Ruby's War

by Johanna Winard

  Although she’d been very late for work, the shooting had caused so much upset to the mill’s routine that Ruby was able to creep into the spinning room and busy herself, dragging trucks up and down between the winding frames, before anyone realised that she’d been missing. Peering between the spinning bobbins, she’d tried to read the lips of the women, hoping for any mention of the missing soldiers, and at dinnertime she sat against the stone wall in the mill yard with Mrs Rostron, listening to the chatter.

  ‘I heard there was at least forty of ’em shot, and they was beating the rest of them poor lads with clubs,’ a weaver said.

  ‘I know a woman in the carding room who lives opposite the camp,’ Jack, one of the tacklers, told them. ‘She said they’d hardly slept, and there was machine-gun bullets in her wall this morning. Her husband dug one out for the little lad.’

  ‘Somebody said they’ve guards all over, and nobody can get near the camp. Some folk are locked out of their own houses,’ Mrs Rostron said. ‘I wonder what’ll ’appen. Folk’s right worried. Some of them as had husbands on night shift must have been terrified. They’ll not be lettin’ ’em out to dances and such for a good while after this.’

  By late afternoon, the women moved leadenly between the machines, wiping the sweat from their chins. Ruby was dreaming of escaping, of rushing home and finding Con there, when Mrs Rostron touched her arm and motioned over to the door where the manager – panting and grim-faced – was waiting. He beckoned to her to follow him down the stairs. Ruby, her stomach tingling, expected to see a policeman waiting by the office door to tell her that Con had been discovered and her granddad was in jail. It wasn’t a policeman but a child she didn’t know with a hastily scribbled note from Maud, telling her that Uncle Joe was ill.

  As she hurried down the street, old folk were perched like dusty sparrows on rickety stools and dining-room chairs enjoying the sunshine. Maud’s door stood open. Inside, Auntie Maud – her severe knot of hair unravelled – knelt by Joe’s bed. His white face looked up at her over Maud’s shoulder, a metal spoon fixed lengthways between his teeth.

  ‘I’m sorry to have got you from work,’ Maud said, sitting back on her heels. ‘I couldn’t wait any longer. I need his medicine and I’ve nobody else as can get it. I daren’t leave him, and my neighbours are either working or old folk. Go as quick as you can, lass. He’s really bad this time.’

  ‘The doctor,’ Ruby said. ‘I’ll—’

  Maud shook her head. ‘He’s been twice already, yesterday and last night. If he was to come, he’d want to know if the medicine had worked.’ Maud got up and went over to the dresser. ‘There was so much you see … so much medicine. My neighbour’s lad went for me. I got the pills, as he normally has, but there was these powders. They have to be got from the chemist. He makes them up special and …’ Maud handed her a half-crown. ‘Give him the paper and tell him to give you what that will pay for.’

  Ruby took the paper and the money and glanced at the clock, guiltily wishing that the same neighbour’s child could be asked to go for the medicine again. There were no children in the street, and she hurried over the railway bridge, pulling off her scarf and mopping her neck as she went.

  The chemist’s shop was cool. The assistant took the paper, and then using the highly polished cupboards for support, hobbled into the back of the shop. A number of times Ruby caught her breath, as the woman, her pace awkward and uncertain, almost lost her footing. After a few minutes the chemist’s assistant, whose fresh doll-like complexion contrasted strangely with her slow and painful movements, eased her way back into the shop.

  ‘There’s not much call for these powders,’ she said, holding firmly on to the edge of the counter. ‘It will take some time.’

  Across the road, Ruby could see a queue outside the Co-op and she decided to investigate. After the dark interior of the chemist’s, the bright sunlight made her squint; she didn’t notice Jenny among the line of women waiting patiently under the green-and-white awning, until she waved to her from the middle of the queue.

  ‘Johnny Fin will be upset when he hears about poor Joe,’ Jenny said. ‘When he came round to see what had happened to Henry,’ she whispered, ‘he nearly gave us both heart attacks. We didn’t know he was there until he knocked.’

  Through the open Co-op door, Ruby could see the shop assistants licking their pencils and adding up long strips of numbers with the dampened lead. On the opposite counter she could see the sugar, already weighed carefully into rations, and next to it a large wooden tub of flour with a ladle hanging on the side. Sometimes there was a huge golden mound of butter set on a slab of marble, but today it was missing, along with the bacon and ham wrapped in white stockinet. Today the line of women were hoping that the small packets of starch stacked next to the till – limited to one per customer – would last out until their turn came. When Jenny had tucked her prize in her basket, they walked over to the chemist’s.

  ‘We was just telling Johnny about what had happened – the lad was still asleep – when two blokes on bikes came knocking at the door, wanting glasses of water. We thought it was the Yanks,’ she said, taking Ruby’s arm as they crossed the road. ‘Anyway, Johnny’s gone to see if he can find the priest, ask his advice. Then he’s coming back, and once it gets dark, he’ll take the lad to a place he knows. It’s not safe for him to stop with us.’

  ‘He could have my room.’

  ‘No he can’t. We can’t have him with us,’ Jenny said, checking her reflection in the chemist’s window and adjusting her hat. ‘He’s best going back, if you ask me. It’s not like he could move around and nobody spot him.’

  ‘Well nobody’s looked until now.’

  ‘Best thing is for Johnny to get the priest to go back with him to the camp. He’s only a young lad; they’ll not harm him, if he explains. Come on, let’s get this stuff and be off back.’

  ‘Maud hasn’t the money for the medicine,’ Ruby said. ‘She said just to get what I could for two and six, but there’s a lot more he needs. I was going to ask if I could pay tomorrow.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I have a bit saved. I was going to use it. If you stay out here …’

  Jenny tutted and opened her purse. ‘Here. I want it back, mind. Maud wouldn’t thank you for taking my money, whatever it was for.’

  The heat made it difficult for Jenny to walk quickly. ‘I wouldn’t have come out, not today, but sitting there was making me all of a dither. Off you go and take her that stuff,’ she said, when they reached the end of the street where Maud lived. ‘I’d say that Johnny would come and see how Joe was, but he’s going to be too busy. We’ll expect you when we see you.’

  Ruby watched Jenny walk towards the little bridge, wishing she could go home in her place. She’d spent all day imagining that she was sitting with Con in the living room at the cottage, dreaming of how he might hold her hand under the table and how, once it was dark and Granddad and Jenny were dozing, they’d go outside and sit in the garden.

  On Maud’s street, the well-scrubbed doorsteps were empty; the old people had taken their chairs and gone inside, but many of the doors were still open, and she could smell cooking. In the cottage, the air smelt heavy and stale. Maud was still sitting by Joe’s bed where Ruby had left her. Joe was quiet now. The metal spoon had gone, and he looked as though he could be sleeping. Ruby began to hope that she might not be needed after all. A neighbour, sitting on a wooden stool in front of the fireplace, turned to look at her.

  ‘Lass is back with thy medicine,’ the old woman croaked.

  ‘There was enough for all of it,’ Ruby said, putting the parcel on the table.

  Auntie Maud looked round, but didn’t reply and bent forwards stroking Joe’s fat hand.

  The neighbour, a woman of about eighty, wore a mob cap over her hair. When she stood up, she was as broad as she was tall and dressed in a long shapeless dress covered by a greasy apron.

  ‘I’ll be off to make his tea,’ she said, tapping h
er clay pipe on the side of the empty fireplace. ‘There’s a pie in the meat safe, enough for you both. You see she gets some sleep,’ she said to Ruby. ‘She’s never had those clothes off for two days. She’ll be ill herself.’ The woman shuffled to the door, and then pushing her pipe back into her mouth, looked over at Maud. ‘Remember,’ she said, ‘urine straight from the chamber pot is the best thing for a compress. Works every time, and send out for some common ale. There’s no better tonic. I’ll be round in the morning, but knock on the fireback,’ she said, nodding towards the fireplace, neatly laid with twists of newspaper and a few sticks, ‘if you need me in the night.’

  The pie consisted mainly of carrot and potato inside a crisp pastry case. When they had eaten, Ruby got up to make a cup of tea. There was nothing in the meat safe, except an inch of sour milk at the bottom of a jug.

  Auntie Maud sipped her black tea. ‘There’s beef tea on the stone slab in the pantry,’ she said. ‘That’s the coolest place. There’s a tea towel on top of the bowl. Warm it, but not too hot, and put some bits of bread in it, cut small. If he doesn’t wake, don’t wake him. He’s exhausted. Wake me if he fits. He might get upset if he opens his eyes and sees you. He might not know who you are. Read to him if he wakes and he’s quiet. He likes to hear the news,’ she said, nodding towards the newspaper on the end of the table. ‘If he does fit, put a spoon in his mouth and come for me.’ Then Maud got up, took her cup to the sink and washed her face. ‘I’ll say goodnight, then,’ she said.

  ‘Is there anything … jobs …? Shall I do the washing?’ Ruby asked, pointing to the pile of sheets on the floor near the scullery door.

  ‘You could put them to soak in the sink,’ she said, walking wearily to the stairs, ‘but don’t leave him, and if you go in the scullery or the pantry, leave the door open, so as you can see ’im. He’s to be watched all the time.’

  Ruby explored the cupboards, looking for a stock of tinned meat or dried fruit, but found nothing but a flour jar, barely half full, and an open packet of tea. As night fell, she thought of Con and wondered where Johnny had taken him. When she looked up, Joe had opened his eyes and was staring at her with a quiet interest. His eyes followed her over to the pantry, and watched with unblinking concentration as she warmed the beef tea in a pan. He sucked each little cube of bread, and when they were all gone, he sipped the rest of the dark liquid from the spoon she held carefully to his mouth. Then he settled back on his pillows and gave her his full attention as she read out the latest news reports, births, weddings and deaths, followed by all the advertisements and notices, including a church bazaar in aid of war orphans. Eventually Joe fell into a doze, and it was just before six o’clock when she heard Maud moving around in the room above. She came down the stairs as the clock chimed the hour, her hair back again in its tight bun.

  There was no mention of breakfast, and after a cup of black tea, Maud took her up to the sparse back bedroom and pulled up the blind.

  ‘It’s going to be a bonny day again,’ she said. ‘You get to sleep now. There’s nobody to disturb you. I’ll not call you unless … Well, he’s probably on the mend. I know you meant well, but I’ll not take charity. I’ll pay for the medicine.’

  ‘I thought it was best …’ Ruby said. ‘If the doctor said he needed …’

  ‘Aye, you’re probably right. I can see that. Did you read to him?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ruby laughed, ‘for about three hours. I read most of the paper.’

  ‘He’ll know if I read the same things as you have,’ Maud said, her stern features softening. ‘He’ll shake his head if he’s heard something before.’

  Ruby took off her skirt and blouse and slipped her shoes under the narrow bed. The sun was casting fingers of pale light across the shared courtyard at the back of the cottages. She curled up under the thin sheet, listening to the sound of footsteps and the irregular scrape and thud, as the wooden doors to the three communal toilets opened and closed.

  Con hadn’t slept much. Johnny had waited until it was dark before he’d led him to a hut that was a short walk from the cottage and close to the river. He’d left him some food and bedding, but when the door was closed and he was alone, the hut felt airless and the smell of engine oil and dust filled his throat. He’d spent most of the night among the trees, flinching at each sound, until the squeaking of the bats and the owl’s wild hunting cries became familiar. Once it was daybreak, Con went back and hid for a while inside the hut, squinting out through the split wooden boards, expecting at any minute to be discovered, until it had occurred to him that the hut might be the first place that anyone might look. Then he’d slipped outside again, taking the remaining food with him.

  For part of the day Con hid out in the trees, keeping the hut in sight, hoping that Ruby might come and find him or that Johnny might arrive with Father O’Flynn. The growing heat made him thirsty and he stole down to the river, kneeling on the bank, dipping his cupped hands through the sparkling surface and slurping in the cool water, hoping that Johnny would bring him a cup, or maybe even some bottled beer. He was about to lower his head, to douse his face in the river, when flashes of green light on the water caught his attention. Con sat up, scanning the opposite bank nervously. He peered in the river again; every time he looked into the ripples, all he could see was clear water and the stones at the bottom. Then each time, just before he became convinced that it was his imagination, there was a flickering in the water again. Con lay down, hanging over the river, determined not to blink. It was almost a full minute before he saw them: a shoal of small silver fish, their scales caught for a fraction of a second in the sunlight.

  He was still there, stretched out on the grass watching the fish, when Ruby came along the opposite bank with Bess, and his shocked expression at the sound of the dog’s excited bark made her grin. As he got to his feet, Bess splashed through the river towards him, and she took off her shoes and waded in after the dog.

  ‘I thought you’d be in the hut. There’s no news,’ she said, putting the basket of food on the ground. ‘Granddad said to tell you that he’s tried to find out what’s happened to Wes and Holt, but they have the camp under guard. There’s nobody allowed in or out. Sadie thinks Bo might have been arrested on the road. She thinks he would have been back by now.’

  Con sat down heavily on the grass, and Bess, taking this as an indication that he was ready to play, wagged her tail and beamed with delight. He nuzzled her head, letting the dog lick his face and then tussled with her, rolling over on the short, mossy grass.

  ‘Everybody round here heard the shooting, and when it got out that it was the Americans shooting their own, they all took your side. They think it’s not right.’

  She sat down, wrapping her hands around her knees. Con threw a stick for Bess, and when Ruby tried to look at him, his extravagant lashes swept down avoiding her gaze.

  ‘I reckon the army is right. We must be pretty stupid, leaving our families to fight their war,’ he said, his long fingers tugging angrily at the grass. ‘Fighting for democracy; it’s a pointless war for us.’

  She wanted to take his hand, but she was too shy, and for a while they sat side by side, listening to the soft, comforting water.

  ‘Look over there,’ Ruby said, pointing to a spot where the water ran smoothly off a line of stones. ‘Can you see? Over there in the middle? It looks that smooth. It reminds me of the glycerine my mum used when she made icing. It looked like that, when you poured it out. Clear, but thick like oil.’

  Con turned and smiled at her. ‘My grandma used to make all kinds of things out of icing, things for cakes, for birthdays. She learnt it when she was young and she taught my mom. Mom can make anything you want: cradles for a christening cake; a cake with Cinderella’s coach on the top; a whole Easter egg out of sugar with a cute little cut-out scene inside. She does all kinds. Before I came away, she made me a cake with the names of people wishing me well around the side – friends and people from the church. It was real pretty. She ice
d a flag on the top and made two sugar hearts that stood right in the middle.’

  ‘You could have brought them with you.’

  ‘You can’t do that, sugar hearts break real easy.’

  ‘All that sugar would have come in handy.’

  His face exploded into a smile. ‘I’m glad you came by,’ he said. ‘Nobody else would have thought of that. Come on, let’s walk. I’m goin’ crazy just waiting around.’

  ‘I’ve got something as will cheer you up,’ she said.

  ‘Has Henry sent me some beer?’

  ‘He has, as a matter of fact. Said to tell you to stand it in the river,’ she said, gently easing the dark-brown bottles from under the basket’s cover. Con could smell the soap on her skin, and the great hollow feeling he’d carried since he left home grew deeper. Then, as they would have on any other day, he took her hand and they walked through the wood. As they wandered along, Bess trotted behind them and then scampered along in front, before turning around to dart back down to the water. When she was busy investigating an interesting scent by the river’s edge, they hid. Once she looked up and discovered that she was alone, Bess put her nose to the ground and quickly discovered their hiding place. On the bend of the river, she startled a fishing heron, and as the great bird lifted up, she chased back up through the trees shaking the drops of water from her coat over them, making them laugh. Ruby danced away from him, brushing the drops from her pale lavender dress. Her loveliness stung his heart, and when she saw his laughter fade, she walked back towards him.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

  Con bit his lip and smiled. Her beauty made him nervous. He’d grown used to the girls from the town who always took the lead. He wasn’t used to making the first move, and he didn’t want to scare her.

  ‘Mrs Bland was right,’ he said. ‘You’re just as pretty as the girl in her picture.’