Ruby's War (38 page)

‘We can't all stay off work all day,' Jenny said. ‘You've lost that much money, what with your chest, and I can't
leave Sadie. What if we need you to come to see these Yanks? You might have to take time off then. I'll not have my girl spoken to like that.'

‘I-I …' Johnny Fin began.

‘No, Johnny, you can't go,' Sadie said, her voice high and fretful. ‘You're going to see Father O'Flynn, and he'll be back today. Twelve o'clock train, most likely.'

‘Well, I'm not letting Ruby go,' Granddad said defiantly. ‘A laying out is no place for a child.'

‘She can call on her way to work,' Jenny said, and to signal that the discussion was at an end, she opened Ruby's sewing-box. ‘Here, Sadie, love,' she said, taking out a garment and giving it the sort of violent shake that Ruby suspected that she would have loved to have given Granddad, ‘this looks as though it might do.'

Ruby saw a flash of blue fabric and recognised the dress she'd worn on New Year's Eve. She shuddered: that night when Johnny had brought her home, she'd rolled up the torn dress and stuffed it inside her workbox. Then each time she'd opened the heavy lid, Ruby had pushed the ripped dress in deeper, until it was swallowed up by the rest of her mending.

‘Maud is my sister,' Granddad said, his face flushed with anger.

‘I know, and Ruby's her niece. She can call and give your condolences on her way to work and say you'll call round later. If you go, you'll stay. That will mean you'll not go into work today, and you'd more than likely come back too sozzled to go to work tomorrow as well. Ruby could tell Maud you'll be seeing Father O'Flynn. She'll think it's just about the arrangements. You could mention it to him
when he comes, once we've told him about Con and what happened to Sadie.'

‘And ask him to find out what's happening to Bo and the other lads,' Sadie added.

‘I know you, Henry. I know what'll be next. You'll be saying next you're havin' to pay for this funeral, and not enough money coming in to feed us.'

The thought of having to pay for Joe's funeral had made Jenny even angrier, and when she shook the dress again, a ten-shilling note fluttered out from the pocket, coming to rest on the rug at her feet.

‘Where's this from?' she asked. ‘Ruby, where's this note from?'

For a moment, as everyone's eyes rested on the note, Ruby's nose filled with the smell of Rollo's desperate body.

‘It was from Mr Rollo,' she whispered. ‘On New Year's Eve. I'd forgotten about it. It was in the kitchen before—'

‘And why did he give you a ten-bob note?'

‘He tried to … to kiss me. He gave it me … He was drunk. He said he was sorry and didn't want his sister to know. He asked me not to tell her. And then after …'

‘New Year's Eve is when they said he was attacked by a black soldier who was cuddling a lass in the garden. He was knocked out,' Sadie said. ‘That's what's behind all this trouble; why folk have turned against the lads at the camp.'

‘No, they haven't, and anyway …'

‘Was it Con?'

‘No. There was nobody there. No,' she said shaking her head.

‘How could that have anything to do with our Ruby?' Granddad said. ‘Whatever the rumours, they've nothing
to do with her. New Year's Eve was the night I was ill and Johnny went to fetch her. She fell on the way …'

‘It's not the lass's fault,' Johnny said. ‘I … I …'

‘There was nobody there. Con wasn't there, and it wasn't your fault either, Johnny. She just made you think it was … Nobody told me … I didn't know to wait for you. Granddad was ill, and I set off. I had my torch. I thought I'd be all right … She forgot to tell me to wait. Then to cover up for forgetting she told you that …'

‘That's enough,' Jenny roared, snapping the lid of the sewing-box closed. ‘It's you as took this money. You must have encouraged him, been too friendly. Thinkin' you're an equal, because you played the piano for 'em … and then come home crying saying you'd been attacked … Makin' us feel …'

‘He's old enough to kn-n-know … An educated m-m-man,' Johnny spluttered. ‘Not fit to wipe that … that child's shoes. And neither are y-y-you.'

After Ruby had left Con on that previous afternoon he had walked back to the squat little hut. He'd sat for a while, the sensation of her fierce kisses on his mouth and her promises to escape with him chasing through his brain. When she'd been in his arms he'd believed it was possible, but now what had happened at the camp, and the picture of Bo's rigid body on a gurney, pushed the dream away. He got up – felt in his empty pockets for a cigarette – and told himself that in his position Bo wouldn't have hesitated. Bo wouldn't have lost his nerve, but he wasn't Bo: he hadn't even been brave enough to tell Henry that his friend was dead. The memory hurt. He wandered outside. The hut
was on the edge of Bardley's fields, and Con sat down disconsolately among the strong, new grass, hoping that Johnny would remember to bring him some more cigarettes. When a skylark rose suddenly in front of him, he watched the valiant little bird's almost vertical climb. As he sat back on his heels, the creature rose higher, before hovering, a fixed point far above his head. The tiny bird's song filled the late-afternoon sky, and then it tumbled, parachuting to the ground, leaving behind it a pure moment of silence. Kneeling in the empty field, Con felt his chest fill with the bird's defiant song, as though the display had been just for him.

When Johnny arrived, there were no cigarettes or any books for him to read.

‘I've heard the old girl with the books is off somewhere,' he said. ‘Gone visiting and the place is shut up.'

Johnny gave him half the cigarettes he had left from his last packet and told him that – with luck – the priest would be back that day, or the next day at the latest. When he left, Con settled down, looking at the clear night sky through the hut door. He didn't mind the isolation; but he missed having something to read, something that would help him chase away the images of Bo that had begun to appear at the edge of his vision. Instead, he thought of Ruby, trying to recreate the moment when she'd been in his arms, but as his eyes closed, all he could recall was her moving away through the long shafts of sunlight.

The next time he woke, he could hear voices; the sun was up, and as he peered through the gaps in the hut's side, he could see three fishermen walking by, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke that taunted him. He got up and went out
into the sunny morning. The grass on the riverbank was damp, but underneath the trees the earth was soft and dry. Con settled back against a tree and ran through a selection of imaginary books and possible daydreams. Since he was a little boy, he'd always lived inside his head. He didn't know if everyone did this, but he'd often found that life on the outside wasn't as good as in dreams and books. He closed his eyes again. In his dream, Ruby was walking towards him through the fields. As her dress moved, he could see her form from waist to hipline and the freckles, a sprinkling of gold dust, on her arms. He wasn't sure how long he'd slept, but when he opened his eyes, she was kneeling on the ground next to him shaking his shoulder.

‘You should be more careful,' she said. ‘I could have been anybody.'

Her hair was unpinned and rumpled, tumbling around her shoulders. Her eyes shone and a single teardrop had escaped on to a pale lash.

‘Is everything okay?'

She studied the ground in front of her and then shook her head. ‘It's … One of the family has died, and everything was upset and … I overslept and then everybody was there. I was going to make them think I'd gone to work … Have my breakfast and slip out with some clothes in my basket … Then Jenny started falling out with everybody, so I've just come as I am. I've not brought you any …'

‘I've plenty of food. Johnny brought me some … Have you eaten?'

‘No. The row started before I got a chance to have anything. I am a bit hungry.'

She sat down on the riverbank, and when Con
disappeared inside the hut, Ruby splashed her face and hair with water from the river. She was trying to press out the worst of the crumples from her lavender dress, when Con came back carrying a basket with bread, cheese and beer. He sat down next to her, wedging the bottles of beer into the mud and stones, and she told him about Joe's death.

‘I can go back after,' she said. ‘I'll get some things. We can't go until it's dark, anyway.'

Con had settled the bottles in the shallow water, and when he turned around to hand her some bread and cheese, he noticed for the first time that she was wearing the same dress, and she wasn't wearing lipstick. He could see there was a delicate pattern of blue veins on her eyelids, and the shadows under her eyes were almost the same shade of lavender as her dress. He encouraged her to eat and then he took her hand, and they walked along by the river. At first Con felt a new unease between them and he wondered if she was regretting her promise to come with him, but then she found a blackbird's nest and showed him how to put a leaf over the baby birds' beaks so that they would open their mouths. The squirming chicks and their insistent little beaks made them both smile, and they sauntered on, as easy and happy together as they'd been before, with only the sound of the bumblebees and birds for company. When she slipped off her shoes and waded in the river he followed, and then they rambled back, Ruby collecting wild flowers along the way, until they reached the place where he'd left the bottles of beer cooling in the reeds. They sat for a while watching the bobbing moorhens, hoping to spot their nests on the opposite bank, and listening to the coots squabbling. Ruby had the flowers she'd collected in
her lap and began making the daisies into a chain.

‘Oh look,' she said, glancing up from her work. ‘Look, dragonflies.'

As though to order, the creatures lifted gracefully up, allowing their wings to glisten in the clear light.

‘That green,' she said, ‘it's just the colour of one of my mother's dresses. I'll have to go back, before we go tonight. I'll need at least two of them. I could get a job playing in a pub. Bert won't let me play there, 'cos he says I'm not old enough, but in Liverpool …'

‘Have you said anything to Henry? I've been thinking. I need to talk to him. Johnny said the priest would be back and … Well, Liverpool. He might not want you to come.'

‘You can't go on your own. You don't know the way.'

‘If the priest doesn't come, it might be better, if instead of us … It might be better if I go with Henry. He could get me on a train. A goods train, going to the city or the docks. He works on the railway. He'd know how to do it.'

‘No. You'll need me to help you. You might not get a job, not at first. I've got another idea. You gave me the idea, you and Mrs Bland. I'll be able to earn money. Wait there. Close your eyes. Don't turn round, until I say.'

Ruby ran off in the direction of the trees. Con could hear her moving around, rustling the leaves. He fished the second bottle of beer out of the stream and waited.

‘Are you ready?' she called. ‘You can turn round now.'

It was as though a beautiful painting had come to life. The soft green shadows caressed her naked back, and her long red hair, sweeping down almost to the swell of her buttocks, was patterned with golden coins of light. Ruby – her dress rolled down to her hips – wearing nothing else but her crown of
daisies, gazed at him over the curve of her naked shoulder. He stood up, overturning the half-empty bottle on the grass, but before he could speak, she slipped away among the
sun-flecked
leaves.

‘There'll be theatres in Liverpool,' she called. ‘They'll pay good money. Mum would do it, when we were short. I thought about the picture on Mrs Bland's wall,' she said, reappearing in the lavender dress, the daisy crown askew on her rumpled hair. ‘You know the one by the door? You said Ophelia looked like me, but that would be no good 'cos they'd have to have some kind of tank to float me in. So in this one, I'm Titania, Queen of the Fairies. Did you guess? I think it's a famous picture. My dad had postcards with the picture on. It gave me the idea for doing other paintings. Venus is one I thought of. Mum and some of the other girls did statues from history; I could do paintings.'

‘You are beautiful,' Con said, his voice shaking. ‘But you can't …'

‘It always pulls them in. The takings were always good. That's why they used to do it, when the money went down, and it always worked.'

‘You can't. Men ….'

‘You can't see them,' Ruby said, her excitement fading, ‘they can't get near … touch … My dad would wait for her. You could …'

‘No. It's not … It's not what you should be doing … It's taking advantage of …'

‘I'm being taken advantage of now,' she said, looking up at him and shading her eyes. ‘“Exploited”, Mrs Bland calls it. At least this is … artistic and … Why is it worse than working in a hot, mucky factory?' she asked, pulling
off her daisy crown. ‘We'll need money, a place. When the war's over we might want to travel.'

‘No. We couldn't. We couldn't live in the world as it is. It's a dream,' Con said, kissing the top of her head. ‘Ruby, honey, running away wouldn't solve anything. I can't go. I don't come from here, Ruby. I'm going to wait for the priest, like Johnny said. O'Donal's okay. If they take me back and … I want to go back to my own country. When the war's over, there'll be a battle over there. The trouble here, now, it will carry on. Some of the white GIs will take that fear back home. They see the way it is over here, and they're afraid that the black soldiers will go home and, because of the way they've been treated here, they'll start looking, questioning the way things are in their own country. They're afraid we'll want more, and someone's got to be there to stand up and say what's right and what really happened here.'