Home Sweet Home

by Lizzie Lane

  ‘I wasn’t inviting you. I want to speak to this girl alone.’ Andrew looked as though she’d suggested something quite alien, something he feared.

  Ruby smiled. A cup of tea with the old lady in the hallowed portals of the Dorchester was something she would never have experienced before the war. Blow Andrew. She had time before catching the train.

  ‘I’d be delighted,’ she said, picking up her handbag. ‘As long as Andrew would be kind enough to pack up all the bits and pieces he supplied for my talk.’

  ‘Of course he can,’ snapped Mrs Lavery-Sinclair. With the air of somebody used to being obeyed, she slid her arm through Ruby’s without it actually being offered.

  Having the manner of somebody used only to having the best in life, she ordered that a table in a quiet corner should be allocated for their use. Ruby studied the woman sitting across the white tablecloth. Tea had been brought, two cubes of sugar per person and a small jug of milk. The cakes were of a superior quality, commensurate with its clientele.

  ‘Before the war, there was a far greater variety.’ Andrew’s mother nodded at the cakes. Ruby counted four. ‘They used to bring a three-tier cake stand, choux buns and cream cakes of every description. Now look at it.’

  Ruby did look. ‘I think they look quite good.’

  Her companion raised a thin eyebrow. ‘I suppose it depends what you’re used to.’

  ‘I suppose it does,’ Ruby responded. She wondered at the woman’s intention. She would not be servile, even if that’s what was expected of her.

  Holding her smallest finger aloft, Mrs Lavery-Sinclair eyed her over the top of her teacup, her lipstick leaving a smear of red on the rim.

  Ruby took a bite. The cake was good. Andrew’s mother crumbled a piece on her plate and didn’t seem that bothered about eating.

  The feeling that she was being studied made Ruby feel ill at ease.

  ‘I hear you have a twin sister.’

  Ruby confirmed that she did.

  ‘And she’s married to an air force pilot. A Canadian. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And your father is a baker, you say. Is he a successful baker?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘And you met my son in Bristol.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I worry about him when he’s away from home. He’s all I have since his father died. I look out for him and he looks out for me. Unlike his father, he’s not the most masculine of men. You do realise that, don’t you?’

  Too many questions! Ruby sat back in her chair, her eyes narrowed. Being assessed as a woman was one thing, but feeling like a bug beneath a microscope was something else. She wasn’t the sort to allow herself to be the subject of such scrutiny.

  ‘Mrs Sinclair!’ She purposely omitted the Lavery. ‘What am I doing here?’

  Both thin eyebrows now rose as though the question bordered on downright cheek. ‘I thought the reason was obvious. You came here at my son’s request.’

  ‘I don’t mean that. I mean why have you invited me to tea?’

  Gloved fingers played with the cake crumbs as Andrew’s mother considered her response. She didn’t seem at all fazed by the question.

  ‘Again, my dear, I think the reason is obvious. As Andrew’s mother I have every right to know as much as possible about his fiancée …’

  ‘Fiancée!’

  It took all the self-control Ruby had not to burst out laughing, but after her exclamation, she found herself lost for words.

  Mrs Lavery-Sinclair frowned. This was not the response she’d expected. For the first time since they’d met, she looked unsure of herself. Her thin lips moved almost imperceptibly as though she were chewing over something distasteful. ‘You’re not my son’s fiancée?’

  ‘I am most certainly not!’

  ‘He led me to believe he’d asked you to marry him and that his proposal had been accepted.’

  Ruby shook her head, her glossy brown hair dancing around at chin level. ‘He’s never asked me.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Andrew’s mother visibly relaxed, her shoulders seeming to diminish beneath the weight of her mink stole. ‘Good. When he does, I wish you to know that I would not approve of my son marrying you. Quite frankly, I think he can do better.’

  ‘Quite frankly, I think I can do better too!’

  At first Mrs Lavery-Sinclair looked surprised, arching her pencil-thin eyebrows as though she’d had something thrown into her face. Once that had passed she looked positively relieved.

  ‘I’m so glad you understand,’ she said after calling for the bill. ‘Don’t take it to heart that I don’t want you to marry him. I suppose I’m just old-fashioned, but I know what I want in a daughter-in-law.’

  Feeling likely to explode, Ruby got to her feet and picked up her handbag. ‘I’m sorry. I have to go. Do tell Andrew I said goodbye. He was expecting me to come back later in the week, but I have other commitments. I hope he understands. Oh, and by the way, I already have a sweetheart interned in a Japanese prison camp. A brave man who really has served his country. Not a mummy’s boy who stayed at home!’

  A porter fetched the small suitcase she had left in his cubicle of an office. Face on fire, Ruby swept past the uniformed commissionaire at the entrance. The fresh air that hit her was welcome after the stifling interior of the Dorchester Hotel and Andrew’s dreadful mother.

  Her mood lightened as she headed for the train station; she even began swinging the suitcase as her steps quickened. She had a long journey ahead of her, but she didn’t care. Mary was waiting for her – and baby Beatrice too – and they had lots to catch up on. One of the subjects of their conversation would be Andrew Sinclair. At the thought of him, Ruby finally laughed out loud.

  ‘You sound ’appy,’ said the man in the ticket kiosk.

  Ruby’s smile widened. ‘I am.’

  ‘Sounds as though you’re in love and will be waltzing up the aisle in no time,’ he chortled.

  Ruby pulled a face and laughed. ‘Far from it. I’ve just met his mother. I’m off to pastures new!’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  It was early morning when Ruby had left home and ten o’clock at night when she finally arrived at her destination. The signs proclaiming the station’s name had been removed at the outbreak of war so that if the enemy did land they wouldn’t be able to work out where they were. The trouble was neither could anybody else. If the stationmaster hadn’t been shouting it out at the top of his voice, she wouldn’t have known where she was.

  Her brother-in-law Michael waded through the crowds to get to her, took her luggage and led her outside to where he’d parked his little black Ford.

  ‘It’s compact, but useful,’ he said to her. ‘Also big enough to accommodate two children. We’ve decided to try for another one as soon as we can.’

  ‘Michael, that’s marvellous …’

  Michael relayed all that had happened as far as he could.

  ‘It’s not going to be too long now before I’m back on Ops, at least that’s what I’m hoping. Everyone thinks the big show is about to kick off.’

  ‘I hope it’s over soon,’ said Ruby.

  ‘Have you heard anything else from Johnnie? Mary told me about the postcard.’

  ‘No. No, I haven’t.’

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. There had been nothing after that single postcard. Headlines of allied advances in the newspapers gave her hope. At home, in consideration of her feelings, Johnnie was rarely mentioned. There was every chance that he would come back, but equally there was every chance he might not. Keeping the thought of him bottled up inside was her way of dealing with the situation.

  They travelled past fields, the vast sky an indigo backdrop to the flat black landscape.

  She was welcomed by the smell of fresh baking as they entered the cottage.

  ‘Duck,’ said Michael before going through the door.

  A pile of logs was glowing in the open hearth. Mary was standing by the vast i
nglenook, her face pink from the heat of the fire and baking. Beatrice was propped up in an armchair, giggling and kicking her legs.

  ‘Mary!’

  They fell into each other’s arms and cried on each other’s shoulders. The baby stilled and looked up at them with her big blue eyes, perhaps unsure as to why she was seeing two versions of her mother, both dressed differently but looking so alike.

  Mary was desperate for news. ‘There’s so much to talk about. How’s Dad? How’s Charlie? How’s Frances. How’s—’

  ‘One at a time!’

  Ruby assured Mary that everyone was well. Charlie especially had recovered quickly from his illness.

  ‘He’s a typical rough-and-tumble little boy.’

  Mindful not to hurt her brother-in-law’s feelings, Ruby only glanced at Michael’s face. Even so, she was sure she saw him wince before looking away. She felt for him – every man wanted a son – but perhaps this next baby would be a boy.

  ‘And you’re not engaged or anything,’ Mary went on, excitement making her eyes sparkle. ‘Last we talked I thought you were friendly with a military policeman.’

  ‘He was a friend. That’s all.’

  She had considered mentioning Declan’s relationship with Frances, but desisted; perhaps she might when Michael wasn’t around. Neither did she mention Frances being pregnant. In time she would, but for now there were too many other things to discuss. Andrew Sinclair was one of them.

  Beatrice had long been put to bed when Ruby told them what Andrew’s mother had said. Everyone laughed but also felt sorry for him. Andrew was the way he was because of his mother’s domination.

  ‘Pity the wife, if he ever does get one,’ commented Michael.

  Mary began piling the dirty dinner plates. ‘So how about you and your Corporal Smith, then? Clearly you’re still carrying at torch for him. Are you going to marry him?’

  Ruby looked down at the table.

  ‘I fear looking into the future. I’ve had just one card. And that was from a prison camp.’

  Mary sighed. ‘He’s tough. He’ll survive. You just see if he doesn’t.’

  Ruby smiled sadly. ‘Yes. Yes, he is.’

  They washed the dishes between them, carrying on their conversation, chattering as if time and distance had never happened.

  Once they were sitting comfortably in front of the crackling logs, breathing in the smell of apples, Michael brought drinks.

  ‘Sherry. I’m afraid it’s all we have. We need to visit Aunt Bettina before long for a re-stock.’

  Ruby thanked him and, once he was holding a glass, suggested a toast. ‘To the end of the war!’

  ‘And to a growing family,’ Michael added. ‘Mary says just two, I suggested a lot more than that.’

  ‘Six,’ declared Mary. ‘You said six!’

  They all laughed.

  ‘Hopefully, the war will be over by then,’ stressed Ruby.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mary.

  Ruby knew that the way her sister suddenly looked down at her feet was ominous. A quick glance at her brother-in-law confirmed something ominous there too.

  ‘I expect you’ll look for somewhere to settle once the war is over – somewhere nice where you can bring up a horde of children,’ Ruby said laughingly.

  Michael looked at her. ‘Yes. That is exactly my intention. I’ve got the chance of a job in Canada. It’s a good job and well paid.’

  ‘You sound as though you’ve made up your mind.’

  Of course he had, hence the look on her sister’s face. She didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that her sister didn’t want to go to Canada.

  It was at breakfast the next day, after Michael had left for the base, that her suspicion was confirmed.

  Ruby took over spooning porridge into Beatrice’s mouth while Mary rolled out the pastry for that evening’s supper, mutton pie.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Mary shook her head. ‘I don’t want to go.’

  ‘I didn’t think you would.’

  ‘Moving up here was bad enough.’

  ‘It must have been difficult at first, though you seem content enough now.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mary, her mouth tightening as she slammed the rolling pin down on to the pastry. ‘Living here I can at least get on a train down to see my family, after the war, I mean. But Canada …’ Her arms slackened and her throat moved as she swallowed. A faraway look came to her eyes. ‘Sometimes I wish I could turn back the clock …’

  In the past, Ruby might have sided with her and said that of course she shouldn’t go, but not now.

  ‘Mary. What makes you think that your family – your old family – is going to remain in the same place they’ve lived all their life? It’s all in the past. Frances is going to get married someday soon, and so am I, I hope. It’s unlikely we’ll remain where we are, and besides, we’re your old family. You’ve got a new one now.’

  ‘Someday soon?’

  Ruby licked her lips. She hadn’t meant to come out with it quite so swiftly.

  ‘Frances is pregnant. She told us just before I left for London. That military policeman friend of mine.’

  ‘Isn’t he …?’

  ‘Yes, a bit too old for her. Dad is livid and swears he won’t sign for her to get married.’

  ‘He has to,’ Mary exclaimed sounding dismayed. ‘Frances mentioned on the phone that an American soldier had asked her to marry him, but she said nothing about being pregnant. I didn’t realise that the Declan she mentioned was your friend, either. What about the child? It’s not an easy life for a child born out of wedlock.’

  Ruby sighed. ‘You try telling Dad that.’

  Although she’d always been the gentler of the two, Mary adopted a determined stance. ‘I will tell him. You can bet on it.’

  ‘Anyway,’ said Ruby, wishing to steer the conversation back to her sister’s concern about leaving the country and her family behind. ‘Would it really be so bad if you moved to Canada?’

  ‘I suppose I would make new friends. I have here, though there’s not many of us, and all air force wives. The rest of the time I’m here by myself. With Beatrice, of course. Writing letters is fine, but it’s not the same as having somebody else to talk to.’

  Ruby stood up and wound her arm around her sister’s shoulder. ‘You’re a very lucky woman, Mary Dangerfield. You have a handsome husband who adores you and a lovely daughter. Your world is complete, whereas mine …’ She sighed. ‘I’ve got no husband and not even a sweetheart, really.’ She stroked the imagined lines from the corners of her eyes at the same time peering at her reflection in the small mirror hanging to one side of the window. ‘I’ll probably end up an aged spinster! Then you’ll feel lucky! Poor old Ruby, you’ll say. A dried-up old spinster!’

  Her humour worked, Mary’s laughter attracting the curiosity of her small daughter.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Mary said in a kindly manner. ‘I envy you.’

  The two sisters exchanged loving looks. Mary looked happier and more accepting. Ruby, although she smiled, knew what she’d stated was the absolute truth. There was no Mister Right dancing attendance on her and she’d feel a great emptiness inside until Johnnie came marching home – if he came marching home.

  ‘I don’t mind being a spinster,’ she finally said. ‘Anyway, I’ve got Charlie to look after.’

  ‘And John Smith. He’ll come home, Ruby. I’m sure he will.’

  It was a couple of days later when Michael took her back to the station and the train to London. The journey across London to Paddington Station would be gruelling and she wouldn’t arrive home until very late at night. The alternative would have been to stay in London overnight, but she didn’t want to do that. She’d done her duty by speaking to the group at the Dorchester Hotel and did not wish to bump into either Andrew or his mother. Initially, Andrew lying to his mother had made her bristle. Now it made her laugh.

  Michael was abnormally quiet all the way to the station. Ruby guessed
the reason why.

  ‘Don’t worry, Michael. She will go to Canada with you. I’m sure she will.’

  The suddenness of her comment caused him to veer towards the middle of the road. ‘She told you?’

  ‘Of course she told me. I’m her sister.’ She smiled at him. ‘Don’t you two ever speak to each other?’

  Michael kept his eyes on the road ahead, though it was totally empty, a narrow ribbon running between flat fields. Overhead, a single aircraft made its way across the sky.

  ‘My fault. I’ve been a bit preoccupied of late trying to persuade the high command that I’m fit to fly. I want one last crack at the enemy before it’s all over. Just one.’

  ‘Haven’t you done enough?’

  He gave her a weak smile that tugged at her heartstrings. ‘It may sound stupid, but I can’t help feeling guilty. A lot of my old pals are dead. I’m still alive.’

  ‘You shouldn’t feel guilty about it.’

  ‘So I’m told, but I can’t help it.’

  Ruby turned her head as though eyeing the endless landscape, purely so he wouldn’t see the moistness in her eyes for all those boys, all those who would never have the choice between living in England and living in Canada.

  Once her emotions were under control, she turned to him and smiled. ‘Let me remind you that you’re never going to be a concert pianist, thanks to your insistence on becoming an RAF pilot.’

  At first he didn’t see that she was being flippant.

  ‘I never—’

  Then the penny dropped. Smiling, he shook his head.

  ‘You’ve made your sacrifice,’ said Ruby, her tone turning more serious. ‘You’ve sacrificed quite a lot and your beautiful wife and darling daughter would prefer that things went no further.’

  He laughed again and for a moment she felt triumphant until the truth hit her that he would still go back into action if given the chance.

  It was only two days following Ruby’s return home that Frances went missing. She’d left a note.

  Gone to find my mother.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The house had a bay window and a brass knocker.

  Tilting her head back, Frances counted the windows: two on each floor and there were three storeys. The façade looked well maintained and the net curtains behind the gleaming windows were crisply white.