A Plague on Both Your Houses

by Ian Porter

  But the soldier had clearly had enough of following orders. He executed a backward head butt which caught Ruby on her breast bones, causing her to lurch forward, her chin making contact with the top of his head, this in turn causing her to bite her tongue. The ensuing pain from the triple whammy had her lose her temper. She used a Nashey-trained technique, sweeping her right leg as hard as she could against her assailant’s right ankle. A moment later he was lying face down on the cobbles, with Ruby having fallen on top of him.

  It was only then she realised how slight of build this soldier was. He was quite a bit shorter than her, hence why it had been her breast bones that had taken the force of his blow.

  He had stopped struggling. Was he feigning, hoping to take her by surprise again? Or had she knocked him out? No, she could feel him moving very slightly and he was making a barely audible noise. Christ, she thought, he hasn’t swallowed his tongue as he?

  She got off him, jumped to her feet, and took a step round to look at his face. It was difficult to see clearly in the gloom.

  Was he crying?

  She suspected it could be a trick so stepped behind the prone figure, then gingerly put the toe of her policewoman’s sturdy footwear under his midriff and as gently as she could levered him over so he lay on his back.

  A boy, barely a teenager, lay there sobbing. And there was something about the scared, pathetic expression on his face that made Ruby think that he wasn’t crying with the pain of any injury she had just inflicted upon him.

  The German Spring Offensive had caused the government to reduce the conscription age to seventeen and a half but this lad was far younger than that.

  “How old are you son?” enquired Ruby.

  She helped the boy up as she considered what she had just said.

  Son! Blimey I’m getting old.

  “For’een,” the boy snivelled, cuffing a wet nose, while he looked down avoiding his inquisitor’s gaze.

  The glottal stop told her the boy had a strong London accent not dissimilar to her husband’s. Perhaps he was not so far from home.

  “Lied about your age to fight eh? Got yourself hurt and now you want to make a run for it off home?” asked Ruby.

  She was eager for him to know he had a sympathetic copperette in front of him, so she was quick to add more.

  “Don’t blame you lad. I’d have done the same. Well done to you I say.”

  The boy looked up at her frowning. She didn’t sound like a police officer to him.

  “It weren’t like I thought,” he said.

  “No. Daresay it weren’t,” agreed Ruby knowingly.

  “I didn’t…”

  “No, nobody did, did they boy?” cut in Ruby to save the lad choking up any further.

  ******

  Ruby was not looking forward to having to explain herself to her husband. She had never been on the end of his temper, but she had seen him dish out some fair old East End bile on many a man over the years. And she thought the time had come for her to receive not so much a flea, more a giant spider, in her ear.

  She was about to bring an injured runaway soldier in to the house with a view to asking Nashey to squirrel him away amongst his objectors. But the army would no doubt be far more diligent in tracking down a suspected deserter than they were chasing after troublesome conscience objectors. And if the boy was caught, even though he would have the perfectly valid excuse of being a mere child, who knew what the authorities might do to him? And even if his age turned out to afford him some protection from the full wrath of the army, the same could not be said of the man & wife team who had aided and abetted him. In fact, any leniency the government were forced to show the boy, might have them looking to punish his partners in crime even more heavily than usual. An example always had to be made in such cases to keep the cannon fodder in line. She could also have put Nashey’s whole objector operation, and the men in it, in danger.

  And of course, there was the not inconsiderable little matter of her being a law-flouting police officer. The authorities would, with some justification, assume her becoming a policewoman had been done purely to assist her husband help men escape their duties. It was difficult to know which one of Mr & Mrs Nash would have the biggest book thrown at them. She could see keys to prison cells in Holloway and Brixton being thrown away.

  ******

  Ruby had taken a circuitous route home, diving down every alleyway between Whitechapel and Bow that her husband had ever shown her, plus many others. The tour through some of the less salubrious parts of Stepney and Mile End was to ensure the boy got disorientated so that if he ever fell back into the hands of the authorities and was asked where he had been taken after his escape, he would not be able to help them. This might at least buy her and Nashey a bit of time to make a run for it.

  Ruby motioned for the boy to follow her round to the alley at the back of her house. She was concerned that Granny Brown might still be doing her rounds, or some of her clients might be starting to venture out, so she was relieved to see the coast was clear. She and the boy walked quickly down the alley, across her yard and in through the back door of the house.

  Cognisant of Nashey not being at his best first thing in the morning, Ruby had already explained to the boy that her husband was asleep in bed, so they had to be as quiet as church mice. The longer the young soldier’s presence was unknown to the man of the house, the better. Ruby whispered to the boy to sit down and make himself at home. His glance towards what was her husband’s armchair, had Ruby shaking her head and pointing towards her own chair. He did as he was told.

  Ruby had made a point of not asking the boy his name when she had first tackled him. She didn’t want him to think he was having his name taken by the long arm of the law. But now it was time. She crouched and quietly asked the question.

  “Freddie, Freddie Barber.”

  “All right Freddie, you have a kip now. You didn’t get much sleep on the way over from France I’ll wager. Keep your boots on mind.”

  No explanation was offered as to the reason for this command. The fact was that she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He stank to high heaven, and she thought that if his feet were unfettered, the smell would no doubt increase.

  “Don’t snore do you?” she added mock seriously.

  “No, no officer. I don’t straight!” assured Freddie.

  “That’s all right then. We don’t want to be waking up his nibs before time. He might have been up half the night. He often does night work. And before you ask, don’t. Get me?”

  Ruby winked. She had never winked in her life before she met Nash, but now it was a regular occurrence. The boy nodded so she continued.

  “I’ll know when he’s stirring. He starts the day with a good cough. I’ll then take him through some tea and breakfast in bed. He’ll know something’s up right enough. I’ve never taken him breakfast in bed!”

  The boy smiled for the first time since she had collared him. Ruby changed the abrupt, no nonsense police officer’s tone that she had adopted with him throughout, to a softer whisper.

  “Now, when I speak to my husband, you may hear some shouting, swearing, a chair being thrown at a wall. That sort of thing. I’m sure you’ll have heard the like in the army. And it might just take him a while to see things my way. So don’t worry when he first sees you, if he’s a bit, well, unfriendly. And I have to tell you, when the temper’s on him, he is bloody scary and make no mistake. But don’t take anything he says to heart. He’ll be all right with you soon enough.”

  Freddie didn’t seem unduly worried. After what he’d seen in the trenches, a man in a temper was the least of his concerns.

  But there was a flaw in Ruby’s plan. Her husband was not at home.

  ******

  Nash was a little worried about Ruby doing a night shift alone in darkest Whitechapel, with none of her volunteers within sh
outing distance. It was no longer the no-go zone for a woman in the early hours it had been during the autumn of terror thirty years ago, but it was still a place where bad men could appear out of the shadows. In his villainous days he had only ever preyed on men, but there were plenty who had, and still would see a woman as an easy target. And a police uniform was certainly no protection. Quite the reverse in fact.

  Not that Nash had conveyed these fears to his wife. She was the most independent woman he had ever known. And thanks to her years as an East End Suffragette, and her years living with him, she had also become one of the toughest women anyone might wish to come across. And he knew that any complaints from him would fall on deaf ears.

  But having dropped off an objector in Shoreditch during the early hours, little more than a mile from where Ruby had told him she would be ending her shift at around the same time, he decided on a whim that rather than head straight home, he would make his way to the London Hospital and check all was well. He also hoped it would be a nice surprise for his wife to have her husband turn up unannounced to accompany her home.

  He ducked down Brick Lane and through old alleys towards the hospital, before eventually taking a short cut through a tiny passage, Wood’s Buildings, which led through in to the Whitechapel High Road opposite the hospital. He stopped at the exit of the passage to survey the scene. There was a line of ambulances waiting to turn into the hospital. Nothing much else seemed to be happening. He rubbed fingers along almost twenty four hours of coarse chin stubble growth, spat an oyster of spittle on to the ground and felt in his pockets to see if he had a sweet to suck while he waited.

  A quarter of an hour passed before Nash noticed the ambulance queue was starting to get shorter. No more ambulances were coming along. The lights of the hospital were giving off just enough of a glow for him to see a woman in a jacket, skirt and hat was now walking up the main road. It wasn’t a nurses uniform. Probably a policewoman’s. There was a fair chance it was Ruby. Nash did not want to make himself known till she had finished her duties for the night so he stood in the passage arch and loitered, for once without intent.

  “Oi! What’s your game?!” came a high pitched, high volume enquiry.

  Nash recognised that voice. Two figures started running away from him. The one closest was definitely his wife. She was chasing a young lad. What had the little blighter done? Swiped some fags or chocolate as it was being handed to some soldiers?

  Ruby had bragged to him about her ability to deal with juvenile delinquents. And now he was seeing it in action. He was rather excited by the situation and was eager to see his wife in full flow. He was confident she would be able to deal with the little Herbert. But if he turned out to be wrong and the lad started to get the better of her, he would have to step in, though he knew that would incur her wrath. But if it came to it, he would rather have her give him a tongue lashing than see her given a good hiding by some young scallywag.

  Nash set off in pursuit but rather than follow them directly, used his local knowledge. He headed back down Wood’s Buildings, then along Durward Street, which ran parallel to the main road. He came out into Vallance Road just as the lad turned and headed towards him. Nash stopped and waited. A moment later Ruby appeared, and cut across the road at an angle. The lad turned and ran across the road, allowing Ruby to cut him off and grab hold of him.

  “Well done girl,” muttered Nash with excited pride.

  But then he saw the lad lash out. Nash noticed for the first time that the lad had a bandaged head and was wearing a soldier’s uniform.

  “Blimey she’s caught herself a Tommy.”

  Nash did not like the idea of his wife trying to tackle a fully trained soldier, even if he was smaller than her. But he didn’t want to get involved unless he absolutely had to. He slipped quietly across the road, and into an unlit spot to keep an eye on the grappling couple just a few feet away.

  ******

  Nash was furious. Proud, impressed and furious. Of and with his wife. He had not been close enough to hear the conversation Ruby had with the soldier, but had managed to catch a sight of the lad. He was clearly well under age and scared out of his wits. And when she marched him off, not back to the ambulances but down side streets avoiding the hospital, Nash guessed what it his wife was up to.

  The improving light allowed him to follow at a discreet distance for a short time. But once it was obvious that Ruby was indeed heading home with the soldier, Nash left her to it. He made his way back to the main road and stopped off at an early morning winkle stall, which was just opening up, to buy some whelks. He sat on a wall next to a strip of plane tree-lined grassland, incongruous amidst the urban Stepney slums surrounding him. It was known as the Mile End Waste, where William Booth had given his first speeches on his way to founding the Salvation Army a few hundred yards away.

  Nash was aware of his surroundings and its history. He slurped down his rubbery breakfast while mulling over what his wife was playing at.

  Ruby was the one who would need some salvation after he had finished with her. He rehearsed the fire and brimstone he was going to rain down upon her when he got home. He sat there until both his temper, and his great speech had disappeared from his mind. It took a while.

  He understood why Ruby had done this. He guessed that she would want him to help get the boy away somewhere. It was the right thing to do, even if it did put them both at great risk. But just because he had calmed down, and had decided to go along with his wife’s foolhardy adventure, he thought it best not to appear readily agreeable. He had accepted her becoming a policewoman far too quickly. Ruby had wrapped him round her little finger. But he was not to be taken for granted. It would not do his wife any harm to be taken to task. He would therefore pretend to still be in a temper when he got home, and give her the ear-bashing she should know she deserved.

  ******

  Ruby had changed her mind about having Freddie sleeping in an armchair when her husband surfaced. The boy was out on his feet and the longer before Nashey saw him the better, so she had removed various tins, pots and pans from the scullery floor, and had just finished tucking Freddie round the corner of the l-shaped room.

  It was Maud’s day off from the munitions factory, but she was up and about early as usual so Ruby had asked her down for a cup of tea. She was not going to be able to keep Freddie a secret from someone living in the same house in any case, so the sooner Maud knew the situation the better. And having a friend there when she told her husband what she had been up to, might keep a lid on his anger. He tended to only lose his temper momentarily, so she just needed to keep things under control for a minute or two. The air would be the darkest of blue of course, with old Victorian oaths almost withering the wallpaper, but hopefully everything would settle down soon enough.

  The tea was brewing. Ruby was just rearranging the scullery so she could find a new home for her only frying pan, when the front door suddenly banged open.

  Nash stormed in with a face like thunder ready to read the riot act. But the first woman he saw was not his wife.

  “Hello Nashey,” said Maud, with obvious surprise in her voice. “Just about to have a nice cup of tea with your beloved.”

  Nash ignored his visitor, glaring around the room, hands still stuffed in the pockets of the greatcoat he always wore at night, even on the warmest of summer evenings. He did not say a word. The feeling of surprise turned to one of awkwardness for Maud. She took Nash’s silence as her cue to inform him of where his wife was located.

  “She’s just out the lav Nashey,” she lied.

  Ruby was still in her police uniform. Talk about a blue rag to a bull. She had heard the one-way conversation. Her husband’s silence was deafening. She was for it all right. She was about to walk out to face the music, when a thought struck her. Where the hell had he been till this time of the morning? And why had he crashed through the door like a man possessed and then
given Maud the silent treatment. It was as if he already knew what she had done. Hmmm.

  Ruby walked into the parlour with a face to match her husband’s.

  “Where you been?!” she demanded with menaces, before immediately answering her own question. “Spying on me that’s where!”

  If Nashey was innocent of all charges, she could apologise quickly enough. Some of their loveliest moments together had been those immediately after an apology had been tendered by one or the other, or often both, of them. And she would soon have to tell him about the boy, so a little bit of attack being the best form of defence, might not go amiss.

  Her husband looked at her astonished. He was not the only one. Maud decided pre breakfast tea-time was over.

  “I’ll just er…” she said nodding in the direction of the stairs, as she started to get up from sitting in Nash’s chair to escape to her half of the house.

  “Stay where you are Maud!” barked Ruby, like a policewoman giving someone an order, though this was no simile.

  Maud did as she was told. Her eyes flicked between the two soon to be warring factions. Ruby and Nash stared at each other. This went on for several seconds. It was like a stand-off in a Tom Mix western. But which one of them would turn out to be wearing the white Stetson of the hero, and which one the black of the soon to be outgunned villain?

  Nash cracked first. Ruby had taken him by such surprise that the wind in his sails suddenly dropped completely. Not that this left him in the doldrums. Quite the reverse. He burst out laughing, shaking his head with amusement.

  “You cheeky little mare!” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve got some bleeding neck on you. I’ll give you that. Come here!”

  Nash motioned with both arms for his wife to move towards him. Ruby then cracked into laughter too, did as she was told, and the two of them encircled each other in reciprocal bear hugs.

  It was Maud’s turn to shake her head in amusement, not to say relief.

  “Can I go now constable?!” she said over her shoulder with sarcastic mock effrontery, as she left the room without waiting for an answer.