by Pam Weaver
Eric stirred in his sleep. He was dreaming that he was back in the cold barn, hungry and wet, miserable and smelling worse than a pig. As he emerged from his dream, the wind was banging the barn door and he could hear someone shouting. All at once he was awake and scrambling out of bed.
Lena rolled over and murmured sleepily, ‘You all right?’
Eric snapped on the light, and the single bulb in the middle of the ceiling seemed to bring the sound of a man’s voice with its dull orange glow. Lena sat up. Eric was pulling on his trousers and a jumper. Lena climbed out of bed and pulled the curtain aside.
‘Call the police,’ Eric shouted as he made a dash for the stairs. ‘Somebody’s trying to get into Ruby’s place.’ Jean had woken up, but Lena didn’t go to her. Instead she followed her husband downstairs and, while he unbolted the back door, she reached for the telephone.
Eric opened the door and the cold night air rushed in. He went outside and she heard him say, ‘What the hell are you doing?’
Still shouting Ruby’s name, the man had put his shoulder to the back door. Eric vaulted the low wall and the acrid smell of burning reached his nostrils. Now he understood.
‘Help me,’ the man cried. ‘I’ve got to break down this door. She’ll be burned alive.’
Other neighbours had gathered in the street. Two men were running with a long ladder. Eric hesitated for a second, then shouted for Lena again. His wife’s white face appeared at the back door. ‘Get the fire brigade. Ruby’s place is on fire.’
The man threw himself at the back door again, but it wouldn’t budge.
Eric put up his hands. ‘No need to do that, mate,’ he said. ‘She’s safe.’
Balentine was just about to fling himself against the wood again when Eric grabbed his arm. ‘She’s not in there,’ he said. ‘She and the nipper are sleeping in our place.’
Balentine stared at him for a second and then, spotting Ruby’s pale face at the upstairs window of the house next door, sank to the ground and wept with relief.
CHAPTER 35
The damage to Sea View was devastating. Ruby stood on the threshold and looked around. It wasn’t safe to go inside. The fire had roared up the hallway, stairs and landing. Fortunately Jim had always taught her to close every door at night, so although the fire had burned through the doors upstairs, they had acted as a deterrent until the fire brigade used their hoses inside. Fire wasn’t the only damage. The whole place was doused in foam, waterlogged and dripping. The acrid smoky smell was still strong, and the blistered and burnt brown paintwork looked awful. Ruby wanted to cry again. It was a dreadful sight. Her home had gone. How would she ever manage to afford to repair it? Judging by the gaping hole in the roof, it might even be better to demolish it altogether.
It was tempting to feel sorry for herself. After all, she had lost her husband, her home and her livelihood in just a few short months; but, apart from the sense of despair, she also felt profound gratitude. If she and Michael had been asleep upstairs, if Rivka had been there on her day off, if she had had guests staying there . . . Ruby closed her eyes. It didn’t bear thinking about. With the stairs alight, how would they have escaped? There wasn’t even the low roof of an extension, which could have saved them. She shuddered. Thank God. Thank God!
The decision to stay at Lena’s place for the night had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. They had eaten a good meal and talked until late. Michael was settled and sleeping in the same room as Jean. The adults were tired.
‘Stay the night,’ Lena had said.
Ruby had shaken her head. ‘I don’t want to be any trouble.’
‘It’s no trouble at all,’ Lena had insisted. ‘There’s a bed already made up in the room next to Jean’s. You’ll be right next door to Michael. If you get him up now, you’ll only disturb Jean. Stay the night.’
Those three words of invitation had saved their lives.
Her father came up behind her now. ‘Looks a bit of a mess.’
Ruby nodded dully.
‘Did you have insurance?’
She nodded again. ‘But I’m not sure it will cover the cost of all this.’
Rex slipped his arm around her waist. ‘You’ll always have a home with your mother and me.’
She leaned against his shoulder. ‘Thanks, Dad.’
Bea was coming up the path with May. ‘Lena said you were here.’ Mother and daughter hugged each other. ‘Oh, darling, I’m so glad you’re both safe.’ Her voice was thick with emotion.
Ruby felt tears pricking her eyes. Letting her mother go, she hugged her sister. Moments like this were precious. If she had been in the house when the fire started, she might never have seen them again.
May wriggled to free herself. Ruby was holding her too tightly. ‘I drew you a picture,’ she said. Ruby thanked her rather absent-mindedly and, after glancing at it, slipped it into her coat pocket.
‘Who would do such a thing?’ said Bea.
‘It was a good job he used paraffin rather than petrol,’ said Rex.
‘Why’s that?’ asked Ruby.
‘Petrol would have gone up like a rocket,’ said Rex. ‘Paraffin burns more slowly. That’s why the fire brigade had to put foam on it, to smother the flames.’
‘Any chance of getting your clothes?’ asked Bea.
‘Even if we could get into the bedrooms,’ said Rex, ‘they wouldn’t be much good. Everything is smoke-damaged.’
Ruby sighed. So she and Michael only had the clothes on their backs – and, she suddenly remembered, £130 in Jim’s Post Office book, which by good fortune she had kept in her handbag along with the house keys.
The police asked a lot of questions, but Ruby had few answers. Remembering what Mr Balentine had said at Marama, she was reluctant to put forward any suggestions. Besides, she had no idea who would have wished her any harm. Her letter to the paper had been heavily edited that it posed no threat at all:
My husband loved to champion people’s causes. Although he is gone, it is my wish to continue what he started. I invite you to write to the Editor of this paper with anything that concerns you.
It wasn’t what she had actually written, and it was hardly enough to warrant attempted murder, so who had a grievance against her – and why?
In the end the police settled on the idea that it was some disgruntled person who had objected to her helping German refugees. Ruby didn’t say anything, but the idea seemed a bit far-fetched after all this time.
Mr Balentine tracked her down at her mother’s and came to see her in the late afternoon. ‘I see they’ve boarded up the house,’ he said, after offering his sincere commiserations.
Ruby nodded. Her mother, having shown him into the sitting room, brought them a tray of tea and closed the door quietly on the way out. Michael was in the kitchen on a rug, playing with his toys. He could roll now and, once he was on his tummy, he’d kick his legs like a seasoned swimmer.
‘You look rather pale,’ Mr Balentine remarked as her mother left. Ruby looked up in surprise. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so,’ he added quickly, as he lowered his concerned gaze.
She gave him just the hint of a smile. It was kind of him to show concern. ‘No, I don’t mind,’ she said softly. ‘And I have every reason to be grateful to you, for trying to save my life.’
‘I didn’t do a very good job,’ he said apologetically. ‘I had no idea you were with your next-door neighbour, although I am profoundly grateful that was the case. I set myself up as your protector, and then I nodded off in the car. It was only when I heard the arsonist running by that I woke up.’
She handed him a cup and saucer. ‘You saw him?’
‘Not exactly,’ he said. ‘I saw a running man, and then I saw the flames.’
‘What did he look like – this running man?’
Mr Balentine shrugged slightly. ‘I don’t remember much.’ He frowned thoughtfully. ‘He wasn’t a young man.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘The way he was ru
nning, I suppose. He had a car with the engine running, waiting for him at the corner of Boundary Road.’
‘So there were two of them,’ said Ruby. She sipped her tea. ‘There’s something I need to tell you – something I should have mentioned when I was at Marama . . .’
He looked her straight in the eye. ‘That you have a forged five-pound note in your handbag?’
Ruby’s mouth gaped. ‘How did you know?’
‘On the way home the chauffeur heard you talking to your friend in the back of the car.’
‘But the glass partition was closed,’ Ruby said, with a puzzled expression.
‘There’s an intercom button in the back,’ Mr Balentine explained, ‘in case Sir Hubert wants to give the driver new instructions. One of you must have pushed it accidentally.’
Ruby’s face coloured. ‘So he heard every word we said?’
‘Afraid so,’ Mr Balentine grinned. ‘Can I see the note? Do you still have it?’ She rose to fetch it. When she returned to the sitting room, he was standing next to the mantelpiece. She handed him the note. ‘Umm, definitely the same batch.’
Ruby returned to her seat. ‘Is that why you thought I needed your protection?’
‘Something like that,’ he said, smiling. He drew a breath. ‘Mrs Searle, who drew this picture?’
Ruby glanced up at the drawing May had given her outside the burnt-out shell that had once been her home. She had hardly looked at it at the time, but had given it pride of place on the mantelpiece at the earliest opportunity. May’s drawings were improving all the time, and her mother had mentioned more than once that her new school had an art department. The hope was that May’s talent would be nurtured and encouraged. The picture she had drawn for Ruby was a favourite theme: a princess (or bride) with a fabulous dress, standing next to her prince. They posed under a hoop of flowers (or heart shapes, or stars). At one side a pageboy held a ring-cushion, and a beautifully executed monkey sat on a cat’s back on the other side. She was already beginning to understand perspective and the art of shading. Her figures had expressions and the drawing itself was quite adult.
‘My sister,’ said Ruby, in answer to Mr Balentine’s question. ‘She’s very fond of drawing.’
Mr Balentine held her gaze. ‘Look closely, Mrs Searle. What do you see?’
Ruby held the paper and studied the picture a bit more closely. It took several seconds, but then she caught her breath. ‘Oh my goodness!’ she whispered. ‘She’s drawn the snake ring.’
They were disturbed by the sound of a loud, anxious voice, and then Rivka burst into the room. She was obviously very distressed. ‘I thought you were dead,’ she blurted out. ‘I thought you were dead.’ She threw herself into Ruby’s arms and sobbed.
Ruby was immediately seized by a sense of awful guilt. She had quite forgotten that today was Rivka’s day off. As usual, Rivka would have caught the bus from Sompting as she always did. She would have come along the seafront and turned into Heene Road, eagerly expecting everything to be as normal, only to be met by a scene of utter devastation. Ruby could only imagine what was going on in her head. If losing her own family wasn’t enough, and then being violated, Rivka had been such a wonderful friend and support when Jim died; at first sight of the house, it must have looked as if the one person whom Rivka had loved and trusted had been consumed by a terrible fire. What with one thing and another, Ruby had completely forgotten to telephone her.
‘I’m so sorry,’ was all she could say, ‘I should have told you we were all right. I am so sorry.’
It took several minutes for Rivka to calm herself. Bea came in with some smelling salts, and Rex poured her a brandy. Rivka trembled on the sofa and clung to Ruby, who stroked her hair and spoke soothingly in her ear.
‘How did you get out?’ Rivka asked.
Ruby glanced at Mr Balentine, who had removed himself to the far side of the room and was staring out of the window at the garden. Ruby gave her a brief account. Rivka stood and went over to him with her hand extended. ‘Thank you for helping my friend.’
Mr Balentine gave Ruby an embarrassed look, but nodded and shook Rivka’s hand.
‘Rivka, my dear, you must come and see the baby,’ said Bea, drawing her from the room. ‘He’s on the floor in the kitchen, having a little stretch. My maid is keeping an eye on him, but she has to make the beds. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind . . .’ Bea’s voice faded.
Ruby smiled. Good old Mum, the perfect diplomat. Alone again with Mr Balentine, she turned to him and whispered, ‘What are we going to do about May?’
It had come as quite a shock to realize that May must have seen the man or woman who had taken the package from Franz and Albrecht. Ruby was quite sure her sister had never even met the German boys. May had never seen Jim’s photographs of the incident, either; and, even if she had, the snake rings were not evident until the snapshots had been blown up to many times their original size. So where and when had she seen the ring?
‘I’d rather not draw too much attention to it,’ said Mr Balentine. ‘It’s best not to frighten or alarm her.’
‘I’m not sure my mother would want you to interrogate her,’ said Ruby.
‘Quite so,’ said Mr Balentine, ‘but if we can get her to say where she saw the ring . . .’
Ruby nodded and suggested that they join her mother in the kitchen. Bea stood at the kitchen table, cutting up vegetables for a stew. Michael gave Mr Balentine a gummy smile, but he was getting tired, so Ruby put him in his pram for a sleep. He’d probably manage half an hour or so and then he would want to be fed.
May came into the kitchen. ‘Mummy, can I have a stamp?’
Bea put the finishing touches to a shopping list for the daily maid to take to Potter & Bailey’s. With an extra mouth to feed, she needed to replenish her larder a little more often.
‘Why do you want one?’ asked Bea.
‘I’m entering the Ovaltineys’ competition,’ said May. ‘I’ve just drawn a picture and it needs to get to Uncle Monty by next Wednesday.’
‘Allow me,’ said Mr Balentine, taking a stamp from his wallet. Bea started to protest, but he waved his hand dismissively. ‘You’re very good at drawing, aren’t you?’ he said to May. ‘I was admiring your picture in the sitting room.’
May blushed and thanked him for the stamp.
‘Tell me,’ said Mr Balentine. ‘Where do you get your ideas from? It’s very pretty.’
‘I saw the princess in my drawing book,’ said May. ‘I’ve done it quite a few times, but I don’t actually copy it.’
‘And the monkey?’ said Mr Balentine.
‘Uncle Jim had a monkey,’ said May, ‘but it died. I used to draw it a lot. It’s quite hard to do the fur so that it looks like fur.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ said Mr Balentine.
May was heading for the door.
‘And the ring on the cushion?’ said Mr Balentine. ‘Where did you see that?’
‘Oh,’ said May, pulling open the door. ‘Mr Rhodes has one of those. And Mrs Rhodes. She has one too.’
Ruby turned and looked at Mr Balentine. She put her hand to her throat as May left the room.
‘What is it?’ asked Bea. ‘You’ve gone as white as a sheet.’
‘Mum,’ Ruby began, ‘I can’t tell you everything right now, but where does Mrs Rhodes live?’
‘One of the Swiss Cottages in Park Crescent. Why?’
Ruby looked at Mr Balentine again.
‘Where’s your telephone?’ he asked.
Ruby opened the kitchen door and indicated the hallway. He hurried to the receiver.
‘Ruby,’ said Bea crossly. ‘What’s going on? Why is he so interested in Effie?’
Ruby’s eyes were swimming with tears. ‘It’s a long story, Mum,’ she said.
‘Tell me,’ cried Bea.
‘Her husband has been passing forged notes,’ she said.
They could hear Mr Balentine on the telephone. ‘Yes . . . Swiss Cottage, Park Crescent. Passing
counterfeit money. Yes, that’s right . . . Oh, and while you’re there, take a look around for some paraffin containers. He may be linked to a fire as well – yes, attempted murder.’
Bea stared at her daughter helplessly. ‘What’s he saying?’
Ruby swallowed hard. She hadn’t connected the two together, but now that Mr Balentine said it, it made sense. ‘Jim photographed someone meeting Franz and Albrecht. Remember them? Well, apparently they were part of a plot to flood the country with counterfeit notes. Whoever took those notes wore a special ring. It was a snake, eating its own tail. May drew such a ring on her picture, and when we asked her who wore a ring like that . . .’
‘She said it was Gus and Effie.’
Ruby nodded. ‘I’m sorry, Mum.’
The back door squeaked shut.
‘I can hardly believe it,’ said her mother, ‘and yet Effie can be a very nasty person. I haven’t seen her for months.’
Mr Balentine came back. ‘Sir Hubert has informed our people,’ he said simply.
‘May could have made a mistake,’ Ruby cautioned. ‘My sister has a very vivid imagination.’
‘It’s not very likely,’ said Mr Balentine. ‘She’s a very bright child. Anyway, we’ll soon find out.’
Michael stirred in his pram. Ruby turned round to tell Rivka that she could pick him up, but she wasn’t there. ‘Where’s Rivka gone?’
Bea shrugged. ‘She was here a minute ago.’
Ruby half-remembered something and drew in her breath. ‘The ring,’ she said. ‘The night Rivka was attacked, the man damaged her ear with his ring.’
‘What’s that?’ said Mr Balentine. ‘What attack?’
‘Surely she doesn’t think it was Gus,’ said Bea, her eyes wide with apprehension.
Ruby was pulling on her coat. ‘Mum, that man ruined Rivka’s life. After what he did to her, she can never have children. She told me once she wanted revenge.’
‘Oh, Ruby, no . . .’
Mr Balentine looked from one to the other in frustration. ‘Will someone please tell me what’s happening?’