The Orphan Thief

by Glynis Peters

  CHAPTER 11

  When Ruby arrived home she noticed Fred seemed quiet and distant. He didn’t chat during their evening meal as normal, and only seemed half interested as she relayed the story of Tommy, and of John seeking accommodation. She didn’t mention she’d walked half a mile in the wrong direction with a stranger. Although she was tempted, just to get a reaction from him.

  ‘Are you feeling all right, Fred? You seem unusually quiet tonight,’ she asked when he appeared to not be listening to another of her stories of the day.

  ‘Would’ve been our anniversary today – fifty-five years. Mine and Elsie’s,’ he rattled off and picked up his plate and took it into the kitchen.

  Ruby put her hand to her mouth, saddened and annoyed with herself; she’d not noticed Fred’s mood first thing that morning.

  ‘Tell me about her,’ she encouraged. ‘How did you meet and fall in love? Only if you want to, of course. But you know I love a great love story.’

  ‘She chatted as much as you do. S’pose that’s why we get along. Don’t take this the wrong way, but to me she was the prettiest girl alive and you are a looker, Ruby, so that will tell you how beautiful she was,’ Fred said with a soft smile.

  ‘I know she was. I saw your wedding picture, remember? She was tiny too. I’d tower above her,’ Ruby said, pleased Fred had relaxed and cheered up a little.

  The rest of the evening was spent chatting about Fred and how he’d met his wife, Elsie, when he worked at a bicycle building factory and she worked the canteen trolley.

  It was love at first sight for both of them, and they’d courted for several years before committing to marriage. A marriage which lasted two years before Elsie was struck down with a disease which baffled the doctors. She’d lost weight and soon her mind wandered. Fred said she became spiteful and it broke his heart, as she was the gentlest of women. They were never blessed with children, and Fred never found another woman who would be fitting to take Elsie’s place in his life. When he finished speaking Ruby understood how love could last if you had the right person in your life. The thought of love at first sight fascinated Ruby and she’d often deemed it impossible – until John had walked into her life and she’d got an inkling of what attraction towards the opposite sex felt like. It amused her that whenever she thought of walking out with a man, the image was now of Jean-Paul Clayton. His name was a mouthful when said in full, but sounded so romantic whenever she sounded it out in her mind. In such a short time he’d turned her thoughts from war to romance, and Ruby enjoyed the distraction.

  ‘Let’s clear this away. Pudding was tasty, by the way – clever idea, sweetening the rhubarb with the mashed carrot,’ Ruby said and picked up the dessert dishes.

  ‘And then it’s your turn to tell me about your family. Your grandmother was quite a character. I was fond of her as a friend. I miss her humour, but often hear it in you. Your mother had her ways, but gained a more sober side to her after she married. Like your father,’ Fred said.

  Settled in their usual seats for the evening, Ruby sat and began sharing her memories.

  ‘Life was busy with the shop, and Dad’s love of the church. Mum joined in the women’s groups, and I can remember her making the costumes for a show in the community hall when my grandfather was alive. He was dressed as a rather large elf; Gran was a smaller version. It was quite a shock, as my grandfather was a stubborn old man, with little humour. Goodness knows how Gran got him to dress up. Dad didn’t go for the funny side of life, and Mum tolerated his moods. But, with this particular show, she stood her ground and he had to help with making the background for the stage. He was good at that sort of thing.’

  Fred rubbed his chin in thought. ‘That was your mum’s dad?’ he asked, and Ruby nodded. ‘Wasn’t his father an artist as well as a greengrocer? I think I remember your gran saying he was away with the fairies at times. Might explain your dad’s stern outlook on life.’

  ‘Grandfather Shadwell was a miserable man. Never had a kind word to say to me or Mum, and would never let the two youngest near him. Dad said we must show respect, but it was hard to be pleasant to an unpleasant person.’

  Fred gave a ‘hmph’ sound, banged his pipe against the fireplace brickwork, sucked against the stem and refilled the bowl with a scoop of tobacco, lit it and drew in and puffed out.

  ‘I think the last war – and this one will do the same – it changed men. Women held us together, but we had to defend them and the country. An enormous responsibility, especially for the young. The married men with families – well, it tore them apart inside. When they say no news is good news, that isn’t true for a soldier fighting in mud and blood.’

  Ruby watched another spiral of smoke escape his lips. ‘I would have thought it would make them soft-hearted, not mean.’

  ‘Depends on what they saw. I know when I fought, thoughts of my own safety never existed. I fought for family back home, but had to become tougher to cope.’

  Ruby gave a slight shake of her head. ‘I can’t imagine how that must have felt. The Blitz has given me a little insight, but to have to shoot someone face to face, and when you’ve not a violent bone in your body … frightening. I’ve become tougher, thanks to our enemies, and had to grow up faster than planned, but I’m not convinced I could kill. I’d be useless on the front line.’

  ‘I hope you meet someone who will be kind and let you soften again. When this war is over, grab life with both hands and never look back. Hold onto the memories but don’t let them drown your future. I’ve learned it isn’t being disloyal. It’s a compliment to those gone before us, that they gave us something to live for – to remind the world they once existed,’ Fred said, his voice gentle and with a smile creasing his eyes.

  Ruby’s heart went out to him; he gave her guidance with lessons he’d learned the hard way.

  ‘Some existed only five months ago. Sometimes I pretend they’ve gone on holiday and will burst through the door spilling sand from their suitcases and sharing shells from the beach. In my mind they’re in Cornwall, just a few hundred miles away.’

  ‘Ah, that’ll come when you have children of your own. You wait. We’ll go to Cornwall together. Why Cornwall? Have you been before?’

  Ruby rose to her feet and went to the sideboard across the room – a room transformed into a cosy retreat from the busy shop. Both she and Fred had cases with their valuable papers and treasures beside their beds but, other items she came across, Ruby kept in a drawer she’d named her ‘one day’ drawer. Inside were images of clothes she’d like to wear, of houses she’d like to live in and places she’d like to visit for a holiday. On one of her searches she’d found a magazine which featured sandy beaches in Cornwall, and it sat in the drawer. Scruffy, torn and singed around the edges, it represented Ruby’s partial image of her future. She’d yet to consider who she’d share the future with.

  ‘I found this. Look, doesn’t it look beautiful? One day, Fred. One day I’ll let you walk me down the aisle too, so I can have my children to take with us, but for the moment we’ll make do with this picture. I’ll cut it out and frame it for the wall, over there. It will fill the gap. What the … what’s the matter? Fred, are you ill?’ Ruby asked and rushed to Fred’s side. Without speaking, he continued to sob into his hands. A heart-wrenching sound escaped his lips and Ruby held him close. ‘Tell me. What’s wrong – are you in pain?’

  Panic raged through her body. Her heart rate speeded up as she clung to him. His sobbing continued and his breathing came fast and furious. His body sunk into hers, limp and sapped of energy from the emotional outburst.

  ‘I’m sorry, Fred. We shouldn’t have talked about Elsie. It’s all too much for you,’ Ruby said and a teardrop rolled from the end of her nose onto his head. She released one hand and wiped it away. Fred’s arm reached up and he laid his hand over hers. Slowly they separated. Ruby was relieved he’d stopped crying.

  ‘It’s you, not Elsie. My tears are for you,’ he said and blew heavily into a large
handkerchief.

  Ruby rocked back onto her heels as she remained kneeling beside him. ‘Me? I made you cry? I’m so sorry, Fred. It’s the last thing I’d ever do. What did I say wrong?’ she whispered, scared of what his reply would be as she went over the conversation in her mind.

  ‘You want me to walk you down the aisle,’ Fred said.

  ‘Of course I do. You are my granddad now; it’s your duty,’ Ruby said, adding a flippant tone to her voice in the hope of pulling him from his miserable state.

  ‘I’m old, Ruby. You are only sixteen,’ he said and held up his hand. ‘I know, seventeen this year, but you are still young, and have a long way to go until marriage. We have to be realistic. Don’t hold onto me as part of your future. I am your here and now.’

  Sitting on the floor and pulling her legs into a more comfortable position, Ruby stared up at him. In such a short time they’d formed an incredible bond, and now he’d reminded her of their age difference – of what life could do to them at any point. To be parted from him would be as painful as losing her own flesh and blood. No words could cover over the truth in what he said, so she sat in silence.

  They allowed the silence to wash over them until Fred found the strength to stand up and stretch his legs. ‘We needed this evening. It helped,’ he said and left the room.

  Reminded of his words about grabbing life and of how the war destroyed happiness, Ruby curled into a ball and as she thought of her future it reduced her to tears – the tears of a child moving into a woman’s world. A world with an unknown outcome. A time in her life when nothing made sense, and fear rode over hope, and hope over fear. She had a knot of anger where only a short while ago there had been calm and a sense of well-being. The war had tainted her world yet again, and Ruby struggled to see how she could ever move on with her life – how to find love without the pain.

  CHAPTER 12

  7th April 1941

  Ruby stared out of the window. An overcast grey sky slowly gave way to a few rays of weak sunshine, then quashed them as fast as they arrived. A shower fell and cleared up in minutes. Spring struggled to show itself, but the garden had burst into life and Fred worked tirelessly to grow food.

  Picking up her bag and a thick cardigan, Ruby went in search of Fred. He was never far from the garden or the cat and her kittens. The kittens had been born during a spring storm and Fred sat with Tabs the whole night. From that day, Tabs followed him much like a dog would its owner, and now the two kittens tagged along. It was a comical sight.

  ‘Fred, I’m off. Are you coming down to the shop with lunch or shall I take something with me?’ she called out, but got no response. Then she heard Fred talking to someone in the shed. Puzzled, she pushed open the door.

  ‘And this one is called Patch. See, it’s got a black patch behind its ear –’

  ‘Oh, hello. I wondered who Fred was talking to,’ Ruby said, and smiled over at Tommy, stroking the white kitten with a black blotch on its back.

  ‘I found him loitering outside at the end of the jetty.’

  ‘Eh, jetty? We ain’t near the seaside. I was down there,’ Tommy said, and pointed down the side of the house. ‘Down the alleyway. It was a bit nippy.’

  Ruby frowned at him. ‘What do you mean about being near the seaside? A strange thing to say.’

  ‘Jetty – ’e got ’is words in a muddle. ’e meant alley, that bit there.’ Tommy pointed to the side walk way.

  ‘You make me laugh. That’s its name – the jetty. It’s an alley where you come from and a jetty here,’ Ruby said.

  ‘And you mek me laff. Laff. Why don’t you say larf and make?’

  Fred laughed so loud the kittens scampered off. ‘Listen to the pair of you. The war of the accents.’

  ‘Yours is funny,’ Tommy said indignantly.

  ‘We’ll beg to differ. I take it you’ve come to tell me your aunt is unhappy with her money for the bracelet.’

  Tommy jumped to his feet and held out his hand to the struggling Fred. They looked a comical pair, but it touched Ruby to see the boy had manners and was thoughtful.

  ‘Nah. She’s given me summat else to sell. Said you was genrus.’

  ‘That London accent is something else, boy. Slow down and I’ll understand you by the end of the day,’ Fred said, and ruffled Tommy’s hair.

  ‘I’ve just realised. What are you doing here, Tommy? How do you know where I live?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘Saw you in town the ovva day, and followed you. Don’t know why. Just did. I was bored out me brains.’

  ‘You should have shouted. We could have had a chat. Why are you so bored?’

  ‘Auntie kicks me out when Mum goes queuin’.’

  ‘Walk with me. I’m heading off to the shop. You can tell me about your life in London,’ Ruby said and lifted the kitten from his lap. ‘Let this one feed from his mummy now.’

  She smiled at Fred over Tommy’s head. ‘Bring lunch around twelvish, please, Fred? Put extra in; we’ve got a guest. Carry this bag for me, please, Tommy?’

  ‘Yeah. Put summat for me in the lunch bag, Fred. I might be ’angin’ around if she gets me started on a job.’

  Ruby laughed. ‘You are the guest, Tommy, but you’re also right about earning your lunch. Come on, no dawdling.’

  By the time they reached the shop Ruby had learned the difference between a batch and a bread roll. Bread rolls were proper rolls, eaten in London – Tommy would not accept the word batch for one – and Ruby couldn’t understand how people in London ate eels in jelly. She’d learned most Londoners lived next to the King of England, and had trains running underground. For a young child, Tommy had a wealth of knowledge and used all the air in his lungs to get it across. Ruby didn’t have an opportunity to speak until they’d unlocked the shop’s front door.

  ‘Before we get busy, show me what you have to sell today.’

  From his pocket, Tommy pulled out a tatty scrap of cloth and opened it to show off a pretty brooch. It was inset with pale blue stones and was shaped like a silver bird.

  ‘This is beautiful,’ Ruby gasped.

  ‘Me auntie says it’s gotta go. So whatcha gonna give me?’

  ‘I’ll give you another two pounds. It’s worth more, I’m sure, but I’d have to get it checked over. Maybe, if your aunt –’

  ‘Nah, I’ll take it – the two pounds, I mean.’

  ‘I’ll add another to that if you’ll stay and tidy a shelf or two, and sweep the floor for me. It will help Fred out too. And tomorrow I’ll take you to the Memorial Park and you can help me turn over soil and plant veggies. I volunteer on a community project up there – on the allotments. It’ll keep you out of your auntie’s hair and earn you a coin or two. What do you say?’

  Tommy shrugged and turned his head to one side, giving her idea some thought. ‘I ain’t comin’ if it’s rainin’,’ he said.

  ‘I ain’t goin’ if it’s rainin’,’ Ruby said, mimicking Tommy’s accent.

  ‘Oi, you ain’t takin’ the mick, are you?’

  Ruby laughed. ‘I wouldn’t dare, Tommy. I wouldn’t dare. Can you reach the Open sign?’

  ‘’Course I can. I ain’t no shorty. Me legs are longer than me mates’ – the ones in London. I ain’t got any ’ere.’

  ‘What – legs or mates?’ Ruby teased.

  ‘Now you’re bein’ silly,’ Tommy said. He turned the sign and opened the door to a woman waiting outside. ‘Mornin’, missus.’

  The woman stared at him walking back to Ruby and glanced up to Ruby with an amused look on her face. ‘New member of staff, Ruby?’

  ‘Hello, Mrs Price. Yes, this is my helper for the day, Tommy. He usually lives next door to the King, in London, but he’s staying with his auntie here in Coventry. Fred will be by later. He’s fixed your watch.’

  Ruby pulled a chair out from the back room and offered it to the large woman she’d first met when clearing her yard near Eagle Street. Her husband never survived the blast of a gas pipe, and her daughter lived the other
end of the country. Ruby had helped her compose a reassuring letter to send to her daughter to let her know her mother was safe and not to try to get to the city. Fred had taken to talking with her and a deep friendship had formed. They were two friends in the last few years of their lives, juggling with the struggles of war and ageing.

  ‘Ta, duck. My feet are killing me. Chilblains. It’s so cold in my place. I can’t light a fire.’

  Tommy moved around the room with a brush and dustpan. ‘I can teach you. Me mum showed me,’ he said.

  ‘That’s kind of you, little man, but what I mean is I’m not allowed. Too many broken gas pipes in the area, and my chimney is badly damaged.’

  ‘Ah, you need a good chimbly for a good fire. See, the kindlin’ won’t fire up,’ Tommy said and carried on sweeping, unaware the two women were struggling to remain composed. Beatty had resorted to ramming a fist into her mouth and Ruby was bent double in the pretence of looking for something by her feet. Eventually she couldn’t control the laughter any more.

  ‘I’ll make us a nice cuppa, Mrs P. Back in a minute.’

  ‘Call me Beatty, for goodness’ sake. You make me sound old.’

  When Ruby returned with a tray of drinks and three biscuits on a plate, she saw Beatty reading to Tommy. It was a calming moment of normality. It seemed a shame to interrupt them.

  ‘Tommy, carrot juice and a biscuit?’

  Tommy scrambled to his feet and took his glass and biscuit from the plate offered.

  ‘Ta,’ he said and sat on the floor with his legs crossed.

  ‘Beatty?’ Ruby said.

  Beatty nodded and took her cup and saucer. ‘Tommy can have my biscuit,’ she said.