The Orphan Thief. Glynis Peters

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СКАЧАТЬ window, but there was no response. She did the same to five other houses in the row. All residents were elsewhere. Ruby headed back to Fred’s house, which sat at the end of the terrace, and went around to the back garden. She doubted he’d begrudge her any foodstuffs, and she’d pay him back when she was able. Only a small patch of turned over soil laid untouched by debris. She peered through the broken back window and door and then, taking a deep breath, Ruby stepped inside. Now she added trespassing to her sins. A shiver passed through her body as she stared around the home. How scared Fred must have felt. Shelves swung downwards, their contents on the tiled floor. The house appeared worse inside than from outside, and Ruby pondered the safety of the walls. She took another look at the exterior and, aside from one or two roof tiles missing, the brickwork seemed sound. She listened. No hissing sounds unnerved her – no gas pipes releasing their explosive poison.

      Ruby spotted a photo frame lying face down and lifted it away from a pail of dirty water. She rubbed away the grime on the glass, and a young couple from an era long gone smiled back at her. The petite young woman in the picture held a small bunch of flowers. A bride and groom, standing in the kitchen where she now stood. This house had been a home of longstanding to Fred and Elsie Lester. Life and age had taken Fred’s wife before Ruby was born, but the enemy had destroyed their home – all he had left of the life they’d shared – and anger built inside Ruby’s chest to the point of exploding into screams, and she feared once she started she’d never stop.

      She’d witnessed a woman’s face twisted with grief, receiving a resounding slap for hysteria, and another bellowing out a sound so guttural and raw Ruby knew the woman had lost her mind. She’d seen a man beat the crumbling wall of a house, his screams as high-pitched as any female. Their pain had been so deep they’d never recover, and Ruby closed a door in her heart to prevent the same happening to her. She locked in memories and her own deep pain so tight; each time she sensed an inkling of it breaking free she suppressed the feeling and replaced it with another. Now was the time for survival. She had little doubt the tears would find her further down the years, but for now she needed to focus on the positive side of things.

      She made a decision there and then. Although she wasn’t close to Fred, he’d been a friend of her gran’s and he was alive. He deserved a home to come back to, and Ruby vowed she’d work and clear the old man’s home in readiness for his return. He looked as if he’d suffered a broken arm when she’d seen him being led away, so she had no doubt, once fit, he’d want to come home. She’d repair as much as possible, as payment for her rent whilst she stayed there. Fred’s home would survive, where hers hadn’t.

      Before she got started, Ruby spent time looking for anything edible. Her hands trembled with hunger, and nausea came in waves. A knob of bread and a thin slice of cheese with a sprinkle of grit sat on the side. A supper untouched; he’d probably prepared it before the siren sounded. She cleaned away as much as she could of the grit and dust, ate it without noticing flavour or added soot, and washed it down with the remains of water left in the kettle. Mains water appeared to be cut off, as did the electricity and gas. After finding a small torch, she set it to one side for the evening. Dragging a mattress still with a bottom sheet wrapped around it, and which she noticed matched Fred’s sling, Ruby made herself a makeshift bed in a corner of the kitchen and then started her cleaning mission with fierce determination. A strange smoke-filled sky made everywhere warmer and darker than normal, and Ruby worked in a dream-like state.

      Four hours into clearing broken items into one side of the garden, the light disappeared. She dragged a blown-off door from the left of the property, unsure if it belonged to the old man’s house or the neighbour’s, but it was too useful to be left to rot. She propped it across the window from the outside and hoped it would help block some of the cool wind building into freezing air. She’d placed the torch in the lower part of the room, finding its shadow and glow a comfort. Grateful for the two greatcoats she found hanging on the back of a door hanging by one hinge, she pulled one of them on. It wasn’t too large around the body, nor too long. The second she placed on the bed. No longer hungry, just exhausted, Ruby climbed onto the bed and gave in to sleep.

       CHAPTER 3

      17th November 1940

      ‘Next.’

       Boom!

      ‘Next.’

       Crash!

      Ruby, startled awake by loud male voices and explosions too close for comfort, rubbed her eyes and scrambled from her bed. She tried to peer from a smashed window to the front of the house, but saw nothing. She picked her way outside, but again saw nothing. Only distant noises filled the air and, satisfied it was a dream which had woken her, she gave in to nature as it begged her to heed its call. She snatched up a bucket from the yard and took it inside. Once relieved, she emptied the contents in the back far corner of the garden and covered it with soil. As she walked back through the garden, she spotted movement a few doors down, then came another explosion and, to her horror, the building collapsed to the ground. Ruby stood stock-still, her heart catching in her throat. She wanted to run or crouch, but her legs wouldn’t move.

      Was the enemy bombing nearby? The thought threaded fear throughout her body. She tried to take a step.

       Boom. Crash.

      They were getting closer and, if captured, Ruby dared not to imagine the consequences.

      She weighed up the time left for her to gather up Fred’s personal effects and leave before they reached the end of the row. She used the blanket she’d found and pulled several items into it, including two tins of Spam and a cabbage from the garden. She tied it with a length of rope, hoisted it onto her hip and moved to the front of the building.

      ‘Halt!’

      Without waiting to find out if the instruction was for her or the men in uniform she’d spotted near a truck at the front of the property, Ruby moved quickly, her mind settling on the best place to hide. She’d return to Radford Common. Escaping the enemy was a priority. She’d heard the adults discuss what would happen to young women if captured. Whispers of rape and abuse amongst the parishioners of their local church one Sunday remained with her. More than once she’d heard her mother whisper her fears for Ruby to a customer or two. The dread of those overheard conversations spurred Ruby on now, her legs bruised with the baggage she carried. Her hip, sore from the metal saucepans and precious colander, hindered the speed she travelled, but she was determined not to stop.

      Once satisfied she had enough distance between her and the explosions, she looked about for someone to report the presence of the enemy, but all she saw were miles of shell-shocked people leaving the city.

      Her weighty load forced her to stop halfway, and she took in her surroundings. Bombed car factories. Bewildered people. Smells which made her gag, some which made her mouth water; whichever way she turned there was something new to scare her, amaze her or turn her stomach.

      Across the road, she heard another team of men shouting instructions to one another. They were clearing the building they stood next to and, as the bricks tumbled to the floor, Ruby felt a bubble of hysterical laughter brew inside her belly. Sudden realisation released the pent-up fear she carried. The men she’d fled weren’t the enemy; they were British soldiers and workmen clearing the unsafe buildings. A sadness hit her hard and the pending hysterical laugher was soon suppressed. With the men clearing unsafe properties, it meant Fred’s house would match that of her grandmother’s, and Ruby recognised the fact she’d been rendered homeless once more. There was no turning back, and she made a decision to find the den she’d slept in after the bombing and trudged on towards the greensward.

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