by Rosanna Ley
Tom was home – she spotted his bicycle leaned against the side wall as she parked in the driveway of their two-bed semi. Goodness knows what he’d have to say. But she was only babysitting, wasn’t she? People did that all the time to help out. And Laura wasn’t to know what they’d been through, how desperately Vivien longed for a child.
Ruby didn’t stir as Vivien walked up the garden path. She brushed the soft cheek with her little finger, felt an echoing pulse of warmth inside her own body.
No, Vivien.
The house next door looked mournful as ever. It hadn’t had the windows or doors looked at in years and the cream paint was cracked and flaking, revealing the bare wood underneath. What would Pearl have made of this little one – her granddaughter? Vivien smiled. Wouldn’t she have loved her?
Tom was in the kitchen eating a sandwich – cheese and tomato, Vivien could tell by the debris on the kitchen table. She lifted Ruby gently from the basket.
‘Hello, love,’ he said, glancing up, back to his paper, then back at her as he registered what she was holding. ‘What’s this?’ he said.
‘A baby.’
‘I can see that.’ He stared at her. ‘Whose baby? Where did it come from?’
What did he think? That she’d abducted her from somewhere? For heaven’s sake … Vivien sat down with Ruby snuggled in the crook of her arm. She shouldn’t just be kept in a basket – she needed human warmth and affection. ‘Laura’s baby,’ she said. ‘She asked me to look after her for a bit.’
Tom rustled the folds of his newspaper in a way she recognised. ‘And you thought that was a good idea, did you?’ His voice was gruff.
Vivien looked down at the baby. ‘It was hard to say no to her,’ she said. ‘What with Pearl and everything.’
Tom got to his feet. ‘You take care, love, that’s all,’ he said.
‘Course I will.’ Vivien smiled.
‘I’ll put the kettle on then.’ As he passed, Tom bent down to peer at the little one.
Vivien saw his eyes soften. For a moment she could see how he would be, how they could be. Something tightened in her chest. ‘I’ll put her down and make the tea when the kettle boils,’ she said. But already Tom’s eyes had glazed over. He’d closed down. She saw it.
‘Do you think she’s finding it hard to cope with her?’ he asked.
‘Probably.’ Vivien recalled what Laura had said about the crying. Though Ruby seemed such a good baby. She just wanted feeding and changing regularly, that was all. And she didn’t want to be living in a camper van for ever.
The kettle boiled, Tom gave her a look and Vivien settled the baby – not back in the basket, but in the soft and deep old armchair in the corner. She tucked in the blanket, put a bolster in place to keep her safe and watched her for a moment. It hurt a bit to let go of her. She was so warm and now the place where she had nestled in close to Vivien’s body felt empty and cold. Vivien brushed at the deserted space with her hand, as if she could whisk that elusive baby presence away. The baby half-smiled in her sleep. Dreaming rainbows.
*
Laura didn’t come to collect her until almost midnight. By that time even Vivien was frantic. She’d used the last bit of milk formula too. What was she supposed to do the next time she woke up? She wasn’t equipped for a baby. Laura hadn’t left Ruby’s night things or any more spare nappies or anything. What was she thinking of – leaving her here for so long?
Tom had already gone to bed with a sigh and a ‘I knew no good would come of it’. But Vivien sat up waiting, watching Ruby and worrying. What if something had happened to Laura?
When the knock on the door came it roused Vivien from a half-doze. She was in the rocking chair in the kitchen, Ruby still in the deep lap of the armchair.
She got to her feet and let Laura in. ‘I didn’t know you’d be this long,’ she said.
Laura looked back at her, vague, not quite with it. ‘Was she any hassle?’ she asked.
‘No, she was fine,’ Vivien said. She went over to the armchair and lifted Ruby gently out and into the basket. She felt a dip of desolation in her belly. ‘Bye, Ruby,’ she whispered.
Laura was watching her. ‘You like her.’
‘Of course I do.’ Vivien handed her the basket. ‘Who wouldn’t?’
‘Plenty wouldn’t.’ Laura looked down at her daughter, a mixture of love and resentment on her face.
Vivien reminded herself of the facts. Of Laura’s mother’s death, of the lifestyle she was living, of the fact that Ruby’s father had left Laura. And that Laura was still just a girl herself.
‘She’s lovely,’ Vivien said. Be grateful, she thought. Be very grateful. Because you have no idea.
‘Not when she’s crying all night, she isn’t.’ She sounded so dispassionate. And so casual in the way she turned around and opened the door, swinging the basket as if Ruby were nothing more than the week’s groceries. Vivien wanted to snatch her back there and then.
‘I’ll look after her again,’ Vivien said as Laura stepped outside. She tried to sound more casual than she felt. ‘Any time you want.’
‘Will you?’ Laura brightened. She eyed her with more interest. ‘That’s great. Tomorrow afternoon, maybe?’
‘Oh.’ Once again, Vivien hadn’t expected it to be quite so soon. Did Laura really know what it meant to be a mother? Did she understand about responsibility of care? ‘Well, yes. That’s fine,’ she heard herself saying. ‘As long as it’s after three.’ Which was when she finished work. Vivien still worked part-time at the post office, though she finished early so that she could keep up with her art – some of which she’d already got into a few of the local galleries.
‘Great.’ Laura gave her a cheery wave. ‘Thanks, Vivien.’
*
The following day, the van was already parked outside Vivien and Tom’s when Vivien got back from work. She hadn’t told Tom about this afternoon – she knew he wouldn’t like it, and she knew the reasons too.
‘We won’t be so late tonight,’ Laura said as she handed over the basket. The love beads she was wearing swung from her neck.
Vivien looked down at Ruby. ‘That’s all right.’ She’d popped to the chemist’s earlier. She had formula, a spare bottle, some nappies, a changing mat and even a little pink sleep suit – though she wouldn’t tell Tom about that either. She was only helping out, wasn’t she? Laura was Pearl’s daughter. No harm done.
There was no pushchair or pram so Vivien couldn’t take her out for a walk to the park as she’d like to. Instead, she set up a garden chair outside and laid Ruby on that, surrounded by cushions so that she couldn’t possibly roll over or fall off. It was good for babies to get some fresh air. And while Ruby was sleeping, Vivien did the gardening, looking over at her every now and then, pausing in her weeding or digging to smile at her, or check she was all right. She thought about doing some painting but decided not. She didn’t want too much of her attention to be taken away from the baby.
When she woke up for her next feed, although Vivien had the bottle ready to be warmed up for her, little Ruby didn’t start her screaming like she had before. Instead, she cooed and chuckled and waved her tiny fists around. She was enjoying the garden, Vivien realised. She could see the leaves moving in the breeze, hear the rustle and the sounds of the birds. The fact that she loved it made Vivien feel good too.
‘What, again?’ Tom said when he came back from work to find Vivien talking to Ruby as she did the ironing.
‘I don’t mind,’ Vivien said. ‘It’s nothing.’ Though it wasn’t nothing. Of course it wasn’t nothing.
Tom shot her a warning glance. ‘Don’t get too used to it, love,’ he said. ‘Don’t get too fond of her.’
‘Stop worrying. Look.’ And Vivien made Tom tickle Ruby’s palm with his little finger, until she grabbed and squeezed.
He laughed. Couldn’t believe how strong she was, he said.
This was how it would be, Vivien thought again. This was how it would be.
&n
bsp; Tom looked at her. ‘Someone needs to worry though, love,’ he said. ‘I’m telling you. I know you want to. But don’t offer to look after her too often.’
‘I won’t.’ She was such a sweet baby – but quite a character, bless her, with that gummy smile and those lovely blue eyes. And it was so nice to just hold her and even for a moment to pretend …
She’d take Ruby to the post office if she had to. She’d help Laura out – whenever she needed it. Because of Pearl, because she felt sorry for her. And because …
Tom didn’t mind having the baby, Vivien knew that. He liked having her. But she knew why he was worrying. She’d come to terms with their childlessness – or at least he imagined she had. But Ruby was bringing it all back. How would Vivien feel when Laura left – as she would do one day in the not too distant future? How would she feel when Ruby was no longer around? And he was right to worry. She looked down at the sleeping baby. Because already, Vivien could hardly bear to think about it.
*
A few weeks later, Vivien woke up in the middle of the night to hear a hammering on the back door. ‘Oh, my Lord.’ She sat up. It was a noise loud enough to wake the dead.
But not Tom. ‘Tom.’ Gently, she shook his shoulder and tried to rouse him. But he was out for the count. He’d been working so hard.
Vivien checked the clock. It was actually only just past midnight. But the rain was lashing down like nobody’s business and the wind was blowing a gale. A summer storm, it must be. Had she imagined the knocking on the door?
No. It came again. Who on earth … ? Vivien glanced again at Tom. Still snoring like a wild boar. She got up and grabbed her dressing gown. Peered out of the window into the rain and the darkness to see who it might be. But she couldn’t make out a thing. And all she could hear was the pounding of the rain on the lean-to, the dripping from the roof and that wind howling. Was she in the middle of some kind of horror film?
Then a flash of lightning lit the sky and that’s when she saw it parked outside. The VW camper van.
Ruby. Oh, my heavens. She ran downstairs in her nightie. Ghastly scenarios fast-forwarded through her brain. She pushed them away again, dashed into the kitchen, switched on the light, unbolted the door and pulled it open. The breath was heaving inside her chest. Ruby …
Laura stood there like a ghost. She had on a long dress the colour of indigo, which was wet through and clinging to her slender frame. Over this she had flung a black crocheted shawl – which gave her about as much protection as a headscarf on a building site, Vivien reckoned. Her long hair was bedraggled, rain dripped down her face like teardrops. Her blue eyes were wide. ‘Vivien,’ she said. She just stood there in the rain. She sounded scared.
‘What is it, Laura? What’s happened?’ There was a growl of thunder. ‘Is it Ruby?’ But Vivien had seen already that Laura was holding the basket, cradled in her arms this time, not like the way she had held it before. And she was holding something else tucked under one elbow – what looked like a shoebox.
Vivien pulled her inside out of the rain, helping to support the basket as she did so. She felt a jolt of fear and glanced down. ‘Is she all right?’ Even to her own ears, her voice sounded harsh.
Laura took just a step inside. She thrust the basket at Vivien. ‘Take her,’ she said. ‘Here. Just take her.’
Automatically, Vivien took the basket. She glanced down again, reassured by the sight of the baby’s sleeping face. Though how she could sleep through this racket … ‘What’s happened?’ she asked again. ‘Is it Julio? Is it—’
But already Laura was stumbling back through the door, crying now. ‘Look after her for me,’ she cried.
‘But, how long … ?’
She had gone. She was running in the pouring rain – down the path at the side of the house, splashing through the puddles. She pulled open the passenger door and jumped into the van.
‘Laura?’ Vivien stared after her. ‘Laura?’
The second she was inside, the van’s engine roared into life. And just as another spear of lightning illuminated the night, the psychedelic VW camper van pulled away and was gone. Just like that.
Well. Vivien glanced at Ruby. She seemed perfectly fine, fast asleep still, blissfully unaware of the drama. Vivien rebolted the door and tiptoed back up the stairs, holding the basket carefully in front of her. In their room she took the wide drawer from the chest and emptied all their clothes out of it. She took a single sheet from the airing cupboard and methodically made up a little bed in the drawer. And all the time she was thinking. What had happened? What did Laura mean – look after her for me? When, exactly, was she intending to come back?
She lay awake for what seemed like hours listening to the baby’s breathing. And just as soon as she fell asleep – or so it seemed – she woke to the sound of Ruby’s whimpering. She got up, scooped her out of the drawer and took her downstairs to feed her. She didn’t want to wake Tom – not yet. Time enough for that.
It was too late though. Ten minutes later, as she sat in the rocking chair giving Ruby her milk, he was downstairs, standing in the doorway rubbing his eyes. He took in the sight of her and the baby. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
Vivien told him what had happened. ‘There was nothing I could do, Tom,’ she said. ‘She just disappeared into the night.’
‘And what’s this?’ Tom had picked up the shoebox from the kitchen table where Laura must have left it. What with everything else happening, Vivien hadn’t even noticed.
‘I don’t know,’ she said.
Slowly, Tom lifted the lid. ‘Photos,’ he said. He held them up to show her. ‘A little hat.’
Ruby’s bonnet. Vivien nodded. ‘Just some of her stuff then,’ she said.
‘And this.’ He held up a small piece of plastic. Vivien had seen them, didn’t know what they were called. You used them to play a guitar though, she knew that much. She thought of the guitar she’d seen in the camper van. Did Laura play? She guessed so.
‘And … ’ Tom held up a string of tiny beads. Love beads. Vivien had seen Laura wearing them more than once. ‘So why would she have left this stuff, for Christ’s sake?’ Tom sounded angry now.
‘Sssh.’ Ruby looked so peaceful; Vivien didn’t want her to be disturbed.
‘It looks like she’s not reckoning on coming back this time,’ Tom said. And with a dark look at her – as if it were her fault – he left the room and she heard him stomping back upstairs.
Not reckoning on coming back this time. Vivien let the words sink in. What did that mean for her? What did that mean for her – and Ruby?
CHAPTER 19
‘It was fortunate,’ Frances said, ‘that your mother – Vivien, that is – was around when Laura came back to Pride Bay. If not for her … ’ She let the words hang.
It certainly sounded that way. ‘Do you think Julio put Laura under pressure?’ Ruby asked. ‘Maybe he gave her an ultimatum. I want you but I’m not prepared to look after some other man’s baby – that sort of thing.’ Perhaps she was conveniently shifting the blame, but Ruby hated the idea of Laura just dumping her on Vivien whenever she felt she couldn’t cope. What sort of a mother did that? Even when she’d been through what Laura had been through.
What sort of a mother … What would have happened – if Laura hadn’t come back to England? If Ruby had been brought up in Spain as her daughter? She simply couldn’t imagine. How different would she be?
‘Very probably.’ Frances shrugged. ‘You know what young men are like. A baby can cramp your style somewhat.’
Ruby thought of James. Would Frances class him as a young man? Probably not – he was in his late thirties. And yet he had never shown the slightest intention of settling down, wanting a wife, a baby, any of that. A baby would certainly have cramped his style. He was far too busy with his London life and with his clients. As for Julio – he was probably only in his mid-twenties at the time. He was young and into freedom and a lifestyle that didn’t include responsibility. He proba
bly just couldn’t wait to get the VW van back to sunnier climes. To roll his next spliff and have his next swim. And who could blame him?
‘At least Vivien wanted me,’ Ruby said. It sounded a bit pathetic but it was the most important thing, wasn’t it? To be wanted, to be loved.
‘Oh, she wanted you.’ Frances smiled. ‘She wanted you more than you’ll ever know. You were a gift to Vivien from some maternal goddess on high.’ She laughed. ‘You should have seen her. She was like a cat with the cream when she was looking after you.’
‘But why didn’t they tell me who I was and where I’d come from?’ Ruby asked again. That was what she still couldn’t get. ‘How come it was all such a big secret?’
‘They were protecting you,’ Frances said. ‘At least that’s what they thought.’
Because her birth mother hadn’t? That seemed to be the subtext. But things were never black and white. She’d learnt that through her work when she was investigating a subject for a feature. There were always shades of grey. You had to ask around – get other points of view. Not just hear one side of the story.
Ruby leaned forwards across the table. ‘Doesn’t everyone have the right to the truth, Frances?’
‘Perhaps.’ Frances had finished her meal and now laid her knife and fork on the plate in front of her. ‘Although it also depends on how many people get hurt along the way, doesn’t it, my dear?’
Did it? Ruby wasn’t so sure. Deceit usually led to distrust. Honesty might hurt but at least you could move forward and make your decisions in life with a clear sense of the facts.
After a while, Frances ordered coffee for them both.
‘I appreciate you coming here tonight and telling me the story.’ Ruby stirred her coffee and tasted it. It was strong and bitter.
‘Vivien talked to me a few months before the accident,’ Frances said thoughtfully. ‘It was on her mind. I’d come down for the weekend and we met up for coffee.’
‘What did she say?’ Ruby asked.
