The House by Princes Park (18 page)

‘Isn’t he handsome?’ Beth smiled proudly at her new son who was wide awake and waving his chubby fists like a boxer. A fluff of light brown hair covered his scalp and his skin was lighter than Beth’s, a pale tan shade.

‘He’s beautiful,’ Ruby said truthfully. She kissed Beth and shook hands with Jake.

‘Where’s his father?’ Mrs Mickelwhite enquired.

‘In the Army.’

‘And where’s your fella nowadays, Mrs O’Hagan? I met him a few times if you recall.’

‘He’s in the Army too.’

‘They joined together.’ Beth grinned.

‘They’re best friends.’ Ruby grinned back.

‘That’s nice,’ Mrs Mickelwhite remarked.

It was pleasant living with Arthur Cummings. The house was cosy, though very small. Beth complained it was cramped but, after Foster Court, Ruby appreciated not eating and sleeping in the same room and having a proper kitchen for their sole use. The washing got covered in coal dust and the lavatory was at the bottom of the yard, but at least it wasn’t used by all and sundry and Beth managed to keep it more or less clean if she was nagged hard enough.

There was no need nowadays to take the girls as she
sped to and fro between her customers and the various pawnshops. They were happy to be left with Beth and Arthur giving Ruby the opportunity to drop in on Martha Quinlan for a cup of tea and a chat, feeling quite the lady of leisure. Mrs Hart had also become a good friend and Ruby often called to see her and Tiger, even if nothing had to be pawned that day to pay off her incorrigible son’s debts.

On Sundays, Beth’s day off, Ruby reluctantly took over the cooking. Saturday, the old man babysat while the two women went to the pictures: the Dingle Picturedrome or the Beresford. At first, there’d been terrible arguments over what to see until they decided to take turns in choosing. Ruby preferred romances, Beth liked comedy best and anything starring Franchot Tone.

Everyone was happy with the arrangement. Arthur paid the bills and was provided with company in his old age, Beth had a roof over her own and her baby’s head in return for doing the housework, although not very well, according to Ruby who bought the food. The money left over she shared with Beth, leaving enough to buy things she’d never been able to afford since leaving Brambles.

Even Jacob’s replacement, the young man whose name was Herbie, proved his usefulness by seeing to Clifford the horse every night after they’d finished their day’s work.

Arthur was the only one concerned about the war clouds that were gathering on the horizon. He read the
Daily Herald
every day and had his ear glued to the wireless. ‘That Hitler chap’s throwing his weight about far too much for my liking,’ he said frequently. ‘I’ve lived through enough wars in my lifetime. It’s not meself I’m concerned about, I’ve had a good innings. It’s you young ’uns.’

‘There’s nothing to worry about.’ Ruby flatly refused to believe anyone, including Adolf Hitler, would be so stupid as to start the war some columnists claimed was imminent.
She ignored the ominous signs: the booklet called, ‘The Protection of Your Home Against Air Raids,’ which had been delivered to every household in the land, followed by others describing how to mask the windows with tape to prevent them from shattering, or explaining what a gas mask was. Martha Quinlan had joined the Women’s Voluntary Service, the WVS, and was learning first aid and hoping Fred would feel patriotic enough to run the Malt House in her absence.

Germany annexed Austria, threatened Czechoslovakia, mobilised its armed forces. Benito Mussolini installed a Fascist government in Italy. Still Ruby felt convinced that war would somehow be avoided.

In September, the British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, met with Adolf Hitler in Munich, returning home waving a piece of paper guaranteeing, ‘Peace in our Time’.

‘See, I told you there wouldn’t be a war,’ Ruby crowed when she heard it on the wireless.

But the paper proved worthless and Germany blithely continued with its objective of conquering the entire continent of Europe.

Christmas, which they’d been so much looking forward to, was thoroughly spoiled by the arrival a few days beforehand of three adult-size gas masks – junior ones would be issued at a later date and there would be a special one for Jake, now five months old. Arthur was the most badly affected and seemed to sink into a depression from that day on from which he never recovered. The 1914–18 conflict had been termed ‘the war to end all wars’, yet now there was about to be another. He had lost faith in humanity, he moaned, there was no goodness left in the world, otherwise how could a man like Adolf Hitler prosper? ‘Look what he’s doing to the Jews!’ He stopped going to Mass because he no longer believed in God and
made a desperate fuss of the three small children he had so kindly taken into his home. ‘What’s going to happen to the poor little mites?’ he would say despairingly.

They wondered what the New Year, 1939, would bring, and as the weeks and months passed, it seemed that war was becoming more and more inevitable. The signs were everywhere. Brick shelters were built on the corners of the streets, walls of sandbags appeared outside important buildings. First Aid Centres were established. Agnes/Fay Quinlan reported the staff had practised evacuating the Town Hall in case of an air raid. Martha said that when the war started, the children of Liverpool would be evacuated to places like Southport or Wales.

‘Over my dead body,’ Ruby swore. ‘There’s no one going to separate me from my kids.’

‘It’s not compulsory,’ Martha assured her. ‘Anyroad, mothers can go with their children if they want.’

‘I wish they were grown-up like yours,’ Ruby said with a heartfelt sigh. ‘They wouldn’t be such a worry.’

Martha gave her arm a little shake. ‘Don’t you believe it, luv. Kids are always a worry, no matter what their age. Our Jim’s in the Merchant Navy. The seas will be the most dangerous place of all. By the way, he’s home this weekend, the first time in months. We’re having a bit of a do on Sat’day. You’re welcome to come. I’ve never asked before because you couldn’t get away due to the kids.’

‘Can I bring Beth?’ They could wear the new frocks they’d got for Christmas from C & A.

‘Bring whoever you like, luv. How’s your Jacob? Have you heard from him lately?’

‘Not for a while.’

‘Is he still in Aldershot?’

‘As far as I know. That’s where I last wrote to him, but he still hasn’t answered. He was never much good at writing.’ She’d heard that the Royal Tank Regiment was based in Aldershot. It wasn’t a lie that Jacob had joined up.
She just hadn’t mentioned that it was his way of leaving his family for good.

‘I bet his heart’s in his mouth, wondering where he’ll be posted when the fighting begins.’

‘I bet it is.’ She wondered if Jacob would be braver in the Army than he’d been in civilian life.

Ruby had never met Jim Quinlan before. He was, she supposed, unremarkable, though at times there was something almost beautiful about his still, tranquil face. She loved the way he always managed to give everyone his undivided attention, making them feel special, no matter how unimportant other people might think they were.

The Merchant Navy was his life. He’d signed on as a cadet with the Elder Dempster line sixteen years ago. Recently, he’d passed his First Master’s Certificate and was now a First Officer, the equivalent of a captain, though so far he’d never had a ship of his own. There was scarcely a country on earth he hadn’t visited on the ships, big and small, that carried goods and sometimes passengers, across the oceans of the world.

‘So, this is the famous pawnshop runner,’ he said when Martha introduced them in the Malt House on Saturday night. ‘Mam often mentions you in her letters. It’s nice to meet you in the flesh at last. You’re every bit as pretty as she said.’

‘Am I?’ Ruby stammered, strangely tongue-tied, glad she was wearing her new emerald green frock. Emily would have approved of the plain style, but not the colour.

‘You’ve got a husband in the Army, so I understand. And two children as well. How old are they?’

‘Greta’s three, Heather’s two. Their birthdays were last month.’

‘You don’t look much more than a child yourself.’ He smiled into her eyes.

‘I had my birthday last month too. I’m twenty.’

‘Twenty! You make me feel very old. I’m thirty-one.’

‘That’s not old,’ she protested.

‘Old enough to put pretty girls like you out of my reach – married ones in particular.’

Jacob would have to be killed as soon as the fighting started, Ruby decided. She would become a widow and put herself within the reach of Jim Quinlan.

Beth, sitting on her other side, joined in the conversation. ‘I suppose you’ve got a girl in every port,’ she said, fluttering her lashes and glancing at him coyly. She looked very pretty tonight in pale blue.

‘Only every other port. Will you excuse me? Me mam wants me a minute.’ Martha was beckoning to him from behind the bar.

‘Is that how you caught Jacob?’ Ruby said furiously when Jim had gone. ‘Looking at him like a dying cow?’

‘He’d be well used to cows, Jacob, after being married to you for so long.’

‘Women who flirt make me sick.’

‘You’re only saying that because you can’t flirt yourself.’

‘I wouldn’t want to. It’s degrading. Men either take me for what I am, or they don’t take me at all.’

‘They don’t take you at all as far as I can see. There’s only been Jacob and he did a runner.’

‘That was your fault, not mine.’ Ruby put an end to the argument by going to the Ladies. When she came out, she leant against the wall and watched Jim Quinlan who was sitting with an elderly couple, nodding now and then, oblivious to the noise in the crowded bar. His face was brown from the sun, the skin smooth, not weatherbeaten as she would have expected from someone who spent so much time in the open air. Tiny lines were etched around his hazel eyes and the lashes were short and stubby, very thick. She imagined him standing on deck, shielding his eyes against the sun with a hand that was surprisingly long and slender and also very brown.

Ruby shivered, imagining going to bed with Jim Quinlan, waking up in his arms. The delicious thought was interrupted by Martha shoving a plate of sausage rolls in her ribs.

‘Do us a favour, girl. Take these around. I’m up to me eyeballs behind the bar.’

‘OK.’ It would give her another chance to talk to Jim.

In June, Mrs Hart decided to leave the country for America. ‘I’ve a sister there, Nora. She lives in Colorado, I think I told you before. Once this damn war starts, it won’t be safe to cross the Atlantic.’

Ruby thought about Jim Quinlan who would have no choice but to cross the Atlantic no matter how unsafe. ‘What about Max?’ she asked.

‘He’s already been called up. He’s joined the Royal Air Force – he learnt to fly at university.’ She smiled. ‘I’m pleased to say he appears to have turned over a new leaf.’

‘Are you taking Tiger?’ Tiger had grown to an enormous size, though still considered himself a kitten. She scratched his chin and he purred appreciatively.

‘Unfortunately, I can’t. Nora already has two cats, both female. Tiger would be in his element, but I doubt if the resultant kittens would be welcome. No, he’s going to my friend in Childwall. I’m sure he’ll be happy there, won’t you, Tiger?’ The cat didn’t look particularly pleased about this arrangement and stared impassively at his owner. ‘I wonder, Ruby, dear,’ Mrs Hart went on, ‘if you’d do me a big favour?’ She took a small, brown envelope from out of the dresser drawer.

‘You know I will,’ Ruby assured her. Mrs Hart had become a dear friend and she was sorry she was leaving.

‘If I give you the keys, will you keep an eye on the house for me? It seems silly to sell it. They say the war will only last a couple of months and I’ll be back. Just look in every few weeks and make sure everything’s all right. I’m
having the mains cut off, so there shouldn’t be any floods or gas leaks, but I’ve put Nora’s address in there, so you can write and let me know if there’s a problem. And help yourself to anything from the garden, dear. You’ve had apples off the tree, so you know how lovely and crisp they are, and there’s rhubarb too. It tastes like wine.’

‘I’ll miss you,’ Ruby said, taking the envelope.

‘And I’ll miss you, Ruby dear, and your two lovely little girls.’ Mrs Hart looked close to tears. ‘But it won’t be for long, will it? In no time at all, I’ll be back and we’ll have tea together again; just you, me, and Tiger.’

It was a wonderful day, not hot, but comfortably warm, the golden sun dazzling in the cloudless blue sky, entirely appropriate for a
Sunday
. It was the sort of day that, under different circumstances, would have been regarded as a blessing from God, an example of how perfect the world could be when He felt in the mood.

In reality, the day was anything but perfect.

Ruby and Beth strolled through Princes Park. Jake was fast asleep in the pram that had once held Greta and Heather. The girls were scampering over the thick, dry grass, running in and out of the trees, calling to each other, their childish voices echoing sharply in the late afternoon air.

The faces of the young women were sombre. At eleven o’clock that morning, Great Britain had declared war on Germany after Hitler had invaded Poland, a country they had been bound by treaty to protect.

‘What are we going to do, about being evacuated, that is?’ Beth spoke in a low voice, as if half to herself.

‘I think we should go, though I don’t like leaving Arthur.’

‘Me neither. But I suppose the children should come first.’

‘Arthur would be the first to agree. He’d hate it if he thought we were staying in Liverpool because of him.’
Ruby watched Heather pull her older, more fragile sister, up a slight incline. Heather watched over Greta like a mother hen with a chick. Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of either of her daughters being harmed. Or Beth and Jake, come to that. She loved Beth like a sister and Jake as a son.

Arthur had made a fuss when they said they were going for a walk. He was expecting an air raid any minute. ‘Don’t go far,’ he’d warned. So they hadn’t.