The Locksmith

by Linda Calvey

  Ruby shivered. The nights were drawing in and already the leaves were starting to turn brown. She wasn’t altogether sure if that was the reason she suddenly felt icy cold.

  CHAPTER 8

  ‘We’ve got something to tell ya both. You’d better sit down to ’ear it,’ Louie said as he ushered Ruby and Bobby into the front room. The window, bare of net curtains, looked out onto the road that separated the row of houses from Star Park opposite.

  Ruby looked up at her mum and dad as they stood awkwardly by the sofa. She glanced at Bobby; he shook his head in response. What could this mean? Bobby smiled back at her, though he registered something, some confusion evident on Ruby’s face. She had noticed her mum looked exhausted these days, and suddenly Ruby wondered if there was something wrong. They sat together, like small children, on the brown fabric sofa, waiting.

  ‘Mum—?’ Ruby started to say but Louie interrupted her.

  ‘Don’t look so scared, Rube, it’s happy news. We’re, ahem, we’re ’avin’ a baby.’

  There was silence for a moment as both siblings digested this latest news, news that neither thought they’d ever hear.

  ‘Well, one of you say somethin’,’ Cathy laughed nervously. ‘I know it’s a shock but we’re not that old!’

  Ruby looked over at her parents. Louie had his arm around his pregnant wife, and Cathy was leaning into him, looking between the two young people expectantly. At first, Ruby wanted to think it was some kind of joke, but it was clear now it was no such thing. Her parents were having another baby at the age of forty.

  ‘But . . . but . . . you don’t look pregnant?’ was all Ruby could think to say.

  ‘Well, I’m only three months gone so I won’t show for another month or so,’ Cathy pointed out, though Ruby saw again how small Mum seemed, how slim and almost frail.

  ‘Bloody hell, Mum!’ Bobby interjected making them all laugh. ‘How are we goin’ to afford to ’ave a baby?’

  It was Louie’s turn to speak. ‘Listen you two, I don’t want either of ya worryin’ about money. We’ll make what we ’ave stretch. Babies don’t need much, just your mum and a few nappies.’

  Ruby raised her eyebrows. She’d seen friends from school get pregnant and have babies and they were always surrounded by stuff: prams, nappies, toys, bottles, formula and buggies. But those worries could wait.

  ‘We’re havin’ a baby! That’s lovely news. Mum, you need to sit down. ’Ere let me make you a cuppa. Bobby, go and get some biscuits from the corner shop, we’re celebratin’.’ Ruby smiled as she fussed around her mum. Another baby in the family! In a million years she would never have suspected they’d be welcoming a baby into their lives.

  ‘You don’t need to fuss over me, Rube, though I am feeling tired at the moment. The doctor says it’s bein’ pregnant at my advanced age. He called me a geriatric mother!’ Cathy said indignantly, making both Ruby and Bobby smile.

  ‘Shouldn’t they do some tests anyway? Just to make sure . . . I’m sure there’s nuthin’ wrong but it’s worth them checkin’ ain’t it?’ Ruby said as she plumped up one of the few cushions they owned.

  ‘I’m fine, Rube, honest. Now where’s that cuppa? I’m parched.’

  Satisfied her mother was comfortable, Ruby went to the kitchen and put the kettle on the hob. As she waited for it to boil she had time to gather her thoughts. A baby was a wonderful thing, and it made sense that Mum was more tired than normal. She felt a sense of wonder at the thought of having a little one to look after.

  Louie came in and shut the door behind him. ‘Listen, Rube. I know this is a shock but this is happenin’ and, at first, we couldn’t believe it either. Your mum needs our support. She’s older than when she had you two and she’s no spring chicken any more . . .’

  Ruby smiled at the dad she adored. ‘Course, I’m really ’appy for you both, and all of us. I’ll do everything I can to help Mum.’ She grinned and turned to give him a cuddle. She breathed in the familiar scent; the cheap soap he used to scrub himself clean after a day lugging metal around the scrapyard, and the lingering smell of other men’s tobacco. In his arms she felt safe from everything.

  She heard the front door open and Bobby reappeared clutching several packets of biscuits.

  ‘I didn’t know which ones to get so I bought them all!’ he grinned.

  Ruby carried in a tray with the teapot and cups, just in time to see her mum tutting at him for spending recklessly in the shop.

  ‘A packet of digestives would’ve been enough!’ she was saying.

  Bobby reached over and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘We’re celebratin’ so I thought we’d ’ave a treat,’ he said, raising his eyes skywards at Ruby, who had to stifle a giggle.

  ‘That means Dolly Crutch was right!’ Bobby suddenly said.

  ‘Oh my God, I’d forgotten about her. That old witch always got it right, every time, didn’t I tell ya?’ Cathy turned to her husband.

  Ruby’s mum had made an annual pilgrimage to a colourful local character, Dolly Crutch, who lived in a cramped ground-floor flat in Wapping. Everyone knew Dolly. She was the local fortune teller, and most days there was a queue running out of her front door and onto the street; people all desperate to know if good times would ever return. Cathy used to go every year to find out what was in store but after Dolly predicted she’d have another baby, three years ago, she’d stopped.

  ‘I remember comin’ home and laughing at how ridiculous it was, vowin’ I’d never go back to her, and she was right all along.’

  Ruby smiled. She’d been taken to Dolly as a child, hanging on her mother’s apron strings. They’d sat in the tiny kitchen with yellow cupboards and a small wooden table, waiting for Cathy’s turn to go in. Ruby must’ve been six or seven at the time, yet she could remember the sight of the old woman even now. They were ushered into an even smaller room, strung with coloured Indian scarves, with a single orange lamp that seemed to throw only a small light in the gloom. Dolly was a sight she’d never forget, with dyed black hair, wisps of grey escaping from the scarf tied around her head. It had small coins stitched to it and it jangled as she pointed to the chair and asked them to sit.

  She’d closed her eyes, which were lined crudely in black kohl, and asked for guidance from ‘the spirits’. Ruby couldn’t take her eyes off her. Dolly had opened her eyes and stared straight at Ruby, yet the little girl had felt no compulsion to look away.

  ‘She has the gift,’ was all she’d said, her unblinking gaze staring into Ruby as if she could see right inside her. Ruby hadn’t felt scared. She felt she’d been recognised – that was the only way she could describe it as an adult looking back at that strange encounter.

  Dolly had eventually turned to Cathy and asked her to hold out her hands and place an item of jewellery into her waiting palm. Cathy’d wriggled off her wedding ring and placed it there, leaning forward just a little, eager to hear of her fate. Ruby couldn’t remember anything else from that day except that on the way home, Cathy bought her a chocolate bar, which was a rare treat. As Cathy handed her daughter the chocolate, she’d stopped for a second, as if she’d wanted to say something to Ruby, but at the last minute, changed her mind.

  ‘What was it she said to ya that time I went with ya?’ Ruby asked now they were on the subject of Dolly Crutch, so named because she had a peg leg.

  Cathy’s face clouded over. She hesitated, though it was clear she remembered. ‘Go on, Mum, what was it?’ Ruby said, her voice quiet now.

  ‘Darlin’, you shouldn’t go listenin’ to everythin’ Dolly said. She was a harmless old woman who sometimes hit the nail on the ’ead, and sometimes she was wildly off.’ Cathy looked at her daughter but Ruby wanted to know.

  Cathy sighed. ‘All right then. She said, “Your daughter will be very rich, very wealthy, but she’ll always be lookin’ over her shoulder . . .”’

  Ruby was silent as she digested that, but there wasn’t much to make of it.

  CHAPTER 9
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br />   As time went on, and Cathy’s pregnancy advanced, she struggled more and more doing normal things, spending much of the day flaked out on the sofa or resting in bed.

  Ruby took on the lion’s share of the chores, on top of her work, and fell into bed at midnight each night exhausted, though she wouldn’t have dreamt of doing things any other way.

  Cathy gave up her job at the tobacconist and so they lost her income, small though it was. Louie worked longer hours at the scrapyard to try to make up the shortfall, which meant he was out for much of the day and evening, leaving Cathy by herself.

  She never complained. Even when her labour pains started she waited for Louie to get home that night before telling him her contractions had begun. Neither Ruby nor Bobby were back from work and so she’d been alone.

  ‘Bloody hell, why didn’t ya ring the yard?’ Louie rarely swore. ‘Sorry love, I didn’t mean that. Come on, let’s get ya to hospital. I’ll leave a note for Rube and Bobby, they can follow on later.’

  Ruby arrived home just ahead of Bobby and found her father’s hastily scrawled note. She didn’t hesitate. Both headed straight to Bancroft Hospital in Mile End.

  ‘Where is she? Is she OK?’ Ruby had a thousand questions but Louie stopped her at the door to the ward.

  ‘She’s absolutely fine. The midwife said she did brilliantly. You can both go in.’

  Ruby opened the door and saw her mum, hair tangled with sweat, propped up against her pillows, a gentle smile on her face.

  ‘Come and meet your baby brother.’

  ‘Oh, Mum, he’s gorgeous. Can I hold him?’ Ruby said in a whisper, holding out her arms. She picked up the warm bundle, inhaling his sweet milky smell, and gazing into his big blue eyes.

  ‘He’s gorgeous. Hello, little brother, welcome.’

  Bobby looked like he was about to cry. He was a sensitive man, kind to the core, and as soon as the baby was placed in his big arms, the tears started to come.

  ‘’Ere, take him back, Rube. I’m too emotional,’ Bobby said, handing their brother back to her.

  The baby looked up at his big sister, curling his tiny hand around her little finger, his eyes fluttering open.

  ‘He thinks you’re his mum, I swear it,’ said Bobby.

  Just then, Matron bustled in. ‘Right, you lot, it’s time to leave. Your mother needs her rest.’ Ruby handed the bundle back to her mum who barely looked strong enough to hold him. Before she could think any more about this, Louie gestured for them to leave. Cathy gave them all a weak smile as they were shooed out of the ward. The three of them made their way home, yawning now as well. It had been a long evening.

  Ruby visited every day after work, catching separate buses to get there and almost missing visiting time on a couple of occasions. A week after George’s birth Cathy was allowed to go home, and the whole family turned up in Louie’s knackered old van to drive her and the baby. Ruby had placed an extra cushion in the front for Cathy to sit on. As they drove, Louie began to sing an old Romany song, and Ruby, sitting next to him, smiled over at her beloved dad, the first grey hairs only just appearing in his thick black hair. He returned her smile as they travelled to the hospital. He had a good voice, melodious and strong. Louie looked more handsome than ever. He was clean-shaven for once, which showed off his square jaw and high cheekbones. He was a man in his prime, wearing jeans and a blue shirt that seemed to show off his deep brown eyes. They arrived at the maternity unit and before long, Cathy was back home and Ruby had carried her chubby, blonde-haired little brother into the house. His cot was set up next to Cathy’s side of the bed, and she lay him down in it. He opened his eyes briefly, staring up at his big sister before shutting them again and drifting off to sleep. Ruby fussed over her mum, helping her up the stairs and putting her straight into bed too.

  ‘Thanks, darlin’. What would I do without ya?’ Cathy said weakly. She seemed exhausted just walking up the stairs.

  It’s just the lack of sleep, she’ll be OK. Ruby tried to reassure herself, but her instincts couldn’t be dulled. Something was up, she could feel it in her bones.

  A week later, and Cathy didn’t seem to be any better. ‘I think we should call a doctor,’ insisted Ruby.

  ‘Don’t fuss, love. She ain’t young, and ’avin’ a baby this late in life is bound to take it out of ’er,’ Louie said, biting into the bacon sandwich Ruby had made for his breakfast.

  Ruby stood at the cooker, spatula in hand, and looked over to Bobby for support.

  He shook his head. ‘You’re worryin’ too much, Rube.’

  ‘Anyway, the midwife is comin’ tomorrow so we can ask her then.’ Louie gulped down his tea. ‘I’m off up the yard today so I’ll see ya both tonight. Don’t worry, love, it’ll all be fine.’

  Just then they heard a wail. George had woken up and needed a bottle. Ruby sighed. She just had enough time to make him one and hand it to her mum before leaving for work.

  ‘I’m comin’,’ she hollered up the stairs. Quickly, she grabbed a piece of toast and raced up the stairs with the warmed bottle.

  ‘I’ll be home at six. Will ya manage until then?’ Ruby asked, frowning. Her mum pushed herself up on her pillows with some effort, saying, ‘Course I will. Now, off ya go, don’t be late.’

  That day, Ruby couldn’t settle to any of the many tasks she now had. Even walking around the West End at lunchtime didn’t distract her. As the hours passed, she had a growing sense of unease. When the call came, she felt she’d been waiting for it.

  ‘You have to go home, Miss Murphy. It’s your mother . . .’ The boss, a balding self-satisfied man in sharp suits, came straight to her desk. Ruby didn’t reply, she’d known something was wrong, very wrong, all day. Instead, she grabbed her coat and handbag and practically ran from the office. The bus couldn’t move fast enough for her. As she ran from the bus stop to the house she almost knocked Bobby flying.

  ‘Slow down, Rube,’ Bobby said, though his face looked a mirror of the fear she was feeling too. They entered the house together, neither knowing what they would face.

  They opened the door. There was, at first, no sound. Ruby’s pulse was hammering in her brain. Her sense of unease grew by the second. ‘Mum, you there? You all right, Mum? Is little George nappin’?’

  Then Ruby stopped. She could just make out a muffled sobbing sound. Without hesitation, she ran up the stairs two at a time, Bobby following on her heels. Was George OK? Was Mum OK?

  Ruby burst into her parents’ room. The cot was empty. Next to it, Cathy lay on the bed, moaning and crying. Ruby’s heart stopped. Her mouth was dry. She almost screamed her question. ‘Is it George? Is little George dead? Speak to me, Mum!’

  Cathy shook her head and Ruby felt a swooping sense of relief. It was so strong her legs almost buckled and she sat down heavily. ‘What’s wrong, Mum? Please tell us, what’s goin’ on?’

  Cathy wiped her eyes, which were red raw. She struggled up, saying over and over, ‘Oh God, it isn’t true.’

  Ruby was as still as an animal that knew it was hunted. Bobby sat down next to her. ‘Mum, please tell us what’s wrong.’

  ‘Oh God, I don’t know how to tell ya. I don’t know how . . .’ Cathy shook her head, her voice a whisper.

  ‘You must,’ Ruby said, her voice firm.

  ‘You must, Mum,’ echoed Bobby.

  Cathy struggled up and wiped her face, though tears still ran down it in torrents. Finally she spoke. ‘It’s yer dad. Your dad is dead. He’s dead . . .’

  The air sucked out of the room, or so it seemed. In that instant, Ruby’s safe family world shattered, shards of it piercing every part of her body and mind.

  ‘Dad’s dead?’ was all she could say and her mum nodded, unable to speak.

  ‘What ’appened?’ Ruby wanted to know every detail as if to make herself understand the unthinkable. Bobby placed his head in his hands and sobbed.

  Cathy burst into fresh weeping, and Ruby fought hard with herself to contain her emoti
ons and the frustration of not knowing.

  ‘He . . . he walked under a crane that was shiftin’ a load of machinery parts. Somethin’ went wrong, I don’t understand it as he knew never to walk under those cranes, but today he did. The crane driver didn’t see him and that was that. Louie was buried under six foot of metal.’

  The words tore a hole in Ruby’s heart that she realised would never be mended. Her dad, always urging them to be honest, to look after each other, to be safe, did something as reckless as walk under the cranes that were notorious for dropping their loads early. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. Louie was dead and their lives had changed in a heartbeat.

  CHAPTER 10

  The next day, Ruby, Cathy and Bobby sat at the kitchen table, still in shock, their faces wretched with grief.

  Louie had been dead for less than twenty-four hours but it felt like their world had collapsed. When the telephone rang, Ruby got up to answer it.

  ‘Yes, who is it?’ she said woodenly, her mind still blank with shock, her brain half asleep due to the wakeful night she’d spent.

  ‘Hello there. Is that Mrs Murphy?’ a voice that sounded rather more posh than she was used to hearing at home said.

  ‘No, but it’s her daughter. You can speak to me, I’m Ruby Murphy.’

  ‘This is Mr Anderson from the mortuary. Would you kindly let us know which funeral parlour you need the body of Mr Murphy to be transferred to?’ the voice continued.

  Ruby hadn’t a clue how to respond. She knew funeral parlours cost a lot of money.

  ‘Please hold for a minute,’ she said, putting her hand over the receiver to stop her conversation being overheard.

  ‘Mum, I’m so sorry but it’s the mortuary. They’re askin’ where we’re sendin’ Dad’s body . . .’

  Even the words ‘body’ and ‘mortuary’ sounded so surreal, as if they had no place in their lives. Cathy turned her distraught face up to meet Ruby’s apologetic gaze.

  ‘It’s all right, darlin’. Tell them I’ll be in touch, as we don’t know about the arrangement yet.’