by Pam Weaver
‘He replaced it anyway,’ said Bernard.
‘What?’ Edith exclaimed. ‘You mean he believed you when you said you had three, even though you hadn’t brought the third one back?’
Bernard nodded. ‘He seemed genuinely upset that it had happened,’ said Bernard. ‘Really, he couldn’t have been nicer.’
‘Did he say anything else?’
‘He asked me where it was,’ said Bernard, ‘so I explained about Jim and everything, but he didn’t ask me to get it back or anything. I told him Jim was an honest man and wouldn’t try to get rid of it. He was most apologetic – and that was that.’
‘Let’s hope he doesn’t turn up on Jim’s doorstep,’ said Edith.
‘Why should he?’ asked Bernard. ‘Besides, he was perfectly reasonable with me, so there’s no reason to believe he’ll go to see Jim.’
‘You don’t understand,’ said Edith. ‘Jim said it was just between us. He didn’t want Ruby to know.’
It was a couple of months later and Ruby was in the kitchen finishing off some jobs. Bea had invited her to join the ranks of her new women’s group and was waiting for her daughter to get ready to go out. In her condition, Bea knew her daughter might not be able to do a terrific amount at the moment, but, ‘If you’re with us right from the start,’ she had reasoned, ‘you’ll be more likely to be included, once we get the thing going.’
Ruby left a pile of ironing on the stairs, ready to take it up and put it in the airing cupboard when she got back home. She was looking forward to meeting Mrs Hayward and the other women. Over the past few weeks her mother had told her so much about them.
‘She’s invited us to her home for the afternoon, for tea,’ Bea went on. ‘I’ve told her about you, and what you and Rachel have already been doing for those poor girls. She was most impressed.’
Having taken the ironing basket into the scullery, Ruby put the iron down in the grate to cool, before putting it away. ‘Oh, Mum,’ she scolded, ‘I hope you didn’t lay it on thick.’
‘I only told her the truth,’ said Bea defensively. ‘I’m very proud of you.’
Ruby had no idea how long everything would take, but just to be on the safe side she had told Jim she would be out most of the afternoon. She had been up early this morning. There was a shepherd’s pie in the oven, waiting for her to switch it on when she got home. She had the feeling she would be tired and wouldn’t feel like preparing the meal from scratch, so the carrots were in a saucepan of water on the stove and all she would have to do was lay the table.
‘Is there anything I can get you before I go?’ Ruby asked her husband. Her mother had gone outside to wait in the car and Ruby was pulling her coat on, although it was becoming difficult to do up the buttons now. She still felt a little bit concerned about Jim. Although he seemed fine now, he’d had a bad cold which had seemed to hang around for ages. It had left him listless and, up until a few days ago, he’d struggled to do his crosswords.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Jim said. ‘I’ve got plenty to do, and I’m going to ask Eric round for a chat. There’s something I need to talk to him about.’
Jim had made a start on his weekly column for the Gazette. The monkey was sitting on his shoulder, and Biscuit lay on the chair beside him. She smiled. They looked the picture of contentment. Her marriage wasn’t ideal but, with the baby on the way, she and Jim seemed to have found a middle path.
‘Well, I’m off now, Jim,’ she said rather obviously, although she was sure he hadn’t even noticed. ‘There’s some cold ham on a plate in the meat safe for your lunch.’ He half-turned to look at her. ‘And you’ll find some cheese and a couple of bread rolls in the tin.’
‘Fine,’ he said.
He was planning his reply to the shoal of letters that he’d received the previous week: ‘How dare you!’, ‘Extremely Annoyed’ of Wiston Avenue had thundered; ‘What’s wrong with trying to promote peace?’ the Reverend of the Manse wanted to know. What indeed, Jim remarked, but did everyone share the same dream? As for those visits from German schoolchildren, had that been wise? Could the well-meaning headmaster of the school have been duped?
He glanced up with a wispy smile. ‘Enjoy yourself.’ He turned back to his typewriter and she made her way to the door. ‘Oh, and Ruby.’ She stopped. ‘There’s something . . .’ he faltered, then changed his mind.
‘Is there something else?’ she asked.
‘Nothing important,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you when you get back home.’ She looked at him, and he smiled. ‘Don’t go tiring yourself, will you?’
A flood of affection washed over her and tears smarted in her eyes. She couldn’t resist going back and kissing the top of his bent head.
He looked up. ‘What was that for?’
Ruby shrugged. ‘You’re an amazing man, Jim Searle. I just wanted you to know that.’
‘Of course I am,’ he said teasingly. ‘Have you only just realized?’
As she passed through the hall the telephone rang. Ruby picked up the receiver. ‘Worthing 206, Sea View guest house.’
‘Go ahead, caller,’ said the operator.
‘Is that Mrs Searle?’ It was a man’s voice, educated, authoritative.
‘Yes, this is Mrs Searle,’ said Ruby, reaching for the appointments book and a pencil. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Is your husband there?’
‘Yes, he is, but it will take him a while to get to the telephone. Can I take a message?’
‘My name is Sir Hubert Temple,’ said the voice. ‘I should very much like to speak to your husband. I think it might be to our mutual advantage.’
‘Then if you don’t mind hanging on for a bit, I’ll call him.’
Rex drove Bea and Ruby to the more salubrious part of town. Normally Bea would have driven the car herself, but today Rex needed to be in Littlehampton for a meeting, so it was arranged that he would drop them at the house and pick them up on the way back.
Big houses were going up all over what used to be called the Goring Hall Estate. After about fifteen minutes they came to Amberley Drive and the house where Mrs Hayward lived. Several cars were already in the driveway as Rex pulled up. After they’d said their goodbyes, Bea and Ruby rang the bell. A maid opened the door to them and they were shown into a spacious room where the other women waited.
While Bea caught up with old friends, Ruby stood by the window watching a small spaniel chasing the birds in the garden. He looked so sweet she almost forgot why she was here. It wasn’t until she heard her mother say, ‘Ruby, I should like you to meet Mrs Hayward’, that she turned round. As soon as Ruby saw her hostess, she felt her cheeks flame and her heart skipped a beat. Judging by the look on her face, Mrs Hayward was having exactly the same experience. However, neither woman reacted openly. They greeted each other formally and the meeting got under way.
Mrs Hayward introduced Lady Beryl. ‘Lady Beryl Smithers’s husband has been Viceroy in Ceylon,’ she told them. ‘He’s now retired and they live in this country.’
There was a round of muted gloved applause.
‘I just need to tell you ladies how the women’s organization is to function,’ she began. ‘An announcement will be formally made next month in June, but the mere fact that you and I are here is proof that the scheme is already under way.’
‘Do you mean we shall be separate from the ARP?’ someone asked.
‘The short answer to that is “yes”,’ said Lady Beryl. ‘We shall be known as the Women’s Voluntary Service – the WVS. Both the ARP and the WVS will be trained to know what to do, in the event of an air raid, but each organization will have separate duties.’
‘Such as?’ the same woman asked.
‘Should the country go to war, the government is considering the mass evacuation of children, pregnant women and nursing mothers from our major cities, especially London,’ said Lady Beryl. ‘They are looking for an organization that can coordinate everything, from finding suitable billets, to meeting the children from the train
and getting them settled in.’
A hum went around the room until another woman said, ‘Surely that would be better organized by the police or the military.’
‘My husband is in the police,’ said one woman, ‘and when it comes to looking after children, he’s pretty hopeless. Last Christmas, when he took our Billy to see Father Christmas, he left him sitting in the toilet.’
‘Father Christmas?’
‘No – our Billy.’
‘The evacuation may not be the only thing we’re called upon to do,’ Lady Beryl continued. ‘We must be prepared for anything and everything. How many of you ladies have a driving licence?’
Bea and two other women put up their hands.
‘I suggest that every woman in this room should be able to drive,’ said Lady Beryl. The hum in the room became a buzz. ‘If war comes,’ she went on with a shake of her head, ‘our menfolk will be called up to fight. Someone will have to drive the ambulances, and the tractors. There may be important communications between the authorities that need something faster than the post.’
Bea leaned towards Ruby, who was getting distracted by the spaniel outside again. ‘I’ll teach you to drive.’
Ruby pointed to her neatly rounded bump.
‘That won’t last forever,’ said Bea firmly. ‘Supposing the Germans invade our coastline, how are you and the baby going to get away? Walk?’
All at once, the full horror of what they were now facing finally hit home. Up until now, Ruby had been rather detached from it all. These past months of sabre-rattling and failed diplomacy had begun to bore her. Now she understood that this was something that might actually affect her and her family. The thought of an invading army rushing up the beach, when she was living just yards away, brought the reality of war into sharp focus. She looked around the room. One young woman was crying, and a couple of others were accusing Lady Beryl of scaremongering. The noise level was getting louder by the minute.
‘Ladies, ladies,’ cried Lady Beryl, standing to her feet and bringing the meeting to order. ‘I don’t want anyone to feel alarmed, but think, ladies – ladies, think. If you came across a fire, would you know what to do?’
‘Ring for the fire brigade, of course,’ someone snapped.
‘Worthing has but one fire engine,’ said Lady Beryl. ‘Just supposing it’s already on call, I asked you: what would you do?’
The room became a little quieter.
‘Just supposing again,’ Lady Beryl went on, ‘that one of the victims of that fire is your relative. He’s badly burned. You know you need to get him to hospital, and you will, but how will you treat him in the meantime?’
This time no one spoke, and it was obvious that everyone in the room was beginning to feel uncomfortable.
‘Don’t you see? By pulling together and working with a common aim, we can overcome the darkest night,’ said Lady Beryl. ‘But people will need to learn how to put out fires. They will need to learn first aid. And if we are to lead others, we need to be able to do it ourselves. What I am proposing is this: that we first prepare ourselves, and then we shall be ready to help other members of the community.’
‘Supposing we don’t go to war,’ someone piped up. ‘What then? We’ll all have wasted our time.’
‘Perhaps,’ Lady Beryl agreed, ‘but at the very least we shall have enjoyed learning a new skill and be better equipped for life, won’t we?’
The atmosphere in the room was changing. After confusion and hostility, they had become more enthusiastic.
‘I need volunteers,’ said Lady Beryl. ‘You don’t have to do everything, but the more you know, the better it will be. Now, who would like to do a first-aid course?’
As the women put up their hands, she began to write down their names.
Mrs Hayward leaned over to Ruby. ‘Mrs Searle, I wonder if you would come and give me a hand with the teas?’
Ruby stood up as Mrs Hayward threaded her way between the women, and the two of them headed to the kitchen. With the door closed, they turned to face each other, then grasped each other’s hands.
‘Oh, Miss,’ cried Ruby. As soon as she’d seen Mrs Hayward, Ruby had recognized her immediately, as the former Imogen Russell whom she had met at Warnes Hotel. ‘I can hardly believe it’s really you! I often wondered what happened to you after you got married.’
‘And I you,’ said Imogen. ‘My husband is a solicitor.’
‘Children?’ Ruby asked.
A shadow crossed Imogen’s face. ‘No children. You?’
Ruby touched her belly. ‘I’m expecting my first.’
Imogen smiled. ‘Congratulations!’
‘How wonderful to see you again,’ cried Ruby. ‘It only seems like yesterday that we were standing in that hotel corridor, trying not to let anyone see us.’
‘It was a long time ago, Ruby,’ said Imogen. ‘Almost five years. I’ve never forgotten what you did for me that day.’
‘I only did what anyone else would have done,’ said Ruby.
‘It was more than that,’ said Imogen. ‘You saved my life. My father never found out. I told my husband, of course, but the three of us are the only people in the world who—’
They were interrupted by the maid, who had come into the kitchen. Imogen let go of Ruby’s hands and pulled herself up straight.
‘We’re ready for the tea now, Betty.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Betty, eyeing Ruby cautiously.
‘As soon as the kettle’s boiled, you can bring it in.’
Back in the comfortable sitting room, names had been registered for driving lessons and first-aid courses, and the addresses of people who might be interested parties were added to those already on the clipboard. There was a general hum of business being done and new friendships being formed. Lady Beryl was delighted.
CHAPTER 24
Jim was sitting in his wheelchair by the back door as Eric rode his bike up the driveway and home. At the time, it didn’t seem odd. It was only later that it crossed Eric’s mind that Jim had actually been waiting for him.
‘You got a minute, mate?’ Jim asked. ‘There’s something I’d like to show you.’
It was Eric’s half-day and he planned to work in the garden but, ever obliging, he said, ‘Just let me tell Lena where I am, and I’ll be right over.’
To his surprise, Eric found he enjoyed domesticity. He had created an area at the bottom of the garden where he’d planted carrots, cabbages and potatoes. The cabbage was suffering from slug infestation, but someone at the railway yard had told him to half-bury an old soup bowl and put some beer in it. ‘They’re attracted by the smell and fall in,’ the chap said with a grin. ‘What a lovely way to go – drowned in a puddle of best bitter.’
Eric had laughed, but he planned to put the man’s theory to the test.
* * *
Inside Sea View the telephone rang again. Jim hardly ever answered the damned thing because it was usually someone wanting to make a booking. He didn’t have much patience and, if the caller dithered, he couldn’t hide his irritation, so it was best to avoid answering it. On the other hand, Ruby wasn’t in, so he had little choice.
‘Mr Searle?’ said a man’s voice. ‘Are you the Mr Searle who writes in the newspaper?’
Jim hesitated. He’d always been keen to keep his anonymity, but after the phone call earlier this afternoon, it hardly mattered now.
‘I believe,’ the caller went on, ‘that you write under the name of “Worthing Worthy” and that you have the column called “The way I see it”?’
‘I did . . .’ Jim began.
‘I’m Grenville Anderson. I’m the editor of the Surrey and Sussex Recorder. Can we send the photographer round this afternoon?’
By the time Eric had walked back to Jim’s house, Jim was in the kitchen with the back door wide open. As luck would have it, Lena was out, probably down at the beach with Jean. Two bottles of local beer stood on the table. Eric glanced at Jim cautiously, but his neighbour avoided eye
contact. Something was up. He sat down at Jim’s invitation, but felt uneasy. They chitchatted about nothing in particular and Jim took the tops off the bottles. Eric’s drink was half-gone when Jim pushed a magazine in front of him.
‘I don’t know if you’ve read this,’ Jim said. ‘When I saw it . . . Well, look for yourself and then we’ll talk.’
Never one to do much reading, Eric struggled with some of the words. He read slowly, but it didn’t take long for the full implication of what he was being shown to hit him. His stomach fell away. Something told him to stay calm. Act like it’s nothing. Don’t react. He mustn’t give any indication that the game was up. He finished the article and looked up with what he hoped was a deadpan expression.
‘It was when I got to the bit about the toy rabbit that I thought of your Jean,’ said Jim.
Eric said nothing. His brain was working overtime. How many people had Jim shown this article to? Did Ruby know? Where the devil did the magazine come from, in the first place? He looked down at it again and recognized the stains. Of course, it was the paper that was wrapped around the birthday ice cream. Hell’s teeth, why hadn’t he noticed? ‘Why are you showing me this after all this time?’ he thundered.
‘Hasn’t your Jean got a toy rabbit with stripy legs?’ said Jim.
Eric’s head shot up. ‘What the hell are you implying?’
Jim put both hands up in a defensive manner.
‘There must be thousands and thousands of rabbits like that, out there,’ said Eric. His voice had an edge. ‘Just because our Jean’s got one, that doesn’t make her somebody else’s kid.’
Jim leaned back in his chair. ‘For someone who is completely innocent, you’re getting pretty worked up.’
Eric gave a hollow laugh. ‘If you were that worried about it, why didn’t you show it to me sooner?’ He was angry and embarrassed. The only thought in his head was that he must say something – anything – to persuade Jim that Jean wasn’t Christine West.
‘I would have done,’ said Jim, ‘but the truth of the matter is, I wanted to check up on a few things first.’
‘There must be something wrong with your head, as well as your legs,’ Eric snapped.