The House by Princes Park (29 page)

Ruby folded her arms on the table. ‘OK, so talk.’

‘I’d prefer to do it over dinner,’ he said slyly.

‘You’ve got a cheek!’ she cried indignantly. ‘You’ve also got a wife.’

‘Caroline’s in the South of France, holidaying on daddy’s yacht.’

‘I don’t care if she’s holidaying on the moon. I’m not going out with a married man.’

‘It would be entirely above-board. We’d sit in a restaurant with about fifty other people and talk, that’s all.’

‘No!’ Ruby said flatly.

He got up and went over to the window. ‘I’d forgotten how big this garden is. It must be at least a hundred and fifty feet deep and half as wide. I reckon I could get two pairs of semis on this plot, no problem.’ He turned to face her. ‘D’you know how much a semi goes for these days, Ruby?’ He shook his head incredulously. ‘Over two thousand quid.’

At this, Ruby felt so angry that she half expected a cloud of steam to emerge from her mouth. ‘Are you trying to blackmail me?’ she hissed.

‘Yes.’

‘Well, it hasn’t worked. The answer’s still “No”.’

Ruby had been invited to tea to meet Larry and Rob’s parents and sundry other relatives. She had her hair set and bought a new frock; red cotton to match Heather’s cast-off shoes. It had a plain round neck, cap sleeves, and a swirling circular skirt. The boys took her in the car, squashed on the back seat between Greta and Heather, both reeking of Matthew Doyle’s Chanel No 5.

She felt unusually nervous, expecting to feel out of things without a husband, a relative, even a friend to take with her in support, but found herself warmly welcomed into the bosoms of both families; the mams and dads, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters, various grandparents, all crammed into the large Victorian terraced house in Orrell Park. Without exception, they made her feel very special, as if no one in the entire history of the world had given birth to two such outstandingly pretty daughters, such charming, old-fashioned girls, real bobby-dazzlers. Though it wasn’t surprising, she was something of an eye-catcher herself, and could easily have been taken for their elder sister. What a pity their dad hadn’t been around to see them grow up. He would have been dead proud. And what a struggle she must have had, bringing them up all on her own. Well, all they could say was, no one could possibly have done it better.

‘Me and Moira often worried that one of the lads would meet a girl and leave the other bereft,’ said Ellie, who was Rob’s mother, or might have been Larry’s – Ruby didn’t think she would ever remember who was who. ‘But, as it is, it’s worked out perfectly, both falling in love at the same time. Mind you, they’ve always done things together.’ Moira was Larry’s mother, or possibly Rob’s.

‘I’m very pleased,’ Ruby murmured.

‘Of course, we wouldn’t dream of letting you pay for the double wedding. That’d be too much to expect. Perhaps we could get together sometime and discuss the expense.’

‘I didn’t know they were planning on getting married,’ Ruby said faintly, deeply hurt that no one had told her.

‘Oh, they’re having too good a time at the moment to make plans, but Moira and me assume it’s on the cards. Don’t you?’

Ruby smiled, relieved she hadn’t been left out. ‘I think I always have, right from the minute they first met.’

Ellie linked her arm. ‘Come and have more sherry. You look as if you need it. I bet you feel shattered, meeting so many people in one go. I know I would. Oh, look, our Chris has arrived. I must introduce you to me disgraceful little brother.’

‘What did he do that was so disgraceful?’

‘He entered a seminary, became a priest, then gave it up. That was fourteen years ago, but our mam still hasn’t got over the shock.’

She half expected an ex-priest to look romantic, slightly decadent, possibly debauched, but Ellie’s brother, Chris Ryan, was none of these things. Instead, he was a distracted, untidy man about her own age, with a pleasant face and a lovely smile. She noticed he was wearing odd socks.

‘Oh, look at your tie,’ Ellie said fussily. ‘Have you got it on upside down or something?’

‘I don’t seem able to get the knot right,’ Chris said mildly, smiling at Ruby. ‘So, you’re shortly to become a member of our family, or I should say families. You must find it all very confusing. I’m never quite sure which of these people I’m related to, yet I’ve known at least half of them all my life.’

‘Don’t worry about it, luv.’ Ellie patted his hand. ‘If you need reminding, just ask me.’ She winked at Ruby. ‘Don’t take any notice of him. He’s putting it on. There’s a brain as sharp as a razor in that ugly head. Excuse me a minute, while I fetch some sherry.’

‘And a beer for me, please, sis.’

‘Go on, ask,’ said Chris when Ellie had gone.

‘Ask what?’

‘Ask why I stopped being a priest. I know Ellie will have told you. For some strange reason, she tells everyone. I think she revels a bit in having a disreputable brother.’

‘I wanted to ask, but didn’t like to,’ Ruby confessed.

‘That makes a change. Most people ask straight out.’

‘OK, so why did you stop being a priest?’

‘I’m afraid there was nothing scandalous about it. I didn’t have an affair with a nun, as most people seem to think. I lost my faith, which coincided, quite fortunately, with the start of the war. It meant I had no crisis of conscience when I left and joined the Army.’

‘Did you enjoy the Army?’

He made a rueful face. ‘My only problem was, although I was anxious to fight for my country, I wasn’t too keen on killing Germans. I was glad when it was all over and me and a German had never come face to face.’ He took her elbow. ‘I spy two empty seats. Let’s sit down.’

‘How do you use this razor-sharp brain of yours?’ Ruby asked when they were seated.

He looked at her enigmatically. ‘You’ll never guess.’

‘I’m not even going to try and guess what an ex-priest does.’

‘I’m a policeman, a detective sergeant. Plain clothes, I’m pleased to say. I could never get used to wearing a helmet.’

Ruby shook her head. ‘I can’t see you in a policeman’s uniform.’

‘Thank the Lord you never will. I was hopeless on traffic duty. I used to bless everything and it went in the wrong direction.’

She laughed. ‘Is that why you were promoted?’

‘I suspect so. The powers-that-be probably wanted me out of harm’s way.’ He waved his hand dismissively. ‘Enough about me, Ruby. Let’s talk about
you
. What do you do?’

She told him she was a landlady and how it had come about, going back to the day she and Beth had returned from Southport and found Arthur Cummings had died and they’d moved into Mrs Hart’s house overlooking Princes Park. She told him a surprising amount, about Connie and Charles and all the other people who’d stayed, and how they’d sheltered in the cellar and enjoyed a sing-song during the raids, about Beth going to work, the children she’d looked after, Matthew Doyle, her lodgers, Greta’s party the other week, how pleased she was the four young people had got together, that she liked Larry and Rob very much.

‘Gosh! I’ve been talking for ages,’ she said, flustered, when she’d finished. ‘You’re a very good listener. I’m surprised you didn’t die of boredom.’

‘I’ve been anything but bored.’ He was watching her with a strange expression on his face, a face that seemed rather more than pleasant now that she looked at it properly. It was sensitive, intelligent, immensely attractive. Why hadn’t she noticed before? His eyes were dark grey, his nose and mouth a bit too wide. All of a sudden, Ruby’s heart began to beat excessively loud and painfully hard.

‘Our Ellie never brought the sherry or the beer, did she?’ Chris said lightly. ‘Don’t dare move from that chair while I fetch them.’ He threw her a glance that sent her heart into overdrive. ‘If I come back and find you gone, you’ll become a wanted woman, and the entire constabulary of Liverpool will be dispatched to bring you in.’

The November sky was the colour of slate. It scowled through the windows of Mrs Hart’s house where Ruby was in the kitchen making a list of O’Hagan guests for the forthcoming wedding. Beth was flying over from America, Martha and Fred Quinlan were coming, so were Connie and Charles. Greta and Heather had invited loads of friends from work, otherwise there’d only be six people on the brides’ side of the church, including herself. Not that she cared. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t have hordes of relatives.

The double wedding would take place on the Saturday before Christmas. Ruby was making a cake for Martha to ice. The Whites were paying for the flowers, the Donovans the cars, and the three families were sharing the cost of the reception. The wedding gowns were already in the hands of a dressmaker – Heather’s regal white velvet, and Greta’s determination to look like a fairy requiring dozens of yards of organdie and tulle.

Ruby was buying her own outfit, but couldn’t decide on the colour. She changed her mind by the day. Pink was too light, brown too dark, red too bright, blue babyish, white or black out of the question. Purple had been her favourite for two whole days until Chris said it was the colour mourners wore to royal funerals.

‘What about peach or apricot?’ he suggested.

‘Too fruity.’

‘Green?’

‘Unlucky.’

‘There’s no colours left. You’ve rejected the entire rainbow.’

‘I’m considering burgundy or maroon.’

‘Too miserable.’

‘Grey?’

‘Depressing.’

‘You’re a lot of help. I know, navy blue!’

‘I’d feel as if I was with a woman copper.’

‘I might not go,’ Ruby said gloomily.

‘That seems the only solution. I suggest that before our own wedding we join a nudist colony so we can get married with nothing on. All you’d have to worry about is the colour of your lipstick.’

Ruby stretched lazily and remembered she’d thrown a cushion at him. This last year, a kind fate had showered the O’Hagan women with the most generous of blessings, first the girls, then their mother.

She and Chris Ryan were in love. They had recognised this remarkable fact the first time they met. ‘I love you,’ Ruby whispered, as if he was in the room with her, able to hear, able to answer, say, ‘I love you too.’ Or maybe the precious message had carried across the miles and he
had
heard, sitting at his desk, or out on a case, or in that horrible bar where he went with his colleagues for a drink. She looked at her watch; almost noon. He could be anywhere.

The future stretched ahead, a glorious vision of endless days filled with happiness. As yet, they’d made no firm plans, apart from a wish to get married next summer. They hadn’t decided where to buy a house, where to go on their honeymoon, should they have a big wedding or a small one?

‘Small,’ said Chris.

‘Big,’ said Ruby.

Once she was married and no longer a landlady, for the
first time in her life she would be a lady of leisure, though knew she would quickly get bored. There’d be time to learn things, study, think about a career. Chris had suggested she become a teacher. One of his mates on the force had left and was now in a teachers’ training college.

Ruby, who was inclined to think she could do anything on earth, thought it a marvellous idea, until she remembered aloud that she hadn’t been very keen on looking after other people’s children during the war.

‘You’d be teaching them, not looking after them,’ Chris pointed out. ‘You might need qualifications before they’d let you in, but you can study for them at home.’

She promised to think about it. She also thought, though she didn’t tell him, about the possibility of having more children of her own. For the umpteenth time she thought about it again, sitting at the kitchen table, making the guest list for her daughters’ wedding. It would be different this time, having babies with a proper husband at her side, enough money to feed and clothe them, loads of Chris’s relatives to provide support if she needed it. Ellie White and her family were delighted that Ruby and Chris were together.

The doorbell rang and the sound barely made an impression on Ruby’s consciousness. She jumped when it rang again, and prayed it was Chris, who occasionally called if he was in the vicinity.

It wasn’t Chris, but a strange woman in an expensive fur coat who was about to ring the bell again. ‘I thought you weren’t in,’ she said in a quiet, cultured voice.

‘Can I help you?’ Ruby enquired. She looked too posh to be selling something.

‘You’re Ruby O’Hagan, aren’t you? Oh, there’s no need to ask, I recognised you months ago, the first time I saw you.’

Ruby searched her memory, but couldn’t recall having seen the woman before and certainly not within the last
few months. She looked in her sixties, with a small, tight, very ordinary face, greying hair. ‘I’m sorry, have we met?’

‘I suppose you could say we met briefly. My name’s Olivia Appleby.’ She swallowed nervously. ‘I’m your mother.’

What did you say to a mother who’d dumped you in a convent when you were less than twenty-four hours old? Ruby had no idea. She showed Olivia Appleby into the living room, then went to make tea. In the kitchen, she tried to collect her thoughts, make sense of things while waiting for the kettle to boil. She took out the best china, set the tray with a lace cloth, put sugar in the little painted bowl and milk in the matching jug, polished the teaspoons on her skirt. When everything was ready, she took a deep breath, picked up the tray, and carried it into the next room.