by Pam Weaver
‘Rachel wants to live down this way,’ said Percy, ‘between Worthing and Brighton perhaps. There’s a synagogue in Brighton, and Rachel misses her community.’
‘Oh, Percy, how lovely,’ Ruby cried. And, spotting Rachel and Alma, she hurried to join them, but there was little time to do more than tickle Alma’s cheek before the best man called everybody to the table and the wedding breakfast got under way.
The sandwiches, kept moist under damp tea towels, were delicious and the cakes were as good as any you could find in a Lyons tea room. After the speeches, with plenty of bride-and-groom jokes (‘What are the five essential words for a good marriage? Answer: “I’m sorry” and “You are right”’) and sound advice (‘Remember that if you put all your problems on the back burner, they’re bound to boil over’), the cake was cut.
A little later everyone got up from their chairs and, whilst the women stacked the dirty plates by the food hatch, for those in the kitchen doing the washing up, the men put the trestle tables away. On the small raised platform that doubled as a stage Eddie Lawrence was warming up on the melodeon. Eddie had at one time worked as a farmer, but after he lost his legs in the Great War and following years of struggle, he had become an auctioneer, although his talents as a musician were also in great demand. A man Ruby had never seen before made his way to the platform with a fiddle under his arm, and someone else was setting up the drums. When the music started, Ruby clapped her hands in delight. Dancing! It had been an age since she’d danced. The caller got everybody ready and then they began with some old Sussex dances, which meant that everybody – young and old – could join in.
‘How are you getting on with that chair?’ Percy asked Jim. He handed his brother-in-law a glass of beer and sat down next to him.
‘Wouldn’t be without it,’ said Jim.
With Ruby gone, Percy became a man on a mission. ‘You didn’t go and see my friend, the watchmaker.’
‘There was little point,’ said Jim truculently. ‘I can’t pull myself on the wheels all that way in the chair. You have no idea how hard it is.’
‘You won’t get rich sitting on your fat arse all day,’ Percy blurted out.
It was obvious from the expression on Jim’s face that he was furious. ‘Just leave it, Percy. This is my life now – and that’s all there is to it.’
‘But you’re still young,’ Percy insisted. ‘Do you really want to spend another thirty or forty years doing nothing?’ He sipped some of his beer. ‘What about bookkeeping?’
‘I’m no good with sums,’ said Jim.
They watched the dancers. Ruby was threading her way between the groups, hand over hand, and then twirling as she reached the end of the line. When Bob Knight twirled her again unexpectedly, she threw back her head and laughed. Jim felt a frisson of irritation.
‘What if I set you up with a tobacconist’s kiosk?’ said Percy, interrupting Jim’s dark thoughts.
‘And how am I going to get there in the morning?’
‘For God’s sake,’ replied Percy, exasperated. ‘Hire some little lad who could do with a bob or two, to push you there before he goes to school.’
Jim stared sullenly ahead.
‘Do you know what?’ said Percy. ‘I get the feeling you don’t want to work.’
Jim glared at his brother-in-law.
‘I mean, look at ol’ Eddie Lawrence up there,’ Percy went on. ‘Did he let the fact that he’s got no legs stop him?’
Jim’s knees knocked against the table and Percy’s beer wobbled. ‘Why don’t you damned well mind your own business,’ said Jim, turning to leave.
Percy grabbed the armrests. ‘Look here, Jim,’ he said in a more conciliatory tone. ‘What happened to you was grossly unfair, and you didn’t deserve it, but you’ve got to pull yourself together, man. Are you really going to sponge off my sister all your life? What happens when she has a baby?’
‘Let go of me,’ Jim spat through gritted teeth. ‘It’s all very well for you, with your flash car and all your money.’
‘And how do you think I got them?’ said Percy, his voice rising. ‘Nothing fell into my lap. I got it by hard graft.’
‘Let go of the bloody chair!’ Jim shouted. People began to turn round.
Ruby stopped dancing and froze to the spot. One of the ushers went over to them. ‘Now then, lads,’ he said. ‘No argufying. This is a ’appy occasion and I’ll be thanking you to keep it such.’
‘Sorry,’ said Percy, straightening up. ‘Jim and I were just having a heart-to-heart.’ He waved his hand towards the staring guests. ‘I apologize, everyone. Please carry on with the dancing.’
But Jim wasn’t in the mood to let it go. ‘Ruby,’ he shouted, as the melodeon struck a chord, ‘take me home.’
‘But she’s enjoying herself,’ Percy protested mildly.
‘Piss off!’ said Jim, jerking his chair away. ‘It’s none of your business.’
‘Look, I’ve said I’m sorry,’ said Percy. ‘Let me take you home. I’ll run you back in the car.’
‘Ruby,’ Jim shouted.
‘Come on, Jim,’ said Percy, ‘let the girl have a bit of fun.’
Ruby stopped dancing and looked over at them.
‘We’re going home,’ said Jim.
‘That’s right,’ Percy hissed in Jim’s ear. ‘Ruin everything. You can’t enjoy yourself, so don’t let anyone else have any fun, either.’
Jim’s face flamed with rage. Not caring whose toes he ran over, he headed towards the door.
Ruby had collected her handbag and was saying her goodbyes.
‘Come on, woman,’ her husband said tetchily. ‘Get me out of here.’
CHAPTER 8
There was only Jim to cook for on Sunday morning, so once he had eaten, Ruby decided to go out.
‘I just want to pop down to my mother’s,’ she said. ‘You coming?’
Jim shook his head. ‘I’m doing the crossword,’ he replied, shaking out the Sunday paper.
She was still annoyed with him for spoiling her fun at Lily’s wedding, but they didn’t speak of it.
The night before, the atmosphere between them had been tense. Why was he behaving like this? Ruby decided not to speak to him until he apologized and had taken to walking out of the room when he came in, but Jim made no reference to what he had done. He even made a point of pretending to be asleep when she came to bed. Ruby lay in the dark for ages, angry and upset, and trying to shirk off the pangs of hurt and disappointment.
As his gentle snores filled the room, Ruby turned her thoughts to the dance. Oh, what fun it had been to get up on her toes and twirl her skirts. She’d loved dancing with Bob as a partner. He was so light on his feet, a past master on the dance floor, who could skilfully steer her in the right direction whenever she forgot the next move. She had been enjoying herself in a way she hadn’t done in a long time, and it had been wonderful.
Robert Knight (known to everyone as Bob) had never married. Some said he was afraid of commitment, while others thought he had simply never met the right girl. She couldn’t think why. He was every girl’s dream: tall, good-looking, attentive and fun to be with. After a while, every time she touched Bob’s hand, Ruby felt a buzz of excitement, which quickly became sensual. She started to anticipate the warmth of his big hand around her waist or on her back, and the pull of his strong arm as he twirled her around. She felt light-headed and giggly. The wheeze of the accordion, the melodious voice of the caller and the closeness of Bob’s body all merged into one. For a few wonderful moments on the dance floor she forgot the difficulties of life. She forgot her frustrations. She even forgot Jim and the guest house. The moment was filled with music, the dance and Bob. Then Jim had to go and spoil it all. Ruby had drifted off to sleep thinking of Bob. He was all the things Jim had been – long, long ago.
She left her husband studying the crossword. The monkey, now called Wilfred (after Pip, Squeak and Wilfred, the children’s comic cartoon characters), sat beside him, chattering aw
ay. Jim had made a small harness for the animal, so that it had the freedom to run around safely on a leash. The two of them were in the garden. For once, Ruby didn’t bother to kiss Jim goodbye. He probably wouldn’t be bothered she thought to herself acidly.
The photographs of Franz and Albrecht were not very good. Jim had received them in the post yesterday morning, and so far he had managed to keep them from Ruby.
It was difficult to make out the face of the person in the car, although he had caught the exchange of the packet quite well. Because the print wasn’t very clear, he toyed with the idea of throwing it away, but instead found himself looking around for a tin. He stumbled across one in his shed. The photographs and the negatives fitted in it quite nicely. The tin was marked ‘Humbugs’, and somehow that seemed rather appropriate.
It didn’t take long to get to Bea’s house. Percy, Rachel and Alma were staying with them for the weekend. When she arrived, Ruby went round the back and opened the kitchen door. The delicious smell of grilled bacon wafted towards her.
‘Hello, darling,’ her mother cried. ‘Come on in.’ Ruby kissed her cheek. ‘Is Jim with you?’
Ruby shook her head.
‘Your father and Percy have already been for a long bike ride and have come back starving,’ said Bea. ‘Just let me take this to them and I’ll be right with you. Have you eaten?’
Ruby nodded, although it wasn’t true. She’d felt much too churned up inside to eat.
‘Rachel is feeding the baby in the sitting room,’ said Bea, cracking an egg over the frying pan. ‘Why don’t you go and talk to her. We’ll chat later.’
Her sister-in-law and her niece looked the picture of contentment, as Ruby knocked softly on the door and went in. ‘Darling,’ said Rachel, patting the sofa beside her, ‘come and join us.’
Alma cast a lazy eye towards her aunt, but was too eager for her milk to stop drinking. She sucked Rachel’s breast with greedy little gulps, every now and then making contented sighs. Ruby laid her hand gently on Alma’s head. ‘Hello, poppet,’ she whispered. ‘Looks like you’re enjoying your breakfast.’
Rachel was looking at Ruby with just a hint of suspicion. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Of course,’ said Ruby. She smiled brightly, but Rachel wasn’t fooled at all.
‘I’m sorry about Percy having a go at Jim at the wedding reception,’ she said, grasping Ruby’s hand and giving it a loving squeeze. ‘I’m afraid once he gets a bee in his bonnet he gets a bit carried away.’
‘It wasn’t Percy’s fault,’ said Ruby. ‘Jim is a bit down at the moment. Photography was his life, and he hates not being able to do it.’
‘Why can’t he do it from the wheelchair?’ asked Rachel. ‘I know he can’t stand, but . . .’
‘It’s not so much the standing,’ said Ruby. ‘He gets the shakes as well. He finds it difficult to hold the camera still.’
‘Oh,’ said Rachel. ‘Now I understand.’
‘It’s all so unfair,’ Ruby sighed. ‘Jim only ever wanted to be a photographer, and now it’s all gone.’
Alma had finished feeding and, with a deft move of her hand, Rachel covered herself and put the baby onto her shoulder to rub her back. ‘But if he can’t do it,’ said Rachel, ‘he has to think of something else. He can’t sit around doing nothing for the rest of his life.’
‘I know,’ said Ruby. ‘It’s just that he finds it so hard.’
‘We all have to face difficult things,’ said Rachel, ‘but it’s no good moping over things that can’t be changed.’
To an outsider, her words would have seemed harsh and uncaring, but Rachel knew more than most what it meant not to be able to turn the clock back. Hadn’t she seen her own sister and her baby murdered by the Hitler Youth, back in Germany? And hadn’t she been forced to flee for her own life? That was why she was in England.
‘What about you?’ Rachel went on. ‘Has he ever stopped to think how all this is affecting you?’
Embarrassed, Ruby looked away. How could she answer such a question? No, of course Jim didn’t think about her feelings, as he was too consumed with his own misery. But to say that out loud seemed totally disloyal.
They heard Bea coming along the hall. Rachel tugged at Ruby’s arm. ‘I think you and I need to talk,’ she said. ‘Not now. Later. Just you and I.’
Ruby smiled thinly and nodded her head. ‘Now,’ said Bea coming into the room, ‘who’s for a cup of tea?’
Jim had wheeled himself to the window of the sitting room, with Wilfred on his shoulder. Absent-mindedly he fed the animal bits of raw carrot. Biscuit, the cat, rubbed himself against Jim’s leg and eventually jumped onto his lap.
Jim was still smarting from what Percy had said to him at Lily’s wedding. Jumped-up cocky bastard – what right had Percy to judge him? He wasn’t the one stuck in a wheelchair and in constant pain. Jim was well aware that he had to do something with his life, but what could he do? He had gone over his options, few as they were, again and again. The shake in his hand was definitely getting worse. It wasn’t there all the time, but it seemed that just as he was trying to do something that required concentration, it would start. He was good at making things – he’d built the trap for the monkey, and its cage and harness – but everything took a long time. And as for trying to make stuff on a scale that could bring him in some money, he knew he could never stand the pressure.
As he’d told Percy, he was no good at sums, and the thought of using pen and ink filled him with horror, so what other options were there? Shop work, working in a bar or, as had been suggested, manning a tobacconist’s kiosk all required standing for long periods. It was all very well for Percy to sit in judgement; and it didn’t help much to see how efficiently his wife managed without him. He thought back to the previous night, remembering how happy Ruby had looked as she danced with that Bob Knight. Right now Jim hated the man, with his white flashy teeth and his floppy hair falling over his eyes. If he’d had the strength, he would have stood up and socked the blighter on the jaw.
He hated having complete strangers in his house all the time, especially when he caught them eyeing him and feeling sorry for him. Their self-centred conversations bored him. There would have been guests here now, but for the wedding. Sea View was becoming so popular that Ruby often had to turn people away.
He had also been unsettled by an article in the paper, which said that his old orphanage was being pulled down. There were lots of private houses going up on the old Goring Hall Estate, and The Shieling was being demolished to make room for new buildings. The council had never kept it in a good state of repair, and time had caught up with it. He had shown the article to Ruby, but she wasn’t really interested. With her out of the house, Jim decided to take a taxi over to Goring to see it one last time.
The big gates were wide open when he got there. The neatly trimmed garden where he had been forced to spend much of his childhood working on the borders, had been left to grow wild. Vandals had left their mark too. He was strangely upset by the peeling paint and broken windows. This was the only childhood home he’d ever known. He asked the taxi driver to wait and, using his sticks, walked around the building. He had so many memories. The coke room where he had been required to load up a scuttle with coke and, having opened the furnace door, tip it into the hungry flames. As a grown man, it didn’t seem so difficult, but as a twelve-year-old boy the roar of the fire had been terrifying. He walked past the shed where he’d been made to stand for hours, having committed some minor misdemeanour; and the common room where Father Christmas gave him his one and only present every year. To his surprise, when he got back to the taxi, his cheeks were moist with tears.
‘I wondered if that was you,’ a voice said behind him. Jim turned to see Mr Brown, one of his former teachers. He was older, of course, but those smiling eyes and the broad shoulders, although a little more rounded, were still the same. He was shorter than Jim remembered, but the warmth of his personality remained. ‘Come to say goodbye
?’
‘Something like that,’ said Jim.
Mr Brown looked down at the walking sticks. ‘What happened to you, lad?’
Jim explained briefly.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Mr Brown. ‘I knew about the accident, of course. It was in all the papers, but I thought you had long since recovered.’
They turned to look at The Shieling one last time. ‘Odd name,’ said Jim. ‘Where does it come from?’
‘It’s a mountain hut used as a shelter by shepherds,’ said Mr Brown. ‘This will be a pile of rubble by the weekend.’ He sighed. ‘I spent most of my adult life within those walls.’
‘And I the whole of my childhood,’ said Jim.
‘I always thought what happened to you wasn’t right,’ said Mr Brown. ‘Would you like a drink? There’s a pub just up the street.’
They climbed into the taxi and Jim paid the man off when they reached the Bull Inn on Goring Street – a charming, if rather old-fashioned, public house. They sat by the inglenook fireplace and Mr Brown bought them both a beer. They didn’t have a lot of time. The licensing laws meant the place would close at three.
‘What did you mean, when you said what happened to me wasn’t right?’ Jim asked.
‘Most of those kids didn’t have a soul in the world,’ said Mr Brown. ‘You had a mother and a father.’
Jim stared at him in amazement.
‘Don’t tell me you didn’t know?’ said Mr Brown.
‘I didn’t,’ said Jim. He frowned. ‘A mother and a father?’ So how come he’d ended up in an orphanage? Were they sick or something? Had they abandoned him and, if not, then why didn’t they come back for him? He’d never had so much as a Christmas card or a birthday card from anyone outside the home.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Mr Brown, clearly unaware of the devastating effect his revelation was having on his former pupil. ‘They were quite well-to-do. They went abroad somewhere.’
Well-to-do? It got worse. Jim lifted his beer glass. His hand was trembling and some of his drink spilled down his shirt. ‘So why did they leave me there?’