Blue Moon (27 page)

‘Let’s not talk about sad things today,’ said Cousin Lily, getting ready to take her turn at the dartboard. Everyone moved well away from it.

‘You’re right,’ said Bea.

Aiming her dart, Cousin Lily closed one eye and hit the door frame.

The day after Boxing Day, Ruby slipped up the service stairs at the back of Warnes Hotel. She timed it so that Mrs Fosdyke had finished doing her rounds and would be in the office upstairs, with the MD.

She had dressed with care, making herself look as presentable as possible. Her hair was neat and tidy and she was in her Sunday-best clothes, with her shoes highly polished. Ruby looked up and down the corridor to make sure nobody was around. The cleaning trolley was outside room 32. Mrs Harper was in room 36, just a little further along. Ruby walked briskly, her heart already beating faster. She mustn’t get caught and stopped before she could talk to Mrs Harper. She knocked softly on the door. ‘Come in,’ said a quavery voice, and Ruby stepped inside.

Mrs Harper was still in bed. She seemed pale and
was clearly not well, but she smiled as Ruby came closer. ‘Hello, dear. How are you?’

‘I’m fine,’ said Ruby. ‘Mrs Harper, I need your help.’

The old lady sat up. ‘Do you, dear?’

‘Do you remember losing your brooch?’ Ruby asked.

‘Did I?’

Ruby chewed her bottom lip anxiously. ‘Yes, you did. I was cleaning in the bathroom, and you were worried that your daughter might be cross.’

There was no reaction. Mrs Harper stared at Ruby with a blank expression.

‘I helped you to look for it,’ Ruby ploughed on. ‘I looked on your coat lapel and we looked in the drawer.’ She expected some kind of response, but there was absolutely nothing. What should she do now? She smiled at the old lady. Mrs Harper smiled back.

‘I’ve got a bit of a cold,’ said Mrs Harper. ‘Did you bring the morning paper with you, dear?’

Ruby knew then that it was hopeless. She turned towards the door. ‘I’ll send somebody up with it,’ she smiled.

‘Do I know you, dear?’ said Mrs Harper.

‘You did,’ said Ruby, swallowing hard, ‘but that was a long time ago. I’m afraid I have to go now. Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye, dear,’ said Mrs Harper, settling back down in the bed.

Ruby closed the door and rested her head on the frame, until she heard another door opening further down the corridor. Instinctively she knew it was Mrs Harper’s daughter. She dared not be caught talking again
to her mother. Mrs Toynby knew that Ruby had been sacked, and to be found in Mrs Harper’s room again wouldn’t look good. Ruby walked back down the corridor with her head held high and, as she reached the back stairs, she heard Mrs Harper’s door open and her daughter say in a sing-song voice, ‘Time to get up now, Mother. We’re going to see your nice new home today.’

As she fled down the back stairs, Ruby heard somebody coming onto the landing. The sound of a handle hitting the side of a bucket told her it must be either Winnie or Edith. Ruby toyed briefly with the idea of saying hello, but then decided it was better not to let anyone know she was there.

Outside in the cold winter morning, Ruby knew her time at Warnes was well and truly over. It had been a mad idea to try and persuade Mrs Harper that she had made a dreadful mistake. The poor old soul’s mind had finally gone and, with it, any hope of getting her own good name restored, so there was little point in apologizing to Mrs Fosdyke. Ruby desperately wanted her job back, but she knew hell would freeze over before Mrs Fosdyke would give her another chance, and there was no way she was going to grovel. Her next stop would be the domestic employment agency, but she had little hope of getting a placement without a reference.

Percy had spent the morning preparing the boat and the nets, or what was left of them. He’d have to buy some more trammel nets. They were gone, presumably
when Nelson went overboard. The lobster pots were still there, and he found a couple of mended nets in the locker. At this time of year he could get some good cod, but it was better to fish at night when the cod came closer to land. He might manage to catch whiting as well, but he wouldn’t make the same mistake as his father and go fishing alone.

Coming back home, he spotted Ruby walking ahead of him and ran to catch her up. ‘Hey up, Sis. Why aren’t you at work?’

At first Ruby didn’t answer, but when Percy grabbed her arm to stop her walking on, she burst into tears. They were fairly near a small cafe in High Street, so he pulled her aside and they went in. The heat and fumes from a paraffin heater hit them as they walked through the door. Ruby opened her coat and took off her scarf and gloves. Percy ordered two teas, and Ruby explained what had happened. Her brother listened with a shocked expression.

‘But surely they could see the old duck was doolally?’ he said angrily.

‘That only makes her all the more vulnerable,’ Ruby said, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. ‘Unless she tells them what really happened, they’re going to believe the worst, aren’t they? It’s dreadfully unfair, but what can I do?’

Percy put his hand over hers. ‘Take your time, Sis,’ he said. ‘Have a good look around Worthing for a job and, if that doesn’t work, try further afield. What about
nursery work? There are plenty of glasshouses around here.’

‘There isn’t much planting and picking in January,’ she said. ‘Ask John.’ Their tea arrived and Ruby welcomed its steaming warmth.

‘Your wage isn’t so vital, now that I’m back home,’ he said.

‘You’re a good man, Percy Bateman,’ said Ruby miserably.

‘I don’t know about that,’ he said.

‘How about I come on the boat with you?’ she said. ‘You need a mate.’

‘But you’re a woman,’ Percy laughed.

‘I had noticed,’ said Ruby.

Percy’s expression changed. ‘It’s bad luck to have a woman on board.’

‘Oh, stuff and nonsense!’ said Ruby. ‘This is the twentieth century, Percy, not the Middle Ages. Surely you don’t believe all that superstitious claptrap?’

Percy gave her a long, hard stare. ‘I’m not taking a woman aboard,’ he said firmly.

‘But …’ Ruby began.

Her brother raised his hand to silence her. ‘You heard me,’ he said. ‘Now drink up and stop worrying. It’ll be fine.’

CHAPTER 22

Linton Carver was scared. Somebody knew.

He never had letters. He’d lived in the same house all his life and the only time the postman ever brought anything with his name on, it was a bill. When he was a boy he’d come from a large family, but no one ever wrote to him. Unless his Aunt Mabel told them otherwise, they probably thought he had died in the Great War, or perhaps in the worldwide flu epidemic in 1918. Maybe they’d died themselves. Millions of others in the Empire had. He’d never got in touch to find out.

Linton had never had a lady friend, either. In fact he might still have been a virgin himself if it hadn’t been for that woman in the barn. The shame of what he had done eighteen years ago still haunted him. It was the stuff of all his nightmares.

It was only 1914, but they’d been desperate to get away from the guns and the gas, and the smell of chewed-up body parts of the people who had once been friends. Victor had been the first to take off; and the others, including Linton himself, just followed. They’d walked through the woods and, as the sounds of battle
grew fainter, they’d heard the birds. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard birdsong. It had brought tears to his eyes.

Then Victor had told them he wasn’t going back and had smashed up his rifle. It was an act of pure defiance, but perhaps if he had known what was about to happen, he might have thought twice about doing it. Whoever sent this letter must have known all about it.

Linton turned the envelope over in his hands and trembled. The postmark read:
Worthing, 6.30 p.m., January 6th, 1934
. Oh, God, whoever posted this lived in the town. They weren’t far away. Perhaps they’d actually seen him in the street. The envelope didn’t contain much. One sheet of paper with just two words, and it meant only one thing – someone knew what they’d done: ‘Remember Victor.’

He was suddenly desperate for the toilet. His stomach churned and his bladder felt fit to burst. He went outside and into the yard. It might be the depth of winter, with temperatures low enough to freeze a penguin’s balls, but the outside lavatory still reeked of dung and Jeyes fluid. He yanked off his coat, pulled down his braces and trousers, only just making it as he sat over the hole in the wooden seat. As he defecated, his legs shook, not with the cold, but with fear.

Who had sent it? Who knew? He’d been so sure that, with Nelson gone, he was safe. What was that person going to do? What happened to Nelson: was it an accident or not? And, if not an accident, then it must be
murder. Linton hadn’t had much of a life since he’d been gassed, but he wasn’t ready to die, not yet.

He was crying now; huge, gulping silent sobs that racked his whole body. It always got to him like that, when he remembered.

They had stayed in the barn until nightfall. They knew they had to go back before they were missed, but they had to work out what to say about Victor’s rifle. They’d settled on a plan and were about to set off when the woman came into the barn, leading a horse. They’d watched her take off the saddle and begin rubbing the animal down with some straw. After a while Nelson began to rub his dick, matching her movements on the horse’s back, stroke for stroke. Then George did the same thing. It wouldn’t have mattered, but one of them moaned and suddenly the woman realized she wasn’t alone.

Linton’s first thought was that they had to make her understand she mustn’t tell the authorities they’d been there, but there was a language barrier. Besides, the others had other ideas. It all happened so bloody quick. They’d barged past him, and Nelson had grabbed the woman while George held her down. She’d begged them to stop. He couldn’t understand a word she’d said, but he recognized the panic in her voice and he’d seen her tears. He and Victor had told them to stop, but as he watched what Nelson was doing, something stirred in his own loins. Victor tried to pull Nelson off, but George shoved him so hard that he fell against the horse and, already spooked by their angry voices, the animal lashed out with his hoof. Victor was knocked out cold. George
and Nelson swapped places and, while Nelson held her down, George did it too. Linton’s mind was on fire. He’d never felt such strong feelings. For the first time in his life he was fully aroused, and the more he watched, the more inflamed he became. Then they were inviting him to take what he wanted. The woman was quiet now. She just lay there. She wasn’t struggling any more. They told her she’d enjoyed them so much, she was begging for more and … And …

He shuddered and started to cough. It was bloody cold in the privy and he’d finished. He reached for the torn-up newspaper hanging on the nail, to wipe himself clean, but he didn’t go back indoors. Instead he leaned forward and, putting his head in his hands, wept quietly as the shame overwhelmed him once again.
May God forgive him, because he couldn’t forgive himself …
And now he’d had this letter. Somebody else knew.

‘Ruby, what’s wrong?’

She looked up at Jim’s anxious face and smiled. ‘Nothing. I’m just thinking how much I’m going to miss you, that’s all.’ They were in Warwick Studios, a rare time of being alone. Jim’s boss, Leonard Hayward, was doing a family portrait at a client’s home, and Ruby had come to help Jim pack. It turned out that he didn’t need any help, as he had already packed his little case, which was back at his lodgings, and he wasn’t taking any equipment with him to Wimborne. They both knew it was just an excuse to be together one last time before he left.

Jim had made tea and, after showing her a magazine with his winning picture next to an article, they’d sat together on the horsehair sofa. His ardent kisses grew stronger and he had his hand on Ruby’s breast when she stopped him gently. ‘Jim, we mustn’t.’

‘I know, I know, but I want you so much, Ruby,’ he said. He kissed her some more and this time his hand strayed onto her thigh.

She pulled away again.

‘You’re trembling,’ he said, pulling her head onto his chest and making himself more comfortable on the hard sofa. ‘I know you’re worrying about something. I want you to know that I would never hurt you, Ruby. I want you more than I can say, but I will never make you do something you’re not comfortable with.’

Ruby picked at a loose bit of wool on his Fair Isle pullover. ‘It’s not that,’ she said.

‘Then what?’

The words stuck in her throat.

‘If we are to go any further with this relationship,’ he said gravely, ‘and I sincerely hope we will, we must have no secrets. I don’t want to be with anyone who doesn’t tell the truth and keeps things from me.’

She sat up and looked at him. ‘Oh, Jim,’ she said, touching his cheek. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you …’

‘Tell me what?’

‘I … I’ve lost my job.’

‘The hotel is cutting down on staff?’ he queried. ‘But you always said they didn’t have enough.’

‘I mean, I’ve got the sack,’ she said quietly.

He stared at her uncomprehendingly. ‘The sack? But why? What happened?’

So she told him. ‘When did all this happen?’

‘Christmas Eve,’ said Ruby.

‘Christmas Eve! My dear girl,’ he cried, ‘you’ve kept this to yourself all this time?’ He looked genuinely upset. ‘You should have told me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her bottom lip quivering and her eyes filling. ‘I didn’t know how to.’

‘Promise me,’ he said, taking both her hands in his, ‘promise that you won’t ever do this again.’

‘But I didn’t take the brooch,’ she cried helplessly. ‘And if you think—’

‘No, no,’ he cried. ‘I meant that you should have told me about losing your job. You must tell me everything. My darling girl, I want you to be my wife some day. I can’t bear to think that you were suffering all this time and I knew nothing about it.’

She was aware that her mouth had dropped open. ‘Your wife?’

‘I love you, Ruby Bateman,’ he laughed. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t realize that?’

‘I didn’t,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t dare to hope … Oh, Jim, this is the most wonderful day of my life.’ She was laughing and crying at the same time. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. He found her lips and returned her kisses with a growing passion. She knew she should stop him, but now it was
doubly difficult. He loved her; he wanted to marry her. Her blouse was coming undone.