The Orphan Thief

by Glynis Peters

  ‘The pipes are blowing. Get away, girl – how many times do I have to tell you? Run for your life. You are one of the lucky ones. Run.’

  Ruby stared at him. Lucky? He considered her lucky? Didn’t he know what she’d seen? Didn’t he understand?

  A tremor of gas hissed, and the man nudged Ruby’s back. ‘Go! Now!’

  He ran towards the building in front of them. Ruby heard a woman shout for help when another explosion vibrated through her body. The noise was so loud she put her hands to her head, but the sound continued to penetrate her eardrums. Ruby crouched down to stop herself from fainting. She looked towards the building just as it blew into smithereens. The man didn’t reappear. The woman no longer called for help. Yet again, Ruby was alone.

  Where now? As she looked around, all Ruby could feel was despair. She’d never experienced a loss so great and her heart beat fast and furious.

  She stood back up and turned full circle. Her lungs choked on smoke, her eyes stung and watered, but she could still see a hell on earth. She’d heard enough sermons to have imagined it over the years, and now she stood in its jaws. Gripped by thoughts so powerful she couldn’t comprehend all of them. What was expected of her now?

  Jump into the pit? Or live? Jump or live? The words pounded through her head, then she leaned to one side and retched out nothing. She watched the living retrieve dead bodies for a while longer, when she remembered her grandmother.

  Gran! She must be petrified.

  Breathing as deep as she could, she gained control of her feelings and got her bearings. She ignored the hunger gnawing in her belly and moved with speed towards Kirby Road, where her grandmother lived. The usual half hour walk took twice the time due to the detours she was forced to make, and Ruby’s calves ached. She turned into Kirby Road and saw it too had fallen foul of several bombs and no longer resembled the street she knew. Smashed chimney pots, cutlery, crockery and items of clothing were scattered everywhere. As in her own road, water flowed free from smashed pipes and added to the mess.

  She picked her way from one end to the other, to where she estimated her gran’s house to have once stood. Another crater. The scene before her was much like the one she had just left. Ruby’s grandmother would never greet her with open arms and beaming smiles again. She’d also taken the full fury of Hitler’s bombs.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she called out to a woman in uniform escorting an elderly man from a house still standing, which Ruby knew had once been his home. His arm was in a sling, the striped material bearing resemblance to a bed sheet.

  ‘Fred?’ she said and took a closer look at the old man. He and her gran often exchanged produce from their gardens. The man looked different. More aged, and frail.

  ‘He’s in a bad way. Shocked is an understatement. I’ve got to get him help. You’re welcome to tag along,’ the woman said.

  ‘Did anyone leave here?’ Ruby asked, and pointed to her gran’s empty plot.

  ‘If they did, it wasn’t alive, my love. Not many did that side of the street. Sorry, sweetheart. Try the medical tent. You never know. But I’m warning you, don’t get your hopes up. If not, try the gasworks. That’s where the –’

  Ruby flicked her chin upwards to indicate she understood, and to stop the woman saying the words out loud. The woman gave her a weak smile, her eyes loaded with sympathy.

  ‘Come on, Fred, let’s get you out of here before it’s too dark to see.’

  Ruby nodded her thanks, fighting back tears.

  ‘You coming with us?’

  Ruby shook her head at the woman and gave Fred a reassuring pat on his arm. ‘You take care, Fred,’ she said.

  ‘Gone. All gone,’ Fred said, showing no recognition, and he continued to repeat the words as they walked away.

  Dazed, Ruby felt the overwhelming urge to run away from all she’d seen, to hide under a hedge on Radford Common until it was all over. Her life or the war, whichever ended first, but there was a chance her gran was still alive. She had no choice; she had to see if there was any news on the last surviving member of her family. She clenched her fists against her ears to drive out the mechanical and human noises pounding around her. Once again, her stomach growled with hunger and her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth. The smoke grew thicker and indescribable smells assaulted her senses; her heart pounded in her chest and for a few seconds Ruby thought she might faint.

  Pull yourself together, girl. Gran might need you. She might still be alive.

  All the while she walked towards the busy hub of medical tents, hastily erected food and information huts near the town centre, Ruby talked to herself. Forcing her legs to keep moving.

  For over an hour she searched for her grandmother. Eventually, she found her name on a list of the dead. Her request to see her body was gently refused for her own sake. Ruby left the makeshift morgue and with a heavy heart made her way towards Radford Common with the intention of gathering her thoughts. She needed to think, away from the terrors she’d witnessed, and hoped the thirty-minute walk would help. Her young brother and his friends had made dens on the common, and for a few hours Ruby intended to make use of one. As she looked out onto the city darkness fell but it remained host to the endless glowing fires. Ruby doubted even the fiercest of flames would warm her through. She glanced skyward and saw a cluster of stars. Five. Were they her family, huddled together, shining out their love? Were they reunited – her parents, her brother, sister and grandmother? Ruby pondered the thought as she continued to stare. A dark cloud flitted across the stars; once again the lights went out for Ruby.

  CHAPTER 2

  16th November 1940

  A frozen Ruby stretched out her legs and rubbed them warm. Born with her left leg shorter than the right, she despised the limp and cramping of the muscles it gave her whenever she’d walked too far. Today she experienced severe pain, but knew sitting still would not relieve her aching limbs. She massaged them, pleading with her legs not to let her down.

  A shiver ran through her as she heard a loud bang. They’d endured another long night of explosions from buildings and gas pipes, and it continued into the new day. Endless screams echoed across the city. The bombing was the cruellest thing anyone could have inflicted upon Coventry.

  She felt dirty, unwashed, and needed food and drink. Crawling out from the small den, she made her way towards the public shelter. Bone-weary townsfolk sat propped outside its entrance. They stared at her, but she knew she was invisible to them. A nothing. Nobody’s daughter. She walked on, heading towards the warmth of the city, a fifteen-minute walk towards the heat of death and destruction. Rows of weary travellers passed her by, all fleeing the devastation for fear of more bombings. On more than one occasion she was encouraged to join friends of her parents and other families. She muttered about later, with no intention of leaving Coventry. For Ruby, despite not having one, this was home.

  As she walked past a tumbled house, she spotted a blanket lying across a tangled fence. She glanced around but couldn’t see anyone, and tugged the blanket free. Draping it across her shoulders, she felt the weight of an honest parent bearing down on her. For the first time in her life, Ruby had taken something which didn’t belong to her. She’d not been given the blanket, nor had permission to remove it, but she’d gone ahead and done it with no repercussions other than a guilty mind. The freezing air away from the town deemed it necessary, as she fully intended to return to her den after she’d found food.

  Picking her way down Little Park Street towards the centre of town, the sight of the burning cathedral in the distance took her fears to another level. It looked no more than a shattered piece of architecture. Splintered shards of brickwork refusing to cave in to a power mightier than itself, it stood defiant in the raging flames. She prayed it would survive. It was the beating heart of the city. The residents were proud of their cathedral and she watched as men battled to save its crumbling shell.

  On the corner of Hertford Street, Ruby noticed a crowd praying and sobbin
g; most were women with children clinging around their legs or held tightly in their arms. To one side of the gathering she spotted a family whose children she knew from church, standing in an obvious queue near a makeshift building Ruby hadn’t seen before. They looked as bedraggled as she felt. She hesitated in her approach, and decided to join them for whatever they were queuing for, in the hope it was food.

  ‘Hello, Jenny,’ she said to a girl around her age but much shorter, making her appear younger.

  ‘Ruby, oh, Ruby,’ said Jenny, her voice soft, her left eye twitching. ‘Isn’t it awful? We lost our house. We’re waiting to be taken to my auntie’s at Warwick. We’ll sleep on her floor. Mum’s registering for new papers, and sending word to me dad we’re all safe.’

  She sniffled and her mother pulled her close. A pang of envy stabbed at Ruby and she gripped her hands together to remain in control of her emotions.

  ‘Ruby, where’s your family?’ Jenny’s mother asked.

  ‘With my gran,’ Ruby replied. ‘Probably heaven.’ She didn’t want to shock the woman but couldn’t think of another way of wording her loss.

  ‘Oh, my girl, come here,’ Jenny’s mother said, and smothered Ruby in a hug. She smelled of smoke and soot, and clung onto her until Ruby gently pushed herself free. It was her mother’s comfort she yearned for, not a woman filled with pity and sadness.

  ‘Do you know where I can find food? Is this a queue for some?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘You need to register your family deaths and get papers for yourself. I assume all is lost?’

  Ruby nodded.

  ‘Food can come later. Stand here – we’ve waited around an hour now, and no one will notice you’ve jumped in halfway,’ Jenny’s mother said.

  ‘It’s been a busy day,’ Ruby said, and inhaled to fight off another wave of nausea.

  Jenny reached out to take her hand, but Ruby gave a brief shake of her head. She could no longer bear the pitying eyes looking back at her. They stirred something inside and Ruby was wary of whatever emotion it was creating the dark thoughts each time she allowed herself to soften to another human’s kindness. Her heart was bruised, battered beyond repair.

  ‘I feel sick and weak. I can’t focus on anything,’ she said, distracting her from the rejected look on Jenny’s face.

  ‘Ah, of course. Silly me,’ Jenny’s mother said. ‘Try over at one of the canteen vans. They’ve got tea and beef dripping batches. Be careful, Ruby, and don’t forget, you need to get registered. Find a new home. You’re too young to be alone.’

  ‘What happens when I’m registered?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘They might find you a new family. Someone will take you in. If not, you will at least be in the care of someone until a permanent home is found for you. You need a roof over your head. It might be away from here too – safe,’ Jenny’s mother said, and gave her another hug.

  Ruby removed herself from the well-meaning arms and gave a brief nod. ‘I’ll sort it as soon as I’ve eaten. Thanks. Bye, take care, Jenny.’

  Jenny gave a half-hearted wave and Ruby left the queue and walked to the area where Jenny’s mother had pointed.

  Tea and a bread roll steeped in meat fat appealed far more than explaining her predicament to a form-filler at the beginning of a very long queue. Besides, she didn’t want a new family, or to leave Coventry. The thought of being sent to an orphanage frightened her, and if she left the area she’d lose the sense of her family still surrounding her. And what if they’d survived and were looking for her? She needed to stay, to keep her eyes open for them. Registering might mean living miles away and the thought made Ruby shudder.

  The best thing she felt she could do was to slip into the background during the confusion of the city, and find a way of surviving without leaving town. Her dream had always been to have an adventure of sorts and, although this was a tragedy forced upon her, Ruby sensed it was time for her to make her own way in the world.

  She kicked a battered box away from her path. Life was going to become difficult for her, and she had already turned her mind to the important issue of obtaining food. She needed money. Maybe she could work off her purchases by washing up. It was worth an ask.

  Entering an area set aside for food distribution, Ruby looked on in dismay. Queue after queue faced her, and all were longer than the previous one she’d stood in. At the pace they were moving, it would be well into the night, even the early hours before she would eat. She shifted from one foot to another, debating what to do. It frustrated her, knowing their shop had housed tins and packets of foodstuffs, along with fresh grown vegetables supplied by growers from nearby towns. Her energy was sapped, but Ruby thought about her gran’s house. Although it was no longer standing, her gran had always kept a good vegetable patch. Maybe there were a few veg or fruit items left amongst the ruins and, though sad at the thought of returning to the bomb site, Ruby knew she stood a chance of finding something to eat without having to beg elsewhere.

  ‘Oi. Where’s your mask, girl?’ a man’s voice bellowed out a few feet away from Ruby. She knew his question was directed at her, as she had no mask to carry. Not wanting to suffer explaining her losses, she turned and saw a man in police uniform. She waved a hand vaguely in the direction ahead of her.

  ‘I’m heading back home for it now,’ she called out.

  ‘Make sure you do. And your ID papers. Keep them to hand too,’ the officer said.

  Ruby rushed away. ID papers, ration book, birth certificate – anything official, her mother kept in a case under the stairs. With the flames flickering within the crater, Ruby doubted the case would have survived and realised she had nothing to show she even existed. Registering would be an impossible task and she was too tired and fearful to face more impossible tasks.

  She entered Kirby Road and made her way to the small row of houses still standing. Each remaining property stood with glassless windows and shredded curtains flapping in the chill wind. The majority of the contents of one house lay strewn along its pathway, and the path she walked crunched beneath her feet. The road had a silent eeriness to it, and there was no one around. Ruby, puzzled by the fact, called out, ‘Hello. Anyone here?’

  Silence. The only noises from the street she stood in echoed across the flattened right-hand side, but human movement and voices no longer existed. Ruby shook off the air of loneliness; she could not afford to dwell on it for fear of breaking down. She gulped as she walked over what had once been a happy house filled with love and baked cakes. Her grandmother cured many a tear with a slice of Victoria sponge and a strong cup of tea. Her beloved gran, lying cold in the temporary morgue. Ruby’s throat tightened against the scream she wanted to release, but she needed to focus on regaining her strength. Her legs and hands trembled with hunger and cold.

  She scouted around her grandmother’s land, but soon came to realise that all was lost. Mangled blackout curtains were a stark reminder of hours spent in the house helping her grandmother with her mother, preparing the windows for war. Only the memory of evenings spent with the two women she loved made Ruby appreciate it had not been wasted time.

  She spotted a few personal items, untouched by the bombs, and for the first time a smile flickered across Ruby’s face. The items were random ones, but they’d belonged to her family. They were the only connection to them she had left: heirlooms. A colander, a blue glass powder pot with no lid, two silver forks, a bowl with pink rose patterns around the edge and a tortoiseshell hair comb. It was one her grandmother used to pin into her thinning grey bun.

  Ruby also found coins amounting to one shilling, which she placed into the blue pot. Twelve pennies would get her milk and possibly an egg or two if available, but it would certainly not help her clothing or accommodation situation. She decided she’d return and search for more once she’d found somewhere to live. The chances were her gran’s electricity meter had burst during the explosion. No one would be collecting their payment for supply. The coins were family money; it wouldn’t be theft.
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br />   Ruby crossed the road and walked up to Fred’s and wondered how he was doing after seeing him so badly shaken. At least he was alive and in the care of someone; the woman she’d seen leading him away yesterday had looked kind and gentle.

  Although she knew he was not home, she still knocked on the door. She called hello through the blown-out front window, but there was no response. She did the same to five other houses in the row. All residents were elsewhere. Ruby headed back to Fred’s house, which sat at the end of the terrace, and went around to the back garden. She doubted he’d begrudge her any foodstuffs, and she’d pay him back when she was able. Only a small patch of turned over soil laid untouched by debris. She peered through the broken back window and door and then, taking a deep breath, Ruby stepped inside. Now she added trespassing to her sins. A shiver passed through her body as she stared around the home. How scared Fred must have felt. Shelves swung downwards, their contents on the tiled floor. The house appeared worse inside than from outside, and Ruby pondered the safety of the walls. She took another look at the exterior and, aside from one or two roof tiles missing, the brickwork seemed sound. She listened. No hissing sounds unnerved her – no gas pipes releasing their explosive poison.

  Ruby spotted a photo frame lying face down and lifted it away from a pail of dirty water. She rubbed away the grime on the glass, and a young couple from an era long gone smiled back at her. The petite young woman in the picture held a small bunch of flowers. A bride and groom, standing in the kitchen where she now stood. This house had been a home of longstanding to Fred and Elsie Lester. Life and age had taken Fred’s wife before Ruby was born, but the enemy had destroyed their home – all he had left of the life they’d shared – and anger built inside Ruby’s chest to the point of exploding into screams, and she feared once she started she’d never stop.

  She’d witnessed a woman’s face twisted with grief, receiving a resounding slap for hysteria, and another bellowing out a sound so guttural and raw Ruby knew the woman had lost her mind. She’d seen a man beat the crumbling wall of a house, his screams as high-pitched as any female. Their pain had been so deep they’d never recover, and Ruby closed a door in her heart to prevent the same happening to her. She locked in memories and her own deep pain so tight; each time she sensed an inkling of it breaking free she suppressed the feeling and replaced it with another. Now was the time for survival. She had little doubt the tears would find her further down the years, but for now she needed to focus on the positive side of things.