Blue Moon

by Weaver, Pam

  ‘I’m not being fair!’ Ruby screeched. ‘Well, at least I care about people and how they die.’

  Bea went out to the scullery and pretended to do some tidying up. After a few more heated words, it went quiet. She waited for a couple of seconds more and then looked through the crack in the door. They were kissing. Bea smiled to herself. She had told Jim he had to prove himself to be a good provider before they could marry, but bearing in mind what Vinny had said about Lily, perhaps she should let them marry now. They could have the attic room. She would make it clear that she didn’t expect Jim to support her and May, but at least they could all be together. But on second thoughts, Ruby was still only seventeen. Was she too young? She was the same age as she herself had been when she’d married Nelson. And didn’t she know from bitter experience that, for girls of seventeen dreaming of their wedding day, life doesn’t always turn out the way you want it to? Oh dear, what should she do? She sighed and the ache in her heart grew larger. If only Rex was here.

  CHAPTER 31

  Bea went with Mabel Harris to the inquest into Linton’s death. She borrowed a bath chair from The Ark and pushed Mabel to Stoke Abbott Road. Getting her up the steps was a massive hurdle, but several neighbours and friends, as well as a well-meaning stranger, manhandled Mabel and the chair into the room. Being back at an inquest less than six months after Nelson had died gave Bea a sense of déjà vu, only this time she was better able to cope. The coroner, Major Jeffries, was as considerate as Dr Fox-Drayton had been, and the proceedings were a lot quicker. Having explained that this was not a trial, but only to ascertain the cause of death, and after hearing from the police and the doctor who certified Linton’s death, he pronounced a verdict of ‘murder by person or persons unknown’ and released the body. Linton had been suffocated with his own pillow.

  Back home at Mabel’s place, Bea made them both a cup of tea. Fluffy, Mabel’s tabby cat, jumped into her lap. ‘I can’t believe it,’ said the old lady. ‘Who on earth would want to hurt Linton? A more gentle soul you couldn’t wish to meet.’

  Disregarding the confession in his letter, which of course Mabel hadn’t seen, Bea was inclined to agree. ‘I’m sure the police will soon find the culprit,’ she said, ‘but in the meantime, we need to get on with arrangements for the funeral.’

  ‘He had a policy,’ said Mabel, ‘and he had money. We can give him a good send-off.’

  ‘Did he leave any instructions?’ Bea asked. ‘Was there a will?’

  Fluffy purred loudly as Mabel stroked her. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘Linton was very organized. He left you and the girls a little something.’

  Bea’s jaw dropped. ‘What?’

  ‘He left a bit of money for you,’ said Mabel. ‘Not a fortune, but it may come in handy.’

  Bea couldn’t help smiling. ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Bea,’ said Mabel. ‘You were kindness itself to him in the past. I lost count of the meals you made for him, until your Nelson put a stop to it. He hated the way Nelson treated you, Bea. I think he left you some money to give you the chance to get away from him and start again.’

  ‘I only did what anyone else would do,’ said Bea.

  ‘Oh no, my dear,’ Mabel insisted. ‘It was more than that, and Linton knew it. He left me the house and I’m pretty sure he left you fifty pounds and the girls twenty pounds each.’

  Bea took in a breath. What a surprise. What a blooming wonderful surprise! They drank their tea and discussed the plans for the funeral.

  ‘“Abide with Me”,’ said Mabel. ‘He liked that hymn, and “Lead, Kindly Light”. He used to sing that sometimes when he was working in the garden.’

  ‘What are you going to do about the house?’ Bea asked.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Mabel. ‘I may rent it for a while and then sell it. I haven’t decided yet. I don’t like the idea of a stranger living in it, but there’s nobody else in the family, d’you see?’

  Bea nodded sympathetically. ‘Do you want me to write to anyone to tell them Linton has passed away?’

  Mabel looked down at her twisted arthritic fingers. ‘Well, I don’t suppose I could do it with these hands.’ She listed several people and gave Bea the money for a writing pad, envelopes and stamps. ‘You’re an absolute godsend.’

  ‘It’s no trouble at all,’ said Bea. ‘What about that old friend who came to Nelson’s funeral – George something?’

  ‘George Gore?’ said Mabel. ‘Oh, my dear, don’t you know? Poor George is dead.’

  ‘Dead?’ Bea was scarcely able to breathe. So Linton was right: George Gore was indeed dead.

  ‘I had a letter from his wife,’ said Mabel. ‘She wanted me to go to the funeral, but – things being as they are – I couldn’t manage to go all that way.’ She shook her head sadly.

  ‘How did he die?’ Bea asked innocently. ‘I mean, he looked hale and hearty at the funeral. When did he pass away?’

  ‘It was on his way back from Nelson’s funeral,’ said Mabel. His train was delayed and the platform was crowded with day-trippers. He was standing too close to an incoming train, and someone opened the door as it came into the station. The poor man died almost immediately.’

  ‘I never knew,’ said Bea.

  ‘That’s funny,’ said Mabel, ‘I would have thought your Percy might have said something. He was on the platform at the same time. He was a witness.’

  ‘Really?’ said Bea. She was trembling a little and got up to wash the teacups, in case Mabel noticed. Why hadn’t Percy mentioned it? Ah, now hang on a minute – he didn’t even know George, did he? She relaxed again. ‘You say you heard all this from George’s wife?’

  ‘And he’s got three little kiddies,’ said Mabel sadly.

  Bea turned to face her friend. ‘Mabel, can I have her address? I should like to write to his wife and offer my condolences, seeing as he and Nelson were brothers-in-arms.’ It was a long shot, but she might be able to find out if George had had one of those lead bullets.

  ‘Of course,’ said Mabel. ‘It’s in the top drawer of the dresser. In a brown address book – you can’t miss it.’ As Bea wiped her hands and went to fetch it, Mabel said, ‘You may as well take it with you. It’ll save you writing all those addresses twice.’

  Bea’s hand trembled as she pulled out the address book. The book itself was falling to pieces and the pages were yellow with age.

  ‘I keep meaning to get a new one,’ said Mabel. ‘Half the people in there are dead, anyway.’

  ‘I promise I shall take great care of it,’ said Bea, tucking it into her handbag.

  John was on his way to Brighton. Some things were hard to give up, but he had decided this was to be a completely new start. Bea and Ruby were sad to see him go, but they knew it was the right thing for him to do. He looked a lot better than he had done the day he arrived nearly four months ago, and the friends he’d made – along with some of the neighbours – turned out to say goodbye. His new friends from Brighton turned up with a lorry that was open to the elements, but it didn’t matter because the weather was fine. It didn’t take them long to load up his few things, and then he was ready to go.

  ‘You are a fine woman, Mrs Bateman,’ he said, shaking her hand.

  As he let it go, Bea pushed something into his palm. He made as if to look at it, but she held his hand closed and said, ‘For later.’

  John ruffled May’s hair and told her to be a good girl, then shook Ruby’s hand and told her that any time she was in Brighton she should look him up. Ruby promised to keep saying the words he’d already taught her in German, but she knew it would be very difficult to learn any more, without being able to hear how it was supposed to sound. He wished her good luck and climbed into the back of the lorry. Bea could have sworn there were tears in his eyes. They stood in the road, waving until the lorry was out of sight, then went indoors.

  As he reached the end of Chesswood Road, John opened his hand. Bea had given him what looked like a small piece of
rag. When he pressed it, the core was hard. He unwrapped it carefully and there was his ring. By the time the lorry had reached the seafront, John was crying softly.

  The front parlour seemed bare without him, but he’d left it neat and tidy. There was a small bunch of spring flowers on the table and a luggage label saying ‘Thank you’ tied around the neck of the vase. It stood on a small embroidered place mat that Bea had often seen him fondling with tears in his eyes. It was cream, with dainty pink and blue flowers. The maker was obviously a very skilled needlewoman. The mat wasn’t properly finished, but even so Bea loved it. She was just walking away from the room when she spotted an envelope on the mantelpiece over the fireplace. It had her name on it and she recognized John’s handwriting. When she tore it open, she found fifteen shillings inside. It made her catch her breath. That was the sum she would probably have got, had she sold the ring all that time ago. How on earth …? But of course John couldn’t have possibly known that she’d always planned to give it back to him, if she could. She’d kept the ring upstairs ever since he’d given it to her, and he had no idea how many times she’d come close to selling it. What an amazing coincidence. Bea was so moved that she sat on the edge of the bed, staring into space, for some time. It was only when a tear splashed on her hand that she realized she was crying.

  *

  Cousin Lily looked ill. Ruby was shocked when she saw her. She had called into Aunt Vinny’s to tell them that Linton’s funeral was to be held the following Tuesday. Nothing elaborate, but a service at St Botolph’s church in Heene, followed by an interment in the graveyard across the road. Linton had been a regular church member ever since the war, and although most people were buried in the new cemetery at Offington Corner, in special cases the Church of England allowed some to be buried in the old churchyard. Everyone agreed that Linton would have liked that – everyone except Ruby, that is. She didn’t know him that well, but she thought he would have been embarrassed by all the attention and, now that she knew something of his history, she was able to make an educated guess as to why.

  Aunt Vinny was still at work in the laundry, which was why Lily opened the door to the house. As Lily was an usherette in the cinema now, most of her working hours were in the evenings, with the occasional afternoon matinee. She didn’t often get the matinees. The women who had worked at the Dome for some time tended to hog those shifts.

  ‘You look terrible,’ Ruby blurted out. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I wish I was dead,’ said Lily dully.

  ‘Lily, whatever’s happened?’ cried Ruby. ‘I thought you and Albert were happy and that everything was wonderful … At least, that’s what some of the neighbours told me.’

  Lily burst into tears and Ruby put her arm round her shoulders.

  ‘He’s gone,’ sobbed Lily.

  ‘What – dead?’ said Ruby, visibly shocked. ‘Albert’s dead?’

  ‘No, no,’ said Lily, reaching up her sleeve for her handkerchief. ‘He’s left Worthing. He’s left me.’ And with that she began to howl.

  ‘I’m sure if it was meant to be—’ Ruby began lamely.

  ‘That’s what Mum said,’ Lily interrupted. ‘She says there’s plenty more fish in the sea and all that …’ Her face crumpled. ‘But I want Albert.’

  ‘Oh, Lily …’ said Ruby.

  Lily blew her nose noisily. ‘He was worried that you’d spoil it for us. I know you were sweet on him, because he told me.’

  Ruby almost choked. ‘I never wanted Albert,’ she said. ‘Father … Father wanted me to go out with him, but I never thought of him in that way.’

  ‘Well, I did,’ said Lily beginning to cry again. ‘And he loved me. It wasn’t true what his landlady said. It was me he was going to marry.’

  Ruby put her arms round Lily again. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  As soon as Lily had calmed a little they sat down. ‘What did his landlady say?’

  ‘That he was going back to his fiancée in Hastings,’ said Lily, wiping her eyes again. ‘But it’s not true.’

  ‘So where do you think he’s gone?’

  Lily shrugged.

  ‘Maybe he’s ill,’ Ruby suggested.

  ‘He isn’t ill. He sent me a note, but I can’t read it,’ said Lily.

  ‘Oh.’ There was no answer to that one. Lily left the room and came back a few minutes later with the letter. She handed it to Ruby. She did feel sorry for Lily, but Lily was a terrific-looking girl and Ruby knew that, as soon as they knew she was free, half the young men in Worthing would be beating a path to her door. Right now she looked a bit of a mess, with her bright-red nose and little piggy eyes because she’d been crying so much, but with her blonde hair curled and a pretty dress on her trim figure, Lily wouldn’t stay single for long. ‘Are you sure you want me to read it?’

  Lily nodded. ‘Read it out loud.’

  Dear Lily, he’d written. I won’t be coming round any more. You know the reason why. Albert.

  Ruby read it twice, then handed it back. ‘I suppose he was trying to be kind,’ she said. ‘At least he let you know he won’t be coming back.’

  ‘But I don’t know the reason why,’ Lily howled. ‘I just want to die.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ said Ruby. ‘It’s really not as bad as that.’

  ‘But I gave myself to him,’ she said dramatically. ‘I thought we were going to be married. No other man will want me now.’

  ‘Of course they will,’ said Ruby crossly. She was upset for her cousin, but really, she was milking it for all it was worth. ‘And besides, if you don’t tell anybody, how are they going to know?’

  ‘I should have known that this would happen,’ Lily went on bleakly. ‘Even when we were in bed together, he was always talking about you and your family.’

  ‘Pardon me?’ said Ruby, startled.

  ‘“Where’s she working now?”’ said Lily, mimicking Albert sarcastically. ‘“What time is she off? Is she going to marry Jim?” On and on he went.’

  Ruby pulled a face. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I always made it very clear that I wasn’t interested. He was too old.’ She felt her face colour. Lily was practically the same age as her. ‘I mean, you’re nearly a year older than me,’ she went on, ‘and that makes all the difference.’

  Lily nodded miserably. ‘I just want him back.’

  CHAPTER 32

  It was busy at the hospital. The wards were crowded and extra beds had been brought in to the middle of the room. Worthing had been suffering from a bad dose of carelessness. People were having accidents left, right and centre. It was strange how things like this happened, especially when there was no common underlying cause. The previous summer, a sudden hot spell brought patients suffering from sunburn, sunstroke and dehydration; during the winter the admissions went up because of falls on the ice and broken limbs, and in February there had been a cluster of influenza patients. In the run-up to Easter there was no real reason why the hospital should suddenly double its intake, but it did.

  It made life difficult for the ward maids. Ruby struggled to get between the beds and it was hard to keep the floors clean, with so much extra traffic. She worked hard as usual, but once again she became aware that she was being watched. She would often ‘feel’ someone behind her, or standing in a doorway; but, if she spun round, that person would be gone or going. It made her feel uncomfortable and not a little nervous. Was she doing something wrong? She always took great care about her appearance, pinning her hair under her cap and making sure she changed her coarse apron frequently. She tried to see to any extra requests as quickly as was humanly possible, but for the first time since she’d come to the hospital Ruby was unsettled.

  At home, although money was a lot tighter without John’s rent, in some respects things were easier. She and her mother got along well. Bea’s health had improved, so she was able to take on a lot more of the household responsibilities, which meant that Ruby could occasionally have a little free time to herself.

  Now that sp
ring was just around the corner, it was time to do the spring-cleaning. The accumulated soot from the open fires had to be washed from the walls. Picture frames, mirrors and the mantelpiece, which had collected a film of grime through the winter months, had to be thoroughly cleaned. There were carpets to brush by hand and beat in the open air. And all that had to be done alongside the normal washing. Each week the sheets were boiled in the copper in the scullery, put through the mangle a couple of times, rinsed by hand and put through the mangle again, before they could be hung out to dry. Spring-cleaning meant that the window curtains and the heavy door hangings, which helped to conserve the heat during the cold weather, had to be washed as well. Bea was able, for the first time in many months, to do her fair share. As Ruby cleaned the windows with one part vinegar to four parts water, she understood why the government discouraged married women from working. If she was a young mum, it would be difficult to do everything at home and hold down a job.

  Jim came round most evenings, but the enthusiasm he’d brought back from Wimborne was beginning to wane. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in his own ideas, but, with virtually no resources, it was hard to see how he could even begin to fulfil his dreams.

  ‘I think people like us – when they’re on holiday – want more than a picture postcard,’ he told Ruby one evening. They were all sitting together in the kitchen. May was in bed, and Ruby was doing the ironing with the flat irons on the range. ‘What they want is a picture of themselves at the seaside.’

  ‘The likes of us could never afford a camera,’ Ruby laughed.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Jim. ‘That’s why I’m convinced there’s a vast untapped market out there for holiday snaps.’

  ‘Don’t just talk about it,’ said Bea. ‘Give them what they want.’

  ‘With all due respect, Mrs Bateman,’ said Jim, ‘my boss would never allow me to use his studio to feather my own nest. Photographs for the lower classes are not something he’d want to be associated with.’