The House by Princes Park (24 page)

Connie’s perfectly painted face, surrounded by a frill of lace, glowed with happiness, and her eyes behind her smart
glasses were misty with love for Charles, whose wife she would shortly become. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror. The dress had a high neck, long, tight sleeves and a gathered skirt with the curtains’ original scalloped hem. ‘This is the loveliest wedding dress in the world,’ she said huskily. ‘I couldn’t have got anything half as nice from the poshest shop in London.’ She flung her arms around Beth. ‘Thank you! You’ve made my wedding day extra-special. I’ll be grateful for as long as I live. And thank you, Ruby. You’ve worked wonders with the food. I bet Queen Elizabeth herself didn’t sit down to such a grand do when she married the King.’

Ruby rescued her hat which had fallen off during Connie’s emotional embrace. ‘I bet she didn’t sit down to rabbit either. I’m glad we didn’t kill Floppy. It would have ruined the day – and such a glorious day too. The sun’s hot enough to crack the flags and there’s not a cloud in sight.’

Greta and Heather were bridesmaids, their frocks peach-coloured slipper satin made from the skirt of a genuine bridesmaid frock that had belonged to Agnes/Fay Quinlan. Jake was adorable in a borrowed page boy suit of blue velvet, only a mite too big.

People came to their doors on that lovely July day, to watch and wave, to clap and smile, to shout their good wishes, as the wedding procession made its way on foot to the church. Hearts were warmed and tears were shed as the bright little pageant passed, reminding them that great joy and happiness was still possible even if their country was embroiled in a vicious war.

They arrived at a scene of devastation, where two houses had recently stood. Connie removed a rose from her bouquet and threw it on to the tumble of bricks. She gave another rose to a very old woman who was smiling through her tears as they approached.

‘God bless you, luv,’ the woman gasped.

A third rose went to a young soldier, a fourth to a woman with two babies in a pram. By the time they reached the church, Connie had only one rose left. But it was enough.

Ruby doubted if Mrs Hart’s house had ever rung to so much laughter. People laughed at the slightest thing or sometimes at nothing at all. It was as if on this one, special day, they had forgotten their troubles and were determined to enjoy themselves to the full. They danced and laughed, laughed and sang, and split their sides when the best man, a friend of Charles’s, made a speech that wasn’t remotely funny. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen,’ he began, and everyone collapsed into giggles.

The children couldn’t contain their excitement. Their shrill, urgent cries could be heard above the music, their abundant energy evident by the way they flashed, like lightning, from room to room, where they were petted and made a desperate fuss of, to such an extent, Ruby began to doubt if she’d ever be able to control them again.

The Spam, bread and pickles rapidly disappeared, and the dry-as-dust cake went down a treat, much to the relief of Charles’s grey-haired mother, elegantly clad in peacock blue brocade, who’d been worried it would be spat out in disgust.

‘These plums are delicious,’ she said to Ruby. ‘Did you bottle them yourself ?’

‘No. They were a sort of gift, like most of the food.’

‘You’ve done my son proud, Mrs O’Hagan. I only wish his brother and sister could be here, but Graham is in Egypt and Susie expecting a baby any minute. This is quite the nicest wedding I’ve ever been to. I can’t wait to tell everyone what a wonderful send-off Charles had. I’m very grateful, and not just for the wedding. Charles tells me the household buzzes around you, that you’re always here, always cheerful, keeping everyone going and looking after
them so well.’ She gave Ruby’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. ‘That’s quite an achievement for someone so young.’

‘Why thank you.’ Ruby had never looked at it that way before. It came as a pleasant surprise to know she was so highly appreciated.

‘I suppose your husband’s in the forces?’

‘He was. He was killed in the evacuation of Dunkirk.’

Mrs Winner’s face went pale with shock. ‘Oh, my dear girl! I’m so terribly sorry. Charles never mentioned that.’

The strangest thing happened – it had happened before when she’d told people – Ruby felt her eyes fill with tears. ‘I’m getting over it,’ she said gruffly.

Later, when someone put an old Rudy Vallee record on the gramophone and he began to sing ‘Night and Day’, she thought of Jacob again, remembering the first night he’d come to Brambles and she’d danced for him.
That
Jacob had been so sweetly innocent, so very nice. The same Jacob had punched Bill Pickering across the room in order to defend her, because he loved her so much. In her eyes, it was
that
Jacob who’d died on the sands of Dunkirk, not the scared, pathetic man she’d lived with for two years. Ruby mourned the real Jacob, before he’d become twisted with fear, forced to live in a world he found totally alien.

At six o’clock, the newly married couple left for their two day honeymoon in New Brighton, a mere ferry ride across the Mersey, but a place easy to get to, and just as easy to get back from, better than going further afield and spending their precious time waiting on stations for trains that might never come.

The mood became quieter. The air was already cooler and they lounged in the garden, watching the shadows creep across the untidy grass with its clusters of tiny daisies and brilliant yellow dandelions, praying the siren wouldn’t go to signal a raid. But since May, after an horrific week, when every night the city had been subjected to a
relentless barrage of bombs and mines, when it seemed that Liverpool would completely disappear off the face of the earth, when thousands of people had been killed or injured, Hitler seemed to have given up. There’d been few raids since.

Ruby was sitting on the back step with Martha Quinlan, when suddenly the woman leapt to her feet. ‘Jim! It’s our Jim!’ she cried.

‘Hello, Mam. Dad said you were here.’

His voice was unusually dull, as were his eyes. He had lost his suntan and looked thin. Martha began to pat him all over, as if to make sure he was real, exclaiming in distress at his thinness.

‘I wasn’t expecting you, son. Oh, but I’m so pleased to see you I could cry.’

Jim raised a wry smile. ‘That’s a bit of a contradiction, Mam. I’m changing ships, that’s why I’m here. I’m off again on Monday. I just thought I’d come and sample what ordinary life feels like for a change. It’s easy to forget on a ship. Hello, Ruby. You look very smart.’

‘How are you, Jim?’ She felt concern that he looked so low. At the same time, her heart was racing. It was months since she’d seen him, almost a year, though he was rarely far from her mind. Did he think of her as often as she did him? she wondered. Did he think of her
ever
?

‘I’m OK,’ Jim shrugged. ‘I was sorry to hear about your husband.’

Martha broke in before Ruby could reply. ‘She’s bearing up remarkably well, son. Beth too. Oh, so many widows,’ she cried, ‘so many fatherless children. What has the world come to!’

Mrs Wallace, Connie’s gran, the only one of her relatives who could be there, came to announce she was going and to thank Ruby for the lovely day, followed shortly afterwards by several of Charles’s friends. After seeing them out, she returned to the garden where Jim
Quinlan was deep in conversation with Beth. She was about to join them, but there was something about the way their heads were bent together, an air of intimacy, that stopped her in her tracks. She felt a flush of jealousy. What were they talking about? Did they have to be so close?

Until then, she hadn’t wanted the day to end. Now she wanted it to be over, for everyone to go. She had difficulty keeping her temper with the girls. The excitement had made them silly. They were showing off, rolling over on the grass in their bridesmaid’s frocks. Tiger was discovered on the draining board licking a tin of conny-onny that had been almost full. The best man was drunk, having had far more than his fair share of the beer. Ruby resisted the urge to point this out.

And still Beth and Jim talked. It wasn’t fair, Ruby raged inwardly. Beth was leaving everything to her. She was beginning to feel like the mother of the bride as the guests began to depart in greater numbers, shaking
her
hand, thanking
her
for the wonderful time they’d had.

‘You put so much effort into everything.’

‘Thank you so much. It’s been a marvellous day.’

At last, there were only three people left: Mrs Winner, Martha, and Jim, all inside listening to the wireless. Beth had taken Ruby’s not very subtle hint and was putting the children to bed, no easy task if the shrieks and yells coming from upstairs were anything to go by. Mrs Winner was sleeping in Charles’s room and returning to Dunstable next day. She was dead on her feet, she said contentedly, but insisted on washing the dishes before retiring. ‘I’ll help tidy up in the morning.’

Martha yawned. ‘We’d best get going, son. I’ve got to be up at the crack of dawn to clean that bloody pub. Thanks, Ruby. You did a cracking job today. I really enjoyed meself.’

Jim nodded briefly. ‘Me too, for the short time I was here.’

‘Come again tomorrow,’ Ruby said eagerly. ‘Sample a bit more ordinary life. Come to tea! There’s some tinned fruit left.’

‘Thanks all the same, but I’ve made arrangements for tomorrow.’

‘Then I’ll see you next time you’re home.’ How many months would pass before that happened? And then they might exchange no more than a few words, like today. For some reason she wanted to cry and was horribly pleased when mother and son left and Jim made no attempt to shout goodbye to Beth upstairs.

Beth came down not long after the front door closed. ‘What’s up with you?’ she demanded. ‘You’ve got a cob on, I can tell. I can’t think why. I thought today was the gear.’

‘I’m tired, that’s all,’ Ruby answered shortly.

‘You don’t usually have a face on when you’re tired.’

‘Well, I have this time. I’m going to bed. The house is in a state and there’ll be loads to do tomorrow.’

She was halfway up the stairs, when Beth said. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going out tomorrow.’

‘Going out!’ An awful suspicion entered her mind. ‘Where to?’

‘To a matinée at the pictures with Jim Quinlan, then for a meal afterwards.’

‘That’s not fair!’ Ruby said furiously, knowing she was being unreasonable. It was the first time Beth had done such a thing, but she wouldn’t have cared had it been with someone else. ‘Connie was your friend as well as mine. I organised the wedding. At least you could help with clearing up.’

Beth looked so penitent that Ruby felt ashamed. Had the positions been reversed, she would have told Beth where to go. ‘I’m sorry, Rube. But I couldn’t possibly have turned him down.’

‘Why not?’

‘He’s in a bit of a state – well, more than a bit.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘He’s expecting to die any minute.’

At midday on Sunday, after an emotional goodbye and a fervently expressed hope they would meet again, Mrs Winner left for Dunstable. Beth accompanied her on the tram and would take her to the station before meeting Jim Quinlan.

Ruby was glad he wasn’t calling for her. She couldn’t have stood watching them go off together. What was it about Beth that had made him confide in her? Had he thought she, Ruby, would laugh, make fun, dismiss his fears? Though it wasn’t fear, according to Beth, more the total conviction he was going to die. ‘And it’s not the dying itself he’s worried about, but the way it might happen. He doesn’t mind if it’s quick, but he has nightmares about freezing to death in the seas around Russia, or dying in a fire.’

‘Why on earth should he think like that?’ asked Ruby.

‘When he left school, ten lads from his class joined the Merchant Navy. Now they’re all dead except Jim. He doesn’t see why God should spare him and not his mates. He said it doesn’t seem right.’ Beth shivered. ‘Oh, Ruby! It’s only natural he’d feel like that. There’s death everywhere. I feel a bit the same when we’re sheltering in the cellar, like we could die any minute. Why should we be allowed to live, when there’s people dying all around us? At least raids stop eventually, but the danger never stops for the men at sea.’

When the two women had gone, Ruby walked through the empty house to where the children were playing in a desultory fashion in the garden, having expended a week’s energy at the wedding the day before. It seemed strange, not having to think about preparing a meal for tonight. Charles and Connie were away, Beth was eating out. She’d just make something light for her own and the
children’s tea – beans on toast. It was Jake’s favourite. There was plenty of tinned fruit for afters.

She paused in the kitchen to make a cup of Camp coffee – a bottle of the disgusting stuff had been provided for the wedding. She drank it on the back step, grimacing with each sip.

The children were playing school, Heather the teacher, Greta and Jake the class. Tiger and Floppy lay on the grass pretending to be interested observers. A lump came to her throat at this picture of sweet, childish innocence, and she thanked God that Mrs Hart had gone to America, leaving her house for them to commandeer.

But what would they do when the war was over? Where would they live then? She and Beth couldn’t stay together for always. Ruby would have to get a job, which she didn’t mind a bit. But what sort of job? She didn’t think there would ever again be a need for the pawnshop runner. Anyway, she’d moved on from that. As for cleaning, she’d no intention ever again of wielding a duster or mopping a floor on behalf of anyone except herself. Her thoughts went back to the convent when the height of her ambition had been to work in a shop or a restaurant. She hadn’t realised then that women could become teachers, doctors, actresses, that women went to university, flew planes, discovered radium like Marie Curie, had all sorts of fascinating jobs.

Much as Ruby wanted to, she couldn’t imagine doing any of these things, not because she considered herself incapable – she would have had a shot at any one of them – but circumstances in the shape of two young children were against her.