How had someone she’d helped on her very first day in Alexandra Road – at the lowest point in the other woman’s life – ended up taking her family away? Even Wilf preferred not to be at home and spent all his time on the river. Turning away from the window, she thought long and hard before taking a sheet of writing paper from the sideboard drawer and placing it on the table. Picking up Donald’s fountain pen, she grasped it tightly and started to write.
My dearest Derek,
It breaks my heart to inform you that we lost our Donald recently. I was told he was brave until the end, when he succumbed to his injuries. I have no idea how I am to go on. Frank seems to be a stranger to me and prefers the company of Ruby Caselton. As I write this letter, it is Christmas Day, and I’ve seen strange men entering her home. If the rumours are true, she is carrying a child, but goodness knows who is the father.
I only have you now, Derek. Please stay safe for me and give my regards to Eddie if you see him. My prayers fly through the miles, and I hope you can hear them. Until we meet again,
Your dearest mother
She folded the paper and placed it inside an envelope, using the address details she had been given some time before. Taking the envelope to her bag, which sat near the window, she tucked it away securely, not wishing Wilf to find it. As she straightened up she noticed Frank and his friend leaving number thirteen. Ruby kissed and hugged both of the men and waved as they walked down the road. It was fortuitous Derek had mentioned Eddie Caselton was serving with him. How would Eddie react after he heard her news? No one could tell, but he was bound to be jealous – and Ruby would suffer for it. Stella had no qualms about lying to her son: hadn’t Ruby done just that, pretending young Pat was her own granddaughter when in fact she had been fathered by Eddie? The same man who was supposed to have been such a bad husband and run away years before, no less.
Stella nodded to herself with satisfaction and snapped the clasp of the handbag closed, muttering, ‘I’ll have the last laugh, Ruby Caselton.’
Ruby enjoyed her sisters’ visit, as they passed a pleasant couple of hours chatting of nothing special while enjoying watching young Pat play with her toys. Ruby had confided in them about her son’s impending marriage and her sisters had been sympathetic in the situation, insisting it was the war that was to blame for the loose morals of the young people of today. Ruby bit her tongue and promised they would receive an invitation to the wedding, begging them to keep the secret of the baby to themselves. She wasn’t sure how Irene or her parents would react if they knew Ruby had been talking to others about it. But somehow it seemed the news of the baby had united the three women, with Fanny and Janie teasing their younger sister about being a grandmother and insisting they would help with knitting the layette after inspecting Ruby’s handiwork with her knitting needles.
After clearing away the tea things when her sisters had left, Ruby helped her tired daughter to bed and tucked her in alongside her dolly. By the time George arrived home, he found his mother pleasantly tired, sitting by the hearth in darkness apart from the glow of the fire.
‘I thought you’d have gone up ages ago,’ he said as he knelt by her chair.
Ruby stroked his hair. ‘Where have the years gone?’ she asked him. ‘It doesn’t seem five minutes since you helped me move into this house as a little boy of five.’
George laid his head against her shoulder.
‘It doesn’t to me either. I remember everything about that day: being so frightened when you collapsed in the street, and then being taken into the house by Nanny and not knowing what had happened to you. Nobody would explain to me, and it was days later that I was allowed to see you, and you looked so ill. I remember asking about the baby because you’d told me about how I was going to have a baby brother or sister – and there was nothing. When I asked, people cried. Nan even slapped me for asking. She told me that little boys should be seen and not heard. All I wanted to do was see the baby. This is what I fear most about Irene expecting our child. She is so young. What if our baby dies?’
In the light from the flickering fire, Ruby could see the fear on his face. ‘You can’t think like that, George. You’ve got to be the strong one for Irene. She is a healthy young woman and she will be the perfect mother; you have nothing to fear, believe me.’
‘But what if I’m away when the baby comes? I doubt her mother will be of much use. Will you promise me you’ll be there with her, please?’
‘I promise. Don’t you fret, I’ll be by her side and I’ll remember it all. I will write to you and tell you about your beautiful baby when it’s born. I suppose you’re hoping for a strapping young boy?’ she said, trying to lighten the air of gloom.
‘Not necessarily. Mum, I’ve discussed what happened when you lost Sarah, and Irene agrees with me that if we are to have a little girl we will call her Sarah, just as I promised you when we went to visit her grave on the day we met Mrs Grant.’
Ruby couldn’t find the words to thank him. To think he’d remembered that day from when he was a little boy. Deep, shuddering sobs came from within her and she found herself crying, not only for her lost daughter but for Derek, for all that had happened with her and Eddie, for Frank and Stephen and their dangerous future together, and also for her dear son, who might perish on the battlefields of France. When her tears subsided and she wiped her eyes, she said, ‘Now you are a man, George, there are things I need to tell you about your father – why he left us, and why I still love him to this day.’
George listened carefully as the words poured from Ruby’s lips. ‘To think I never told a living soul apart from Frank, even down to the one night that Eddie came back and then disappeared again. So, you see, whatever anyone says, Pat is your sister.’
George took his mother in his arms and held her tight until he could feel that she’d settled and was calm within herself. ‘Mum, I’ve always trusted you. I’ve looked up to you: the way you’ve coped, the way you’ve made a home for me and Pat – and I’ve seen that others respect you. When Dad returns from the war I shall welcome him with open arms, if that’s what you want. Let’s put all of this behind us and start again. 1918 is going to be a good year for our family, I can feel it in my bones. Besides, you’re going to be a grandmother,’ he chuckled.
‘Don’t you start,’ Ruby smiled as she wiped her face with her handkerchief. ‘I had your two aunts pulling my leg about that this afternoon. I’ve got my own back, though: I reminded them that they’ll be great-aunties. I also showed them my terrible knitting skills, so they are already planning to kit your baby out in the finest garments. She’ll be a lucky young lady.’
‘Or young man,’ George smiled.
‘Oh no, I really think we’re about to meet our Sarah,’ Ruby said contentedly.
14
January 1918
Ruby would have liked to be able to say she’d enjoyed her son’s wedding, but it would have been a lie. Irene’s father was delightful; however, her mother was a different matter. Mrs Desmond was a snob, there was no other word for it. She did her best to outshine Ruby, and without really saying a word she made it clear that she was from a different class to Ruby and her son.
Ruby was happy to see that Mr Desmond welcomed George with open arms. He was a jovial chap, and the few words he had with Ruby before the wedding reassured her that he would look out for her son and would make a good father-in-law to him. Of course, he also made it clear he was not impressed with the situation, but as he said, there was no point in crying over spilt milk. They had to make the best of the situation. George was already in uniform and would be joining his regiment within two weeks. To see him standing waiting for his bride to walk down the aisle was a sight Ruby would never forget. It reminded her of seeing her Eddie standing there on the day she was married, although her own wedding had been nothing like Irene’s. Mrs Desmond made sure her daughter had only the best of everything, and Ruby had to admit Irene looked a sight for sore eyes, dressed from head to foot in lace and we
aring a silver tiara handed down from Mrs Desmond’s grandmother.
Pat made the perfect bridesmaid and did everything as Irene instructed, which was a relief to Ruby. Afterwards, at the Desmond’s home over wafer-thin sandwiches and glasses of sherry, Ruby mingled with the guests, making polite conversation. Already she felt a blister on her left foot, but she pinned a smile to her face and soldiered on. Granted her two sisters were there, but apart from that she had no other family to support her. She had spotted Stella and Wilf sitting at the back of the church and had been pleased that they’d been invited. However, as everyone had left the church to stand outside in the winter sun, she had seen them walk away, knowing the rift between them had not yet healed. She decided it would be a good idea to pop over to their house later on with a slice of wedding cake, to thank them for attending. If she took Pat with her, it would break the ice. She missed Stella and the easy way they’d once had of talking with each other; but grief did strange things to people’s lives, she thought.
Towards the end of the reception, as Mr Desmond called the couple over, Ruby joined him. This was the time to give the young couple their wedding gift; it was to be a joint present, and Ruby had never felt so excited. She wanted to see the look on her son’s face when he was told. With just a few words, Mr Desmond handed an envelope to Irene.
‘I know your plan was to stay here while you looked for a home for you and George, but we – that is, your mother, myself and Mrs Caselton – have a surprise for you.’ He faltered, not knowing what to say next, so Ruby stepped in.
‘You mentioned to me at Christmas how you’d like to live near the town, and I said that I would be nearby while George was away. This house became available, and between us it has been purchased and put into your name.’ She didn’t add that her contribution had only been one-tenth of the house’s value; it was only thanks to the generosity of the Desmonds that the purchase was possible.
Irene opened the envelope and pulled out a legal document. ‘Oh, my goodness!’ she shrieked. ‘George, look. I can’t believe it – thank you all,’ she said, throwing herself into her father’s arms before hugging Ruby, then giving her mother a polite kiss on the cheek.
George had been looking at the document and was lost for words. ‘It’s the deeds to number fifteen Alexandra Road. We’ll be living next door to you, Mum. I can’t tell you what this means to me. Thank you, sir,’ he said, shaking Mr Desmond’s hand and doing as Irene had done and kissing Mrs Desmond’s cheek. He then hugged his mother and swung her round in a circle, much to Mrs Desmond’s surprise.
‘I take it you’re happy,’ Ruby chuckled. ‘However, please don’t think I’m going to be an interfering mother-in-law, Irene. I don’t even want to hold a spare key. Number fifteen is yours and yours alone.’
‘Oh, please, Mrs Ca . . . I mean Ruby, you must have a spare key. I insist. If there’s any time you have no one to care for Pat, she is as welcome in my home as she is in yours. George, I can’t wait to look at the house. I shall have such fun making it a home, my love.’
Mr Desmond said, ‘I shall give you a banker’s draft so that you can furnish the house whatever way you wish.’
‘Oh goodness, that will be wonderful,’ Irene beamed as she linked arms with George. ‘I want to make it the perfect home for you to return to, and for our baby to be brought up in.’
Ruby smiled at George. No doubt he was thinking, as she was, about the few modest sticks of furniture they’d had when they moved into number thirteen. She just hoped the young couple would love living in their new home as much as she had loved living in the town these past thirteen years.
Ruby took Pat’s hand as they crossed the road; she’d put a few tasty tidbits on a plate along with two slices of the wedding cake, courtesy of Irene’s parents. She hoped Stella seeing Pat in her pretty lace dress would soften her heart a little. The life seemed to have been sucked out of Stella since the news of Donald’s death. Ruby so wanted them to be friends again, and life to be as it used to. She missed their shopping trips into town, with cups of tea and a good natter in the cafe. In some ways, Ruby had found life without Stella a lonely existence.
Hopefully, with Irene moving in next door and George off to his regiment, her life might change a little, even if Irene wasn’t the kind of person Ruby usually mixed with. The girl had surprised her in some ways – deep down, there was a likeable side to her. She just needed to push it to the surface more. Approaching Stella’s house, Ruby’s thoughts turned to Maureen Gilbert, who she hoped would be a regular visitor to Irene. Ruby would then get to have lots of cuddles with her delightful toddler, Alan.
Ruby noticed the curtains move as they opened the gate. Ah, she thought, at least someone is home and can see we are about to knock on the door. She smiled at Pat as she handed the little girl the plate of food. Her daughter had so much wanted to hand over the gift herself.
It was Wilf who opened the door, a glum look on his face. ‘I’m sorry, love; if it’s Stella you wanted to see, she’s having a lie down at the moment. The news about Derek was just too much for her. I’m not feeling that great myself, so I’m sorry if I don’t ask you both in. We’ve only just heard,’ he said, shaking his head in sorrow.
Ruby didn’t understand what he meant. Pat, oblivious to what was being said, held out the plate of food. ‘I’ve come to show you my dress. I was a bridesmaid for George, and he sent some wedding cake for you,’ she beamed up at the man she thought of as a grandfather.
‘You look as pretty as a picture, and Stella will be sad to have missed seeing you,’ he said as he took the plate.
‘I can come back and show her another day,’ she smiled. ‘Irene said I can keep the dress.’
Ruby stroked her daughter’s head. ‘I tell you what, why don’t you take my key and go back over home and start to draw a picture of the wedding? You can give it to Stella when she feels better,’ she said, and watched as her delighted daughter skipped back across the road. ‘Wilf, this must have been sudden. I spotted you both sitting at the back of the church earlier.’
Wilf nodded his head. ‘We did want to see your George get married, but under the circumstances and the way Stella feels about things, she didn’t feel up to socializing. The letter was lying on the doormat when we got home.’
‘Letter? Would the army not have sent a telegram?’
‘They only do that when the person has died. Our Derek has sustained terrible injuries, and he’s not expected to survive. He was the only one of the lads in his trench not to be killed outright.’
Ruby felt an icy fear grip her heart. She reached out to steady herself against the wall of the house. She knew that Eddie and Derek had been sticking together like glue; Eddie always mentioned Derek, and a chap called Ernie Minchin they both knew from working in the brickfields not a mile down the road from where she stood at that moment. ‘Was there any word of Eddie?’ she asked.
‘Eddie? You ask about Eddie?’ Stella screamed as she pushed Wilf to one side, doing her utmost to get to Ruby. Her hair was dishevelled and her face streaked with tears. In her hands she gripped a letter screwed into a ball that she waved at Ruby. ‘You make a song and dance of it with my son, and you still want to know about your husband? I’ve never known such a selfish cow. For your information, your Eddie died thinking you were carrying on with anyone who would look twice at you. I made sure of that,’ she spat. ‘Not content with ruining your own marriage, now you’ve talked my Frank into joining up. Isn’t it bad enough that I’ve lost two sons without you sending the third to his death?’
Wilf took Stella’s arm and guided her back inside before going to close the door. He gave Ruby a vacant look, more concerned about his wife than Ruby’s protestations.
‘But it’s not what it seems . . . we haven’t . . . I don’t understand . . .’ she cried, unable to make sense of Stella’s words, or make herself understood.
‘You should take yourself back home. If Pat wants to come over to see us, she’s more than welco
me, but it’s best you stay away. Stella doesn’t even want to see Derek. She can’t bear to think of him with terrible injuries, and wants to remember him as he was before the war. I can’t leave her to go and see him, so in a way I feel very much as she does at the moment. You may not be totally to blame, but it would be best for you to stay away.’
Ruby refused to be beaten when she’d done nothing wrong. Even though in her head the words ‘your Eddie died’ kept screaming out, she refused to accept them. Surely she would feel it in her heart if he was gone? Wouldn’t someone write to her – unless Eddie had forgotten to make her his next of kin? She took a deep breath and tried to think clearly. Nothing should change until she knew more about her husband.
She knew Derek should not be alone, and out of respect for Frank, who was now serving with the Ambulance Corps, she couldn’t let the lad die without anyone there. Not only that, but he might also know something about Eddie – and she needed to find out how her husband had died. ‘Where have they taken Derek?’ she demanded.
‘He’s been taken to some place called Queen’s Hospital in Sidcup; it’s where they take soldiers who . . . who . . .’ Tears fell from Wilf’s eyes as he trailed off and turned away, closing the door in her face.
Back indoors, Ruby checked to make sure Pat was all right and sat down at the kitchen table. Resting her head in her hands, she forced herself to think carefully about what had happened.
She desperately needed to talk things through with someone. Her first choice would have been George, but it was unfair to do such a thing on the day of his wedding – besides, he was going away to the country with his bride for a long weekend before returning home, and then he would be going to join his regiment. And anyway, it had been so long since George had seen his father that Ruby couldn’t bring herself to tell him at that moment, especially as there was no proof his dad had died. She didn’t feel she could confide in her sisters, as they just wouldn’t have understood; besides, it would have meant explaining about Frank and his relationship with Stephen, and it wasn’t right to do so. There was a time when Stella would have been the first person she spoke to when she had a worry . . .
A Mother Forever Page 23