All My Tomorrows (21 page)

‘It’s all a bit like boarding school, isn’t it?’ said Lucy as they were served mashed potato, mince, cabbage and thick onion gravy, with jelly and custard for afters. ‘Even the food’s the same.’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Ruby, who’d left school at thirteen to help her stepfather run his market stall of fake leather shoes and handbags. She waited for the girl behind the counter to fill her mug from the enormous tea urn and then looked round for somewhere to sit.

‘There’re two spaces over there,’ said Lucy, pointing to the other side of the canteen. ‘Come on, let’s bag them before someone else does.’

Ruby couldn’t help but smile at her youthful enthusiasm as she followed the girl across the room. She was still finding it hard to believe there was only a year between them, but could just imagine Lucy at her posh boarding school, with her plaits flying as she raced about the playing field with her hockey stick.

‘What on earth’s so funny?’ asked Lucy with a frown as they sat down next to one another.

‘When you was at boarding school, did you have pigtails and play hockey?’

‘Of course.’ She grinned. ‘Captain of the first team in my last year,’ she said proudly. ‘But why do you ask?’

‘I was just interested,’ Ruby replied with a shrug. ‘We only had a bit of yard at my school, so it was skipping and hopscotch while the boys kicked a ball about and had fights.’

The blue eyes widened. ‘Really? How awful for you.’ She blushed and bit her lip. ‘I’m so sorry, Ruby. That sounded frightfully patronising.’

Ruby laughed. ‘No offence taken, Lucy. Now eat up before this lot goes cold.’

Her stomach rumbled and her mouth watered as she picked up her knife and fork. She was looking forward to this, and no mistake. The first decent bit of food that she’d had in days, and probably the last until tomorrow if the previous night’s offering was anything to go by.

‘So,’ said Lucy as she neatly placed her knife and fork on her empty plate, ‘where are you billeted?’

‘With Councillor and Mrs Fraser in Nelson Street.’

‘Oh, that’s nice. Mrs Fraser’s lovely, isn’t she? She and Mother are the stalwarts of the local Women’s Guild, and they often hold their knitting circles in our drawing room.’

‘I haven’t really got to know them yet,’ Ruby replied carefully. ‘I only moved in there yesterday.’

‘Well, you won’t have any trouble there, not like some poor evacuees who have absolutely ghastly experiences.’ She smiled at Ruby happily. ‘I’m so glad you’ve fallen on your feet. It can’t have been easy coming all this way on your own without a job to go to, or a place to stay. You are brave, Ruby.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ she said lightly. ‘I’m no braver than anyone else, and as you say, I’ve fallen on me feet with a good billet, a well-paid job and a new friend.’

‘It’s funny, isn’t it?’ mused Lucy. ‘We obviously come from very different backgrounds and probably would never have met if it wasn’t for this war – but I’m so glad we did, aren’t you?’

‘’Course I am,’ she muttered, a bit embarrassed by all this soppy talk. ‘Now stop yer rabbiting and get on with yer jelly.’

Lucy giggled. ‘You are funny,’ she said as she picked up her spoon. ‘Does everyone talk like you in the East End?’

‘We got our own way of talking when we’re all together,’ Ruby murmured through a mouthful of rather lumpy custard. ‘But you wouldn’t understand the ’alf of it, ’cos we make it rhyme, see.’

‘Really?’ The blue eyes were wide, the expression expectant. ‘Go on then, say something.’

Ruby thought for a moment. ‘I were on me tod, so I come down the apples and took a butchers down the frog. I couldn’t Adam and Eve me minces, so I stuck me titfer over me Barnet, cleaned me Hampsteads and went down to the dog to tell the strife.’

She grinned at Lucy’s perplexed look. ‘It means I were on me own (me Sweeney Todd), so I went downstairs (apples and pears) and had a look (a butcher’s hook) at the road (frog and toad). I couldn’t believe (Adam and Eve) me eyes (mince pies) so I put me tit-for-tat (hat) over me hair (Barnet Fair), cleaned me teeth (Hampstead Heath) and went down to the phone (dog and bone) to tell the wife (trouble and strife).’

Lucy giggled. ‘You are a caution, Ruby,’ she said happily before tucking into the jelly again. ‘You’ll have to teach me how to do that.’

‘You speak ever so nice already,’ said Ruby. ‘You don’t wanna learn my lingo.’

Ruby was still smiling as she listened to the gossip going on around her and enjoyed her pudding, but her smile faded as she picked out the unmistakable sound of East Enders further down the table. A surreptitious glance revealed three girls deep in heated discussion over the benefits and pitfalls of jacking in their jobs at the armaments factory for safer work and three square meals as Land Girls.

She didn’t recognise them, and felt a modicum of relief. The last thing she wanted was word getting back to Bow – and ultimately to Ray and his family. But of course there were probably other women here from London and, even if she didn’t know them by sight, any one of them could be related in some way to the Clark family. She would have to stay on her guard.

‘You’re looking very serious all of a sudden, Ruby,’ said Lucy with a soft nudge of her elbow. ‘If you don’t want the rest of that jelly, I’ll have it.’

Ruby grinned, forgot about the girls at the end of the table and dug in her spoon. ‘Not likely,’ she said. ‘I love a bit of jelly and custard.’

They finished their pudding in companionable silence as the talk went on around them. Ruby noticed the peroxide blonde had surrounded herself with some of the plainest, dumpiest young women, who were wide-eyed and enthralled as she regaled them with some story, and flashed sultry looks at the men who were admiring her from the next table.

It was typical of her type, Ruby thought sourly. She didn’t want the competition, so picked the dowdy ones who were easily impressed by having such a glamorous, sophisticated person taking an interest in them. But the glamour was brassy, the sophistication about as real as the fake handbags on her stepfather’s stall.

The hooter went. Lunchtime was over, and they all began to traipse back to their various factories. Lucy tucked her hand into Ruby’s arm and they were happily planning a trip to the film show at the big church hall at the weekend when they were joined by the blonde.

‘Hello. My name’s Flora,’ she said as she flicked back a wisp of hair that had become caught in her heavy mascara. ‘Are you two sisters?’

‘No,’ said Lucy with a welcoming smile. ‘We only met this morning. I’m Lucy, and this is Ruby.’

Flora eyed the linked arms. ‘How sweet,’ she murmured, and sauntered away, hands in her pockets, slim hips swaying in the tight trousers as she passed two gawping youths.

‘See,’ said Lucy. ‘She’s not all that bad.’

‘Give her time,’ muttered Ruby. ‘She’ll show her true colours soon enough.’

By the time their shift had ended they both had aching feet and a throbbing head. Their hands were filthy from the oily machines and some of it had smeared over their faces, so they went to the washrooms and cleaned themselves up before they left for home.

Lucy took off the scarf and handed it back before brushing out her long fair hair. ‘I’ll bring my own tomorrow and some cotton wool to stuff in my ears. My head’s ringing with all the noise.’

‘So’s mine,’ Ruby admitted. ‘And me plates are killing me far worse than they ever did after a session behind the bar in me high heels.’

‘Plates?’

Ruby grinned. ‘Yeah, plates of meat – feet.’ They walked back into the late-afternoon sunshine. ‘You got far to get home, Lucy?’

‘Nowhere’s too far away in Cliffehaven,’ she replied. She pointed towards the west and the sea. ‘I live down there near Havelock Gardens. It’s very nice, with a lovely sea view from the back of the house.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘Why don’t you come with me? I’m sure Mother would love to meet you, and we could have tea in the garden.’

Ruby could think of nothing she’d like better, but there was an alarm clock to buy and Mrs Fraser would soon be cooking the evening meal, and she needed to be there to make sure she got a proper share of it. ‘Sorry, Lucy, not tonight. I got things to do. But I’d love to come another day.’

‘I’ll hold you to that.’ Lucy smiled shyly back at her. ‘Thanks for being so nice today, Ruby. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

‘You’d’ve been fine. Now, I need to get to the shops, so I’ll walk with you as far as the High Street.’

They set off, happily chatting about films and Hollywood stars, and soon came to the station, where there was still no sight of the elusive Stan. Lucy pointed out where the cinema had once been. ‘There was talk of building a new one, but now that the Americans have provided us with a projector and turned part of the big hall into a cinema, there’s no need. We can get all the latest films, and there’s a cup of tea and a biscuit in the interval as well.’

They came to the small ironmonger’s and Ruby drew to a halt. ‘This is as far as I go, Lucy. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Lucy sketched a little wave goodbye, swung her gas-mask box from her hand and almost skipped down the road towards the sparkling blue of the sea.

Ruby watched until she was out of sight, and thought how nice it must be to have the freedom from any real worries or responsibilities. But with every word and gesture the yawning chasm of class and education widened between them, and Ruby wondered if this blossoming friendship would shrivel away once they acknowledged neither of them had a thing in common but work on a factory floor.

She rather hoped it would last and become something important to both of them despite their many differences, for each had something to give and it was lovely to feel like a young girl again, to forget momentarily about everything she’d left behind and talk about clothes and the pictures and giggle about nothing in particular.

With a warm smile she returned Lucy’s wave as she reached her turning, and then went into the gloomy interior of the ironmonger’s and found a cheap alarm clock. Tucking it, and the change, into her gas-mask box, she then headed back up the steep hill towards Nelson Street and the dubious delights of Mon Repos.

Mrs Fraser was boiling the ham bone with pearl barley, onions and chopped vegetables. Potatoes were simmering in a nearby pan and some pale fillets of fish were being poached in watery milk in a saucepan. The house stank of fish, but at least it looked as if there was to be a decent meal that night.

Ruby asked politely if she could help with anything, and Mrs Fraser told her that, no, she had it all under control. ‘Then I’ll just get changed out of me work clothes and come and help you dish up,’ said Ruby.

She dashed upstairs, checked on her hidden stash of money and then changed into one of her worn cotton dresses and pulled on a cardigan. It was still warm, and she had no plans to go walking round the town once it got dark, so there was little point in wearing her good clothes. After tea she would sit down and write a long letter to her mother which she’d post to Fred at the Tanner’s Arms first thing tomorrow. It could take a fair bit of effort, because she’d never found writing very easy, and by then it would be time for bed so she was fresh for the morning.

Back in the kitchen the soup was ladled into bowls and taken into the dining room, where Harold Fraser was already sitting at the table. He still wore his three-piece suit with the watch-chain across the straining buttons of his waistcoat.

He looked up from his evening paper and eyed Ruby through the thick lenses of his glasses as she put the soup in front of him. ‘I see the worker has returned,’ he said with an oily smile. ‘And how was your first day, Ruby?’

‘It were all right,’ she said as she sat down. ‘The work ain’t hard, and I made a new friend, but me head and me feet was hurting something rotten by the end of the day.’

‘That’s nice, dear,’ said Mrs Fraser, who clearly wasn’t really listening.

‘Simpson’s is a reputable firm,’ said Harold. ‘I have known Arthur Simpson for years, and I’m sure that if I had a word with him, he could find you something less tiring to do.’

Ruby felt the swift, slight pressure of his knee and glared at him. ‘Thanks all the same, but I’m not looking for favours, Councillor Fraser, and I ain’t unhappy on the production line.’

He smirked before turning his attention to the thin soup. ‘Well, if you change your mind, Ruby, you only have to say.’

Hell would freeze over before she went to him for anything, for there would be a price to pay with such a man. She glanced across at Marjory Fraser, but she was engrossed in a magazine and didn’t seem to notice the tension in the room.

Ruby drank the soup and tried not to slurp it as she usually did. It didn’t taste too bad, but could have done with a bit of salt and pepper to liven it up, and perhaps a bit of bread. But there was no bread on the table again tonight and she realised Mrs Fraser was not in the habit of serving it with tea.

The fish was pale and overcooked, the potatoes white and mushy with only a hint of butter, and the peas were like small green bullets. Pudding turned out to be a rice pudding that was as palatable as soft cardboard and just as thin. It seemed that Mrs Fraser’s cooking abilities were non-existent – but it was a proper meal, with fair portions all round, so she couldn’t really complain.

Ruby helped to clear the table, brushing non-existent crumbs from the cloth with a special little brush and pan. Then she dried the dishes and put them away while Mrs Fraser made a pot of tea.

‘Mr Fraser is going to a council meeting this evening,’ said Marjory once they’d drunk the tea. ‘And I am attending our twice-weekly knitting circle. Neither of us is expected back before ten o’clock, so if you wish to take a bath, then do so.’

Ruby wasn’t at all sure she did want to take a bath, but she listened dutifully to the long list of dos and don’ts and promised firmly that she would scrub out the tin tub when she’d finished and polish the kitchen linoleum of any spills.

They left the house half an hour later and Ruby watched them from her bedroom window as they went arm-in-arm down Nelson Street. As they reached the curve that would take them out of sight, Harold glanced over his shoulder at her window as if he was aware of her behind the curtains.