East End Angel (45 page)

‘Ruby, I’ll have to go home next week,’ Pearl said as they sat together that night after supper. Syd was still at the allotment and Amy was next door with Patty.

‘I expect you’ll be pleased to leave.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It can’t be much fun here.’

‘Don’t be daft. But I do have Jim to look after.’ She felt very guilty about leaving him. Had he found her note? Would he be there when they arrived back? She didn’t want to leave Ruby, but it was true, she did have a husband to consider.

‘Pearl, I wish we’d never moved here.’

‘But you like Abingley.’

‘I didn’t tell that detective, but Ricky hates it. I think he blames me for making him leave the island. And I think that’s why he’s gone.’ She stopped and looked at Pearl with wide, sad eyes. ‘I don’t believe he stole any money, of course. But what I do believe is that all this is my fault.’

‘You mustn’t blame yourself.’

‘But I do.’

Pearl took her sister’s drooping shoulders. ‘What matters is that you get well. Worry won’t make Ricky appear.’ Pearl was praying that Ricky would never, ever appear again. If he’d fled the country, it would be the best outcome possible for Ruby, although she couldn’t know it now.

A tear trickled down Ruby’s cheek. ‘I’ll miss you.’

‘And I’ll miss you. But you’ve got Mum and Dad.’

‘And you’ve got Cynth and Jim.’

They smiled. ‘Then aren’t we lucky?’ Pearl nodded.

For the first time since the death of the baby, Ruby seemed more like her old self. They talked about Roper’s Way and their outings to the market on Saturday afternoons. They recalled the first-aid lessons Ruby had taken that had never cured her of feeling sick at the sight of blood. And they smiled when remembering Cynthia’s arrival on the Hemsleys’ shop floor. Ruby even admitted she missed the factory.

But when Ruby began to talk about Ricky, the man she still loved and missed and hoped would return one day, Pearl knew that it would be a long time before Ruby came to accept the truth.

Pearl stayed until Saturday, and it was a tearful goodbye. Syd carried her bag to the depot as Cynthia ran ahead, her sandy plaits bouncing on her shoulders.

‘You’ll remind Mum to write?’ said Pearl as they made their way slowly to the stop.

‘She won’t need no reminding.’

‘Look after Ruby, Dad.’

‘You can be sure of that,’ her father said angrily. ‘She married a wrong ’un, that’s clear. But it will take her a while to accept it.’

‘Do you think he stole the money?’

‘Wouldn’t put it past him.’

‘They can’t prove it without finding him first, I suppose?’

‘You know, that’s right,’ Syd nodded. ‘But I’d like to get hold of him personally and do him a mischief after what he’s done to Ruby. If I had my way . . .’ He gave a loud grunt. ‘You know, I always had me suspicions. I never could joke with him, not like I can with Jim. But I gave him the benefit of the doubt for Ruby’s sake. What excuse could he offer if he came back now? He turned tail and fled when those coppers came. And he got your mother to lie for him. There’s nothing,
nothing
, that could account for that.’

At the depot Pearl shivered when she saw the bench that Ricky had forced her to sit on. She looked round, thinking he might appear. Was he really gone from their lives? She shivered.

‘You cold, love?’

‘No.’ She shivered again. ‘Someone just walked over my grave, don’t they say?’

Her dad smiled. ‘You give Jim our best, won’t you? Tell him that we’re looking forward to seeing him as soon as he can take time off from work,’ he shouted as the bus pulled in. ‘And tell him we’re proud of him for all his graft and for looking after you and our granddaughter. Believe me, ducks, after this little lot, you should consider yourself a lucky young woman.’

‘I do, Dad.’ Pearl felt her eyes sting. She had made such a mess of things. She loved Jim dearly and would do anything now that he wished. But was it too late? Could she ever find a way back to the happiness they once shared?

‘Look, here’s a few quid.’

‘No, Dad, you gave me five pounds last time.’

‘So here’s another. I doubt we’ll be seeing you for a while. And don’t worry about your sister – she’s a Jenkins, after all. You just take care of yourself and your family.’

Syd helped them to board and they waved from the window. As usual Cynthia stuck her nose on the glass. The bus pulled out and Syd’s figure disappeared.

As the bus travelled past the market, Pearl sighed with deep relief. She was going home to safety, coming out of the nightmare. She wanted to remember the good times with her family and hoped they would come again for the three people she loved so dearly; that Ricky would stay out of their lives for ever.

The fields and billowing trees flashed past. Spring had brought the countryside to life. But never more had Pearl longed for the sight of the smoky roofs and blackened chimneypots of the island, lost in the river mists. She missed home. And most of all she missed Jim.

Gwen was weighing out potatoes on the big brass scales when the bell on the door tinkled.

A tiny figure sped across the floor. ‘Gwenny, Gwenny!’

‘Oh, Cynth, my love, you’re home!’ Gwen dropped the potatoes in the scales and opened her arms as Cynthia flew into them. ‘You lovely little scamp, I’ve missed you so much. And so has old Fitzy. Run inside and see what he’s got for you.’

Gwen let go of the little bundle, pulling her plaits gently as she sped off to the hall where Fitz was working. All Gwen could hear was laughter. She knew Fitz had missed the little girl even more than she had.

‘Hello, Gwen.’

‘Pearl, my love, it’s good to see you.’ Gwen spread her arms once more. ‘Let me have a look at you! Well, you ain’t put on any weight, that’s for sure. I thought you’d be twice the size on your mother’s cooking.’

Pearl smiled tiredly. She pushed her untidy hair from her eyes and dropped her bag on the floor. ‘You all right, Gwen?’

‘Better now you’re back. The place don’t seem the same without you. How’s Ruby?’

‘She lost the baby.’

‘Oh, no. The poor kid.’

‘It was a boy.’

Just then Fitz came through with Cynthia in his arms. Her cheeks were bulging as she chewed on a sweet from the brown packet she held in her hands. ‘Don’t mind, do you love?’ he asked Pearl. ‘I saved a few lemon drops for her.’

‘Hello, Fitz.’ Pearl went on her toes to kiss his cheek.

‘You’ve had a long journey. Like a cuppa?’

‘I think I’ll go upstairs.’ She looked at them both. ‘Is Jim in?’

Gwen’s heart sank. ‘Not now, he’s not.’ She lifted the bag and glanced at her husband. ‘I was weighing up the spuds for the old gent next door. But I’ll leave you and Cynth to do that whilst I go upstairs with Pearl.’

He nodded. ‘Good to have you back, Pearl. Really glad, as we—’

‘Hurry up with them spuds,’ Gwen interrupted, giving him a stern look. It wasn’t the right time to go over what Jim had said. The poor girl looked all in.

Gwen led the way through to the alley. A soft breeze blew around them as they climbed the stairs. They’d cleaned Pearl’s place, but she would soon discover that home wasn’t what it used to be.

Pearl drew the key from the letter box and Gwen put a hand on her arm. ‘Before you go in, love, there’s something I should tell you. A few bits and pieces got broken while you was away.’

Pearl stood upright, the key dangling from her fingers. ‘Did you say broken?’

‘Thought I’d mention it to soften the shock.’

Pearl unlocked the door and a musty smell came out. Gwen wrinkled her nose. She’d left the sash open a few inches in the kitchen but being shut up hadn’t done the place any favours.

Gwen put the bag on the kitchen table.

‘Where’s the Morrison?’ Pearl asked. ‘Did Jim put this one back?’

‘Not exactly, ducks. Me and Fitz did it.’

‘You did? But why?’

As Gwen was thinking how to put Jim’s actions in a kinder way, Pearl went to the window.

‘And where’s me yellow curtains gone?’ She looked round, walking slowly to the blue cupboard, running her hands along the empty shelves. ‘And my china, the cups and saucers and plates . . .’ She turned and rushed into the front room.

Gwen waited, knowing she would be staring at the bare mantel. There was a big chip missing in the two halves of the ash tray that Fitz had stuck together. The wind-up gramophone was stacked in pieces in the hearth. Then there was the maple bookcase, which wouldn’t hold any more books until Fitz could mend the shelves. And what about all those little pink jars that had gone from the dressing table?

Gwen sighed as she heard the soft movement from room to room. Sitting down heavily in one of the two kitchen chairs, she continued to wait.

After a while, Pearl came in. Under her thin, worn coat, her shoulders drooped. ‘What happened?’ She sank down on the other chair, leaning her elbows on the table.

‘It was the night you went away,’ said Gwen carefully. ‘Fitz heard a commotion, thought it was the family across the road or even a V2. Then he saw your light on and thought it was burglars. So he took his bat and went up, but it was Jim. He’d had one bevy too many and caused a right old stink.’

‘He broke it all?’

‘Yes, ’fraid so.’

‘But why would he do that?’

‘You’ll know the answer to that, my love.’

Pearl sat in silence.

‘Accidentally, Fitz caught him with the bat,’ Gwen continued as Pearl stared around the kitchen. ‘So we carried him down to our place. I mean, we couldn’t leave him here, out stone-cold on the floor. He slept the night on the couch but in the morning . . .’ Gwen lifted her shoulders, ‘he went.’

‘Where to?’

‘Percy’s yard, no doubt.’ Gwen patted her hand. ‘I ’spect it’s just a bit of a tiff, ain’t it?’

Pearl shook her head slowly. ‘He didn’t want me to go to Abingley.’

‘Why was that?’

Pearl put her head in her hands. ‘Because of Ricky.’

Gwen folded her arms. ‘It ain’t my place to say, but I just couldn’t warm to that man.’

‘I shouldn’t have let him come here. I didn’t have the courage to refuse. I wish I had, as he’s left her now.’

‘What, after losing the baby?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, the bugger!’

Just then Fitz came in with Cynthia.

‘At least Jim left her room,’ said Gwen as she tickled Cynthia’s chin and made her giggle. ‘Me and Fitz had a good clear-up. It ain’t half as bad as it was. I can let you have a few bits of china, and the saucepans are only dented. Fitz tried to mend the ashtray but he ain’t done a very good job.’

‘It was only cheap, but thanks all the same.’ Pearl gave Cynthia a pat on the bottom. ‘Run along and see all your toys.’

Cynthia scampered off and Pearl sighed. ‘Oh, Gwen, I wish I’d never gone to Abingley. Jim was right. My place was here.’

‘I’m sorry for your sister’s loss,’ said Gwen stiffly, ‘but you have a family of your own.’

‘Percy says your Jim is kipping at the yard,’ Fitz said quietly.

‘I’ll go to him, then.’

‘Do you think that’s wise?’ asked Gwen hesitantly.

‘I’ve got to see him.’

‘You know best, ducks.’

Fitz handed Pearl his handkerchief and Gwen got up and kissed the top of her head. Pearl was like a daughter to her. The daughter she’d never had. If that silly sod Jim didn’t appreciate her worth, then he was a fool. He of all people should know that no jealousies should be allowed to cause such heartache. Wasn’t that what he had been away fighting for – a new life, free of tyranny, with the chance to make a fresh start?

It was an overcast day in the middle of May, with thunder rolling in the distance and Jim was working in the stable. He’d got himself a rough bed rigged up over the old horse’s quarters, in the hay loft above. As soon as he finished work in the yard he’d be off down to the Nelson. Last night he’d stumbled home early, out of readies and still with a thirst on him. His leg ached and he’d used his stick to alleviate the pain. And climbing the ladder up to his bed, he’d missed a rung and fallen. By the time he’d finally hauled himself up, he was stone-cold sober.

He’d lain awake for hours and then came the dreams. The dry, barren desert and the dust in his throat. The Italian hill and the ravaged monastery. Reg’s face, as clear as if it was happening all over again. That moment when he stuck a roll-up between his lips and he’d said his last goodbye. Then he was running towards his outfit, waving his arms, trying to warn them the footbridge was mined. He couldn’t run fast enough, his pack and rifle were slowing him down. And then the mortar tore into his hip, just as it had on the battlefield. His mates sailing high in the sky, limbs falling like bloody confetti.

Jim wiped the sweat from his face and neck with a dirty rag. A clap of thunder broke overhead. It had been stormy all week and Barney shuffled uneasily, as a bright flash lit the stable. Jim gave him a gentle pat. The slow munching calmed him, as did the smell of the dung and old straw littered with flies. Another clap of thunder rumbled. Jim turned round to close the stable doors and found his wife standing there.