All My Tomorrows (7 page)

‘That’s what you think,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t make idle rules, Ruby – they all have a reason. But it seems you can’t get that through yer thick head for more than a minute at a time. When I say the door is to be locked, then that’s what should happen.’

She saw how his fists curled at his sides. Noted how his lips formed a thin line, and his eyes narrowed to a steely glare. ‘I won’t do it again, I promise,’ she gabbled. ‘Please don’t hit me, Ray. I don’t mean to upset you. Really, I don’t.’

The lightning strike to her belly took her breath away, and before she could react, his fist slammed into her jaw and sent her stumbling across the room.

She fell against the unyielding iron frame of the gas fire but hardly felt the blow to her head, for the agony in her belly and jaw was all-encompassing. She tried to heave air into her lungs as she scrabbled along the floor in a desperate attempt to escape him. If she didn’t get to her feet quickly, he’d put the boot in and break her ribs again.

Her terror gave her strength and she twisted away just in time to avoid the heavy boot and somehow got to her feet. The table was between them now, the hot soup still simmering in the cast-iron pot. She saw his gaze flicker to the long-handled pot – knew what he was about to do – and braced herself to stand firm and then dive away at the last minute.

She was fast, but not quite fast enough, and some of the scalding soup sprayed over her shoulder and neck and down her arm before the pot crashed to the floor and splattered its contents everywhere.

His face darkened as he eyed the mess that had spewed from the flying pot and now dripped like vomit down his expensive clothes and into his shoes. When his gaze fell back on Ruby, there was murder in his eyes.

Ruby felt no pain now – just sheer, blind terror as he threw the table aside and advanced on her. She snatched the heavy pot from the floor and swung it hard, feeling it judder right through her as it hit his arm.

With a mighty roar of rage and pain he faltered and then made a grab for her.

She dodged out of his way, slipping in the soup that had puddled on the floor as she brandished her only weapon. A great surge of defiance and fury rushed through her. ‘Stay away from me, Ray,’ she yelled at him. ‘I’m not a punchbag and if you hit me again I’ll kill you!’

He made a noise deep in his throat and made a grab for the pot. ‘You’re already dead,
bitch,
’ he growled.

Ruby dodged away and managed to keep hold of the heavy pot, but the room was too small – Ray was too big and too angry to listen to reason – and despite the rush of rage-filled energy that had given her the strength to fight back, she knew she couldn’t hold out much longer. A pot, no matter how heavy, was not a real deterrent to a man like him. Her gaze flickered to the wickedly sharp carving knife that had slid from the table to the floor. She had to find some way of getting out of the door before he saw it too.

Ray’s eyes gleamed with fury and malevolence as he followed Ruby’s fleeting glance and snatched up the knife. ‘No one defies me, Ruby,’ he snarled as he flashed the blade between them. ‘Least of all a little tart like you, and I’ll get you in the end – you know it.’

She stayed out of his reach, her mind working furiously as she kept an eye on the knife and moved warily across to where the soup still puddled the floor. She was in danger of getting trapped in a corner, and instead of swinging the heavy pot at him like he probably expected, she risked the slash of the knife and darted forward, jabbing him as hard as she could in his midriff.

Ray lost his footing in the mess on the floor, and as he dropped the knife and tried to regain his balance, Ruby gathered up the last of her dwindling strength and courage, swung with all her might and hit him squarely between the legs. As he howled in agony, clutched his balls and slid in the mess of soup, Ruby dropped the pot and raced for the door.

She flung it open and was poised for flight when she heard a sickening thud followed by the sound of a deep grunt and something heavy hitting the floor. She dared to look over her shoulder.

There was blood on the brass bed-knob – and more slowly pooling beneath Ray’s head as he lay in a motionless heap amid the spilled soup.

Ruby froze in the doorway. Ray was dead. She’d killed him – and would be hanged for murder.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, her gaze fixed to the still figure on the floor as the pool of blood widened and began to soak into the floorboards. And it was only the insistent wails of the air-raid sirens that broke the trance and galvanised her into action. With a sob of terror, she grabbed the key and locked the door behind her. She had to get to her mother’s before she left for the tube station. Ethel would know what to do.

The sirens were going off all through the East End and, as she pushed and jostled her way through the mass of humanity that blocked all the landings and stairs, she could see the searchlights stutter into life. Ignoring the curses and questions thrown at her from the other women, she finally made it to Ethel’s door. But one glance into the room told her that Ethel and her lodgers had already left.

Ruby’s despair was a sob in her throat as she spun on her heel and raced down the rest of the steps, shoving her way through the great tide of humanity that was heading for Bow Street Underground. She didn’t care that she must look like a mad woman, with soup in her hair, blood trickling down her face from the gash to her head, and a jaw that felt as if it had swollen to twice its size. She had to find her mother.

The ARP wardens were shouting orders, babies and small children were screaming as the residents of Bow pushed and shoved their way through the station entrance and the sirens shrieked with maniacal insistence. Above the noise, Ruby could hear the approaching enemy bombers, but her whole being was centred upon finding her mother in the crush of people that filled the two Underground platforms.

Ethel was in her usual place, close to one of the exits, comfortable in the old deckchair she’d found months ago on a bomb site, and sipping tea quite happily as if she was at a garden party. But then Ethel was an old hand at living down the tube stations during the raids, and enjoyed the camaraderie and the singsongs.

Ruby suddenly realised she couldn’t just rush over and tell her mother what had happened – there were too many people about, she must look a fright, and questions would be fired at her from all directions. She hovered impatiently close by where the shadows might just hide the state she was in, and tried to catch her mother’s eye.

Ethel finally saw her frantic arm-waving and beckoned her to join the group, but as Ruby shook her head and made it clear she needed her to come over, Ethel frowned and finally hauled herself out of the deckchair. She took one look at the blood on Ruby’s face and the swollen, bruised jaw, and clucked with sympathy. ‘I can see what’s happened,’ she said wearily. ‘Blimey, gel, don’t you never learn?’

Ruby grabbed her mother’s arm. ‘I think I’ve killed him,’ she rasped. ‘Oh, Gawd, Mum, what am I gunna do?’

‘You’re gunna keep your voice down for a bleedin’ start,’ muttered Ethel grimly as she glanced about and then roughly steered Ruby into the deeper, less populated shadows. ‘Right, gel. Tell me what happened.’

The evening’s events were beginning to take their toll, and Ruby’s voice wavered as she described the terrifying scene and battled the almost overwhelming need to collapse at her mother’s feet.

Ethel’s expression was unreadable as she listened without comment, arms folded tightly about her waist, her gaze never leaving Ruby’s battered face. She waited until Ruby had come to a stuttering halt. ‘Are yer sure he’s dead?’

‘He wasn’t moving and there was blood – lots of blood. He looked dead to me,’ stammered Ruby.

‘Half the blokes round here look dead when they’ve passed out drunk,’ muttered Ethel, ‘it don’t necessarily mean they actually are – more’s the pity,’ she added with a sniff.

‘He didn’t pass out, Mum,’ she persisted. ‘I heard his head hit the bed.’ She took a shuddering breath. ‘It were an awful sound.’

Ethel nodded. ‘Then we’d better go and take a look at ’im before the raid finishes and all them nosey parkers are back on the landings.’

‘But we’re not allowed out during a raid, and I forgot me gas mask. The warden—’

‘Bugger the warden,’ snapped Ethel. She lit a fag, stuck it in the corner of her mouth and adjusted her headscarf over her rollers. ‘It’s only old Eric, and he’s probably sleeping off the drink somewhere. C’mon.’

They ran up the steps where people had settled with their few belongings because there was no more room on the platforms. Ethel’s glare rebuffed all comments and Ruby forced her trembling legs to carry her towards the main door.

It creaked open, but the sound was lost in the roar of enemy planes and the thunderous booms of exploding bombs. Searchlights wavered across the smoke-shrouded sky as ambulance and fire-engine bells clamoured and flames devoured the shattered remains of a nearby row of buildings. There was no sign of Eric.

Ethel grabbed Ruby’s hand. ‘Ready for this?’ At Ruby’s nod they ducked their heads and scrambled over the debris which spilled across the pavement and into the road.

The red glow of fire lit their way as the enemy bombers droned overhead amid the zip and zing of tracer bullets, the rattle of the ack-ack guns, and the bright pom-pom bursts of shellfire coming from the batteries of guns that defended London. The ground shuddered beneath their feet as explosions rocked the very foundations of the buildings that were still standing. They cringed as masonry toppled with a crash in front of them – and then flattened themselves into a doorway as a low-flying enemy plane spat bullets which thudded into the walls inches from their heads.

‘Bloody hell,’ breathed Ethel. ‘That were too bleedin’ close.’

Ruby grabbed her hand. ‘C’mon, Mum, we gotta get outta here.’

‘Oy! What you doin’ there?’

The loud shout made them flinch, and as the grim-faced ARP warden emerged from a cloud of smoke and ash, Ruby yanked her mother away from the meagre shelter and hauled her into the surrounding darkness.

They kept to the deepest shadows, running, stumbling and sliding over the shattered concrete and splintered remains of an old warehouse until they reached the pitch black of the tenement building yard. Both were out of breath and sweating as they leaned against the grimy wall and watched the dogfights that were going on overhead as the Spitfires and Lightnings harried the enemy bombers and engaged in a deadly dance with the Gerry fighter escort planes.

‘Looks like they’ll be a while,’ muttered Ethel as she relit her fag. ‘C’mon, let’s see what’s what.’

Ruby followed her mother into the courtyard square, guided only by her familiarity with the tenement building and the red glow of Ethel’s fag end. They climbed the stairs to the third floor as the dogfights continued overhead, bombs exploded nearby and fire and ambulance bells urgently clanged.

Ethel hurried into her room, pulled the old dresser from the wall and reached into the hidden recess. Pulling out a hessian bag, she scrabbled about for a moment and then produced a claw hammer and a heavy wrench. ‘I were going to sell Ted’s tools, but it’s a good thing I didn’t,’ she said grimly.

She handed the wrench to Ruby. ‘We might need these if that Ray ain’t dead, ’cos you can bet yer life he’ll be madder than a bull with an ’eadache, and I ain’t going in there without some kind of back-up.’

Ruby eyed the heavy wrench, sickened by the thought that she might have to use it. The violence of the night had drained every ounce of strength she possessed, and as they slowly climbed the concrete stairs to the fifth floor, she stumbled repeatedly and had to cling to her mother’s supporting arm.

They both cringed as a bomb exploded nearby and they clung to one another as the old tenement building shuddered and bits of masonry came loose and crashed to the yard below. Sick with fear, they waited a moment for things to settle, and then warily carried on up the stairs.

Ethel took her hand as they approached the door, but Ruby hung back. She didn’t want to go in – didn’t want to be faced with what she’d done – or, even worse, have to defend herself all over again.

‘I know you’re frightened, love,’ murmured Ethel as she gave Ruby’s fingers a squeeze, ‘but we gotta make sure what’s what.’ She released Ruby’s hand and pressed her ear to the thin plywood door. ‘Can’t hear nothing, but that don’t mean he ain’t sitting there waiting fer us.’ She checked that Ruby had a firm hold on the wrench. ‘Unlock the door, gel, then, on my say-so, we’ll go in together.’

Ruby’s hand was slick with sweat as she fumbled the key into the lock and gingerly turned it. With a nod of encouragement from her mother, she grasped the wrench in both hands and Ethel kicked the door open.

It had still been light when Ray had come home and so she hadn’t pulled the blackout curtain across the window. Now the room was eerily lit by the fleeting sweeps of searchlights and pom-pom bursts, but Ruby could see enough. Ray was still lying on the floor exactly where she’d left him.

‘Bloody hell,’ breathed Ethel as she slammed the door behind them and took in the scene.

‘What am I gunna do, Mum?’ Ruby’s voice was barely above a ragged whisper as she looked fearfully at Ray’s inert form.

Ethel took a firmer grip on the claw hammer. ‘Better see if he’s dead first – or just playing possum.’ She slowly inched her way towards him, stretched out her foot and prodded him with the toe of her shoe. Getting no response, she prodded him again and then stepped closer, the claw hammer raised to strike should he suddenly make a grab for her.

‘He’s dead, ain’t he?’ sobbed Ruby. ‘Oh, Gawd, Mum, I killed him, didn’t I?’

Ethel looked grimly at the man on the floor before she squatted behind him and pressed her finger into the side of his neck. ‘He ain’t dead,’ she shouted over the roar and whine of the fighter planes overhead. ‘I can feel a pulse.’

‘Thank Gawd fer that,’ Ruby breathed as the spectre of the hangman’s noose faded. Then she realised what Ray would do to her when he came round, and the prospect was even more terrifying. ‘He’ll kill me for this,’ she moaned.