A Promise Between Friends

‘Even if I’d known that love hurt like this, I’d never have settled for friendship’ – Ruby Bright

My thanks as always to the talented team at Simon & Schuster who turn my stories into beautifully bound books. To my agent Judith Murdoch, and to the many bookshops and
retailers online and on the high street who make the Rivers novels available to the general public. Thanks especially to all those people who have shared with me their personal and often intimate
accounts of the immediate post-war years. This was an era full of new life, love and excitement. But also of heartache for those who were unable to express themselves freely and publicly. I felt
privileged to be able to set this book in such times. A special thank you to Janine Pulford, writer and editor of the eclectic mags4dorset and
Viewpoint
magazine, who has so kindly supported
my books over the years. And last but not least, a thank you to our family for just being you, and hoping that each one of you will have the love and success in your lives that you all so richly
deserve. Without you I wouldn’t be writing.

The final word goes to all those amazing people who reach me by letter, Facebook, Twitter, Google+, Pinterest, Amazon and my website
www.carolrivers.com.

With every book publication, I’ve made more friends; the East End of London during the early part of the twentieth century is a fascinating part of our social history, but without your
support for my novels, I would never have had the chance to record it in fiction.

Love as always,

Carol Rivers

1953

Ruby Payne was partying at the local dance hall with her friends, Kath Rigler and Kath’s older brother, Bernie. They had all grown up together on the Isle of Dogs, the
heart of London’s East End, and had come through some tough times during the war. Ruby liked to think that she and Kath were more like sisters. While she had turned nineteen already this
year, Kath’s birthday was in just a week’s time. They had spent the best part of the evening dancing and talking excitedly about their planned celebration at a pub in Hoxton.

‘I’ll drive us in style,’ Bernie had assured them with a wink. ‘You girls put on your finery and we’ll paint the town.’ Bernie, who was twenty-two, was tall
and dark-haired like his sister and had been best friends with Ruby’s late brother, Pete. Ruby had a soft spot for him, but she and Kath often took the mickey when he tried to chat up the
birds. Bernie fancied himself as a charmer and with his exceptional good looks was never short of a date.

Ruby smiled when she saw Bernie with his arms around a girl, trying to smooch on the dance floor. This time, he wasn’t having it all his own way. The blonde looked uninterestedly in the
other direction.

‘Your brother’s wasting his time,’ Ruby said to Kath, who, finding no partner, was dancing beside her. ‘That girl only has eyes for the big guy on the door. I saw them
outside as we came in. He was all over her and she was lapping it up.’

‘Trust Bernie to try his luck on Mr Universe’s bit of stuff,’ Kath giggled from under her long dark curtain of straight hair. Ruby knew how conscious Kath was of her gangling
figure. Tonight she was wearing flat pumps with her dark blue trouser suit, which brought her down to six inches above Ruby’s petite five five, extended only by her slender high heels.
‘My brother will get his nose rearranged one day.’

‘Wouldn’t do him any harm,’ Ruby acknowledged with a grin. ‘He might keep his hands to himself after that.’ Ruby tossed back her shining blonde shoulder-length hair
and felt it bounce lightly on her shoulders as she swayed her hips to the music. Her large hazel eyes were confident and had a mature expression for her young age. Wearing the new red-and-black
polka-dot circle-skirt and white halter-neck blouse she knew she looked her best; but even though Fortuno’s was crowded, she hadn’t really seen anyone she fancied. Not that she’d
been short of partners. She had enjoyed every dance, from the old-type swing to the new craze from America, rock ‘n’ roll. Fortuno’s dance hall in Aldgate was no great shakes with
its worn and tired decor. But there was plenty of floor space. And after all, it was the dancing she and Kath came for; switching off their humdrum, everyday lives.

‘Enjoying yourselves, girls?’ Bernie’s deep voice broke into her thoughts as, now abandoned, he pushed his way through the crowd towards her and Kath. He put on his cheeky
white smile, running a hand through his thick black hair.

‘More than you, it seems,’ Ruby chuckled, nodding at the girl who was making her way up the steps to the busy entrance and the burly package of muscles standing by the door.

‘Not my type,’ Bernie shouted above the music. ‘She don’t know what she’s missing though.’ He shrugged indifferently, but both she and Kath looked at each
other in amusement. Bernie’s ego was never dented, at least not for long.

‘Fancy a dance, doll?’ Bernie said as Kath was approached by a young man who pulled her into his arms and set off with her through the crowd at a rate of knots.

Ruby shrugged. ‘Suppose so.’ She didn’t really like dancing with Bernie who seemed unable to stop trying out his charm offensive even on her. But since she was now alone, she
gave in. ‘Just one, Bernie.’

‘One’s enough, doll.’ Bernie took her in his arms and, as usual, it always surprised her just how tall he’d grown – well over six feet – from the skinny kid
he used to be. Ruby had to admit that as a crane operator in the docks he’d built up plenty of muscle, though he drove her insane always combing his boot-polish black hair into that floppy
quiff across his forehead. ‘Put one hand on me broad shoulders.’ Bernie continued to tease, knowing full well his bravado would irritate her. ‘And let Tarzan do the rest.’
He pulled her against him, swamping her in a throat-choking cloud of hairdressing.

‘Phew!’ Ruby objected, trying to wriggle free from the clinch. ‘What’s that smell?’

‘Come on, doll, don’t be like that.’

‘Not so close, Bernie. You’re crushing me to death.’

‘You’re spoiling all me fun, as usual.’

‘Just keep your hands to yourself,’ Ruby chided gently.

Ruby was relieved to find that he took heed of her warning and they danced companionably for a while to Al Martino’s ‘Here In My Heart’. It was at times like this she really
missed Pete, the brother she had adored and who had died unexpectedly two years ago.

At twenty-one, Pete had all his life before him. He was a happy-go-lucky East Ender who had got himself a great new job in the West End. He worked for a wealthy employer, who he chauffeured
around the country in a very smart limousine. Like her, Pete had been a blond, as tall as Bernie, and had kept himself in perfect shape.

Ruby would never forget the scene. She’d found Pete in his room early one morning, lying, fully dressed in his suit, across his bed. A bottle of pills spilled across the cover. The smell
of drink hung heavily in the air. She had shaken his cold body and knew instantly her Pete was gone. It was a shock her family was still recovering from two years later. The verdict of misadventure
hadn’t found them any closure. The tragedy still haunted them all, especially her mum Babs.

Bernie snuggled in close. ‘You’re a lovely mover, Ruby, do you know that? You’ve got the best figure of any girl in here tonight.’

‘Behave yourself, Bernie.’

‘It’s no fun being a saint,’ he replied, ignoring her warning as his hands slipped slowly over her hips. ‘And anyway, I’m paying you a compliment.’

‘Well, you can keep your hands and compliments to yourself,’ Ruby retaliated, tired of fending him off. ‘I’m off to find your sister, so you’d better find someone
else to dance with.’

She was on the edge of the dance floor when Bernie caught up with her. ‘What is it with you lately?’ he demanded, his dark eyes puzzled. ‘Ever since I came home from me
National Service, you’ve given me the cold-shoulder.’ He stood blocking her path as the other couples turned to stare. ‘All I’m trying to do is watch out for you as Pete
would have wanted.’

Ruby stuck her hands on her hips. ‘Don’t use Pete as an excuse to get what you want, because it won’t work.’

For the first time that evening she saw she’d hit home. ‘Christ, Ruby, that’s bloody rubbish,’ he said huskily. ‘I think too much of you to try it on.’

‘You didn’t when I was fifteen!’ The words were out before she could stop them.

Bernie’s face paled. ‘Listen, I’ll always regret that, you know I will. And I’ve paid the price of that particular quick cuddle.’

‘So that’s what it was to you?’

Bernie reached out to her. ‘Course not. Don’t twist my words. You know how I felt about you then.’

Just then, Jo Stafford’s hit of last year, ‘You Belong To Me’, began to play. It was her most favourite ballad of all time. Her mood mellowed as she thought of her dead
brother’s fondness for the American singer whose records he collected.

Bernie, whom she knew so well, was probably thinking the same. Pete and Bernie had been close buddies and his intense black eyes were softening as though he too was remembering Pete and the past
that united them all.

‘Come on, let’s make up,’ he coaxed. ‘Finish this number with me. It is Jo Stafford, after all.’

Ruby rolled her eyes, feeling the anger drain away. She and Bernie had shared a few reckless minutes together when they were teenagers and had lived to regret it. She had been as curious about
sex as he had and one night after the cinema they had lost their heads. There had been no consequences, but they had taken an awful risk.

Bernie stepped forward and drew her gently into his arms. As they slowly and silently resumed their dance, Jo Stafford’s sultry tones washed over the room. Although Bernie tried his best
to make her laugh and keep their friendship on an even keel, Ruby wished that somehow she could find real romance. Someone who could really turn her on. She’d definitely never been in love,
not even close. But what was love anyway? If Debbie Wilson at work was to be believed, it was the ring on a girl’s finger that mattered. Debbie’s every waking moment was devoted to her
fiancé, Roger Stacey, who, in Ruby’s book, was a crushing bore. No, it wasn’t a ring she craved like Debbie did. Ruby was curious about life – and about men. All the boys
she’d been out with had left her cold. Like Bernie, they all thought they were the bee’s knees, with their leather jackets and corny chat-up lines.

Suddenly she was aware of a couple dancing close by. The boy was wearing a mohair suit and the girl, a tall brunette, was openly eyeing Bernie, giving it all she had. Bernie, who never missed a
trick, began to put on his cheesy Dean Martin act, crooning loudly along to the tune. Ruby found herself laughing.

‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded.

‘You are.’

‘You’re just jealous of me charm, that’s all.’

‘You wish!’

As they continued to dance, Ruby thought about their shared childhood growing up in the slums of the East End. The four of them, Bernie and Kath, her and Pete, had been inseparable; they’d
had to be to survive the poverty. No one had any money: they’d learned how to look after themselves at a very young age. Then, in ’39, war broke out and a year later there were nine
solid months of the Blitz. God, what a nightmare evacuation had been! The kids had been promised the sunny seaside, fresh salty air and good food. Instead they’d got damp and foggy Devon,
living with strangers who resented the intrusion.