Dead to Me Page 15

  ‘Then all I’ll say is that whatever you do, going ahead, or backing away, I’ll be right beside you,’ Verity said.

  Ruby half smiled. ‘I knew I could depend on you. Now let’s just get there. It’s going to be quite an ordeal, seeing Ma again.’

  Angie’s room in Rhyl Street was marginally improved from Verity’s previous visit. The bed was made, clothes had been picked up, and there were no unwashed cups or dishes lying around. Yet it was still dirty; there were balls of fluff on the lino, thick dust on the mantelpiece, and the oilcloth on the small table didn’t look as if it had been wiped over in months.

  Angie did, however, seem genuinely pleased to see Ruby, admiring her clothes, her hair and how tall she’d grown. But she didn’t attempt to embrace her.

  ‘Well, you ain’t my little girl any more,’ she said, looking her up and down. ‘Shame with all that learning and posh talk you got from that snooty woman that you didn’t learn to keep your knees together.’

  ‘Well, I’ve had a lifetime of lessons from you on how to lie on my back,’ Ruby retorted, her tone harsh and her face like stone. ‘But don’t you worry, Ma, I won’t make the same mistake again. You get me sorted out and I’ll be out of here.’

  ‘I was only teasing, don’t you go all snotty wiv me,’ Angie said. ‘The woman will be ’ere soon, and I got a cheap rate cos you is my kid. So don’t come all lah-de-da or she might put the price up.’

  They had a cup of tea while they waited for the woman to come. Angie spoke about some people in the road that Ruby used to know, and she said she was worried about what she’d do if war broke out. ‘A few bombs round ’ere and the ’ouses’ll come down like a pack of bleedin’ cards,’ she said. ‘I reckons I’d be better off movin’ out of London.’

  Verity saw Ruby’s look of panic that her mother might turn up in Babbacombe, and felt she had to chip in. ‘You’d be best moving to a small town up north,’ she said. ‘The Germans will be targeting the ports mostly. In fact I think all places on the coast will be at risk.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Angie said. ‘I didn’t think of that.’

  ‘Anyway, it might all blow over,’ Verity said, even though she knew that wasn’t likely, not the way things were going.

  Angie clearly wasn’t very bright, or sensitive, as she launched into telling her daughter how the abortion was going to be done, in very graphic terms.

  ‘She’ll get you to perch on a stool wiv yer legs wide open and she gets the end of the enema tube and puts it right up inside. Takes a while cos she ’as to get it right in the neck of the womb. Then she pumps in the soapy water. You know when it’s in the right place cos the water don’t come out. Then she’ll bugger off, and we wait for the pains to start and it all to come away.’

  Verity had a dozen questions. Was this enema thing sterile, could the soap cause a violent reaction, how bad would these pains be? And what if something went wrong and Ruby died? But she couldn’t ask them for fear of frightening Ruby still more – and anyway, Angie was already talking about how they used to do this procedure with a knitting needle.

  ‘Alright, Ma, shut up now,’ Ruby said in a shaky voice. ‘I don’t want any horror stories. And don’t let the woman tell me any, either.’

  ‘The pains are getting stronger,’ Ruby whispered to Verity.

  Verity had nodded off, even though she’d intended to stay awake lying beside her friend. But at the mention of pains getting stronger she was awake instantly. ‘What can I do?’ she asked. She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece; it was three in the morning.

  ‘Nothing, just stay there and keep me company. Don’t wake Ma up, she gets on my nerves.’

  Angie was asleep in an armchair, her slippered feet up on a footstool, and she was snoring for England.

  Angie had put a scarf around the central light to make it softer, and the fire had been banked up to keep the room warm, but even if the soft lighting masked how ugly and grubby the room was, what Verity had seen earlier was so ghastly she doubted she’d ever forget it.

  The abortionist was called Evie, a small red-headed Irish woman who appeared supremely confident and knowledgeable, but when she got Ruby on the stool and then put her hand right up inside her, talking all the while about how she had to open the cervix, Verity felt sick.

  She had already grated Lifebuoy soap into a bowl of boiled water, and she whisked it vigorously until the water was pink and frothy.

  Once she was satisfied she’d opened up the cervix, with one end of the enema douche in the soapy water, she slid the other end right into Ruby until she squealed. ‘That’s it, then,’ Evie said. ‘It always makes my ladies call out when it’s in right – bit like the thing that got you in this way, ducks.’

  Angie found that very funny, and poured herself some gin, but Ruby was white-faced and wide-eyed. Verity watched how Evie began squeezing the rubber bulb on the tube, pumping the soapy water into her friend.

  ‘I expect Angie’s told you,’ she said. ‘Soap is an irritant, and it starts up contractions. It’ll be no worse than your period – a few aspirins and you’ll be fine.’

  The whole thing was over in half an hour. Angie paid Evie, and she packed up her enema douche and her cheese grater, and left hurriedly. Ruby said she just felt bloated, nothing more.

  It was a very long evening. Angie didn’t have a wireless to distract them, and she carried on drinking gin and going on and on about the arguments she’d had with neighbours, how her landlord kept threatening to throw her out, and how the children downstairs made so much noise.

  The children were indeed noisy, they appeared to be playing some game in the hall, and their shrill voices were very irritating. There was a baby crying at the back of the house too, and every now and then a man would bellow for it to shut up. But there was noise from the street too: boys kicking a tin can around, women shouting for their children, drunks coming home singing and falling over. But by twelve it grew quiet, and that must have been when Verity fell asleep.

  ‘How bad is the pain?’ Verity whispered.

  ‘Strong, but bearable,’ Ruby whispered. ‘But I think I’m losing a lot of blood. Can you get me another pad?’

  Verity hadn’t taken off her blue tweed skirt and toning twinset in case she had to rush out to get an ambulance or anything. But Ruby was in her nightdress, and she was lying on the clean towel Verity had brought with her.

  As Verity pulled back the covers to help her friend change the pad, she was shocked at how much blood there was, and the smell of Lifebuoy was very strong.

  ‘Don’t look so alarmed,’ Ruby said. ‘You can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs, I expected a lot of blood. Just throw the pad on the fire.’

  Verity had found it distressing and embarrassing to watch the procedure Evie did, as she’d never seen another woman’s parts before, but that embarrassment was gone now, her only concern was her friend’s safety. Angie continued to snore as Verity sat beside her friend and rubbed her lower back for her, which appeared to help the pain. But the severity of the pain and the amount of blood she was losing was very frightening, and when Verity saw lumps of what looked like liver coming away she helped her friend on to a chamber pot and prayed silently it would soon be over.

  A sudden small splash and the almost immediate lessening of pain suggested the deed was finally done, and it was only then that Angie woke up.

  Verity felt nauseous but she managed to tell the older woman she thought it was over.

  ‘I’ll check,’ she said, helping her daughter off the chamber pot and peering into it. ‘Yeah, it’s done, you’ll feel better now, luv,’ she said to Ruby. ‘I’ll get rid of this, and Verity can make us all a cuppa tea.’

  ‘Do you feel better now?’ Verity asked her friend, once Angie had gone out of the room. She helped her to lie back on the bed. ‘I’ll wash you and put a clean pad on, shall I?’

  ‘Did you see it?’ Ruby asked, catching hold of Verity’s hand.

  ‘No, I couldn’t bear
to look.’

  Ruby began to cry silently. Verity held her in her arms and cried too, sharing her distress at what had just happened and the tiny life that was now gone.

  ‘What’s up wiv you two?’ Angie said from the doorway.

  Verity hadn’t heard her come back, and she turned her head towards the woman, but couldn’t bring herself to speak.

  ‘No point in gettin’ all soppy about it,’ Angie said. ‘It’s done now.’

  Ruby had slept after Verity washed her, and Angie went out saying she needed to see someone. Verity sat in the armchair by the fire and tried to read a magazine. But the light was too dim – and anyway, she couldn’t take anything in, because her mind kept constantly returning to what she’d witnessed.

  It was still only eight in the morning, although it felt much later, as she’d had so little sleep. Ruby had intended to catch the four o’clock train home, but Verity wasn’t sure she should do that. It seemed far too soon to be going anywhere.

  She turned to look at her friend sleeping. She was still very pale, but Verity thought that might be because of the poor light in the room. Outside it was a typical cold, dark January day, the street still quiet. Two old ladies emerged from the house opposite carrying shopping baskets, they looked pinched with cold.

  The best solution seemed to be to leave Ruby here for another night, Verity thought. She could come back in the morning and go with her to Paddington to see her off. But she really didn’t want to leave her friend to Angie and her less than tender mercies.

  Should she take Ruby home with her? She wanted to, but aside from the journey maybe being difficult for her, there was Aunt Hazel. She was always quick to sense anything unusual, and even with the best acting skills in the world Ruby wasn’t likely to be able to hide the fact that she was recovering from something.

  Hearing a little sound, she got up and went over to Ruby. She was awake, but with beads of perspiration on her forehead.

  ‘How are you doing?’ she asked. ‘You look hot. Shall I get you some water?’

  ‘I think something’s wrong,’ Ruby said in little more than a whisper. ‘I feel really poorly.’

  Verity put her hand on her friend’s forehead. It was hot enough to fry an egg. ‘Do you hurt anywhere?’ she asked, suddenly feeling frightened.

  ‘It feels like I’m tender everywhere, even my arms and legs, I can’t explain better than that.’

  ‘I’ll get you some aspirin and a glass of water. That should make it better.’

  ‘Has Ma gone out?’

  ‘Yes, she had to see someone.’

  ‘Getting away from us more like. She won’t come back until we’re long gone.’

  Verity was shocked that Ruby would think that of her mother, but perhaps she was right. After all, Angie had gone out very early, without a proper explanation. But it wasn’t just shocking to think a mother could care so little for her child, it was very frightening too, as Verity had been banking on her help and advice if anything went wrong.

  She got the water and the aspirin, and propped her friend up to take them. ‘I don’t think you can cope with the long train ride home today,’ she said sitting down beside Ruby, who had now slumped back down on the pillow again. ‘You should stay here another night.’

  ‘You’ll stay with me?’

  Verity looked down at her friend and, without an ounce of medical knowledge, she knew something was badly wrong. Being very hot was the only obvious symptom, but Ruby’s eyes looked cloudy too, and that weak voice wasn’t put on.

  ‘Of course I’ll stay with you until I’m sure you are okay,’ she said. ‘But I’m wondering if I should call an ambulance and get you to hospital.’

  ‘You mustn’t do that,’ Ruby whispered. ‘I’ll get in trouble, and Ma will too.’

  Another hour went past, and Verity sat beside her friend, from time to time wiping her face and neck with a cold wet flannel. But she sensed Ruby was sinking lower, she didn’t seem aware of anything, not even Verity bathing her face.

  By eleven Verity was beginning to panic that Ruby might actually die if she didn’t get her help. Whatever the consequence of that help, it wasn’t going to be as severe as death.

  ‘I’m going to slip out and call an ambulance,’ she said to Ruby. ‘I’ll do all the talking for you, I’ll say you started to miscarry when you got here to see your mum. If I deny you’ve done anything, they can’t prove otherwise.’

  Ruby just looked back at her with vacant eyes, it was clear she had gone past the stage of making a decision for herself.

  It was very cold out in the street, especially after the close, stuffy air indoors. Verity had noticed a telephone box the day before, two streets away. She ran all the way to it, her heart thumping with fear.

  She told the operator that she feared her friend was having a miscarriage, that she’d lost a lot of blood, and she believed her to have a very high temperature. After giving her name and Ruby’s, also the address in Rhyl Street, the operator said she was to go back and wait for an ambulance.

  The ambulance took Ruby to the Whittington Hospital in Archway, a hospital Verity had been to once before with her mother when she was about eleven, to visit a sick friend of the family. She had thought it rather exciting to see inside a big hospital. But to go there riding in an ambulance, watching her dearest friend vomiting suddenly and then becoming as limp and lifeless as a doll, was terrifying. She could smell the Lifebuoy soap on Ruby and she was sure the ambulance men could too, she wondered if they would call the police once they were at the hospital.

  Once in the casualty department, Ruby was wheeled away and Verity was told to sit in the waiting area. A young nurse came and took some details from her. Verity merely gave her Angie’s address, and said that Ruby had come to visit her mother on the previous day, but in the early hours of the morning she’d begun to miscarry. She said that Ruby had only told her she thought she might be having a baby a few days earlier and that was why Verity had come to visit her.

  Whether the nurse believed her she didn’t know. She made no comment at all, just wrote down the little Verity had told her and then went away.

  Verity felt her nerves were at breaking point after two hours passed with no one coming to tell her what was happening. The waiting area was full of people in some kind of distress: men with bloody heads as if they’d been in a fight, and others who had come hobbling in with leg injuries. There were several white-faced mothers holding a sick child or baby in their arms, a man with a young girl who looked like she’d broken her arm, and many old people, some of whom were talking to themselves.

  Each time an ambulance arrived their patient was wheeled straight in through the double doors where they’d taken Ruby, so she assumed all the people around her had arrived under their own steam and were not considered such urgent cases.

  Finally, at three thirty, Verity plucked up courage to go and ask a nurse about Ruby. She said she would find out, but Verity was to sit down and wait.

  But this time she didn’t have long to wait, as a doctor came out through the double doors and asked her to come with him. He led her to a small office and then turned to her.

  ‘Who did this to your friend?’ he asked point-blank.

  ‘Sorry! No one did anything to her,’ Verity said. ‘She just started bleeding this morning.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ he said sharply. ‘Tell me the truth.’

  She couldn’t, she’d promised both Ruby and Angie. The only way was to act indignant and stick to her story.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ she said, frowning at him. ‘I have told you the truth, and please may I know how my friend is? That, surely, is the important thing right now, not persecuting me for bringing her here for help.’

  ‘We had to take her to theatre for an emergency D and C,’ he said, his eyes sparking with anger. ‘She had lost a great deal of blood and it’s touch and go if she’ll make it. Maybe you knew nothing of what she’d done, but someone did this to her and they should be horsewhippe
d.’

  Verity felt faint, she slumped back against the office wall, her legs suddenly feeling like rubber. The doctor caught hold of her arm, led her to a chair, and pushed her head down between her knees.

  ‘Take deep breaths,’ he said. ‘Have you eaten anything today?’

  She managed to shake her head, realizing she hadn’t eaten anything since a couple of slices of toast yesterday morning.

  ‘Well, I suggest you go and get something, we have enough sick people in here to deal with as it is.’

  His brusque tone was evidence he had no sympathy for her. She didn’t want any further questions, so she pulled herself upright and slunk out.

  She found a bakery close to the hospital and bought a meat pie. At the first bite she remembered the day she had met Ruby for the first time and bought her a pie, and the thought that her friend might not survive made it difficult for her to swallow. But she forced herself to eat – the doctor was right, they didn’t need people fainting in the waiting room. And she had to stay strong in case the police came.

  Back in the hospital, she waited a further hour, all the time gnawing at her nails with worry. And when she couldn’t bear not knowing anything, she burst through the double doors and demanded to know how Ruby was.

  It was a sister she asked, a small woman who looked too wrinkled and old to still be working.

  ‘I just need to know,’ she begged her. ‘I don’t know whether to go home, or what. The aunt I live with will be worried about me and she’s not on the telephone.’

  ‘Just wait here,’ the sister said. ‘I’ll just make some inquiries.’

  The smell of disinfectant and other chemicals turned Verity’s stomach as she stood there waiting. There was so much feverish activity and noise too, porters wheeling trolleys with patients on them, nurses scurrying by, a bellowing sound coming from further down the corridor, and close by a child crying.

  The old sister came back. ‘Tell me, Miss Wood, is Wilby her brother or just a friend?’

  ‘No, it’s a lady that she’s very fond of,’ Verity explained, not wishing to admit Ruby lived with her for fear they might contact her. ‘Why do you ask?’