by Daisy White
“Of course I am!”
“Great. See you down by the pier about half seven?” Kenny is grinning. “Oh, Pearl and Victoria are coming too. The usual crowd!”
Light-hearted, Mary and I run back up to the salon, charging through the door giggling like a couple of naughty kids let out late from school.
“Mary, can you get straight on with Miss Benn’s nails? She wants them that lovely poppy red colour . . . And Ruby, I need you to do a shampoo for me, please.” Catherine is bustling around as Eve heads out into the sunshine for her break, loaded down with bags. She normally does her grocery shopping instead of sitting down and having a meal or a drink.
Johnnie has disappeared for the afternoon, but has left instructions for us to lock up as usual. After a busy afternoon, I see Mary onto the bus to Mrs Carpenter’s and run upstairs to change. I’m tired, and Beverly Collins is hovering on the edges of my consciousness, but for the first time in ages I’m looking forward to an evening out. I haven’t seen Pearl and Victoria since Beth’s party, and it’ll be great to chat about everything.
Humming a bit of Elvis, I select a bikini and a cotton print dress, adding a pink cardigan in case it gets cold later. My towel goes into a bag, and in ten minutes I’m out the door and clattering down the stairs in my battered brown sandals.
The crowds on the beach are thinning out now, cars snaking along the road by the promenade, loaded down with sweaty, sandy occupants. The queue for ice creams, fish and chips and hot dogs is still massive, full of grumbling grannies and fractious children. I feel a moment of guilt for Mary and her lonely journey to collect her baby. But she'll get a great dinner out of it, usually a proper roast with chicken or lamb.
I beat the others to our usual spot by the pier and fling myself happily onto the warm shingle. Kicking my sandals off I wriggle my hot feet into a rare patch of sand. Overhead seagulls wheel and cry, dive-bombing unsuspecting day-trippers to steal dropped food.
“Ruby!” I turn to see my cousin and her best friend appear from the crowds behind me, shouting and waving as they stagger down the shingle.
Jumping up to hug them both, I admire Pearl’s new dress (short and bright pink), and Victoria’s new bag (bright orange), before conversation turns to more important issues.
“You will never guess what Pearl’s just been given!” Victoria crows excitedly.
“A Lambretta! It’s pale blue and utterly gorgeous, but more importantly, it means I can nip around the town between shifts without all that bloody walking.” Pearl is beaming.
“What she really means is now she can get out to Hove to meet Jeremy, without walking miles and getting all sweaty on the bus,” Victoria says, grinning at her friend.
“Jeremy?” I query. Pearl changes her boyfriends on a regular basis, so I’m slightly behind on her love life.
“Oh, he’s a student. Quite good-looking, if you like the dark and dangerous thing.” Pearl is fairly dismissive, almost disdainful. Clearly this man is not going to last any longer than the others. “The Lambretta came from Mum. Honestly, would you ever believe it?”
“Wow! She just gave it to you? I thought you had to pass your end of year exams to get one?” My Aunt Jackie, Pearl’s mum, is not the kind of woman to just give out presents.
“Dad sold this really expensive car for his boss, and got a bonus. I think he talked her into letting me have the Lambretta, to be honest — he’s such an old darling.”
“I’m so jealous. I’ll just have to find myself a rich husband,” sighs Victoria, running a hand over her smooth, gleaming hair. “Or maybe I should join a band.”
“No chance with your singing voice, sweetie. Anyway, Rubes, what’s your news? Any more on our little lost girl from the beach?” Pearl asks, lighting a cigarette as she settles more comfortably onto the beach. Her fiery red hair just misses clashing with the pink dress, and shows off her creamy skin. Pearl’s always been beautiful, and as a child I remember wanting so much to have long red curls and freckles just like my glamorous cousin.
“Nothing. Nobody seems to know where she came from or who she is.”
“Shame. I wish we could do something but I really can’t see what.” Pearl starts to plait her hair, ready for our swim. “How’s Mary? I hope Summer is getting better at sleeping?”
“Sort of. She’s been going through until about two, and then waking for a feed. All the screaming in the early evening does seem to be stopping, thank God. She is the sweetest baby most of the time.”
“And how’s Mary coping?” As usual, Victoria’s long blonde hair is caught up in an immaculate shiny ponytail, and her long legs are showcased by a pretty sky-blue summer dress. “I know it's hard on new mums, and no offence, but she looked really awful when I saw her the night of Beth’s party. She’s lost loads of weight, too. Is she still trying to breastfeed?”
I nod, picking up a few pebbles and chucking them one by one towards the sea. “Summer does take the bottle well, though, and I know the midwife said it was better for her, but I think Mary likes it. She’s a great mum, and I think if Summer could sleep through a bit longer she’d feel a lot better.”
I’m wondering whether to mention Beverly Collins, or if I should wait until Mary is with us too, when I’m distracted by noise higher up on the beach.
“You lot not in the sea yet?” Kenny yells from somewhere behind us.
Victoria rolls her eyes. “So impatient.” But she starts to unbutton her dress, revealing a lime green bikini. “I must say, I’m desperate for a swim. I’ve been on nights and this is my first day off in ages. Before that I was doing those horrible shifts where you do a morning, then break and do a night. Matron is pretty grumpy at the moment too, and all she talks about is passing our exams. Apparently the female wards are too crowded, and she needs more trainees. Must be why she’s working us like galley slaves . . .”
“You’re lucky, because she likes you. She nearly killed me the other day because my dress was too short, and then she made me sterilize all the syringes over again because she said I hadn’t done it properly.”
“You did turn up the hem on your dress,” Victoria points out, fiddling with the ties on her bikini.
“Only a little bit!”
The rest of us undress and plunge happily into the sea and the boys are not far behind. James has brought a ball and we start a rough game of water polo, boys against girls. Kenny yells as Pearl ducks him under just as he's about to score a goal, and in retaliation James steals the ball and takes it round behind the pier struts.
I’m laughing so much I can hardly keep afloat. The water is icy cold on my bare limbs, but the sun is still hot on my head. Mary and I have been so involved in caring for the baby, I’d almost forgotten how much fun it is to have an evening out.
After a while, the polo game ceases, and we wade out panting, flopping down onto our towels. Victoria starts to complain about the state of her hair, but Pearl is staring at the pier. “Look, isn’t that Ted? Under the pier near that pile of wooden crates . . .”
We all turn westwards and squint at the wooden struts. Ted used to come out with us all the time, until a few months ago when he was accused of murder. The evidence against him was pretty conclusive, but it turned out to be a case of ‘wrong place at the wrong time’. He disappeared and we heard he had gone to work up north. It was partly my fault that we uncovered evidence against him, so I feel an uncomfortable thud of guilt whenever his name is mentioned.
“It is Ted. I’m going to see him,” Pearl says determinedly, yanking on her dress and running barefoot towards the figure.
James reaches into a bag, takes out a bottle of beer and waves it at us. “We brought some drinks so feel free to dig in — even warm alcohol is better than nothing. Oh, has Victoria told you about her new hobby yet, Rubes?”
Slightly uneasy, I turn to face her. “No. What is it?” Victoria’s last hobby was Tarot cards and that really didn’t turn out well for any of us, so I’m hoping that this one might be something t
hat doesn’t involve death — like knitting, maybe.
Victoria rummages in her bag and produces a black boxy camera in a leather case. “Photography! In fact, thanks for reminding me, Ken, I want to get a few photographs now.”
James and Kenny groan, but I beam at her, relieved. “I think that’s a great hobby! In fact I’d love to have a go sometime if you don’t mind.”
“Of course you can. I’m doing an evening class on my days off, so I can learn everything properly — though Matron would have a fit if she knew I wasn’t spending all my spare time studying.” Victoria steps back, tilting the camera, ordering us to sit closer together, and telling Kenny off for pulling silly faces.
Letting the cooling sea breezes dry my body, I tilt a bottle to my lips, careful to obey Victoria’s various commands. I see that Pearl has reached Ted and is pointing at us, clearly trying to get him over here. There aren’t many people who can resist my cousin when she’s in one of her determined moods, so I’m not surprised when the pair eventually wander back towards our little group.
“Have you seen Ted since, you know, since everything happened?” I ask the boys and they shake their heads.
“No. I never said anything about him starting the fire at my flat. It was only on that bastard Leon’s say-so anyway. Now he’s dead there seemed no harm in adding the fire to his list of crimes. Whatever the police suspected they never followed it through. Besides, Ted’s been punished enough by losing Linda, poor chap,” Kenny says.
Ted’s blonde hair is shoulder length, and he has a face full of stubble, but he greets us all cheerfully enough, if a bit warily. “I just got back from working on a building site in Plymouth. It was only a casual contract, and I’m just passing through . . .”
His cheeky round face and slightly high-pitched voice are the same, but there is a hardness that wasn’t there before. His blue eyes are shadowed and there are lines around his mouth and etched across his forehead.
I smile at him. “It’s good to see you, Ted. I never got a chance to say, but I’m really sorry about what happened. Mary will be really upset she missed you. Maybe you could drop around and see the baby sometime?”
He smiles then, properly, and a tiny bit of the old Ted returns. “I’d love to. Does she look like Mary?”
“Yes. She has this little turned up nose and the sweetest smile,” I tell him.
“Here, have a beer and sit with us for a bit,” Victoria orders him. Like Pearl, she generally gets what she wants, so Ted sits gingerly down on the shingle, right on the edge of our little group.
“I saw your story in the papers about that girl. Did they find out where she came from?” he asks.
James shakes his head. “Nothing. She’s a real little mystery, and as she still won’t, or can’t, speak, I don’t see how the police can get any further.”
“Sad,” Ted says, lighting a cigarette and staring out to sea.
The sun sinks lower, and the temperature drops, but we stay sprawled on the warm beach, chatting, drinking, and idly watching the world go by.
I take a deep breath during a pause in conversation. “So I should probably say before you find out from someone else . . . I’ve decided to help Beverly Collins find her missing daughter.” I stare round at my friends, registering the various emotions flickering across their faces. Of course Kenny and James already know, but it’s clearly a shock for the others.
“Hang on, isn’t she the woman who killed her daughter? Rubes, what are you up to now?” Pearl takes a quick swig of beer and sets the bottle down on the pebbles with a crunch.
I explain quickly, and Kenny chips in with the background. “You see, if there is a chance she was set up, I want to find out where her daughter is now. It is a bit weird, don’t you think? All those neighbours suddenly turning against her, and there was never a body . . .”
Victoria is frowning, green eyes narrowed. “What if her daughter is dead? More to the point, what if she actually did it?”
I shrug, playing it down a little. “I didn’t promise her anything other than I would try and ask some questions, maybe see if anyone remembers anything. She lived on the White Oak estate, so it isn’t far to go for investigations.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Ted says suddenly, his round face animated. He leans closer, picks up another bottle of beer. “If you need any help, Ruby, I don’t mind asking a few questions. My parents lived on the White Oak estate for years, and although my dad’s dead now, I bet Mum would remember something.”
I beam at him. “Thanks, Ted. That would be great. If you find anything out can you ring me at the salon please? Or I’ll see you when you come and visit Summer?”
Pearl is staring at me, her pale blue eyes calculating. “I thought you were starting at night school soon? Didn’t Johnnie say you need to get your City and Guilds to be a proper hairdressing trainee?”
Sometimes, Pearl is more like my mum than my mum is. “I know, and I know Mary and I are exhausted at the moment, but it will pass . . . I’m hardly going to turn full time detective.”
She laughs suddenly and shakes her head. “Mad, that’s what you are, Ruby Baker! Just try not to put yourself in any danger this time.”
We chat back and forth a bit more, until even my cousin is pretty enthusiastic about investigating Ella Collins’ disappearance. Victoria remains neutral, and adds that she reckons Beverly did actually kill her daughter, and if I prove otherwise she’ll pay for a night out. Eventually I drag my watch out of my bag and reluctantly start to think about going home.
“We’re going up to the Milk Bar now if you fancy a quick drink?” Victoria says, yawning and dragging on her dress.
Pearl and Kenny try hard to persuade me, but I’m thinking about Mary stuck on her own in our little bedsit. “I’d love to, but I really should get back. If we get a bad night again . . .” I’m also thinking of the evenings when Summer has screamed solidly for three or four hours before going to sleep, and how Mary gets increasingly worried before dissolving into tears herself. Perhaps the gripe water Eve so kindly brought will help a bit.
“Up to you, sweetheart, but make sure you ring me tomorrow and come out to play at the weekend.” Pearl kisses me, and I smile at her gratefully.
“And I’d like to come and see the baby if you’re sure, Ruby,” Ted says shyly. “Shall I come over one afternoon?”
Fully dressed now, we start to crunch slowly up the beach, before parting by the pier. Waving at the others I walk quickly back along the promenade to Ship Street. There is a crowd of kids holding balloons on the corner, and the odd car rumbles past, but the day-trippers have all gone home. The roar of motorbikes makes me turn, and a crowd of Rockers, leather and chrome gleaming in the sunset, drive down the road in a blast of exhaust fumes. The girls are riding on the back, crouched behind their boyfriends, long legs curled up away from the machinery.
Ship Street is quiet now apart from a tall man striding down towards the sea on my side of the road. His dark hair is blowing in the warm breeze, and his face is lit by the last flickering rays of sun. I carry on up the hill, until we’re level, and he moves politely to the side to let me pass. But as I do his hand reaches out and catches mine, pulling me into a side street. The shadows make me blink in a moment of blindness, but of course I know who he is, and I persuade myself that my heart isn’t racing with fear.
This is the man who followed me from Croydon; who frightened me, threatened me, and ultimately saved my life. This is the man who watched the first time I committed murder, and helped me the second time.
Chapter Eight
“You need to stop doing that! Anyone could have seen, and they would have thought I was in trouble,” I tell him sternly.
Will's eyes are amber in the half-light, and his grin makes him look younger than his twenty-six years. His bony, angular face, with its dusting of dark stubble, has become familiar in the last few months. “You're always in trouble and probably always will be, Ruby Baker,” he says, still laughing at m
e.
“Are you back working at the fish market this week?” Although Will is always friendly now, I can’t help but feel a bit jumpy around him. He still follows me around, and just appears out of nowhere, which is a bit creepy. Plus, he’s really intense.
He nods, and drags a battered packet of cigarettes out of the pocket of his navy donkey jacket. “I’ve got another five weeks on that contract, then I’m joining as crew on a fishing boat for a couple of months.” We light up, and lean back against the cobbled wall of the little alleyway. Nobody disturbs us, hidden in the darkness, but the last slash of red from the dying sun fills the road to our left with what looks like a river of blood.
“I’ve got some news,” I tell him, slightly nervously. I really hope he’s going to go with me on this because I need all the help I can get. “Did you hear about Beverly Collins? Everyone said she killed her daughter and now she’s back in Brighton . . .”
He nods again, blowing out smoke. “Poor cow. She was in Holloway, wasn’t she? I read about it in the papers. What’s she doing back here then? People won’t forgive and forget easily, even the ones who think she is innocent.”
“She came into the salon yesterday and asked me to find her daughter.”
“Bloody hell’s teeth, Rubes! Why you?”
“Because of the whole Leon thing earlier this year. You know, and Ruby Baker’s Investigation Bureau.”
Silence. I try to see his face in the shadows, but his head is turned away. “I’m going to try and help her, Will. I believe she is innocent and I want her to find her daughter.”
“And if the daughter is dead? I’m sure you’ve already thought of it, but I don’t suppose her daughter is that kid you pulled off the beach the other day?”
“No, that would have just worked out too well. We still don’t know who she is or where she came from. I don’t know much about Beverly, but I know she isn’t stupid. It must have occurred to her that her daughter could be dead.”
There is a silence, then Will chucks his cigarette into the gutter, rubs his hands on his jacket, and pulls out his wallet. “Here, I got an extra tip this morning . . .”
