War Baby (5 page)

She reached out and touched the headstone. The speckled marble felt oddly warm, which surprised her. She'd expected it to feel cold. Perhaps it was due to that unexpected warmth that she suddenly found herself wanting to speak to her mother. She'd never done so before. Only her father did that.

She heaved her shoulders in a huge sigh and knelt down, her knee resting on the marble sill that surrounded her mother's plot.

One voice inside told her she was about to talk to a stone – nothing more. Another voice said otherwise and urged her on.

‘It's Ruby, Mum. I hope you can hear me. It's about Dad. He's depressed, Mum. It's ever since we lost our Charlie. You'd think our Mary getting married would buck him up, but it hasn't. He's happy for her, yes, but there's a big gap in his life. Charlie's gone. His only son. Sometimes I think he'll never get over it and that worries me. I've heard it said that grief can shorten your life. I don't want him to die, but nothing we do seems to help. I just wish something would happen to take him out of himself, but that would take a miracle. I wish there was some way you could help. I wish there was something I could do, but try as I might, things stay the same. If there is a God and a heaven, perhaps you might put in a good word.'

She got up on to her feet shaking her head and almost laughing, thinking how foolish this was. As though talking to her mother's headstone would solve anything. That's all you've been doing, she thought to herself. The dead hear nothing and can do nothing.

Turning her back on the grave she retraced her steps along the path and out of the church, down the incline and slowly back up the hill.

Stratham House was on the way and Ruby decided to call in on Bettina in case her father was in there. He hadn't had much to do with Bettina since Charlie's death, but there was always the chance that he might have relented and dropped in.

Daffodils danced in big clay pots to either side of the front door. Cowslips and crocuses dotted the small areas of lawn that were left closest to the house. The rest of the garden had been dug up and planted with vegetables. Ruby reminded herself that her father had planted most of those. He still tended the garden, but kept himself to himself, declining offers of refreshment from the woman who he'd once counted as a friend.

At the sound of the gate creaking open, the tall figure of Bettina Hicks came out from the garden shed, a stone-built affair attached to one end of the house. She was wearing gumboots and the rough webbed gloves she used for gardening. Despite her age, Bettina was a fine figure of a woman. Her back was ramrod straight, her eyes clear and her cotton-fine hair was fashioned into a cottage-loaf style, the sort favoured by the Gibson girls before the Great War.

She hesitated for only a moment before recognising which twin was visiting. Ruby's peek-a-boo hairstyle gave her away.

‘Ruby! How nice to see you. Would you like a cup of tea?'

Ruby tucked a tress of unruly hair back behind her right ear. ‘I was looking for Dad to tell him his lunch is ready. Obviously he's not here.'

‘No. I've not seen him all day. Not seen a soul in fact.'

A sad smile accompanied her words. Bettina was on her own most of the time now. Gilda Jacobsen, a friend of a friend, she'd once had staying with her, had gone back to London shortly after Charlie's death taking her two children with her. She'd gone without saying a proper goodbye. Ruby found it hard to forgive her for that. She'd so wanted to talk with her, make her a friend and even part of the family. Gilda, already widowed by the war, had been having a relationship with their brother. Like everyone else she'd been devastated at his death, especially considering that he'd survived one sinking only to die in another shortly afterwards.

Bettina had also taken Gilda leaving hard. What with her nephew Mike Dangerfield away serving with Bomber Command and Stan Sweet no longer taking tea with her, she was alone much of the time.

Ruby wished she could do something about it, but her father wouldn't take kindly to her giving him a good shake and telling him to buck up. Anyway, he had the right to be sad. But life goes on, she told herself. Life has to go on.

‘You look as though you're busy,' Ruby said to her after rousing herself from her thoughts. ‘I don't want to intrude.'

Bettina smiled. ‘You're not intruding. I'm glad of the company. Come on into the kitchen.'

Although Stratham House was grandly titled, there were only two reception rooms, a kitchen, bathroom and two bedrooms. Mrs Hicks had forsaken a third bedroom to have it converted into an upstairs bathroom, quite a luxury in the area.

‘An old woman's indulgence. I'm too old to be paying visits down the garden or hanging a tin bath from the back wall,' she'd explained early on when Ruby's father had been a regular visitor.

Bettina talked about the garden as she took the kettle from the hob, warmed the willow-patterned teapot and then put two spoonfuls of leaf tea from the caddy into it.

‘Would you like a biscuit? They're very good.' She laughed. ‘Of course you know they're very good. Mary made them. I must admit you girls bake the best biscuits ever, far better than I could make myself or even buy in a shop. Not that there's that much choice in a shop nowadays
and
you have to queue, even for biscuits!'

The tea was poured into bone china cups decorated with roses. The biscuits – four of them – were set out on a separate plate.

Bettina went on talking about the garden for a while then switched to talking about the wedding.

‘I'm so looking forward to it. I thought about buying a new hat, but then thought Mary might have need of my ration quota for a going away outfit.' She paused. ‘I take it your father hasn't relented and let her have your mother's wedding dress to alter?'

Ruby shook her head. ‘No. He's not the easiest man in the world to get on with at present.'

‘Ah yes,' sighed Bettina. ‘Only to be expected of course, but hard to live with. Charlie's loss was so unexpected.' She looked down into her lap, for the moment lost in thought. When she raised her head and Ruby saw the sadness in her eyes, she felt her heart would break.

‘I miss Gilda and the children. I never thought I would, but I do. She used to write at first and then a month or two ago it stopped. I don't know why.'

‘And your son? He writes frequently?'

‘Oh yes. He does, but …' Again her gaze dropped to her lap. ‘He's so busy doing war work over in Canada, and anyway, writing is all very well. But you can't beat contact with another human being. Face to face, so to speak. And somebody of one's own age.'

‘After Charlie died everything changed,' remarked Ruby.

Bettina jerked her chin. Her expression was one of sad regret.

‘I'm grateful that he takes care of my garden, but he declines my offer of a cup of tea. In fact, he doesn't even come in the house, because his boots are too muddy and he can't take them off because his socks are in need of darning.'

‘That is not true,' Ruby protested. ‘Mary and I make sure of that.'

Bettina forced a little laugh. ‘I know that. It's just his excuse. Still,' she said visibly brightening. ‘At least we've got the wedding to look forward to and seeing as I'm not buying a hat, I think I'll alter and trim my favourite one. It's a cloche style but I'm sure that with a little ingenuity I can make it into a pillbox and even add a little veil and a silk rose – or a real one if I can find one.'

‘A Charles Stuart, perhaps,' said Ruby. ‘It's already in flower and there are lots of buds just waiting to burst open. Mary is planning to use some for her bouquet.'

Aware that the rose bush, Charles Stuart growing in the Sweets' garden, had been bought to commemorate both Christmas 1939 and Charlie's surviving the sinking of his first ship, Bettina nodded silently.

‘We'll see if there's enough for Mary's bouquet first. I can make do with something else, and isn't that what we're supposed to do? Make do and mend?'

‘I'm wearing yellow. Actually it's the material you gave to Mary. There's only enough of the blue for Mary's dress and for Frances as a bridesmaid.'

‘You don't want to be a bridesmaid?'

‘I would if there was enough of the blue material, but there isn't. All we had in the rag bag was Mary's old dress that got ripped by the dog!'

Bettina laughed. ‘Blasted dog. Still, it's thanks to him that Mary and Mike are getting married.'

They talked about the time Mike Dangerfield had been staying with his aunt and had brought a friend's dog with him. The dog's teeth had connected with Mary's dress and torn it. They both smiled at the memory.

‘So how about you, Ruby? Do you have a sweetheart? Oh, I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry …'

Ruby put down her teacup which was now empty. ‘You're not prying. There's nobody serious. I'm enjoying myself while I can. I work hard. I think I deserve a little fun. I'm not a nun!' Normally she wouldn't have revealed so much to somebody who was basically only a neighbour, but Bettina was such a kindly, motherly person. Ruby felt comfortable telling her.

‘Nobody said you were or that you should be a nun.' Bettina looked at her with kindly eyes.

‘Good!'

‘More tea?'

‘Why not?'

It had always surprised her how easy it was to talk to Bettina. Her father must have found it easy too; shame that things had fallen so desperately apart.

‘I've made a point of not going out on a date with anyone from the village. Most of the men I meet are through work. Some of them have been soldiers – officers mainly – home on leave. A few days and they're gone. They ask me to write to them, but … well … I haven't encouraged it.'

Bettina saw her slight smile. ‘I can't say I blame you for enjoying life as it is.'

‘As I've already said, I enjoy my work. I didn't think I would enjoy standing up in front of a group of women and talking about baking, but I love doing it. It's safe to say that I don't have a care in the world, except …' She looked down at her teacup, turning it around on its saucer. ‘Except for Dad of course.' She sighed. ‘I just wish he was his old self again.'

‘So do I,' Bettina said quietly.

‘Oh well. I'd better be off. Lunch will be getting cold and I still haven't found him. I wonder where he's got to.'

Actually, she suspected he was in the pub. He'd always liked the odd pint, but never during lunchtime, not until Charlie had died. The thought of it was worrying. Too much to drink and he became somebody else, somebody with a temper and the fists to match.

They'd only ever seen it once, on the occasion of his brother Sefton dying and Sefton's wife, Frances's mother, taking off and leaving her child behind.

There'd been a man involved. Stan Sweet had found out about him, following him to a pub in East Bristol where he'd faced him down and given him a licking he was likely to remember for some time. Not that it made much difference to Mildred. She'd still shot off. The last they'd heard she was in London.

On Ruby's return home, she found Mary putting away the dishes. Stan Sweet was sound asleep in one of the old armchairs placed either side of the fireplace.

His mouth was open, his eyes closed and his arms were flopped over the chair arms. His snores were loud and clear. His breath smelled of beer.

‘He came in ten minutes ago,' she said when Ruby glanced accusingly at their father.

‘No need to tell me where he's been. I can smell it.'

Mary shrugged. ‘He's our father. We can't tell him what to do.'

Ruby gritted her teeth. She wanted to say that he could do with somebody telling him that life goes on, but held back. She thought about what she'd said over her mother's grave. It was too much to hope for, but it was something. Hope, as somebody said, springs eternal.

‘I take it Mrs Hicks wouldn't let you go until you'd had at least two cups of tea,' said Mary, an amused smile on her face.

‘You're right,' whispered Ruby. She crooked her finger so that Mary would come closer, nodding to where her father was really sending the snores home!

‘Best not to disturb him. He's not sleeping well.'

Mary agreed with her.

‘I told Bettina about the time Frances came to live with us. Do you remember what he was like then?'

‘Very angry with her mother. I don't remember Mildred very well except that she wore a lot of make-up and never left the house unless she was looking her best. Dad called her a hussy.'

‘That's right. But he didn't dwell on Mildred leaving. He brightened up for the sake of Frances I think. At least, that's how I recall that time.'

Mary nodded and kept her voice low. ‘He felt responsible for her so he brightened up. That's how Dad is.'

‘That's what he needs now,' whispered Ruby. ‘A responsibility to face up to and live for.'

Mary agreed with her. ‘He's only got us and we're grown up and don't need anyone to be responsible for us. Neither does Frances. She's growing up too.'

Ruby fiddled with the collar of her dress. ‘Poor Dad. What he needs is grandchildren. Imagine how happy that would make him.'

‘Ruby!' Mary managed to keep her voice down, but had no control over the heat spreading over her face. ‘Give me a chance. I have to get married first.'

Ruby grinned. ‘Not necessarily, my dear sister. In fact, you don't need to get married at all. Do I have to point out to you that babies do not come from under the gooseberry bush?'

Mary's blush deepened. ‘Of course I know where babies come from! Don't be so silly! Honestly, Ruby, at times I can hardly recognise you as my sister.'

‘At times I think I need to speak to you about the facts of life!'

To Mary it felt as though her face was on fire. ‘I'm off upstairs. I need to finish dusting the bedroom.'