The Orphan Thief

by Glynis Peters

  ‘It’s his lucky day. I was going to give him mine, but we’ll put them back for another day. They might not have rationed them yet, but they are hard to find at the moment. Fred enjoys a bit of baking and he’ll be here with lunch soon. I have a feeling there will be something made with carrots coming our way. There’s not a day goes by where we don’t get treated to something carroty,’ Ruby said and giggled.

  ‘Rationing is going to get tougher, so I hear. Clothes next, apparently. That’s where you’ll do well, collecting and repairing. Don’t give them all to the ragman,’ Beatty said and slurped her tea from the saucer.

  A customer entered the shop and Ruby greeted her. ‘Feel free to browse, and there’s the notice explaining the tags attached.’

  Tommy rose to his feet and put his crockery on the table. He took the outside broom and swept the front pathway. ‘Hello, Fred.’

  Ruby watched as the pair greeted each other. One as tall as the broom, the other as thin.

  ‘Friends for life, that pair,’ she said to Beatty.

  ‘Don’t let the lad get too attached. Fred’s old, and –’

  ‘Please, Beatty, don’t,’ Ruby said and held up her hand to stop Beatty from speaking.

  ‘Be realistic, girl.’

  ‘Tommy is only here for a short while. He’ll be long gone by the time age has taken Fred from us. Let them enjoy each other’s company.’

  ‘True enough. Goodness knows we have so very little to take comfort in at the moment. Who am I to prevent a friendship? Ignore me. I just worry for Fred, that’s all – and you.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me, Beatty. My life is ticking along and, thanks to Fred, my lonely days are a thing of the past. I never mixed much, but it is nice to have someone moving around the house.’

  ‘I know what you mean.’

  The rest of the day was spent cleaning and pricing new items and by the time Ruby turned the Closed sign she had no regrets about setting up the business. Tommy left with his money tucked into his pocket and Fred returned home to heat the oven in readiness for his meat and potato pies.

  Ruby decided to visit the ruins of her old home on her walk back. It would be the first time since the November bombing and she was unsure whether she’d make it all the way to the crater or whether the pain would still be too much for her to bear.

  CHAPTER 13

  Clearing teams still moved around the city streets and the noises drowned out birdsong; there was nothing beautiful left to lift their spirits. As she approached the vicinity of her old home her nerve faltered. She saw that it had been fenced off, and it irritated her to have a barrier between her and her family. Undeterred, Ruby lifted the barbed wire and wood to one side and entered the area marked as dangerous by several signs. Once through, she dropped to her knees, scouring the area for a hint of her family, for something to make her understand the sickening reality of it all. She sat dangling her legs over the edge of the deep hole, unafraid of falling in, but hoping familiar faces would draw her to them and comfort her in the darkness of their new world.

  A movement from across the site caught her attention and from the corner of her eye she spotted a man in uniform. Her heart pounded with excitement. It was John Clayton. He stood with one leg on the ground and the other balanced on a floored chimney pot. He lifted both arms and held out a black box. Each time she moved she was aware of the camera covering his face. Ruby remained seated, talking to her family. Let him take his photographs. Let him record her anguish and share it with the world. If he could take pictures of a young girl breaking her heart over the death of her family then he was as hard as the pilots who had dropped the bombs. She had no time for the likes of him when others were tearing their hands to shreds trying desperately to right the wrongs.

  She kept her eyes on the crater, not wanting him to see the tear snaking its way down her cheek. Once she’d composed herself, she turned to face him. He lifted his hand in greeting and made to move in her direction. Ruby shook her head and held up a hand to prevent him from coming to her. She stood up, moved away from the hole in the ground and scooted under the barbed wire. Halfway across the bombed-out street, she saw him disappear behind a wall which had once been the interior of the house belonging to a pair of newlyweds. Ruby recalled the laughter from the house when the couple had been decorating. They’d moved in four days before the bomb had dropped and killed them. On display was their chosen colour and wallpaper in the latest fashion. Wasted. Destroyed.

  As she turned behind the wall she saw John leaning against it as he smoked a cigarette and when she gave a slight cough he glanced her way. His facial expression was not what she’d expected. A deep sadness stared back. He looked tired, and his jawline showed a hint of growth.

  ‘Hello, Ruby. How are you?’

  ‘Well, thanks. You?’ Ruby knew her voice was clipped and over-polite, but she still smarted at him photographing her at such a private time.

  ‘Tired. Seen a few things I can’t un-see that keep me awake at night, but I’m happier for seeing a friendly face. Although, is it a friendly face?’ John asked, and mimicked Ruby’s scowl.

  ‘Did you take many?’ Ruby asked and pointed to the camera.

  ‘A few.’

  Ruby gave him a tight-lipped stare and crossed her arms with displeasure. ‘It was a private moment.’

  ‘I’m sorry if I invaded your privacy. I didn’t think until it was too late. When you turned around, I could see I’d been wrong to photograph you here,’ he said, his voice soft and genuine. Almost a whisper.

  ‘Why? Why did you feel the need to take pictures of my grief?’

  John moved to his camera, perched on a concrete slab, and lifted it to his face and, before Ruby could prevent him from taking the picture, he’d clicked the button.

  ‘It’s my job,’ he said, and discarded his cigarette, grinding it underfoot.

  Ruby watched and shuddered as his large black boot snuffed out the red glow. All thoughts of ants and the enemy were swiftly suppressed.

  ‘Job? But you’re in service uniform, and is it right to do that –’ she pointed to the camera ‘– when the person is in front of you? Shouldn’t you ask first?’ Ruby could hear the indignation in her voice.

  John raised an eyebrow and gave what Ruby took to be an apologetic smile. ‘We record the war. I’m recording it for the army – the Canadian Army, to be precise. I’m part of the Canadian Military Headquarters, based in London. They decided, as I’d missed my train, I could stay around here and record the Blitz damage a while longer.’

  ‘Why here? I know why for Coventry. I mean England.’

  John took another photograph, this time of smoke spiralling across the rooftops of the houses ahead. Rooftops without roof tiles, chimneys unable to accommodate fires. He turned back to speak and Ruby saw his job was more than just taking photographs; it was a passion for remembering what might have been before the destruction.

  ‘It needs to be on record. Another war? We never expected it, and we have lessons to learn. Folks back home want to know what’s happening over here. Many are originally from Britain, or their ancestors were; some of mine came from England, which is why I wanted to see it for myself.’

  Ruby noticed his voice remained soft, almost apologetic.

  ‘Will they see me – in your collection?’ she asked, her voice also soft. There was an air of calm around them and, although she’d been angry before reaching him, she was now curious about the kind of work he carried out.

  ‘They will.’

  ‘But, as I said, it was a private moment with my family.’

  John looked about and then looked back at Ruby. His face wore a puzzled crease across his brow.

  ‘They’re not here. They’ve gone. They’re at the bottom of the crater …’ Ruby pointed to where she’d sat when he first saw her. ‘It might be fenced off, but that land used to support my home. My parents, little brother and sister are crushed beneath it all. The Shadwell family plot is not in the cemetery. Gran
is, but the rest are here.’

  John’s shoulders sagged as he expelled a breath. He put his hands behind his head and paced up and down in front of her.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Ruby. Truly. I never gave it much thought when you said you were alone and had built your own business when we spoke the other day.’ He pointed to her legs. ‘I noticed you limp quite badly. Is that how you injured your leg?’ His voice was loaded with concern.

  ‘No, I was born with one longer than the other. Or shorter, whichever way you like to say it.’

  ‘There I go again, me and my big mouth. I’m sorry for being so rude,’ John said, and Ruby saw his face flush with embarrassment.

  ‘Believe me, others have been just as rude.’ Ruby dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. ‘This job you do, it captures the horrors of war. Not easy, but do you ever know what you are looking at?’ she asked.

  ‘Not always. There are times I’ve wanted to know but dared not ask, or I’m alone, with no one to explain,’ he said.

  ‘I did wonder. I can help you here, as the wall you’ve leant against was the home of a bride and groom – married just a week. The wallpaper is the latest one in green. Now look at it, spattered with soot, water, mud and … well, their blood. Photograph it, keep it to remind you of Eagle Street, Coventry, England. The place you saw inside of me – ’

  Ruby’s words came in a rush and she sensed the heat in her cheeks. It was time to leave before she embarrassed herself in front of the man who made her heartbeat skip and jump whenever he looked at her.

  ‘I must go. Fred, my grandfather, will be worried. It was nice to meet you again. Take care.’

  Ruby walked away, hoping he’d not stare after her and just see her limp. For the first time in her life she resented the notion that a man would consider her a cripple. Wanting another sneak look at John, she turned back to give a polite wave goodbye and smiled when she noticed he was taking photographs of the wall. He was a listener, a man who understood emotion – qualities Ruby admired.

  CHAPTER 14

  8th April 1941

  Grabbing her case and yelling for Fred to get his, Ruby raced to his room. The siren blasted out the warning of enemy planes heading their way; the ear-splitting sound was exhausting. Adrenalin pumped around her body and her nerves tingled with fear. She tried not to show it, and knew Fred felt the same.

  The sirens gave out their eerie whine and alerted them on a regular basis now the winter weather had passed, but no one took them lightly. Ruby and Fred always headed for safety, and tonight was no different.

  As fast as Fred could walk, they headed to the Anderson shelter, now fully cleared of her collected items. Once settled under blankets, they waited for the all-clear.

  ‘That young Tommy is a bit of a character,’ Fred said with a chuckle.

  Ruby laughed with him. ‘He certainly is, and his accent, well, if the King sounded like that, no wonder they wanted him to have speech lessons.’

  ‘Do not disrespect the King, Ruby,’ Fred reprimanded.

  Knowing it was wise not to respond, Ruby sat in silence. Outside was a different story and she and Fred moved closer to each other as the first bomb echoed out around the city. The walls of the shelter vibrated. Bomb after bomb dropped, well into the early hours. Memories of the last time they’d experienced such a violent attack churned around Ruby’s insides. Fred trembled as they held each other close. It was not the time to hold back the fear; they needed to claim comfort from another human being.

  Once the all-clear sounded, they ventured into the garden, not knowing what they might see. The house stood firm and they looked at each other and sighed out their relief, but exhausted and terrified of what they might see beyond the walls of their sanctuary.

  ‘Well, we were lucky this time,’ Fred said, and opened the shed to let the cats out. They meowed around his legs.

  ‘Nice to be wanted,’ Ruby said. ‘I must go, Fred to see … out there – the shop.’

  ‘You go. I’ll follow on.’

  More fires, craters and devastation greeted her once she stepped out onto the main area of Spon Street, and Ruby dared not breathe for fear of inhaling some of the thick black smoke surrounding her. She coughed and choked her way to the shop. One pane of glass had a minor crack, but Ruby could see no other damage. She touched the door. It was warm from the fire burning across the street. Once inside, she found every pail and bucket on the shelves and in the storeroom and filled them with water. Once filled, each one was placed outside the door. Satisfied she’d got enough to make a small impression on the fire, she grabbed them one at a time and threw the contents over the shop front, and then the flames across the road.

  Flashbacks of the events of November found Ruby needing to stop and catch her breath every few moments. Everywhere she turned there were desperate faces staring back at her, their eyes willing her to say it was a dream – another nightmare. She threw bucket after bucket of water onto surrounding land and buildings, working with her eyes directed away from people, their pain unbearable. Hitler’s men had unleashed their political rage against the innocent yet again. Who were the enemy? Ruby refused to believe ordinary men would carry out such cruel and violent acts against women and children. However, life had forced Ruby to enter adulthood at a rapid pace and the naïve girl she’d once been no longer existed. Of course these sorts of things happened. War forced the commandment of love thy fellow man to one side; enemies suffocated them under the clouds of ash, suppressing independent thoughts and bringing survival of the fittest to the fore. War brought out the worst in those who wished to rule, but those whose only wish was to continue living a simple life – she saw the best of them come into play. The enemy had a job to do and, unfortunately for Coventry, they were doing it rather well.

  Once satisfied she’d saved the exterior of the shop, Ruby went inside and locked the door as she waited for Fred to arrive. She could not face seeing the fresh devastation brought to her city. She washed her hands in the sink and fluffed her hair, which she’d noticed was sitting beyond her shoulders with a hint of a curl at the bottom. No more sitting on a kitchen chair whilst her mother cut it to the base of her neck, admiring its rich auburn colour. For months Ruby had simply tied it back or scooped it under an old cap of Fred’s – an image captured for ever by a wartime photographer – and every day she cringed at what her mother would have thought. Baggy trousers, an old sweater and cap were not exactly her idea of a sixteen-year-old’s attire. Ruby was past caring and wore whatever was practical when working.

  ‘Well, well, if it isn’t young Tommy,’ she said as he and Fred tapped on the door. She pulled it open and Tommy ran inside, full of life and excitement.

  ‘Did you see them bombers flyin’ over last night?’

  ‘No, I did not. I was inside my shelter with Fred. Where on earth were you if you saw the planes?’

  ‘I … um … I …’

  ‘Did you sneak outside?’ Fred asked.

  ‘N … yeah. I snuck out when me mum and auntie weren’t lookin’.’

  Fred and Ruby exchanged concerned glances. Neither believed the boy and Ruby was alerted to the violent blush spreading across the boy’s face.

  ‘Where do you and your family live, Tommy? I take it the family are safe?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah. Don’t you worry ’bout us, Rubes, we’re fine. We need a bob or two, though. Got this to sell. Was me Gran’s,’ Tommy said and held out a hat pin.

  Ruby took it from him. ‘Your family have lovely things, Tommy. This is too good for me. Isn’t there a jeweller you can ask for a proper price?’

  ‘Me auntie said I’m to only come to you. She said you are honest,’ Tommy said and his flushed face remained staring up at her. His grubby fingers, with nails chewed to the quick, picked at a cuff of his equally grubby jacket. The term ‘street urchin’ had sprung to Ruby’s mind the first time she’d seen him, and today he suited the title.

  ‘Listen. I need to speak with your aunt and explain she
could earn more elsewhere. I try to be honest, but feel I’m cheating her out of much needed cash. Do you understand?’ Ruby spoke with a firm voice. It had no effect on the chipper Tommy.

  ‘You ain’t gotta ’splain. I ain’t fick. Me auntie will ’ammer me to bits if I brung a stranger ’ome,’ he said and with pleading eyes looked to the plate of biscuits.

  ‘Right, well, this will be the last piece I buy from you, Tommy. If she wants me to take her pretty things, she’ll have to come herself. School is where you should be, lad. Fetch a glass of milk and two biscuits, sit here with Fred, whilst I go to check on Beatty. Fred, you all right looking after the shop? When Tommy’s finished eating, he’s going to go home. Right, Tommy?’

  Tommy frowned, bit on a biscuit and chewed.

  ‘Tommy? Home when you’ve finished,’ Ruby said.

  The boy nodded.

  ‘I’ll see he goes, Ruby. You check on Beatty. She’ll be scared witless after last night. It’s bad out there again,’ Fred said.

  When Ruby arrived at Beatty’s house she saw the elderly woman standing by her gate. Ruby waved, but Beatty simply dabbed her eyes with the corner of her apron with one hand and propped herself against her gate with the other.

  ‘Beatty …’ Ruby said as she approached.

  ‘Wicked … Wicked, that’s what they are,’ Beatty replied, and continued to dab away the tears.

  ‘I take it you aren’t hurt? We’re not hit. Shop has a cracked window, but Fred will sort it out for me. Beatty, come back with me for a while – for a bit of company,’ Ruby said.

  Beatty didn’t argue; she walked back to her front door and pulled it closed.

  Linking her arm through Beatty’s, Ruby listened as her friend talked about life before the war, of baking bread and cakes without wondering whether she had enough ingredients, and enjoying a good Sunday joint of beef. Cheap cut, slowly cooked over a batch of potatoes. By the time they’d reached the shop, Ruby’s salivary glands were working double time. She pushed open the door, relieved to see Tommy had left for home, and pleased to see three people browsing the shelves. Fred was serving a fourth.