by Weaver, Pam
‘Oh, Edith,’ cried Ruby, ‘that’s wonderful!’
‘Well, go on then,’ said Doris. ‘Show her the ring.’
The girls gathered around Edith as she pulled at a chain around her neck and released a ring from under her uniform. It was a round opal with little diamond chips around the edges. Ruby gasped. ‘Oh, Edith, it’s beautiful. So when is the big day?’
‘Not for ages yet,’ Edith sighed as she put the ring away. ‘My mum says we should wait until I’m twenty-one.’
‘Twenty-one!’ Doris cried. ‘But that’s practically dead and buried.’
Ruby saw Phyllis giving her a nudge in the ribs.
‘We’re trying to persuade her,’ said Edith, ‘but at the moment she’s adamant.’
They all made sympathetic noises. Ruby felt particularly sorry for Edith. That meant it would be at least three years before she was old enough to marry. It was a long time to wait for someone. As she dusted the sideboard she thought of Jim Searle, with his fair hair flopping over his forehead and his merry eyes. She remembered his warm and tender kiss and, shivering with delight, wished with all her heart that she wore his ring on a chain around her neck. Perhaps three years wasn’t so long after all. If he asked her to marry him, she would wait until the end of time.
‘Roob,’ said Edith, making Ruby snap out of her daydream, ‘if you polish that sideboard much harder, you’ll get right through to the cutlery drawer.’
‘Sorry,’ Ruby muttered. ‘Miles away.’
‘Did your Percy ever turn up?’ asked Phyllis.
Ruby shook her head.
‘Somebody told me he’d joined the Blackshirts,’ said Doris as she dusted the picture frames.
‘We thought so too,’ Ruby sighed, ‘and Jim Searle has been up to their HQ about four times, but nobody seems to know anything about him.’
‘You mean Percy still doesn’t know about your father?’ said Doris.
Ruby shook her head.
‘That’s awful,’ said Phyllis.
‘My uncle is a member of the BUF,’ said Edith. ‘Do you want me to ask him about Percy?’
‘Would you?’ said Ruby. ‘That would be wonderful. My mother’s nearly out of her mind with worrying. It seems so awful that Father is dead and buried and Percy still knows nothing about it.’
‘You do know they have two offices in Worthing,’ said Doris.
Her comment came as a bombshell to Ruby. ‘Two offices?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Doris. ‘The one in Warwick Street is the Worthing HQ, and I forget what the other one is for.’
‘That’s the Sussex and Hampshire area office,’ said Edith. ‘Twenty-seven Marine Parade. That’s where my Uncle Seth works.’
‘But that’s only a stone’s throw from here!’ cried Ruby.
‘You could go after lunch,’ said Edith. ‘Want me to come with you? If Uncle Seth is there, he’s sure to help.’
‘Would you?’ Ruby cried.
The door burst open and for a second all four girls froze, thinking it was Mrs Fosdyke come to check on them, but it was only Carlo, the head waiter.
‘You nearly gave me a flippin’ heart attack,’ said Doris, clutching at her chest.
‘I ’ave that effect on women,’ Carlo grinned. He was at least fifty, with a portly stomach. He blew her a kiss.
‘In your dreams,’ said Doris and they all laughed.
‘Come on, girls,’ said Ruby. ‘We’d better get on, or she’ll have our guts for garters.’
They filed out of the room and separated. ‘Don’t forget to come to the Assembly Rooms, if you can,’ said Doris.
‘D’you know what?’ said Ruby. ‘I might just do that.’
Bea took a cup of tea across the yard to where Isaac was busy whitewashing the walls of the shed. She had spent the morning writing Christmas cards and letters, telling distant family about Nelson and the verdict at the inquest. Eight letters sat on the kitchen table, waiting to be posted. She’d written nine letters, but couldn’t find George Gore’s address, even though she’d searched everywhere. Perhaps Ruby had put it somewhere safe. As Bea walked in the door, Isaac gave her a slight bow.
‘How are you getting along?’ she asked, putting the cup on one of the rungs of the ladder. ‘It looks a lot lighter already.’
‘It is gut,’ smiled Isaac. ‘I cannot thank you enough for your kindness, madam.’
Bea waved her hand dismissively. ‘My daughter is right. It suits us all, and when you have customers queuing down the road, we’ll double the rent.’ She laughed softly until she realized by the horrified expression on Isaac’s face that he had taken her seriously. ‘No, no,’ she cried. ‘It was a joke!’ He still seemed puzzled. ‘An English joke,’ she repeated as she held her stomach and imitated a belly laugh. ‘To make you laugh.’
Realization dawned, and Isaac obliged her with a small chuckle. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled something out and handed it to Bea. When he dropped it onto her palm she was surprised to see that it was a ring.
‘What’s this?’ she asked.
‘It is all I have,’ he smiled, ‘but it will give you plenty … no, much money. See, the stone, it is a diamond.’
‘No, no,’ said Bea, trying to give it back. He had so few possessions, and she knew that his only other treasure was a partly finished place mat that had belonged to his late wife. ‘You can pay me when you can.’
Isaac waved her hand away. ‘For you,’ he insisted. ‘You trust me more than any other person. For that I thank you, but this is for my room and my shop.’
‘Actually, I’ve been thinking about a name for the shop,’ said Bea, changing the subject.
‘Name?’
‘You have to have a catchy name – something people will remember,’ she said, already wishing she hadn’t started this. ‘You’ll need a sign outside.’
Isaac nodded. ‘Kaufman boot repairs,’ he said, waving his hand over an imaginary sign, but Bea wasn’t impressed.
‘Of course it’s only a suggestion, but I wondered if it might be better if you chose something that rolls off the tongue a little easier.’ She didn’t want to upset Isaac, but Jim had let slip that Mrs Grimes had asked him to leave because he was Jewish. If Isaac was to start again in this part of town, he’d have a much better chance with a more English-sounding name. He gave her a quizzical look, so she added, ‘You don’t have to do anything, unless you want to.’
He nodded again. ‘It is gut,’ he said, adding a helpless shrug, ‘I will do it.’
‘You could try naming the shop after someone you love,’ she suggested. ‘Your wife, perhaps. What was her name?’
‘Griselda,’ he said.
Bea took a deep breath. It was hardly the sort of name that slipped off the tongue, and it sounded very un-English.
‘Maybe your husband’s name?’ Isaac smiled.
‘No!’ said Bea a little too quickly. Their eyes met and she gave a nervous laugh. ‘Nelson isn’t a very inspiring name.’
He bowed his head in respect. ‘Bateman?’ said Isaac.
Bea frowned. ‘I don’t think so. After all, it’s your repair shop, not ours.’
‘Your little girl,’ he began again, ‘she calls me Mr Coffey.’
‘That’s only because she finds your name difficult to remember,’ Bea apologized.
‘It’s all right,’ said Isaac. ‘I don’t mind. I use that name. Now I am Isaac Coffey.’
Bea smiled. ‘And the shop?’
‘I think about it,’ said Isaac.
Bea turned to leave.
‘Excuse me, madam,’ Isaac said awkwardly. ‘I hear you.’ Bea turned back. ‘I hear you through the walls.’
Bea opened her mouth to say something, but he put his hand up to stop her.
‘At first, when I lost my family, my heart … it is broken for my wife, my child. It never goes, but it gets far away. Now I remember without pain.’
Bea regarded Isaac carefully. Who knew what horrors he had experienced? Compar
ed to what he had gone through, she had been much luckier in life.
‘Thank you,’ said Bea, her voice thickening with emotion. ‘And I’m sorry for your loss.’ She gave his arm a slight squeeze and left. As she strode across the yard, she could feel the tears coming again. She didn’t stop them; she didn’t need to now. Everyone thought she was grieving for Nelson, but in truth her heart was breaking for Rex. She had already waited eighteen long years and, because he hadn’t even left his address, it looked like she really would have to wait one more.
The run-up to Christmas was hectic. At Warnes the staff were expected to stay on and help put up the Christmas decorations. Nobody minded too much, because they had a bit of fun doing it and the guests were most appreciative. Some gave generous tips, and so Ruby, Edith and Doris, along with the porters, took it in turns to stand on ladders to hang silk flowers and glittering streamers from the ceilings. The tree was huge and they decorated it with tinsel and tiny candles clipped to the branches. At the top was a huge star. Winnie had excelled herself with her winter flower arrangements: fir cones, holly, Christmas roses and fir branches filled every vase and windowsill.
‘Are you going away for Christmas?’ Edith asked.
‘No,’ said Winnie, patting her hair. ‘I prefer to be on my own.’
Only a few of the guests were staying all day at the hotel. The others would be having breakfast and then travelling to relatives or friends in the area, to spend the day with them. It was planned that those who stayed would enjoy a lavish meal, followed by entertainment from a local choir and Mr Beales, a local magician.
Mrs Fosdyke would be away too. She was apparently spending a few days with a friend, and the girls decided that was the best Christmas present in the world.
The preparations at home were far more modest. Bea had made mincemeat for the mince pies; and the cake, although baked a little later this year because of the circumstances, was ready for decorating. They had the promise of a small ham from the local butcher. Aunt Vinny and Cousin Lily were coming too. They wanted to bring their fair share, but it was decided that they would wait until Christmas Eve, in the hope of getting a small chicken at less than the normal asking price of one and sixpence a pound.
Once she had done the beds at Warnes in the morning, Ruby would be allowed home a little earlier. She wasn’t expected to deep-clean on Christmas Day. She would have to go back to turn down the beds in the evening, but that wouldn’t take too long. Although the decorations at Newlands Road were home-made, the house looked festive with a few crêpe-paper streamers and a large concertinaed bell in the centre of the room. There were cards from distant relatives and, of course, May hung her stocking in anticipation of a visit from Father Christmas.
The only thing missing was Percy.
CHAPTER 16
May looked up at her through sleepy eyes. Ruby was stiff and achy from sitting for so long in one position. Her little sister had been resting her head on Ruby’s chest, and Ruby’s arm was around her shoulders. They were in the bedroom, and Ruby had been reading bedtime stories. She let the sleepy child slide onto the pillow and pulled the bedclothes up to her chin.
‘Night night, darling,’ she whispered.
May grunted. Ruby put the book back in the bookcase and made to leave the room.
‘You didn’t say prayers,’ said May, suddenly awake again.
Ruby grinned to herself. She knew it was a ruse to avoid going to sleep, but the child was quite right; they hadn’t said prayers. She went back and sat on the edge of the bed with her head bowed. May put her hands together and closed her eyes.
‘God bless Mummy and Ruby, and help me to do my sums at school,’ said May. ‘God bless Mr Coffey, and help him get lots and lots of boots to mend.’ She paused, thinking. ‘God bless all the fishermen and keep them safe.’
‘Amen,’ said Ruby, but May wasn’t finished yet.
‘God bless all the fishes in the sea and all the animals. And God bless my dollies and …’
‘I think that’s enough, darling,’ said Ruby. ‘I’m sure God will take care of everything.’
‘Amen,’ May said reluctantly.
Ruby kissed her forehead and stood up.
‘When is Pa coming back?’
The question stopped Ruby in her tracks. She stared down at May. She looked so sweet, with her hair fanned out over the pillow. Her upturned face, now wide awake, was full of innocence. Ruby could hardly believe what she was hearing, let alone what she was seeing in May’s face. The question was serious. Surely she knew. Surely she understood.
‘May, you already know,’ she said quietly. ‘Pa is never coming back.’
May’s eyes grew wide and then she frowned. ‘But Mummy said he’d gone to be with Jesus.’
‘That’s right,’ said Ruby.
‘But at Sunday school Miss Pepperwell said Jesus came back after the third day. So when is Pa coming back?’
Ruby’s thoughts were in a spin. This was awful. Clearly the child hadn’t understood at all. It explained a lot: May had hardly ever cried for Pa and, now that she thought about it, she had wondered about May’s slightly bemused stare whenever their mother was upset. It was obvious that the child had been struggling with the euphemisms they had all used to soften the blow, and that she hadn’t understood the permanency of the situation.
She sat back on the bed and took May’s hand in hers.
‘What Mummy meant to say was that Pa won’t ever come back. He’s gone to heaven.’
‘But I want him to come back,’ said May. ‘Can he come at Christmas?’
‘Pa loves you very much,’ said Ruby, struggling not to cry herself, ‘but he can never, ever come back.’
May’s eyes were brimming with tears and her bottom lip quivered. ‘But Jesus did,’ she insisted.
Ruby swallowed hard. It was time for plain speaking. ‘Jesus was a very special person,’ she said. ‘Pa can’t do what Jesus did.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Do you remember when Cousin Lily’s little cat died? You saw Aunt Vinny bury her in the garden, didn’t you? We did that because she had gone for good. Pa is like that. The day you went to Susan Marley’s, we buried Pa’s body in the ground.’ May’s eyes grew wide and, suddenly guessing what she might say next, Ruby added, ‘Poor Pa is dead.’
‘Forever?’
‘Forever,’ said Ruby firmly. ‘I’m sure he would love to come back and see you, but he can’t.’
The tears in May’s eyes spilled over and Ruby gathered her in her arms. She wept for a minute or two, and Ruby wept with her. May wept for Nelson, while Ruby wept for May. But, all at once, May pushed her away.
‘It’s not true!’ she shouted. ‘You’ve made it all up. Pa will come back. He will come for Christmas. I know he will. He promised me a yellow bicycle. He’s not dead, I tell you, he’s not, he’s not!’
There was a sound by the door and Bea came into the room. Ruby stood up and looked helplessly at her mother. ‘She doesn’t believe Father is dead,’ she said.
‘He’s not dead,’ May shrieked. ‘Tell her, Mummy. Tell her!’ Ruby opened her mouth to say something, but May wasn’t finished yet. ‘Go away,’ she yelled. ‘Go away. I hate you. I hate you!’
Their mother took May into her arms and the little girl began to sob uncontrollably. Profoundly shocked and upset, Ruby left the room and went downstairs. Thankfully there was no one in the kitchen. Mr Coffey, as everyone called him, had already retired to his room. Ruby sat at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. Although she couldn’t make out what was being said, she could still hear May’s shrill voice and sobs, and her mother’s soothing tone of voice. Listening to them through the walls, Ruby suddenly felt a mixture of grief, pity and self-pity. A lot of self-pity … ‘He promised me a yellow bicycle,’ that’s what May had said. Why had Father been so different with May? She thought back to her own childhood and couldn’t remember getting one single present from her father. Oh yes, she had had presents for Christmas and birthdays, labelled ‘with
love from Mummy and Daddy’, but she couldn’t remember one thing he’d given her himself. Why had he never loved her? She wasn’t imagining it and she wasn’t being paranoid, but she’d finally found the courage to put the way she felt into words, even if it was only inside her own head … Her own father had never loved her. She knew he wasn’t a very nice man, but the difference between his relationship with her and Percy and his relationship with May was poles apart. He’d been just as horrible to Percy.
Ruby blew her nose and put her saturated handkerchief into the copper boiler, ready for washing. Getting a clean one from the drawer, she blew her nose again and sat down in the chair by the fire. Oh, Percy … she thought miserably. Where was he, and why didn’t he get in contact? When she and Edith had gone to the Sussex and Hants area HQ of the BUF that day, she had high hopes that they’d be able to track down Percy quite easily. She’d given as much detail as she could to the woman at the desk, a rather severe-looking person dressed all in black. At one point the woman stood to get something from a filing cabinet, and Ruby had been mildly surprised to see that she was wearing black slacks as well. Her close-cropped hair was held away from her face by a hair grip, and the only relief in her sober outfit was a raised pattern, knitted in dark green, on her black jumper and the bright-red lipstick she wore. Hardly the sort of outfit for a secretary, Ruby thought, although the woman had copied down meticulously everything she had said and promised to get in touch.
It was understandable that Percy had wanted to leave home, but why hadn’t he written to Mother? Ruby thought back to the time when Percy had met her from work and told her he was leaving. She remembered he’d said that he had found out something about their father and wished he hadn’t. What could be so awful that Percy couldn’t bear to be under the same roof as him any more? And that he should lose contact with the rest of the family?
It was quieter upstairs now. She could still hear her mother’s muffled voice, but May was silent now.
In some respects, life without her father was a lot easier. Mr Coffey’s rent, when it came, would give them a reasonable income and, so far, they hadn’t struggled. The sale of Pa’s best clothes – the items she didn’t put into the suitcase – had brought in a few pennies, and people did what they could to help. She’d received some good tips at Warnes, and there was still Nelson’s boat and locker to clear out, if Percy didn’t come back. Some of the fishermen slipped them a fish or two from their catch. A couple of days ago someone had left some whiting on the doorstep, wrapped in newspaper; and last week they’d dined on fresh lobster.
