Dead to Me Read online

  Verity nodded too, in total agreement, although she suspected she’d go along with anything this extraordinary woman said. How could she not trust someone who had spent her whole life taking in needy children? Her husband, who she had obviously loved dearly, had died a few years ago, and the only change she’d made since then was to take in older girls, because she felt small children and bigger boys needed the balance of both a man and a woman caring for them.

  ‘You girls won’t appreciate this now,’ Wilby went on, ‘but you are both approaching a crossroads in your lives. Which way you turn will be all important. I think from what your aunt told me, Verity, you don’t feel you are worth much, and that might make you take any old job rather than think what it is you really want to do.’

  Verity shrugged. ‘Maybe, but I don’t know what different kinds of work I could do. People say things like, “You’ll be married soon,” as if it doesn’t matter anyway.’

  ‘If there’s another war with Germany, and I believe there may be, young women will be needed to keep the factories, transport, banking, teaching and just about everything going. I believe all girls of your age should be prepared for what might come, and now is the time to think on it.’

  She paused, then looked at Ruby and smiled.

  ‘Ruby and I have discussed her situation quite a bit already,’ she went on. ‘She admitted when she first arrived here that she thought she could only survive on her wits. Now she’s beginning to read and write better, I think she is feeling more hopeful for the future. But you know, I think you too will cope very well if and when war comes, because you’ve already faced so many difficulties.’

  Wilby moved on then to dish out the supper, macaroni cheese with hard-boiled eggs sliced into it, and extra cheese on top. It was delicious, completely different to the tasteless dish of the same name Aunt Hazel made so often, and Verity had two helpings.

  They talked about books as they ate, and Wilby seemed impressed by both the quality and number of books Verity had read.

  ‘Reading is the quickest way to educate yourself. I’m delighted to see that Ruby’s reading is coming along in leaps and bounds now,’ she said. ‘But not quite at the point yet where she can’t put a book down.’

  ‘I expect that’s because she’s still reading too slowly to get the story in her head,’ Verity suggested. ‘But tell me, Ruby, won’t you be starting work soon?’

  ‘I’m going to start in the Palace Hotel next month. Starting as a chambermaid, and waiting on tables, but I’ll work up to managing the place.’ She grinned impishly at this, and Verity suspected that was actually her ambition.

  She envied Ruby, and even wished she could come and live here and do the same. But she couldn’t leave Aunt Hazel yet – and anyway, she had to get back to school to finish her school certificate.

  ‘I believe you could even do that,’ she said. ‘You’ve really made the most of the lucky break you were given. You speak better, you’ve got poise now, I think you could do anything.’

  ‘Yes, she’s a little marvel,’ Wilby agreed, smiling broadly. ‘And you coming to visit, Verity, will make her even more determined to get on.’

  It was only once they were in bed with the light off that Verity got up the courage to ask her friend about her mother.

  ‘I don’t know, and I don’t care,’ Ruby said in the darkness.

  ‘I bet you do care,’ Verity replied. ‘I want to know where my father is, even if I do hate and despise him.’

  ‘She didn’t even come to court to see me,’ Ruby said in a small voice. ‘She was the one who told me to go to that house in Hampstead. She’d been there, you see, with the man who lived there. They got drunk together. He paid her for sex and then passed out, so she took a look around and saw the clock.’

  ‘Really?’ Verity couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  ‘I wouldn’t tell you such a thing if it wasn’t true.’ Ruby’s voice sounded strained, as if it hurt her to admit this.

  ‘So why didn’t she take the clock herself? He could hardly call the police, if he’d been with her.’

  ‘He was the kind who’s got nasty friends. They would’ve come after Ma.’

  ‘So she told you about the clock and told you to go and get it?’

  ‘Yup. She said he wouldn’t be there during the day, but he was.’

  ‘Are you sure she knew you’d been caught with it? I mean, maybe she never heard.’

  ‘A policeman went round to see her early the same evening. He told her, and she wasn’t even drunk then, so she couldn’t have forgotten. The truth is, she was just glad to get me out of the way. I reckon, if I hadn’t been nicked, she’d have been making me go with men by now.’

  ‘Surely she wouldn’t do that,’ Verity whispered in the darkness. ‘No mother would.’

  ‘Don’t you believe it!’ Ruby made a snorting noise of derision. ‘She’d already made hints about it. Anyways, it were good she never came to court. Wilby wouldn’t have felt sorry for me, if she’d met Ma.’

  ‘I bet she would’ve, and given your mother a good ticking off,’ Verity insisted.

  Ruby sighed. ‘You don’t know what a good actress my ma can be. She’d put on her best frock and do her hair all nice, and she’d have the judge and Wilby convinced she’d done her best for me and that I was the wrong ’un.’

  There was a hint of pride in Ruby’s last statement, and Verity realized that they were the same in this. They both had flawed mothers – some would say terrible ones – yet, despite that, it could be said that both girls loved them.

  That was the point when Ruby began to tell her about ‘the man they couldn’t hang’, and Verity must have fallen asleep before the end of it.

  The first week in Babbacombe was bliss to Verity. Lovely balmy weather, restful, peaceful and calming. Unlike Aunt Hazel, Wilby didn’t go on and on about what chores had to be done, she just calmly pointed out what needed doing, be that laying the table, sweeping the kitchen floor or peeling some potatoes, and she would get on with making a pie or a cake and let them work around her.

  Verity had always liked to feel involved and useful but Miss Parsons, and latterly Aunt Hazel, had always hovered over her as she did jobs, implying she was doing it all wrong. Not Wilby, she barely even glanced at what the girls were doing, trusting them to do it well. The only comments she ever made were to compliment them on a job well done.

  The structure to each day was comfortingly unchanging: breakfast in the garden, because it was such lovely weather, and then Wilby dished out a few chores. Later, she went shopping and she liked the girls to go with her. The shops in St Marychurch were only a short distance away and much nicer than the ones Verity was used to in Lee High Road, so that was no hardship. And they were always back for elevenses. Wilby made them milky Camp coffee, which seemed very sophisticated.

  Ruby had lessons then until one o’clock, but Wilby included Verity in them and made them fun. While Wilby went off to the kitchen to make lunch she would get Verity to help Ruby with her reading.

  The current book was What Katy Did, an old favourite of Verity’s, and each day Ruby complained that they hadn’t read enough of it by the time they were called for lunch.

  Wilby liked to have a rest in the afternoons, and the girls were allowed to go out on their own. Sometimes they just sat on the grass on the Downs, watched the holidaymakers and talked, but on other days they went down to the beach. It was always a toss-up as to whether to make it easy on themselves by taking the funicular down to Oddicombe Beach, or take the tougher way of walking down the steep path through the woods to Babbacombe Beach. Oddicombe Beach was always in the sun – and there was a little sand, which was easier on bare feet when they paddled – but Babbacombe Beach had rock pools at low tide, which were fun to poke into. And there were boys fishing on the old stone pier.

  Boys were something of a mystery to Verity, as she’d never got to know any. But Ruby was very enthusiastic about them, and she coached Verity to look inter
ested in what the boys had caught, and to flirt with them. Ruby was adept at flirting; she had a way of catching a boy’s eye, smiling shyly, then turning her head away, so that in no time at all he came over under some pretext to speak to her.

  They made up stories about themselves to tell boys: that they were cousins sent down to Devon because of an epidemic of scarlet fever in London, or that they were just visiting their aunt before going off on a steamer to America.

  One day, as they walked back up the steep hill, Ruby started to laugh.

  ‘Our real stories are far more exciting than the ones we make up,’ she said. ‘I almost went to prison, and you are the daughter of a swindler who’s on the run. And here we are trying to be so terribly posh.’

  Verity laughed too, she hadn’t thought of it like that before. ‘If we did start telling boys the truth, they probably wouldn’t believe us. How daft is that!’

  They walked on a little further, panting because the hill was so steep. ‘I wish I could stay here with you for ever,’ Verity suddenly blurted out. ‘Aunt Hazel does her best, and I know she’s grown fond of me, but it hasn’t ever felt like home. I hate having no bathroom and the lavatory being outside. It’s going to be horrible there in the winter.’

  Ruby patted her on the shoulder, a silent gesture of understanding. ‘When I first got here, I was scared to get into the bath,’ she admitted. ‘I’d never had one before. I had to wash in a bowl. But I’d hate to go back to that again. If you want, I’ll ask Wilby if you could stay?’

  Verity pulled a glum face. ‘Even if she agreed, I know I can’t stay. I need to go back to school and get my school certificate.’

  ‘Maybe you can come back after the exam and get a job here?’

  ‘I owe it to Aunt Hazel to help her out with money for at least a year,’ Verity said. ‘Anyway, by then you might have met a boy, and we might be bored with one another.’

  Ruby looked at her friend, her eyes twinkling. ‘I would never get bored with you,’ she said. ‘And Wilby thinks you’re a good influence, which is handy.’

  Knowing how Wilby felt about her prevented Verity from agreeing to Ruby’s wilder schemes. Ruby wanted to slip out the following evening to meet a couple of boys they’d spoken to during the afternoon. They were seventeen-year-olds, and Verity had not only felt intimidated by them but she also knew Wilby was far too smart to believe the cock and bull story Ruby planned to tell her.

  ‘We can’t do that,’ she insisted, and then explained why. ‘Don’t spoil what you’ve got here just to meet a boy.’

  Ruby sulked, but she did finally agree she would forget the idea.

  ‘I thought you’d be game for a bit of adventure,’ she said, glowering at Verity. ‘I didn’t expect you to be a goody-goody.’

  Verity said nothing. She wished she had the words to tell her friend that being here on holiday with her was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and she didn’t dare do anything that might upset Wilby and turn it sour. Nor could she bring herself to admit she was afraid of boys because of what her father had made her do. It was too awful.

  There was a slightly strained atmosphere that evening. Ruby didn’t chat as she normally did, using the excuse she wanted to listen to the play on the wireless. If Wilby sensed anything, she didn’t remark on it and got on with her embroidery. Verity was relieved that the play was a good one and a perfect excuse for keeping quiet.

  That night when they went to bed was the first time Ruby didn’t talk to her after turning out the light. Verity whispered that she was sorry, but there was no response.

  They woke the next morning to the sound of heavy rain.

  ‘Well, that’s it, the summer’s over,’ Ruby announced, bouncing out of bed and going over to the window to pull back the curtains.

  ‘Does that mean I’ve got to go home?’ Verity asked, thinking that was what Ruby meant.

  ‘Of course not, you daft moo,’ Ruby grinned. ‘Sorry I was mean last night.’

  Verity felt like a sunbeam had just shone through the window and tickled her nose. ‘You don’t need to say sorry, I felt bad because I was being so dull. So what are we going to do today in the rain?’

  ‘You can help me with my reading. There’s a Sherlock Holmes book downstairs, I’ve had my eye on it for a while.’

  Verity was thrilled she’d been forgiven. ‘Okay, sounds perfect for a wet day.’

  Wilby set some sums for Ruby to do after breakfast, and Verity went into the kitchen to help with the washing-up.

  ‘What was all that about yesterday?’ Wilby asked.

  ‘Nothing much,’ Verity said quickly.

  ‘I bet she wanted to do something you didn’t approve of,’ Wilby said. She looked hard at Verity, as if daring her to lie.

  Verity shrugged, not wanting to admit Wilby was right.

  ‘I expect it was a boy. I’ve noticed she seems rather precocious in that direction.’ Wilby sighed, as if that troubled her. ‘Sadly, girls brought up without any love or guidance almost inevitably fall into the arms of the first sweet-talking man who comes along.’

  ‘But you’ve helped her, and shown her another way to live,’ Verity said. ‘She isn’t going to want to go back to her old life.’

  ‘Of course not, Verity, but young girls – especially ones as hungry for love as Ruby is – are at risk of being used and talked into going further than they intended. In such cases, the girl often finds herself in trouble, and the young man who once vowed he loved her often disappears.’

  Verity wanted to show her indignation, to tell the older woman Ruby would never be that easily led, yet as unworldly as she was, she sensed Wilby was right. If Ruby had gone out last night, something might well have happened. Those two boys weren’t looking for a girl to just talk to.

  ‘You look shocked, dear,’ Wilby said. ‘Perhaps you think me hard on Ruby?’

  ‘No, I don’t think that,’ Verity said. ‘You know far more about such things than I do. Is there anything I can do to help Ruby?’

  ‘Just be her friend, and let her be yours, confide in one another, make her know you care for her,’ Wilby smiled. ‘You’ve got enough to deal with in your own life, Ruby told me you are dreading going back to school.’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ Verity said, hanging her head. ‘They’ll whisper about my mother gassing herself, and some will know about my father too. What can I say or do about it?’

  Wilby gave her a hug. ‘Hold your head up high, dear,’ she said. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong, remember. People soon get bored talking about someone who doesn’t react to it. Now let’s see how Ruby has got on with those sums I set her.’

  Two weeks after she’d arrived in Torquay, Wilby and Ruby waved Verity off on the London train.

  Verity leaned out of the window and waved until she could no longer see them, then slumped down on to the seat and wiped the tears from her eyes. Just the thought of being back in Aunt Hazel’s dreary little house made her feel like bursting into tears. Wilby had suggested she came again during the Christmas holidays, but that seemed such a long way off.

  Her first period had arrived two days ago, and she had been so glad that Ruby was there to tell her what to do. She thought she might die a death if she’d had to ask her aunt.

  Back to school too. Another thing she wasn’t looking forward to. But, as Ruby pointed out, it wasn’t for much longer.

  She must start planning what to do when she left.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  1937

  ‘No, Michael, I mustn’t,’ Ruby said, pushing his hands away from her breasts. ‘Besides, it’s time I went home.’

  It was a miserable, wet and cold evening in October, and Michael had promised to take her to the pictures to see The Prince and the Pauper with Errol Flynn but instead he took her to a pub in Wellswood in his car, and then after a couple of drinks brought her down to Meadfoot Beach.

  It was high tide, and every now and then a wave came right across the road, almost hitting their car parked o
pposite under the cliff. Michael said it was romantic, but Ruby had the sneaky feeling he’d only brought her down here to have his way with her.

  She had been seeing Michael for six weeks now and she had fallen hopelessly in love with him. He was everything she liked in a man – tall, dark and very handsome – she thought he looked a bit like Errol Flynn, with the same smouldering eyes. He was a reporter, and he’d told her that they wanted him on The Times. But that would mean moving to London and leaving her, unless she went with him.

  ‘Just a few more kisses,’ he pleaded with her, and his hand slid right up under her jumper before she could stop it.

  His kisses made her feel like she was floating away on a cloud, and all at once she realized he’d unfastened her bra. The touch of his hand on her bare breast was so delicious she lost the will to attempt to stop him.

  A few more kisses and he had his hand up her skirt, his fingers finding their way inside her.

  ‘You mustn’t,’ she said weakly, but it felt so good she was writhing against him, wanting more.

  Suddenly her knickers were off and he was pushing her down on to the seat, unbuttoning his fly.

  ‘Michael, no!’ she said in alarm. ‘I might have a baby.’

  ‘You won’t, I’ll be careful,’ he said, his voice all husky with passion. ‘You are so beautiful, Ruby, I must have you. You know I love you, there’s nothing to worry about.’

  He’d never said he loved her before, and somehow that overrode any further objections.

  It hurt a bit, and she was very uncomfortable, because her legs were stuck at an awkward angle while he bore down on her, breathing heavily. But it didn’t last very long. He made a loud sort of sigh, and then he was still. Almost immediately he sat up and tucked himself away.

  Ruby wanted to say, ‘Is that it?’ All this time she had imagined something amazing, she hadn’t expected just a grubby little fumble, a few thrusts, and it being over in seconds.

  But she didn’t say anything. She was embarrassed, a bit ashamed, and she felt silly that she hadn’t known what to expect.