A Promise Between Friends (20 page)

‘Pardon me! Have they just dropped another bomb somewhere?’

Ruby just stared at him. The tears began to roll slowly down her cheeks.

‘Christ, Ruby, what’s wrong?’

She leaned forward and cupped her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook and Bernie could hear her gasped breaths. He sat still, wondering if he should call Kath. Then decided against it.
Instead he got up and sat beside her.

‘Blimey, if we had a quid for every one of them tears we’d be rich,’ he said, laughing mirthlessly.

Before he knew it, she had thrown herself into his arms. Soon he was stroking her hair and patting her back trying to console her. And all the old feelings came rushing back.

Just as if it was yesterday.

A clock somewhere struck midnight and Ruby heaved a deep breath as she finished telling Bernie her long tale of woe. She had repeated everything she’d told Kath, who had
gone to bed an hour ago, as she had to be up at the crack of dawn.

‘So now you know,’ she said as Bernie, his tie undone and his new hairstyle flopping forward over his face, got up to walk around the flat.

‘This Anna is a bloke done up in a dress if you ask me,’ Bernie commented, sitting down again. ‘Wouldn’t put it past her selling off her old mother if the price was
right.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘She’s got that look in her eye.’

Ruby shrugged. ‘I always thought she had beautiful eyes.’

‘Yeah, like them big hungry tigers at the zoo.’

Ruby smiled weakly. ‘You always exaggerate.’

Bernie sat forward and taking a breath said in a low voice, ‘Look, do you want me to go over and sort her out? And while I’m at it, I’ll find the Yank too. Give him a bit of
his own medicine.’

Ruby was touched as she knew Bernie meant what he said. But the damage had been done and now she had lost all her confidence. ‘No, I don’t want anything from Anna now,’ she
lied, trying to ignore the nagging voice inside her head, reminding her that, if she had wanted to live the Dower Street lifestyle, she should have swallowed her pride.

‘Then if that’s the case,’ Bernie said, ‘put it all behind you and start again. You’re a good-looker, you know that. You could get a job anywhere.’

‘Yes, as a barmaid or in a factory.’

‘What’s wrong with being a barmaid? And me own sister worked in a factory.’

‘I don’t want men gawping at me over their beers. I couldn’t stand the noise and dirt in a factory.’

‘Blimey, you don’t want much, do you?’

Ruby felt a wave of anger. She had opened her heart to Bernie and he still didn’t understand. ‘I know what I want. And it’s not working in a boozy pub or on a filthy shop
floor.’

‘So what are you going to do?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I hope you got your due before you left.’

‘Course I did.’ She couldn’t admit that in her little show of temper to Anna she had walked out without her wages. She stood up. ‘I’m tired. I’m going to bed
now.’

Bernie stood reluctantly. ‘So you really are going back to your mum’s?’

‘Penny’s back tomorrow. I can’t stay here.’

‘What about this bloke of yours?’

Ruby went scarlet. ‘What bloke?’

‘This Nick geezer. Kath told me you’re seeing him.’

‘So what if I am?’

Bernie just stared at her with his big dark eyes. Then, shrugging, he turned and walked to the door. It was half open when he said casually, ‘Want a ride home tomorrow?’

‘Please yourself.’ She wasn’t going to let him think he was doing her a favour. ‘I can catch the bus.’

‘Pick you up in me dinner hour, then.’ He walked out into the dimly lit passage. ‘By the way, about that diary of Pete’s.’

‘Have you talked to his mates?’ she asked hopefully.

‘I asked around, like I said I would. But Pete gave all the lads from the island the cold shoulder after he moved up West. None of ’em knew where he lived much less who Joanie was.
Bob Rawlings and Lenny Gooding were the only two to turn up at his funeral if you remember.’

Ruby shivered as she thought of Pete’s funeral. The occasion had passed as though she was in a daze. All she could remember was her mum sobbing in her dad’s arms and nearly passing
out at the graveside. Other faces eluded her, except Bernie and Kath who had been trying to hide their own sorrow.

‘So you found out nothing,’ Ruby huffed, trying to end the conversation which she knew Bernie was attempting to string out.

‘Well, there was something.’

‘What?’ Ruby said suspiciously.

‘I went to the library. Wanted to find out who the WC was who said, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” ’

‘So who was it?’

‘Winnie Churchill.’

‘Pete was mad about him,’ Ruby replied thoughtfully. ‘Said he saved our country and defied all the odds. Him and Montgomery Clift the film actor were his two idols.’

Bernie wrinkled his eyebrows as if in deep concentration. ‘I’ll bet you a bob the ugly mutt you saw in the picture on Pete’s wall was one of them bulldogs.’

‘How did you know that?’

Bernie wagged a finger. ‘Cos Winnie was called the British Bulldog. Got it?’

Ruby nodded. ‘You’re quite the detective.’

Bernie grinned, stepping closer. ‘So there are some things about me you like?’

‘Goodnight, Bernie, I’m closing the door now.’ She pulled it hard.

As she turned off the lights and made her way into Penny’s bedroom, the thought struck her that Bernie could really use his brains when he wanted to. But, he was a lazy devil, and had a
one-track mind. He would have rabbited on all night if she had given him half a chance.

It was a long while before sleep came. She was uncomfortable in a strange bed, an unfamiliar room and with Penny’s possessions all around her. Another girl’s world in which she
played no part. Tomorrow she would return to her own world, one she knew – and dreaded. Back to the downtrodden surroundings of the Mallard Road Estate on the Isle of Dogs with the constant
clickety-clack of the sewing machine. For all her airs and graces learned in her brief career as a model, she was back to square one.

It was late in the month of August when Ruby sat on the broken wall in the back yard of the prefab, listening to the humdrum sounds of the docks. The gulls were circling
overhead, noisy and jostling, hoping for a teatime meal, scraps thrown from a fishing boat or a tug, or the emptying of waste from the many ships’ holds. Together with the muted hoots and
sirens from the river traffic she could just hear the faint roar of the city’s life. Somewhere in those West End streets, Nick was driving the Buick. Would he be missing her as she missed
him? What had he been told when he telephoned Anna’s to speak to her and arrange their weekend in the country? She had never given him her home address. And yet, if he had gone to
Larry’s, Debbie would have given it to him.

Ruby sighed heavily, stretching her aching back, unconsciously massaging her work-worn hands as thoughts of Nick seemed to torment her more now than ever. She had resisted the temptation to
phone him. Once, a month after coming home, she had walked up to the public phone box and lifted the receiver. But at the last moment replaced it. She was certain he would come to find her. And
when he did, it would be easier to sink her pride and admit he was right. Anna had outwitted her.

If only she could go back in time to the encounter with Jesse Marlon. Ruby knew now she could have done as Anna had said. If she had really put her mind to it, she could have kept Jesse Marlon
at bay, instead of acting like a spoiled child.

Ruby gazed down at the hard sores on the palms of her hands. Escort work paled into insignificance beside the last three months of drudgery. And the worst of it was, Ruby knew there was more to
come. Her mum wasn’t getting any better. In fact she was worse. She’d even given up her sewing. It was a relief not to hear the machine whirring away. But the silence left in its place
was worse.

Ruby hauled in a deep breath as she thought of the days of her childhood. She and Pete had played in the docks, jumping the barges and mud-larking. They had never fallen in the river as their
dad had warned them they would. But Mum would always know where they’d been by the tyre marks left on their legs. They’d tuck in to fish and chips on a Friday night, while Mum and Dad
went out for a drink at the pub.

And now she was doing what Mum used to do. The cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing and shopping. She woke each morning wondering if Nick would ever find her. She still had her dreams!

A bright burst of scarlet sun lit the evening sky and a soft breeze lifted the untidy strands of Ruby’s hair. August – and harvest time. In Devon, Pete and her had gone scrumping,
stealing fruit from the farmers’ orchards. Up among the leafy branches they gulped down the overripe fruit and swatted away the wasps.

A tall figure came round the side of the house. ‘Hello, love, you taking a breather?’ her dad said, swiping off his cap and thrusting a filthy hand through his thick, flattened
hair.

‘Yes, while Mum’s asleep.’

He put his arm round her and kissed her cheek. His grubby overalls smelled of Old Holborn. He was forever rolling his own. Even her hair smelled of it now.

‘Got a game of billiards tonight. You don’t mind, do you?’ He put down his battered tin lunch box and sat beside her.

She would be alone again as her mum would either be sleeping or sitting in the chair, her eyes fixed on the window as if in a trance.

‘Dad, what can we do about Mum?’

‘Dunno, love.’ He drew out his tobacco pouch from his trouser pocket. ‘I’ve tried everything in the book. It’s like she don’t want to live in this world
without your brother.’

Ruby thought the same. If only Pete was here. She rubbed her sticky neck, wishing it wasn’t so hot. The air was close and the slight breeze didn’t blow often enough. Her thin,
short-sleeved blouse was damp with sweat and her stockingless knees were red raw. She’d scrubbed the kitchen tiles today, trying not to think about Nick and why he had never tried to find
her.

‘I won’t be late,’ her father said as he lit up and blew out a long trail of smoke. ‘I’ll just have a couple of games, all right?’

Ruby smiled. She knew he was trying to come to terms with Babs’s illness. He couldn’t even sleep in his own bed now, for fear of disturbing Babs. Instead he slept on the couch.

‘Dunno what I’d do without you, gel,’ her dad said affectionately. ‘I was at me wits’ end before you came back. I hope it all ain’t too much for
you?’

‘Course not,’ she replied, and seeing the relief on his face she held out her arms. ‘Give us a hug, Dad.’

They embraced and she took comfort from his workmanlike strength and familiar smell. He’d been through grief and heartache like her, but they had each other.

And she was grateful for that.

A week later, the first in September, Ruby was at the end of her tether. Babs just wouldn’t eat.

‘No ta, love. P’raps later,’ she said, pushing away the chicken broth Ruby had made. She turned her head on the pillow, looking at the window. As if, Ruby thought, Pete was
going to be standing there, a grin on his face, drumming his fingers on the glass pane to draw their attention.

Ruby placed the soup in the pantry under a gauze cloth, a pantry that was now spotlessly clean from the many times she had scoured it. ‘I’ve used so much disinfectant I’ve
turned this place into bloody Boots,’ she said and laughed aloud. She was even holding a conversation with herself now!

The hall and the front room were also spotlessly clean. The sewing machine was covered by its wooden case and all her mum’s odds and ends of material were folded away in the sideboard. As
for all the old boxes, newspapers and moth-eaten clothes that her mum had hoarded, these too had been disposed of. Even her own bedroom was now clear of the junk stored in it. Her single bed and
wardrobe were now visible. As for the cockroaches she had discovered climbing the walls, she had swiftly resorted to the Jeyes. The strong disinfectant was lethal to the bugs and killed them stone
dead.

A bang at the door made her jump. Maggs Jenkins strode in, without knocking as usual. Her mum’s friend had started calling again and Ruby was grateful. While Maggs kept an eye on her mum,
she was free to go out for the shopping; Maggs, a tall, angular woman in her fifties with her hair rolled up under a turban, was happy to talk till the cows came home.

‘Where are you off to today, love?’ Maggs asked, pulling her cross-over apron around her chest.

‘Cox Street,’ was Ruby’s reply, for where else was there for her to go? Market prices were all they could afford on her dad’s wages.

‘Mum in bed, is she?’ Maggs asked, cuffing the drip from her long nose.

Ruby nodded. She lifted the shopping bag from the peg. ‘I’ll be off then.’

‘Don’t rush back, love.’

Ruby smiled at Maggs’s kind face under the turban. She was a lonely widow and her three children were scattered to every corner of the earth. She had been upset when Babs discouraged her
visits but had told Ruby before she left home she was there for Babs if ever she was needed. Ruby knew the value of a good neighbour now, a truth she had never appreciated before.

Ruby left the prefab and at last felt free of her daily confinement. She stood still at the broken gate, breathing in the early September air. Unpolluted by disinfectant or damp, the oxygen
swelled inside her. River air, tarry and briny, nature’s own medicine. The warmth of the sun played on her back, as if welcoming her to the new day.

As Ruby acknowledged their smiling neighbour across the road and the whistling baker who came round in his van, she felt part of life again. Somewhere inside her a ray of hope flickered that
Nick would find her again.

September’s chill had set in the following week. The skies were slate grey and the wind that blew off the river had a winter’s bite. Ruby decided to light a fire
and eat lunch in front of a warm blaze. As she was preparing the soup, she heard a noise from the hall. Thinking it might be Maggs letting herself in, she hurried out.