by Carol Rivers
‘Mind if I use the john, Mrs P?’ Bernie asked, suddenly standing up. ‘All this rosie is doing me bladder in.’
Mrs P looked up at him. ‘Course, love. And on your way tell Pete it’s teatime. He’ll be in his room, playing his music.’
Bernie glanced at his sister. She gave him an imperceptible shrug.
‘Yeah, course.’ He made his escape, closing the frontroom door softly behind him. He could hear Kath’s voice, then Mrs P’s. He thought how he’d soon be round the bend too, if he was here much longer.
He fished for his fags in his pocket. Soon he was gulping back smoke, enjoying the nicotine kick. He’d given up so many times, like Kath had. Penny didn’t smoke, insisting it was a killer for the dancing. Now he was even more self-conscious of the habit. Especially round Ruby.
Bernie paced the small hall, thinking of her and trying not to. He’d got a right old headache when he’d seen the way that character had slobbered over her!
Bernie closed his eyes, trying to dismiss the picture of Ruby in the smarmy geezer’s arms. He’d seen them in the driving mirror. Standing on the pavement all over each other. What did she see in the charmer? What did Nick bloody Brandon have that he didn’t have? The spiel, that was it. The money and the motor. Bernie had to admit the Buick was some runner – even he wouldn’t disagree with that.
Just as Bernie was about to turn round, his gaze caught Pete’s door. It was open a couple of inches. Inside he could see the wardrobe. He walked slowly towards it.
Nothing had changed in this room. Like Ruby had told him, it was kept as a shrine. There was a stillness here, as though the room was waiting. But waiting for who? Pete?
Bernie shivered. He shouldn’t be in here. Mrs P would have forty fits if she knew. But he stood his ground all the same, looking round, inhaling the mouldy, blistering walls, the cold light of day spilling onto the bed. Pete’s bed. Where he died. Where Ruby found him. Poor cow.
Bernie sighed again, his gaze taking in the last earthly memories Pete would have had. He’d come home for the weekend, was in good spirits as far as everyone knew. Taken his mum out shopping in the car. Walked Ruby to Island Gardens and gone out for a pint with yours truly. He’d been the usual Pete, a bit more flash than usual, perhaps. Boasting a deal was going down with a right result in the offing. They’d parted on good terms, no questions asked. Bernie had learned to keep his curiosity to himself. He knew Pete liked a bit of brag and why not? His mate was doing well for himself by all accounts.
Then, a day later, Pete was no more. He’d tipped a bottle of pills down his throat together with a bottle of booze. So what had happened in those twenty-four hours to change the course of his life?
Even now, Bernie shook his head. He was mystified. Glancing distractedly at the wardrobe he remembered Ruby had said she found the diary there. Had she put it back again? He went over, looked warily around, before opening the door. He went on his haunches, shuffled Pete’s shoes and saw the catch. He lifted it. Nothing there. Ruby must still have the diary. He replaced the shoes and closed the wardrobe.
Then it hit him, like a brick. Pete was hiding his secrets. In his diary. Why else keep one? Why hide it? The clues to his death had to be there. The diary wasn’t just some old bit of tat. It was Pete’s legacy.
Bernie straightened up. His heart was beating fast. Who the hell was Joanie? She was on every page. She was the one person who knew the most about Pete. The real Pete. The joker Pete, the boaster, the clever bugger. Joanie knew the face under the mask. Past Pete’s schmooze and all his verbal.
Bernie studied the picture on the wall. The one beside the wardrobe. The dog in the top hat. Another nod to Pete’s worship of old Winnie. If you’re going through hell, keep going.
So what was Pete’s own private hell?
The picture was lopsided and Bernie reached out to square it. Funny, he didn’t even like touching it. The frame was good quality but dust-coated. The glass was smudged. Odd that, as according to Ruby, Mrs P liked his room kept spotless.
Then suddenly the picture seemed to fly from its hook. ‘You clumsy bugger!’ he muttered to himself, reaching down to retrieve it. ‘Thank Christ the glass isn’t broken.’
Slowly, he turned it over.
He read, then reread the handwritten lines on the back. For Pete, my love, my world. Forever yours, J. 1951.
And underneath, a label.
Cuthbertson Studio. Fine Prints and Photography.
Ruby didn’t want to open her eyes, just in case she woke up in her own bed. Had she dreamed the incredible night of lovemaking? She had never really believed she would find herself back in Nick’s arms again. Often, she’d tricked herself into believing that fate would reunite them. Reason enough to propel her through the daylight hours spent caring for her mum, and the dark ones, spent alone. But now it had really happened.
In the dim light, Nick pulled her gently towards him, kissing her eyes, nose and finally her mouth. His hands travelled down to her hips, moving her into the shape of his strong body. She murmured in delight. ‘I’ve wanted this for so long.’
‘So have I.’
‘What did Anna tell you?’ She had said it before she could stop herself. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to know.’
‘I’d rather we forgot Anna.’
‘Yes, but did she tell you about Mr Steadman?’ Ruby pressed.
Nick released his hold on her, then, turning on the bedside light, he searched for his cigarettes. ‘Young lady, you have just effectively put an end to my romancing. Here, take this.’ He held out a Gauloise.
Ruby sat up beside him, covering her naked breasts with the sheet. Obediently she put the cigarette to her lips. A few splutters later, they were both laughing.
‘You’ll never make a smoker.’ Nick slid his arm around her.
‘No, but I tried.’
‘You’re like a little princess, with no vices at all.’
She snuggled against him. ‘My biggest vice is being crazy about you.’
‘So you’d call that a vice?’ He ground the cigarette out in the ashtray.
‘Course not. But I keep worrying I’ll never see you again. Or that Anna, like the wicked witch, will cast a spell on us somehow.’
‘She’ll never do that.’ He ran his fingers up and down her arm, making her shiver. Then, playing with her hair, he said in a subdued tone, ‘Hey, you’re safe here with me now.’
‘She played a cruel trick,’ Ruby insisted. ‘Mr Steadman wanted me to wear a belly-dancing costume.’ Ruby looked up at him, at the square shape of his jaw and the smile he was trying to hide. ‘It’s not funny, Nick.’
‘No, but knowing you, I can imagine your reply.’
‘I threatened to go to the newspapers. I thought that would give him a fright.’
‘I’m sure it did.’ He clasped her chin in his fingers. ‘Nothing surprises me where Anna’s concerned. Sorry, little princess, but I did try to warn you.’
To her shame, Ruby knew she had walked into Anna’s trap with her eyes wide open. ‘I can see how she earned her reputation.’
‘I’m glad that’s evident now. I hope you’ll never get involved with Anna again.’
Ruby sighed heavily. ‘I must admit I miss modelling.’
He pulled her into his arms. ‘Most women are content to find a husband, get married, have babies. They don’t think about careers.’
Ruby leaned her head on his shoulder. ‘I like me fashions and wearing nice clothes. Modelling wasn’t like work really. It was doing what I love best. After all, not many girls get the chance to wear the latest styles.’ She sighed heavily. ‘But I suppose that’s all in the past now. I might even have to go back to Larry’s.’
Nick was silent for a moment, his brow pleated. ‘I don’t think there’s any call for that.’
Ruby frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve just taken on a new warehouse at Chalk Wharf.’
‘Chalk Wharf?’ Ruby repeated. ‘But that’s near the Mal
lard Road Estate.’
‘Yes, your turf, my sweet.’
‘What are you going to sell in this warehouse?’
‘Some very expensive things.’ He threaded his fingers through hers and looked into her eyes. ‘How would you like to work for me? I’ll match Anna’s wages and I think I can add some interesting value to the offer.’
Intrigued, Ruby smiled. ‘Is this another one of your teases?’
‘When it comes to business, I’m always serious. The first rule of the game is never to make an offer you can’t back up.’
‘But I don’t know anything about selling stuff,’ Ruby said with a giggle. ‘I’d be hopeless.’
‘You sold expensive fashions to wealthy people. Besides which, you have the personality, intelligence, charm and good looks to sell anything you so desire.’
He was actually convincing her she could. ‘But what about Mum?’
‘I’ll hire this Maggs on a permanent basis.’
‘Would you?’
‘Why not?’ He smiled, the dimple in his chin deepening. ‘You can repay me in kind,’ he whispered as he began to make love to her.
‘Just a short way now,’ Nick said as they drove through the East India Dock Road towards Chalk Wharf.
Ruby stared out of the Buick window, at the busy roads that were so familiar to her, taking the horse-drawn vehicles and many lorries to and from the docks. Before Nick took her home they were going to the warehouse; he had assured her that what she saw there would convince her to make the changes in her life that would lead to her dreams coming true.
But as the Buick sped them through the dock gates and slowly along the wharfs, she hated what she saw. These very docklands were what she had tried to escape. Mucky, noisy lorries oozing clouds of filth, gangs of stevedores, porters and casuals yelling out in their coarse language, turbaned factory workers milling around the small yards and even those dock dollies with their painted faces brave enough to show up in daylight hours. Cranes, barges, boats and ships thronged the port, causing a non-stop whirlwind of dirt, dust, noise and unpleasant odours. The industrial docklands were a far cry from Dower Street and the glamorous West End.
Ruby’s new-found enthusiasm began to ebb away. She loved buying things, not selling them. Modelling hadn’t been selling to her. If she was honest, walking the catwalk at Steadman’s had been more like showing off! No one had enquired as to what she thought of the fashions. She just wore them. The plain truth was, she had just been a dresser’s clothes horse. Not that she had ever thought of complaining. She hadn’t had to use her brains. Just her vanity!
‘Here we are,’ Nick said as Ruby sat forward, surprised to see they were now turning away from the water’s edge and driving down one of the lanes containing all kinds of commercial buildings.
‘This is it,’ Nick said, parking outside a large warehouse. ‘Not much from the outside, but wait till you see what’s beyond those rather unremarkable doors.’
He helped Ruby climb out and led her to a small, roughly painted metal door, secured by a strong lock. At eye level there was a small square opening.
‘What’s that?’ Ruby asked as they walked in.
‘You open it to see who’s there,’ Nick told her, ‘like this. All part of our security as well as the locking system and night watchman.’
‘Why do you need so much?’ Ruby asked in all innocence. The warehouse seemed just like an ordinary warehouse. One of the many in the industrial areas of the wharfs, just like she and Pete had played around as kids. Sometimes their owners left barking dogs inside to ward off any intruders. But night watchmen were expensive. The market traders who usually rented those sort of premises preferred to take care of petty thieves themselves.
‘You’ll see why very soon.’ He unlocked and pushed open a second door, also made of steel. Ruby walked into the cavernous building with high cathedral ceilings and under them wooden crates piled upon wooden crates.
‘What’s in all those?’ she asked curiously.
‘Come along and I’ll show you.’
Ruby followed him down the narrow aisle, her spirits at an all-time low. At least when she was home she was free to go to the market. And as much as she loved Nick, her eyes told her this was not an environment she could be happy in. When Nick showed her into a room with blinds at the glass windows, she gave a little shiver. How could anyone ever want to work in a place like this, day in and day out?
If what was in the crates was machinery of some kind, it would be very boring. If it was food, like tins, or perishables, it would be even less interesting. The light suddenly went on. Ruby blinked hard as she looked around. She could hardly believe what she saw. The room was full of the most amazing animal furs, pelts, coats, collars, hats and beautiful textiles.
She looked at Nick who was standing silently, one eyebrow arched. Ruby went over to the nearest white fur coat that was draped over one of the crates. She put down her bag and touched the animal skin.
‘Nick, what fur is this?’
‘Bear skin, from the Americas. Let me help you.’ He slid it on her. Her fingers slipped through the exquisite fur and she buried her face in its luxury. ‘Did this come from a real bear?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Poor thing.’
He shrugged. ‘The indigenous people of the Americas have to make a living from hunting. They wouldn’t survive otherwise.’
‘How much does the coat cost?’
‘Many, many hundreds of pounds.’
‘As much as a car?’
‘Perhaps more.’
Ruby pulled the warm skin around her, inhaling its own peculiar, distinctive scent. ‘And you want me to sell these?’
‘That’s the general idea.’
Ruby tried to reply, but she couldn’t. She was in fashion heaven. To think that Nick had kept all this a secret, waiting until he found her again to share it with her.
She stepped into his arms and in the warm, white folds of the coat he drew her into a long embrace.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Two weeks later on a damp and dismal October Friday, Ruby closed her bedroom door. She was dressed in a smart, deep blue, figure-hugging suit, ready for her first working day at the warehouse. On this occasion Nick had asked her to model one of the coats. It would be her first experience of big business.
Glancing in the hall mirror she touched her freshly washed hair that now shone like spun gold, admiring again the expensive suit with velvet collar and cuffs that Nick had taken her up to Selfridges to choose.
Even though she looked her best she felt sick with fear. She still wasn’t certain she could carry this off. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the front room where Maggs was on her knees, coaxing the fire into life. Her mother sat watching, wearing her dressing gown and slippers. Ruby had got her up at the crack of dawn and encouraged her to eat some porridge. She had explained where she was going today, hoping Babs wouldn’t miss her. But she needn’t have worried. Her mother was already in that other world, where nothing but her dead son was of interest.
‘Maggs, will you be all right? Ruby asked as she slipped on the mink that Nick had given her to wear. It was a sumptuous coat and Ruby adored it. Even Anna didn’t own a coat like this. Though it did seem out of place in the prefab.
‘Good gracious,’ Maggs said as she grabbed the edge of the couch and hoisted herself to her feet. ‘I ain’t ever seen a coat like that before.’
‘No, neither have I.’
‘What sort of fur is it?’
‘Mink, so I’m told.’
Maggs chuckled. ‘I’m none the wiser.’
‘The mink in America has really thick, silky fur, I’ve learned, which feels like velvet when you touch it.’
‘Blimey, you’re a hive of information, ducky.’
‘I’ve tried to do my homework.’
‘I don’t like the idea of wearing animals, meself,’ Maggs said, keeping her distance. ‘Ever since my old mum got fleas from the fox c
ollar she wore round her neck. She was alive with the perishers and it put me off fur for life.’
Ruby grinned. ‘I hope this hasn’t got fleas.’
‘You’ll soon know about it if it has.’
They laughed together and Ruby looked down at her mother. ‘What do you think of me new coat, Mum?’
Babs looked up. ‘Very nice. Have you said goodbye to your brother?’
‘Now, now, Babs,’ Maggs cautioned gently. ‘Your daughter would like a bit of encouragement. This is her first day at her new job.’
Babs glanced at Ruby and smiled. ‘Don’t forget to take your sandwiches with you.’
‘I won’t.’ Ruby bent down to kiss her cheek. At least that was a sensible answer.
‘I’ll see you out,’ said Maggs, giving Ruby a wink.
‘Cheerio, Mum. See you later.’
Babs nodded, showing no emotion at all.
Ruby stood with Maggs in the hall. If it hadn’t been for this kind soul, she wouldn’t have been able to leave Babs unattended. Even her dad had acknowledged they’d found a treasure in Maggs.
‘I’ve left corned beef, potatoes and carrots in the larder,’ Ruby chattered, trying to calm her nerves. ‘There’s plenty of milk and tea. I managed to get Mum to top and tail, but she needs a bath—’
‘Look, love.’ Maggs stopped her in full flow. ‘Stop fretting. Leave your mum to me. I’m only too pleased to look after her. I would have done this as a favour. You didn’t have to pay me.’
‘We all have to live, Maggs. And me mum can be difficult at times. Looking after her ain’t an easy job.’
‘Are you sure you can afford the fiver?’ Maggs asked again. ‘To be honest, I’ve rarely had one of these notes in me purse. I’m almost embarrassed to spend it. In fact, I think I’ll take it home and frame it.’
