The Orphan Thief

by Glynis Peters

  Stay safe in Coventry,

  My regards

  Jean-Paul Clayton

  C/O

  Canadian Army Film and Photo Unit

  Canadian Military Headquarters,

  2, Cockspur Street,

  SW1

  London, England.

  Ruby stared at the letter for a few moments, hunched over, and imagined John huddled in a corner and thinking of them – her. Ruby liked to think the reference to the gardens was for her alone.

  Next, she tore open Helen’s letter.

  Dear Ruby,

  All is not well with my sister, but at least I am here to keep watch over her. We walk each day but it is all she does. Her mind wanders and she thinks I’m a friend of a friend. The death of Bill has taken her mind. I will never return to Coventry. She needs me for everything, and I can’t see it changing any time soon.

  I hope all is well with you; write and tell me your news.

  Take care of yourself.

  With fond affection,

  Helen

  Poor Helen.

  Ruby thought about her friends as she put pen to paper, undecided as to whom she wrote first.

  Garden Cottage,

  Coventry

  Dearest Helen,

  How lovely to hear from you, but I am sorry to read your sad news about your sister. Please take care of yourself.

  The shop is thriving, and the community room is heaving every day. We’ve sent a hundred pairs of knitted socks to soldiers, and raised the amazing sum of twenty pounds for local causes by selling handmade items.

  I’ve given a bit of thought to John, the Canadian. I’ve met with him a few times and please don’t think me foolish, but I quite like him. He’s different to others I speak to and treats me as an equal. He’s abroad now, I think, and I have to write to their headquarters in London, and they will pass the letters onto him.

  Please take care of yourself, and write back when you have news.

  Fondest wishes,

  Ruby

  Taking a deep breath, Ruby set about composing her second letter, and the increase in her heart rate surprised her. Writing a letter to John brought about the same excitement as sitting in his company.

  Garden Cottage,

  Spon Street, Coventry.

  Dear John,

  Thank you for your letter. Receiving post always makes us feel as if life is returning to some form of normality, and the outside world hasn’t forgotten us. Considering it is only the beginning of December, and we think you wrote this from outside of England, your letter did not take too long to reach us. Beatty and Fred send their regards. My life is busy here, and I’ve not seen Tommy, nor Earl, for many weeks now.

  I hope I can call you a friend – pen-friend, as I’d like to hear from you again. Tell me about your life before the war. Let’s not allow the atrocities smother the good times – I assume you had good times in Canada.

  Coventry mourned on the first anniversary of the Blitz bombing, but I did so in my own way. I wish you had been here to photograph the shop. It was covered in knitted socks to commemorate the bright souls who once walked our streets. It went down well, and no one told me off for not going to the formal church memorial service. I’d intended to go, but something told me I had to do it my way. And I did. Maybe I’ll do the same in April, when we go through the next anniversary of mourning.

  I went to the council to see about buying my old house. They are rebuilding, and I want the landlord to release it to me, even if he won’t sell. It is my intention to live out my life here, and give Coventry the best of me. Not that it is much, but it will be the blood of a Coventarian to continue a life tree of sorts.

  I will leave you with our good wishes, and hope this letter finds you safe and well. Ruby

  Satisfied the letter told John all she wanted to say, she sealed the envelope and headed to the post office.

  As she approached the entrance, Ruby thought she heard the familiar voice of Earl coming from a side alley nearby. The more he spoke, she knew it was him, and he was talking to another man with a similar accent to his own. She allowed a woman to go in front of her on the pretext she might have left her purse at home, and rummaged through her bag.

  ‘The place is full of stuff. Money too,’ Earl said.

  ‘Easy pickings are always welcome,’ said the anonymous man.

  ‘I’ve got a runner going in soon. Easy, as you say. By the way, I’ve got access to a couple of extra ration books, and four petrol coupons, if you can shift them. I’ve got a cow coming our way next week. There’ll be a leg in it for you.’ Earl laughed, and dropped his voice. ‘But not around here – understand? This is my patch.’

  Ruby shuddered as she imagined his threatening face and side-of-the-nose tapping action, then anger wormed its way with realisation of what he’d said.

  The man was a crook, a spiv, and had nothing to do with the army. If he did, it was only to steal for the black market. She shuffled forward as the queue moved up a notch, and waited her turn. Her mind was in turmoil. She needed to speak with Fred. He’d know what to do – who to tell.

  CHAPTER 28

  ‘I tell you, that man needs locking away,’ Beatty declared as Ruby relayed the overheard conversation when her friends returned from a trip to Birmingham to visit an old friend of Beatty’s.

  Fred scratched the day’s growth around his chin, deep in thought. ‘We have to be careful. It’s only hearsay. Our Ruby overheard two men talking. The police won’t be interested when there’s blatant looting happening under their noses. If we see Earl again …’

  Fred looked at Beatty when she gave a loud sigh, interrupting his flow of words.

  ‘If we see him again. I won’t get too excited about it. Creep,’ she said.

  ‘Fred, I just thought – he said about money being kept on the premises. What if he’s talking about the shop? We only bring the tin home on Friday.’

  Beatty put her hand to her mouth as Ruby spoke.

  Fred glanced at his watch. ‘Get your coat; we’ll go and get it now.’

  ‘You’ve only just got home. It’s too dark,’ Ruby protested.

  ‘No matter. We’ll sleep better. Get the torch with the cover; it’ll help light the floor and we won’t have to pull down the blinds, or light up the shop.’

  They linked arms and walked as fast as an elderly man and a crippled girl could through dark streets and avoiding fallen masonry. Two fire-watchers called out a greeting, but the pair saw no one else until they turned the corner into Hill Street. Ruby gave Fred a glance and he nudged her to turn off the torch and they stepped back into Bond Street, into the darkness of an alleyway before the man lingering outside the shop saw them. A few minutes later the man ambled past them and headed away from the area. Ruby held her breath for fear of the night air vapours giving away their whereabouts. Once the sound of footsteps receded, Fred took a step out of the alley. ‘All clear,’ he whispered.

  They moved around the corner again, when Fred suddenly stood still. He held his arm across the front of Ruby as a barrier to prevent her moving forward.

  ‘For a minute, I thought –’ Fred didn’t complete his sentence, but pointed at Tommy, walking the other way. ‘It is – it’s the boy.’

  Ruby peered into the darkness and made out a shadowy figure ahead. She leaned forward, ready to run after Tommy, but Fred kept his arm in front of her.

  ‘Whatever’s going on, we must fetch the police. I think they’ve taken what they wanted – I think you heard Earl correctly. There’s nothing we can do here. It’s too dangerous. Looters are not to be dealt with by the likes of you and me.’ His voice, an urgent whisper, warned her not to move.

  ‘The police think Earl’s responsible for quite a few criminal offences around here,’ Ruby said as they relayed the evening’s events to Beatty back at home. ‘Tommy is small and nimble. And, as we know, fast on his feet. He’s the ideal person to use. A bedraggled child with a few bruises wins the heart of a shopkeeper, susses out
the layout, stock, comings and goings of the owner. They smashed the back window and he scrambled inside.’

  Beatty stared at her, her expression confused. ‘If it weren’t you two telling me all this, I’d have said it was a made-up story. Whatever next?’

  Ruby gave a short sniffle. ‘I’ve lost the money and a few items from the glass cabinet – the ones I bought from them last time they were visiting – but no one was hurt, and we have to be thankful for that, I suppose.’

  ‘Let’s hope the boy’s not cut himself,’ Fred said, and Ruby frowned back her agreement.

  ‘Why didn’t he tell me what was going on?’ Ruby questioned herself rather than the others.

  Fred sat on a chair and pulled off his shoes. ‘Like the policeman said, he’s afraid.’

  ‘If they find him, what will happen to him?’ Beatty asked.

  ‘They said he’ll be returned to his mother. But they’ve got to find him first – and her – as I’ve yet to be convinced she exists. I’ve never really understood her never showing her face, but what if she’s part of the gang? He won’t be off the streets for too long. He’s a good little earner for them,’ Fred said, and Ruby heard the anger in his voice. Anger she also felt.

  ‘Sadly, unless Tommy is found, he’ll turn out like Earl and there’ll be another little Tommy running criminal errands. You stay there, Fred. I’ll shut up the chickens,’ Beatty said and went into the garden.

  ‘Charlie Fayers has boarded up the window, and I’ll square up with him tomorrow. I’m done in and ready for bed. ’Night both,’ Fred said to Ruby.

  ‘’Night, Fred. Sleep well, and thank you. I’ll wipe the dishes and head up myself. I want to get to the shop early tomorrow to clear up before we open.’

  ‘You get some sleep, young lady. No staying up fretting about Tommy.’ Beatty’s firm voice followed through as she stepped indoors.

  Ruby didn’t like to tell her it was Jean-Paul Clayton who she usually fretted over, and it probably wouldn’t alter until she knew he was safe.

  News soon drifted around the women of the knitting group about the break-in and, armed with brooms and pans, the glass shards were soon removed and, in true British style, the teapot filled. The warmth of friendship touched Ruby.

  Pearl Harbor had been bombed the night before, and the men stood discussing the implications – war with Japan – whilst the women in the room made Tommy’s situation the topic of their conversation. Some argued he knew better, even at such a tender age, but the majority condemned both his mother and uncle. By early afternoon, Ruby had heard enough and closed the shop early. She stood in the silence, allowing it to wash over her, bringing with it an ease to the tension of the past few hours.

  The world pounded her down with war talk, people to distrust, and the quandary of falling in love at such a tender age, with a man she might never see again. She wanted to gather up the better parts of her life and run away to a quiet corner of the world.

  A tap on the door disturbed her thoughts and she looked up, frightened the men or Earl had returned. Instead, John’s face stared back at her. Her fingers fumbled with the keys as she unlocked the door.

  ‘John!’ She tugged him into the room by the sleeve, and locked up behind him.

  ‘Hello, Ruby.’

  When she turned around he stood with his arms open and she needed no second invitation to run into them. He folded her into his body and his lips found hers. When they pulled back for air, she stared up at his face.

  ‘I thought I’d never see you again!’

  ‘I’m back for forty-eight hours, so I came to visit my favourite girl.’

  ‘Ah, so you have others hidden away?’

  John kissed her again, and this time his tongue teased her teeth apart and Ruby caved in to his non-verbal instructions.

  John stroked her hair as he spoke. ‘What happened?’ He pointed to the boarded-up window.

  ‘I had a break-in. We think it’s the work of Earl.’

  ‘That man again!’

  ‘Let’s not worry about him; he’s not important. This is.’ Ruby went to him and tiptoed up to enjoy another kiss.

  ‘Come with me,’ she instructed and led the way upstairs to her office. She removed her coat and draped it over the back of a chair. John went to her and pulled down her hair and stroked each curl into place, grazing her neck with his fingers as he did so, and Ruby let out a sigh. A louder one followed when he played three fingers against her throat. By the time he’d cupped the right-hand side of her face in the palm of his hand Ruby had no breath left to offer. She was his.

  His fingers fumbled with buttons, hers flexed across his arm muscles until they’d crossed a line she didn’t understand. John’s words urged her further into something she couldn’t comprehend. Jean-Paul Clayton had won her heart and if his intention was to weaken a woman already willing to be moulded by his attention – lust, love, whatever those around them would call it – Ruby surrendered. She waved the flag of permission. And when his kiss attacked, she returned the role of the invader and her lips equalled his on the battleground of pleasure. If classified as a war, the one of Shadwell versus Clayton signed off as a draw. She lost herself in his embrace. John’s kisses, his reassurances of care, his urgency to love her, burst through a dam of self-restraint, both parties satiated by acceptance. Love conquered all when both parties loved. The passion between them was undeniable, and when Ruby allowed John to take her for the first time she rejoiced in it and understood it was a greater force than herself which urged her onwards.

  Another expulsion of air left her lips, but this time pleasure overcame pain. Over and over their lips met, neither one of them wanting the moment to end, waiting for the second wave of want to sweep them into another bout of desire. Their breathing matched speed and urgency, and then, to Ruby’s surprise, John pulled away with one abrupt movement and composed himself. She watched him move with routine, tidying his clothing, flattening his hair and silently cursing himself.

  She watched as he paced the floor, then dropped to his knee in front of her.

  ‘Ruby …’ his voice sounded out her name with deep passion ‘… I am so sorry. I … it’s not what I wanted to happen.’

  Before Ruby gained control of her own breath, John was on his feet again. She felt the sting of rejection in that one swift movement.

  ‘John?’ She could barely whisper his name.

  ‘It’s wrong, Ruby. Wrong.’ The distress in his voice puzzled Ruby.

  ‘But it didn’t feel that way, John. Wrong isn’t the word I’d choose for what just happened.’

  With another glance at his flushed face, Ruby questioned her ability to speak. His mouth, so intent on expressing his fierce need and desire, had left a sensation of bruising. John rubbed his mouth, and something told Ruby hers had done the same.

  ‘As God is my witness, I didn’t mean that to happen.’

  John’s words stung.

  ‘As whatever God there might be, I did.’ Ruby spat her words back with anger.

  ‘Blasphemy doesn’t become you,’ John shot back.

  Ruby curled herself into her seat. ‘And righteousness is not something you are good at, Jean-Paul,’ she whispered.

  ‘John. My name with you is John.’

  ‘And it will be again, when you don’t feel guilty about what just happened. I’m young, but not stupid. I know the difference between general love and whatever that was between us. Lust? Passion? Whatever it was, one of us has to guide it in the right direction. Can you? As the man, the experienced one, can you take me into a future of new experiences? Can you take responsibility for your actions?’

  Standing tall and unnecessarily adjusting his clothing, John failed to look her in the eye, and Ruby sensed a goodbye statement in the atmosphere. She drew on her inner strength to prepare for his rejection, and reminded herself of the age difference between them.

  Don’t give him the easy way out, Ruby. There’s no excuse for him taking advantage of you. Her thoughts
recharged their battle call. One of us has to take control or step away to protect ourselves from emotional destruction.

  ‘No ties, no regrets. Is that how we leave this? We have nothing to bind us into something we can’t handle. You are far too old for me. I’m not what you need. I’ll put it down to one of life’s experiences.’ Ruby’s words rushed from her mouth and she felt each one tug her heart as she expelled them. Composed and determined not to cry, she pinched her lips together, still feeling the burning of want and need from John’s.

  A slap of John’s hand against the arm of her chair made her jump, and Ruby suppressed a screech of surprise, but launched into the second part of her speech before he had the opportunity to say anything.

  ‘I’m not a lover or a woman of experience. I’m at the beginning of my adult life. What I mean is … I want what you offer, and can match it, but I don’t want it for a day, a night or a week. I want what I feel for life, but clearly that’s impossible, so I have to be realistic. You have to walk away, and I will return to my life and accept whatever it throws at me. I know other girls my age are still dreaming of Prince Charming coming to the rescue, but life gave me no option; I had to grow up fast. I hadn’t planned on falling in love. I thought it would come later – in my twenties, when I … oh, I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Please go, John. Don’t hurt me. I can’t bear any more pain.’

  John waited until she’d finished speaking, his head tilted to one side, and Ruby watched as he held his arms out to her again, inviting, and confirming he was going nowhere.

  ‘It’s impossible. We’re impossible,’ she whispered.

  ‘Life’s impossible. Complicated. But it’s to be enjoyed, and for how long? Who knows?’

  With legs eager to reach his embrace, but a mind warning her of the dangers of her next move, Ruby battled to remain standing firm.

  ‘I read something romantic in a book once. Something about being allowed to drift free and always remember. Can you do that for me, John? This war has twisted everything into a mess of confusion. I’ll always want you, need you, in my life. You are the man who helped me see life through a different lens, but I can’t let you carry on feeling sorry for me. Nor can I let your loneliness lust after me. I’m not that person.’