’s frock, branded for ever with the shape of the iron and completely ruined.
A few weeks later, Heather asked her mother if she minded if she went abroad.
‘Of course not, love,’ Ruby said, pleased. ‘A holiday would do you the world of good.’
‘I didn’t mean on holiday, Mam. I meant to work.’
Ruby didn’t answer immediately. ‘How long for?’
‘I’m not sure. These two girls in the office are planning to hitch-hike around Europe getting jobs wherever they can. They might only be away weeks, but it could be months. They said I could go with them.’
‘That sounds awfully dangerous, Heather.’
‘It won’t be, not with the three of us.’
‘What about Daisy?’ She already knew what the answer would be.
Heather squirmed uncomfortably. ‘I can’t take her, can I? Anyroad, she won’t miss me. She’s fonder of you than she is of me. Oh, Mam!’ Her voice rose. ‘The idea of getting away from everything seems like heaven. I can’t stand it here any more. I had this stupid idea in me head that once Greta was herself again, it’d be like it was before, that we’d be best friends, go shopping together, to the pictures. But that’s not going to happen, is it? Pixie’s taken my place and things won’t ever be the same again.’
Greta was entirely unrepentant when Ruby accused her of behaving disgracefully with her sister. ‘You’ve driven her away from home. Heather’s always thought the world of you, but all of a sudden you’ve dropped her like a hot brick.’
‘Huh!’ Greta snorted. ‘Our Heather’s always been far too possessive, so Pixie ses. She treats me like a child, not her older sister. In fact, everyone treats me like a child. No one seems to realise I’m a grown woman with two children.’
‘You’re not acting like a grown woman now. In fact, you never have.’ It was the first time ever that Ruby had snapped at the daughter who’d always been such an agreeable little thing. ‘I wouldn’t expect the twins to come out with such a load of rubbish. What’s got into you, Greta? You sound awfully hard.’
‘I’m going to be hard from now on. Pixie ses being soft gets you nowhere.’
‘Since when has Pixie been such a fount of wisdom. Oh!’ Ruby got up and left the room. What a stupid thing to say. What was the matter with everyone? Were her daughters having teenage tantrums ten years too late? Maybe it was time she indulged in a few tantrums herself.
Pixie Shaw turned out to be a fickle friend. Six months later Greta was dropped for someone else as unceremoniously as she’d dropped her sister. Ruby found it hard to be sympathetic. She would never forget the way Greta had behaved, and if she’d done it once, she could do it again.
Clint continued to come and play after school. Ruby was glad. Although Daisy didn’t appear to be missing her mummy, she clung to her gran as if worried she might also go away. Clint and Daisy got on well, though Ellie did her best to pry them apart.
‘Oh, Mam, when’s our Heather coming back?’ now became Greta’s constant cry.
‘Who knows!’ Postcards arrived reguarly, there was the occasional letter. Heather was washing dishes in France, working as a chambermaid in an Italian hotel, cleaning lavatories in Germany, harvesting fruit in Spain. Over Christmas, she worked in a restaurant in a ski resort in Austria. ‘It doesn’t matter that I only speak English because almost everyone else is foreign.’ The card was posted in Innsbruck.
Ruby followed her progress in the atlas that had once been Max Hart’s. His name was printed childishly in red crayon inside the tattered cover. She thought about him whenever she opened it and wondered what had happened to the brave, young airman who’d made love to her so desperately that first Christmas of the war.
She’d never imagined that all these years later she’d still be living in his mother’s old house, doing the same things that she’d resented doing then. She’d had dreams, once, of doing other things, but every time there’d seemed a chance the dreams would come true, something happened to prevent it. Perhaps it would have helped if she’d known what the dreams were, but all she’d ever had was vague, airy-fairy ideas about studying something or other, starting her own business – the first woman-only decorating company, she remembered with a smile.
Heather came home the following summer. She’d been away nine months. When she reached Lime Street station, she telephoned to say she was about to catch the bus.
It was the most perfect of August days, brilliantly sunny, the air scented with flowers. The children were halfway through the summer holidays. Ruby left the front door open and every now and then someone would look to see if Heather was coming. It was her intention to let Daisy go first to welcome her mummy home.
‘She’s here,’ Moira shouted, but Ruby had scarcely turned round to look for Daisy, before Greta was running down the path, flinging her arms around her sister, kissing her, crying, ‘Oh, it’s so good to have you back.’
‘It’s good to be back, sis,’ replied a surprised and extremely delighted Heather.
A fortnight later, Greta started work as a receptionist with a firm of accountants in Victoria Street, not far from the solicitors where Heather had returned to work. They met each other at lunchtime, went shopping together on Saturday afternoons. They put their names down at night school for shorthand and typing so that one day they would get better-paid jobs.
R
uby wrote a long letter to Beth and told her of the events of the last few months. ‘Greta is her old self again and she and Heather are back in each others’ pockets, the best of friends. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. They’re not likely to meet another Larry and Rob, which means they’re stuck with each other, and I’m stuck in this bloody house. Sometimes, I feel like doing a Heather and disappearing for nine months, but fat chance! What would happen to poor little Daisy? I’m the only one who seems to notice she’s alive. There’s always a reason to stay. Always.’
She put down the pen, then took it up again and added another paragraph. ‘I shouldn’t complain. Despite everything, I’m happy. It’s a lovely house to be stuck in and I laugh far more than I cry. My granddaughters are a joy, my girls seem content, we’re not exactly poor. On the whole, life is good.’
Beth was also content at last. Things had marginally improved in Little Rock. She’d joined a black–white integration group, and had been appointed secretary, ‘Only because no one else wanted to do it.’ A year ago, she’d gone to Washington and had shaken hands with President Jack Kennedy only weeks before he was tragically killed and all America had gone into mourning. Daniel disapproved of her activities. ‘He wants black supremacy, not equality.’ They argued all the time. ‘But he respects me at last. He’s suddenly realised I’ve got a brain, and my awful mother-in-law has now decided she quite likes me, after all.’
Jake was married and Beth would shortly become a grandmother. Ruby shivered. The years were racing by with frightening speed.
Olivia Appleby came in September, late one Monday morning when the children were at school and the girls at work. Ruby only saw her mother four or five times a year and then it was for just a few hours. Her children, her other children, she would stress, would want to know where she was if she stayed overnight.
‘They don’t know about you or your father. It’s a secret I’ve always kept close to my heart. I couldn’t bear to talk about him to anyone else, only you.’
