Ruby's War

by Johanna Winard

  A fountain of stars followed the balls of light. Ruby’s feet hurt in the ill-fitting shoes; she would have loved to have sat alone in the silent, dark hall and cooled her feet on the red tiles.

  When the meal was over, she played again and Mr Watts served coffee and drinks. Mr Prendergast, Doctor Grey and the two American captains sat in the easy chairs near the piano.

  ‘Ike’s policy is segregated but equal treatment,’ Captain Leary was explaining.

  ‘It can’t be that equal,’ Doctor Grey said, opening his tobacco pouch and offering it to Captain Leary who shook his head. ‘Prendergast tells me our hospitals have been told they must have separate lavatories, if not separate wards, for black and white troops.’

  ‘It’s what our men expect, sir,’ Captain O’Donal said.

  ‘And a separate blood bank,’ Mr Prendergast added. ‘Cleanliness, I suppose. Can’t expect these chaps to be clean.’

  Doctor Grey scraped out his pipe bowl and emptied the contents in the shell ashtray. ‘What nonsense you do talk, Prendergast,’ he said, tamping the tobacco in the pipe bowl. ‘It’s simple prejudice and nothing more.’

  ‘I don’t think the army would go to the trouble, if it was just that. The black man, I believe, is a simpler, less sophisticated sort of chap.’

  ‘A history lesson for you, Prendergast. Captain O’Donal should know this one,’ Doctor Grey said, lighting his pipe and raising a quizzical eyebrow towards his guest. ‘A countryman of yours. A pioneer who developed blood plasma banks. Do you know who?’

  Captain O’Donal lit his cigarette and smiled nervously. ‘I’m afraid I don’t …’

  ‘Charles R. Drew is the chap’s name, Captain. Charles R. Drew, a black man.’

  Ruby looked over at Mrs Grey and was relieved to see she and her brother were busily organising a game of cards. Later, when the guests were all involved in the game, Mrs Grey signalled with a nod in her direction that she could go. The darkened hall smelt of smoke, and the dining room was empty. It was late, she felt sleepy and hoped that Alice and Dick would have done the washing-up. When she opened the kitchen door, her granddad was sitting with Mr and Mrs Watts at the table.

  ‘Here’s Ruby now, Henry,’ Mrs Watts said, getting up from the table. ‘Off you go with your grandpa, love. Here you are, Henry,’ she said, taking a small parcel from the draining board, ‘just a bit of something for Maud and poor Joe.’

  Granddad, who was dunking an oat biscuit in his tea, looked up and smiled. ‘That’s kind of you, Alice,’ he said. ‘Very kind.’

  Outside the air was damp. On the drive, the leaves stuck to her shoes, and Ruby pushed her hands deep inside her pockets. As they reached the gate, Granddad tapped the parcel under his coat.

  ‘We’ll put this on Maud’s doorstep on our way home,’ he said. ‘No need to mention it to Jenny, though.’

  ‘Did you come to see Doctor Grey, or Mr Watts?’ she asked.

  ‘No, Ruby, love, I came to pick you up. I’ve been for a drink with Johnny.’

  Ruby put up her collar, as Diana Grey might do, and imagined that her old mac was the cream coat she’d seen hanging on the stand in the hall. Then she slipped on the scarf to protect her new hairdo.

  ‘You don’t need to do that,’ she said, taking his arm. ‘I have a torch now. I bought it with my wages.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘Ruby, you’ll have to come in with me,’ Sadie said, consulting the list she’d written on the back of a paper bag, ‘and then Frank’s brother can have your room.’

  ‘He might not want to come here. He might feel shy with us.’

  ‘Oh, he’ll be all right. Arthur’s fourteen. Frank’s mum and dad are staying at Lou’s; his sister and her husband and two kids are with Lou’s auntie on Mercer Road; Charlie is across the road in Jack’s room; Frank will be in the pub with Johnny.’

  ‘It should be Charlie, as best man, doing all this organising,’ Jenny said. ‘And move all them papers off that table. Ruby, why have you put that tablecloth on? Get it off now. I’ve this hot pie in my hand.’

  ‘We always have a cloth on the table at Mrs Grey’s.’

  ‘Well you’re not there now. It’s just making washing. And she wouldn’t have a cloth on if she was havin’ to wash and dry the bloody things herself. Hurry up. This pie’s hot,’ she said, as Ruby grabbed the tablecloth, and Granddad spread out the newspaper. ‘Now off you go and get the plates. I don’t know what she’s been doing,’ Jenny said, when Ruby had disappeared into the kitchen. ‘I’ve been at work, and she’s been here all day and hasn’t even set the table.’

  Sadie got up, took the knives and forks from the table drawer and began setting places on the table. ‘She was helping me and she’s done the washing and made the tea,’ she said, nodding towards the rabbit pie now sitting in the centre of the table, topped with a pastry crust that was decorated with a circle of pastry leaves. ‘There’s a lot to do before the weekend. Charlie’s in Liverpool, so there’s things he can’t do, and I am maid of honour.’

  ‘Ah, that looks good,’ Granddad said, as Jenny began to serve. ‘It’s one of my favourites.’

  For a while they ate in silence; the rabbit meat inside the large earthenware dish was little more than flavouring to the potatoes and dried peas, but on a cold November night, the pie was warm and filling.

  ‘Charlie’s only coming up the night before. He’s seeing his brother off. He’s in the Royal Navy. He’s just joined up, and their dad’s not best pleased, them all being in the Merchant. Lou and Frank have sorted most of it out. It’s the flowers that’s the problem.’

  ‘Well if you will go and get married in the middle of November,’ Jenny grumbled.

  ‘There’s the buttonholes and the table to decorate, as well as the altar and the bouquets, and it’s too early for Christmas decorations.’

  ‘Alice uses dried flowers and leaves with berries,’ Ruby said. ‘Mrs Grey said they were charming.’

  ‘Did she now?’ Sadie said, eating the last piece of rabbit meat from her plate. ‘Charming.’

  ‘She has them in the hall.’

  ‘Oh, well that’s all right, then.’

  ‘It’s bloody easier than trying to make silk ones,’ Jenny said.

  ‘Auntie Maud’s got some. White and pink silk roses. They’re under a glass globe thing on her dresser. I saw them last … week …’

  Jenny, who had been scraping up the remaining gravy from her plate with a lump of bread, looked up and glared.

  ‘And when did you see her last week?’

  The piece of pastry in Ruby’s mouth dried, and Granddad got up from the table.

  ‘I’ll just go and cover that motorbike up. Young Michael’s taken a real fancy to it,’ he said. ‘Got most of that rust off. Don’t want it getting damp. Might as well check on the hens as well.’

  ‘Have you two girls left that washing out?’ Jenny snapped, as Granddad scuttled out. ‘If you’ve finished your tea, be quick and bring it in. It’s never going to dry.’

  It was so cold in the yard that the shirts on the washing line had frozen. The arms were twisted up as though pleading for help, and in the twilight they looked almost human. Ruby took one down and stood it on the cobbled yard.

  ‘Now’s your chance to get yourself a fella, Ruby,’ Sadie laughed. ‘Get yourself a partner,’ she said, dropping the washing basket on the ground. ‘Which one do you fancy?’

  ‘I don’t want to leave anybody out,’ Ruby said, shaking the line so that the stiff limbs twitched and jerked. ‘Look, now they’re all having a dance.’

  On his way back down the garden, Henry caught sight of the icy jig in the light from the kitchen door and dropped the white enamel bucket he was carrying.

  ‘What the hell are you doing? It’s after blackout and you can see that bloody light for miles. Stop buggering about the pair of you and get inside,’ he shouted, snatching up the bucket and slamming the kitchen door behind him.

  ‘Grumpy old sod,’ Sadie snig
gered. ‘Come on, Ruby, let’s get this lot inside and have a brew.’

  Granddad was sitting by the fire, and Ruby noticed that his hands were shaking. She sat on the seat of the kindling box to get a better look. He wasn’t coughing as he sometimes did, but as he stared into the fire, his face was ash pale. Jenny didn’t look up, but switched on the radio and took out her knitting, resting her puffy feet up on the brass fender. They drank the tea Sadie had poured for each of them, and by the time they’d cleared the table, he was dozing in the chair.

  ‘You’ve a long face,’ Sadie said, as they began the washing-up. ‘What’s the matter? Henry can be a grumpy old bugger sometimes, take no notice. And Mum’s just tired. She’d forgotten how hard it is in the factory. She’ll get used to it. Give her a couple of weeks.’

  ‘I think he’s mad with me. He told me not to mention us going to see Maud and I forgot. If she asks, I’ll say I went on my own. Or I can say I saw her in the street and she asked me to go on an errand. Alice Watts gave us food for them – Maud and Joe. The first time we left it on the step, but the next time, we knocked at the door … and he said not to tell and …’

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sake, you just let it slip. It’s his fault. He should have just told her. Here, give me a lift hanging up these shirts. Lou will be here in a minute.’

  ‘Why doesn’t she like him going to see Maud and Joe?’

  ‘It’s a long tale. Maud, well she’s his sister, and when Mum … Well, you can’t have two women in the same house.’

  ‘Did Maud live here?’

  ‘No, he lived there. After your dad left home, he gave up the cottage and moved in with Maud. It suited them both at the time. This place belongs to Mr Bardley, like the other cottages do. All the furniture belongs to him as well, except the cooker. Mum insisted on them getting that before she moved in. He’d still kept the garden on. The couple who rented it after him were old and didn’t want the trouble.’

  ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘Well he was courting Mum, and when he found out it was up for rent, he asked Mum and me to move back in here with him. You see, the wife had died and the old chap couldn’t manage on his own. He went to the Little Sisters, I think. When she found out, Maud wasn’t too happy. Mum wasn’t that keen on moving in here either, but she’d not much choice. Hang on, I can hear him.’ When he opened the kitchen door, Henry’s sparse hair was rumpled and he was yawning, but the colour had returned to his face.

  ‘Oh, I’m glad you’ve got them clothes put up to dry,’ he said, smoothing down his limp shirtsleeves. ‘Lou and Frank have just arrived.’

  By the time Ruby had dried her hands on the tea cloth and followed Sadie into the living room, Lou was standing by the open front door.

  ‘Frank wants to know if you want to go with him for a pint, Mr Barton,’ she called. ‘He’s by the gate. He says you’ll want to escape from all this talk of weddings like he does.’

  ‘No thanks, love. Tell him thanks all the same. I’ve had a bit of a shock,’ Henry said, going back to his seat and folding up his newspaper.

  ‘A shock?’ Jenny asked. ‘Who’s given you a shock?’

  ‘These two daft buggers,’ he said. ‘Messing about in the yard. In that light … I thought for a moment … They was jiggin’ an’ twistin’. They looked … It took me by surprise, that’s all. Hang on, love. I’ll just have a word with Frank before he goes.’

  ‘If you’re not going out, you stay in here in the warm,’ Lou said. ‘I’m walking Frank to the end of the lane. I’ll tell him you’re a bit off colour.’

  ‘Messing about they were. I thought … Supposed to be a blackout as well. Next thing, the ARP warden will be round. I’m going off to bed out of the way.’

  ‘Ruby, take that newspaper off the table,’ Jenny hissed, ‘and then take your granddad a drop of brandy.’

  When Lou reappeared, Sadie had taken her paper bag lists out of the table drawer and was smoothing them out on the red velvet cloth.

  ‘A couple of the girls at work have promised tins of salmon,’ Lou said, sitting next to her. ‘We’ve got some bottled fruit from Auntie Eileen towards the trifle, and Mum’s made the fruit cake. It’s not big, but she’s hiring a cardboard one from the confectioner’s for show. She wanted me to have a sponge, but I want a fruit cake, and we’ve managed to save enough dried fruit and eggs from our rations.’

  ‘How is he?’ Jenny asked, when Ruby came back downstairs.

  ‘He says he’s staying up there now. He’s not coming down and not to wake him at supper time.’

  ‘That’s so he doesn’t have to explain himself.’

  ‘Here’s the parachute silk my mum’s dyed,’ Lou said, pulling a parcel out of her basket. ‘I’ve kept some for my trousseau, but that should be enough for a blouse for you, Sadie.’

  ‘That’s enough. Look, Ma. That’s plenty, and it’s come up nice.’

  ‘There’s that much to buy. The trouble is, my mother’s a widow. She’s not much money, and you don’t get any extra coupons for weddings.’

  ‘We’ll have to see what else people can let us have,’ Sadie said. ‘Let’s compare lists of who we’ve asked. We don’t want to ask the same folk.’

  Ruby sat by the fire making roses from scraps of silk, and Sadie and Lou went on talking of nothing but food and weddings until it was bedtime.

  Con was also tired of the wedding, but for a different reason: Bo. Bo had taken the invitation to sing very seriously. It was true that he could sing, but not half so well as Wes, who was his tutor. The problem hadn’t been helped by Sadie and Lou, who’d changed their minds about the sort of song they should sing. First, Sadie said they should sing ‘Old Man River’, and then Lou decided it should be ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot’. Now, just days before the wedding, Lou’s mother wanted a hymn that everyone could sing instead. He could hear them now trying out ‘The Lord Is My Shepherd’, but from what he could hear, it didn’t suit Bo’s voice.

  ‘Reckon you’d best let Wes sing it on his own, Bo. Or else get some of the other guys to help out.’

  Bo threw himself on his bed. ‘Like you? You gonna sing?’

  ‘I didn’t say I could sing.’

  ‘You can’t sing an’ you’re not much of a soldier either. You almost crapped yourself when that MP went for Holt. If I was him, I’d not want a little boy like you watching my back.’

  ‘What would you have done?’

  ‘I’d—’

  ‘Come on, guys. We got this to do. Come on, Bo. You can do it. It’s not hard, and Con, you go and find yourself some place …’

  ‘I’m going,’ he said, getting up from his bed and heading for the door.

  ‘Bo, lay off.’

  ‘Me?’

  Wes looked nervously at the older man. ‘You promised to sing. You told her you could,’ he smiled. ‘So let’s get on. Con’s right. We’d best sing together.’

  ‘I didn’t know she’d …’

  ‘What?’ Wes grinned, sensing that Bo was calming down. ‘Take you up on your offer? Look, it’s going to be okay. We’ll sing together. Your voice is fine. It’s just you can’t stay in tune. But I’ll be there. You can follow me, like we’re doin’ now. Then after the first verse, the rest of them will be singing. Con did the right thing at Henry’s. We all did. You weren’t there. There was nothin’ you could have done. Those guys were spoilin’ to shoot someone.’

  Before Bo could answer, the door opened. A black sergeant they hadn’t seen before walked in. Both men stood to attention.

  ‘Stand easy, guys,’ he said. ‘Captain will be introducing me to you men later. I’m doing an unofficial tour around on my own. I’m Sergeant Mayfield.’

  The new sergeant was a small, muscular man in his late twenties. When they had introduced themselves, he sat down and smiled.

  ‘Like I say, this is unofficial. Rumour is, you guys would be the ones to ask about an incident with an MP.’

  ‘The singing …? The singing incident?’ Bo asked.r />
  ‘No. It was a gun. The MP pulled a gun? The word is it wasn’t reported. You report it, soldier?’

  ‘The … well, even the black sergeants want a quiet life,’ Wes said. ‘So there’s no good reporting it here, Sarge.’

  ‘Well, I don’t agree with you there. Intrusion into local customs is what I’d call it. Army don’t want to offend the Limeys, and no English policeman would carry a gun. You’re helping them by keepin’ the whole thing covered up. Is that what you want?’

  ‘No. The locals weren’t happy and they—’

  ‘I know you’re right, some of our own folk only want a quiet life. I’m not one of them. You guys watch yourselves, but I want you to know I’m on your side. I hear you have organised some meetings. I’d like to attend, if that’s okay. By the way,’ Sergeant Mayfield smiled. ‘Did I hear you singing? Army likes nice, happy singing black guys. You think about that?’

  ‘We’re singing at a wedding of a friend,’ Bo said. ‘A girl we met; it’s at her friend’s wedding, and her folks … Well, we get on real well with them. They’re like us. They made us feel welcome.’

  ‘The English don’t have segregation, but it don’t mean they aren’t prejudiced. The other thing we need to do is get something going here for the guys. There’s a bad feeling to this place. I want some ideas. Education, sports … baseball, maybe. Or basketball,’ he said, smiling up at Wes. ‘You got the build, son. You play?’

  ‘I played in high school.’

  ‘It’s up to us to show them there’s no difference, black or white,’ Bo said.

  ‘Let’s hope we get the chance, soldier. What we really want is to change the way things are back home. After this war, we need to make sure that the black man should be respected in his own country.’

  On Wednesday the long spell of sharp autumn days came to an end, and for the rest of the week the kitchen, scullery and living room were full of damp clothes. Mrs Grey had a chill and she’d cancelled the afternoon fundraising tea. None of the GIs called, and the evenings were filled with Jenny and Granddad snoring and the clatter of the sewing machine in Sadie’s room.