Ruby's War

by Johanna Winard

  On Friday some of the washing was still too damp to iron, and by late morning it was clear that the rain had set in for the day. Ruby built up the fire, hanging the still-wet shirts over the fireguard, and then began cutting up the potatoes for the hotpot. It was when she was looking for the ointment, after cutting her finger on the knife, that she found an old eyepatch and remembered Mrs Prendergast’s lecture about remodelling hats. In it, she’d used an old eyepatch of her husband’s to show how – with the help of stiffened buckram, velvet and reused feathers – it was possible to make a very stylish hat.

  The eyepatch Ruby had found was pink, but she was determined not to let that put her off. In Sadie’s room, she rescued scraps of parachute silk, bits of the lilac fabric left over from Lou’s costume and a remnant of old net curtain, donated by a neighbour, that had been used to recover a hat for Lou to wear. Ruby got to work, cutting, stitching and sticking. Getting the veil to hang just right, tucking and easing the fabric in place, fixing the tiny bows of silk to cover the joins between the net and the eyepatch, were the hardest parts, and by the time she had finished Sadie and Jenny were almost due home.

  ‘You’re looking pleased with yourself,’ Jenny said, eyeing the washing that Ruby had hastily moved into the kitchen. ‘That fire’s a bit low. You’d best put that hotpot in the oven, if them potatoes are ever going to brown.’

  After tea, Ruby went to her room, pinned up her hair and slipped the thin elastic into place.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ she shouted. ‘You too, Granddad.’

  ‘Whose is it?’ Sadie asked, as Ruby paraded in front of them. ‘Was it your …?’

  ‘I made it,’ she said. ‘It was Mrs Prendergast’s talk that gave me the idea. It’s an eyepatch. I found it in the drawer.’

  ‘Blimey,’ Jenny said and got up to admire the confection. ‘It just might work.’

  ‘If I have my hair pinned up,’ Sadie said, taking the hat from her and perching it on her own head. ‘It’s almost too nice. I don’t want to outdo the bride, do I? Lou’s going to be really pleased. She’s right clever, isn’t she, Ma?’

  ‘She is, unless we need an eyepatch.’

  Sadie giggled, turned her head and lifted up her hair to admire the effect. ‘Oh go on, Ma,’ she said. ‘That thing must have been in there for ages.’

  On the day before the wedding a thick fog clogged the streets. It clung to Ruby’s clothes and made the curls she’d carefully teased in place around her face droop and turn into a damp frizz. In the silent lane, the air tasted of smoke and coal dust. Even at midday, women were bumping into each other’s baskets, and as she walked through the village to Lou’s house, Ruby could see torches waving in the gloom.

  She spent most of the day at Lou’s, helping her mother to cook and to clean the neat, little house. By early afternoon the kitchen table and the pantry were full of small sponge cakes, sitting in golden rows on wire trays, waiting for a topping of mock cream or a dab of precious icing. Mrs Halliwell, an anxious red-faced widow, took in the contents of the table and pantry shelves, including the dark fruit cake and the trifle.

  ‘It looks a poor show,’ she said. ‘My neighbour’s coming to help with the sandwiches in the morning, but I’ll have to be up by five to get it all finished before the wedding. We’ll all need to be up, if everybody is to be ready on time. Then, I suppose we’ll all be taking Communion, so there’s no need to make breakfast. I was thinking we could have fish and chips for tea tonight. Our Lou said to eat them out of the papers to save washing-up. Though I don’t like to, really, but I need the plates for some of the food tomorrow, but then I’m worried what Frank’s people will think. Then they might be late with this fog, and you can’t keep chips and fish warm.’

  Ruby was just about to offer to stretch out the rabbit meat she was planning to use for tea, when Granddad hurried down the Halliwells’ backyard and knocked at the kitchen door.

  ‘It’s really bad down the line,’ he said, wiping his feet and taking off his cap. ‘The trains are going to be delayed. Don’t know what time Frank and his folk will arrive. Is Lou here?’

  ‘No,’ Mrs Halliwell said, her pale eyes filling with tears. ‘Her and Sadie were on early shifts, and then they were going to pick up the cardboard cake we’ve hired from the shop. I don’t know what’s keeping them.’

  ‘Don’t worry. Frank’s not going to miss his own wedding. If he can dodge the U-boats, he can find his way here in the fog. Ruby, on your way back, go and tell Nellie that Frank’s best man’s going to be late.’

  ‘I don’t know why she couldn’t have married a local boy,’ Nellie Lathom said, when Ruby knocked on her front door. ‘He’s a very nice-looking lad, but we don’t know the family.’

  Ruby was about to ask if she could take Bess home with her for the rest of the afternoon, but Nellie, who was a reluctant host to Charlie, Frank’s best man, closed the front door. There was no sign of the hens in the garden at the cottage, and when she opened the back door, the kitchen felt cold and damp. As she was taking off her coat, she heard voices coming from above her head. Her heart began to thump. Ruby crept to the bottom of the stairs. She heard someone crying and a floorboard creaked. Silently, she began to climb up, hesitating on each step, her heart drumming.

  ‘Don’t worry, love,’ she heard Sadie whisper. ‘We’ll sort it out. Let’s look in that suitcase. Drag it from under the bed. There’s got to be something in there we can use.’

  Lou’s voice sounded thick with tears. ‘We’ve no time to do it,’ she said. ‘It won’t dry in time.’

  Ruby edged up on to the next step. Above her, she heard the floorboards creak again and then a scraping as something was pulled across the floor. The door to Sadie’s room was closed, but when she got to the landing, she could see that her own room was open. Lou and Sadie were kneeling in front of her mother’s suitcase. Pearl’s dresses spilt out around them, and Sadie had a pair of scissors in her hand.

  ‘There’s plenty of things in here we can use,’ she said.

  ‘No!’ Ruby shouted, pushing the two women aside and snatching up a beaded dress. ‘No, there aren’t,’ she said, holding the dress close.

  ‘We’re looking for something to cover the marks,’ Sadie said, pointing to the mock wedding cake on Ruby’s bed and the greasy brown stains across the side of the bottom tier.

  ‘They’re not spare. No.’

  ‘We’ve had a go at painting it with Henry’s whitewash.’

  Lou sat back on her heels and rubbed her tear-stained face. ‘It won’t dry in time,’ she said.

  ‘No.’

  Sadie picked up a white cocktail dress edged with a border of sequins. ‘We thought we could use these.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We can stick—’

  ‘No. Paint it. It will dry.’

  Sadie got up, holding the dress in one hand and the scissors in the other. ‘It won’t, love,’ she said. ‘We can’t paint it all. It won’t dry.’

  ‘It will. Get off,’ Ruby said, snatching at the dress.

  ‘Ruby, love.’

  ‘I won’t let you,’ she shouted, wrapping her arms around Pearl’s precious clothes. ‘Leave them alone.’

  Banging the door shut behind them, they left her sitting on the floor hugging Pearl’s precious dresses. Later, Ruby got up and stood in the centre of the room, looking out at the grey afternoon, with nowhere to run, nowhere to go, and when she heard unfamiliar footsteps on the stairs, her stomach twitched like a trapped fish.

  ‘Ruby, you in there?’ Con had to bend his head to get through the doorway.

  ‘We’ve come for the cake,’ he said, nodding towards the bed.

  The bottom of the cake was square. Under the greasy brown stain the cardboard had become wavy. Lou was right: the paint hadn’t dried.

  ‘They’re all at Lou’s. You okay?’

  ‘They wanted the beads …’

  ‘That’s a real pretty dress,’ Wes said, following Con into the room.

 
‘It was my mum’s. It was one of the dresses she wore when she sang … The night she died … she wore her black one. If she’d worn this …’

  ‘You’re shivering,’ Con said, taking off his battledress tunic. ‘Here, put this on.’

  Ruby allowed him to put her thin arms inside the jacket and stood silently in the centre of the tiny room, the gorgeous dresses glittering around her. Con looked helplessly at Wes, hoping he would know what to do; after all, Wes had a sister.

  ‘I’m going downstairs to make us a fire,’ Wes said. ‘It’s pretty cold in here.’

  Con sat on the bed and picked up the cake. The discoloured white paper was lifting away from the cardboard.

  ‘They’ve got some white powder Lou’s mom takes for her stomach. They’re gonna make it into a white paste … You want help folding this stuff?’

  Ruby ran her finger over the sequins, lifting them up, separating them with her fingernail. They were as delicate as fish scales.

  ‘When my grandma died, my mom wouldn’t let anyone touch her things. I got her book with me. It was her favourite, and I’d punch any guy who touched it. It’s Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, so I guess there’s not much danger of that. I don’t think old Bo’s gonna fight me for it.’

  Ruby smiled. ‘They’re mine … You see … They were just taking them, cutting them off.’

  ‘Can they go back on?’

  ‘I’ll want them back. If they put them on the cake, I’ll …’

  ‘You do what you want. You decide.’

  ‘They should have asked.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘The fire’s going good,’ Wes said from the door. ‘You want somethin’ to eat?’

  ‘Jenny,’ Ruby said. ‘I’ve not made her any tea.’

  ‘We’ll get fish ’n’ chips for us all. Come on, it’s real cold up here. Come and get warm.’

  When they followed Wes down the stairs, Nellie was waiting in the kitchen.

  ‘I’ve come to see if there’s any news,’ she said. ‘That young man’s not arrived. The pie I’ve made is dried up. I’ve had to give it to the dog.’

  ‘They’re due on the next train, Henry says. I’m going for some fish ’n’ chips. We’ll get enough for him and you, ma’am,’ Wes said. ‘Did I tell you, Ruby? We’ve got some tinned apricots for the party. Lou’s mom was real pleased.’

  ‘Well, in that case, I’ll not disturb you,’ Nellie said. ‘Your granddad’s still at work, I suppose, Ruby?’

  When Wes left, they worked steadily. As Ruby snipped the sequins, Con used a pinhead to put the tiniest spot of Granddad’s glue on each one. Ruby watched him. She liked the way he carefully pressed each silver disc on to the wobbly surface of the damp cardboard.

  By the time Sadie got back to the cottage, Ruby was in bed and the cake, sparkling with its new frosting of sequins, was standing in the middle of the table.

  ‘Tell you what,’ Sadie said, as she climbed into bed next to Ruby. ‘Frank’s brother is a funny little kid. Well, not little. In fact, he’s big for fourteen.’

  Ruby felt Sadie’s weight next to her and the warmth of her breath on her neck in the darkness.

  ‘Lou says thanks,’ she whispered. ‘She’s … Well, thanks.’

  On the morning of Lou’s wedding, the weather was damp and sulky. There was barely enough grey daylight in the church to allow the congregation to appreciate Lou’s lilac suit or Sadie’s jaunty new hat. Ruby shivered. The cold was making her feel hungry. At Everdeane they didn’t go to church, and on Mondays, when the teacher asked the class to put up their hands if they’d attended Mass, she’d always crossed her fingers and put up her hand along with the rest of the children.

  Once Lou had reached the altar, Ruby couldn’t see her. She was sitting in the second bench next to Arthur, Frank’s younger brother, who was wearing his navy school mac and school scarf. He was dark like Frank, but not so handsome. The rest of his family was in the front row. His mother, Grace, who was small and thin, had started crying as soon as the service began. His father, Jacky, looked like Frank and wore the same uniform, but he was fatter and his face was red. Next to them was his sister, Lydia, with her husband and two little girls.

  Lou’s mother had decided that they must have a nuptial Mass, and now the smell of incense was beginning to make Ruby feel sick. She was wearing Sadie’s red coat and felt in the pocket for a hankie; it smelt of Sadie’s perfume. She hadn’t wanted to wear the coat, because the colour clashed with her hair. She’d planned to wear a scarf over her auburn curls, but earlier that morning when everyone was getting ready, Jenny had brought her own red hat downstairs and insisted that she put it on. Then Sadie said she could wear Jenny’s black funeral hat instead, with a blue hair ribbon tacked over the black silk. She’d worked quickly to fix the light-blue ribbon in place, and by the time everyone else was ready to leave the hat was finished, but Jenny was still cross.

  When they’d arrived at the church, together with Nellie and Charlie, Bo and some other soldiers were waiting outside. During the service, the whole choir had sung ‘The Lord Is My Shepherd’ and everyone joined in. Now Frank and Lou were in the sacristy signing the register, and Bo and the other soldiers were singing ‘Deep River’. It was hard to tell which voice was Bo’s, but on the high notes the rich sound rippled, lifting, soaring over their heads, and Frank’s mother started crying again.

  When Bo arrived at the church he’d felt nervous. He’d wanted a cigarette, but Wes didn’t agree.

  ‘Think of your voice,’ he said. ‘You don’t smoke just before you sing.’

  Bo put his cigarettes away and looked around at the four other guys who were going to sing with them. It wasn’t what he’d planned. A couple of weeks before the wedding, Wes had arrived at the hut with these new guys, southerners, who sung in a gospel choir in their church back home, and explained that they’d agreed to sing if he paid them. They’d argued, but in the end, he’d accepted that Wes was right. The problem was that the camp was getting busier; there was less time hanging around between jobs, and so they’d less time to work on the songs. Inside the church, their voices sounded better than they’d ever done in the hut at the camp, but when the time came to sing without the rest of the congregation, Sadie was in the sacristy with Lou and her new husband, so he didn’t even know if she’d heard them.

  As the church emptied, they were surrounded by people complimenting them on their singing, and he spotted Holt’s small, wiry frame at the edge of the crowd.

  ‘Did it sound okay?’ he asked, pushing his way through the onlookers.

  ‘It sounded just fine,’ he said.

  ‘You don’t sound that sure.’

  ‘I’m sure. It was fine.’

  ‘Then what’s the matter with you? You don’t look so happy.’

  ‘I was thinking of the last time I heard that hymn. I was at church with Arleen.’

  Bo sighed and put his hand on Holt’s shoulder. ‘You had a letter?’ he asked, but Holt shook his head and his broad face clouded.

  ‘Nope. I guess the post ain’t the first thing they’re thinking of sending over here,’ he said. ‘I heard there’s bags of the stuff all stored up, waiting to be sorted.’

  ‘Army’s going to take a while to send our mail on. It’ll just be another week or so. Now we’re in the camp, the stuff will catch up with us.’

  Holt grinned and nodded towards Sadie, who was heading their way. ‘Hi, there,’ he said. ‘Did you hear?’

  ‘Yes, it was lovely. I could tell your voice above the others,’ she said, smiling up at Bo.

  Holt’s grin widened as, beside him, Wes shook his head. But Bo didn’t care: Sadie was happy.

  They followed the rest of the wedding guests through the village. Everyone came out of the shops to cheer: the butcher stood on the doorstep and waved his straw boater; the cobbler stood outside, waving his cap and smiling; the chemist and his assistant applauded and the girls at the Co-op came out to clap and cheer as the wedding party walked by
. Bo could see that the southerners looked tense, and he winked at Wes and Holt. The first day, when the trucks had rolled through the village, they’d felt the same, but now being among white folk was beginning to feel normal.

  The little house was crowded. The tables were piled with food, and once the southern guys had been introduced to the bride and groom and given plates of food, they began to relax and smile.

  ‘This is how it should be at home,’ Bo said, ‘everyone mixing, not different.’

  ‘Come on, lads,’ Frank’s father said, handing out glasses. ‘Will you join me in a toast? This here is the best Irish whiskey money can buy. Here’s to my boy and his lovely young bride, and here’s to you lads. The singing was beautiful. My heart was fit to burst.’

  When they’d all drunk to the bride and groom, Frank’s father filled their glasses again.

  ‘Think you’d best eat up and go,’ Holt whispered to Bo. ‘One or two more and he’ll ask you to sing. Then what you gonna do?’ Holt winked at the rest of the choir. ‘Think we’ll stay and dance with these nice ladies, but you’d best go before Sadie finds out you can’t sing half as pretty as she thinks you do.’

  Bo grinned. He didn’t get riled. He didn’t care. What Holt didn’t know was that last night he’d asked Sadie out, and she’d said yes. They were going to the movies in town, and he was so happy he felt he could have done anything.

  When everyone had eaten, the dining table was folded down, the carpet rolled up, the chairs pushed against the wall and the neighbour’s piano rolled in from next door.

  ‘You children go out of the way,’ Lou’s mother said. ‘Ruby, take Arthur and Lydia’s little ones upstairs. You can take some cakes and cordial.’

  Ruby was angry. Arthur was younger, still a schoolboy, and Frank’s nieces were only seven and nine. She wasn’t sure what to do to amuse them; for a while they played hide-and-seek, but the only places to hide were under the bed or behind the curtains and in the wardrobe.

  ‘It would be better if it was night and we could play ghosts,’ Arthur said.