The Orphan Thief
The man walked around the room. ‘Anyone else here?’
Ruby shook her head. ‘He lives alone – he had a cat, but –’
‘Right, well, we need to get him moved. Are you able to stay here? Looters are creating havoc and this place will be stripped in no time if we leave it empty. I’ll get the authorities to send a recovery team. Can you cope with that? We’ll cover him with a blanket, so it won’t be too much for you to deal with. You poor girl, you must have had a shock. Need me to get a message to your mum?’
Once again, Ruby shook her head.
‘Just sit tight and they’ll get to you as soon as they can.’
Ruby nodded and watched the man leave.
Sitting in the room with a dead body wasn’t quite what she had planned, but it was warmer than being outside. She huddled onto a firm armchair and drew her knees up under her chin. She remained staring at the covered body for twenty minutes before a tap on the side door disturbed her dark thoughts. Guilty thoughts of being alive when so many were dead, and sad thoughts that shock had most probably killed Stephen Peabody. His house was intact whilst all around him lay in ruins, and yet he still hadn’t survived.
Ruby let a man and woman inside. When they entered the room, the man laid down a stretcher beside Stephen and both gave a brief smile towards Ruby.
‘Bert was right. Looks like his heart gave out,’ the man said after checking Stephen.
The woman tutted and spoke to Ruby. ‘You want to step outside, duck, or are you fine with us moving your dad –?’
‘He’s not my dad. He’s … he’s a sort of uncle.’
‘Sort of uncle?’ said the woman in uniform. She frowned and removed the blanket from the body. Her voice had a tone which disturbed Ruby, and her frown suggested something unpleasant.
‘My dad’s best friend.’
‘Aha, I see. Where’s your dad – want us to fetch him to see to his friend’s place?’
Ruby stood up. She’d heard about fate. Her mother had often spoke about guiding spirits, and her father spoke of God paving the way forward for those in need. This was her moment of need, and finding Stephen was fate’s way of showing her a safe haven.
‘I’ll deal with it. I’ll see it’s safe. His cat will need feeding. I can do that.’
The man from the rescue team gave a gruff cough, and the woman threw him a cold stare. Ruby knew why; she’d seen the stray animals feast in the streets, she wasn’t a fool.
‘I heard it earlier; he’d want me to look out for it,’ she said, determined to give a reason for staying.
‘Well, you knew him. Has he got papers?’ The woman spoke to Ruby and the man at the same time.
They looked around his desk and eventually found all they needed in the inside pocket of his coat, hanging by the door.
‘We’ll register him. The authorities will need to come and inspect the house for safety, no doubt, and this address with be listed as empty, unless … are you living here? I didn’t think to ask,’ the woman said.
‘I stay here at times,’ Ruby said, and crossed her fingers behind her back. It was a small white lie. She had stayed there at times, but not overnight, only when her father or mother took their books to Stephen for him to check. He’d helped with their accounts and they had paid him in groceries.
‘We’ll leave that part then, and maybe your dad can sort out the necessary. We’re off. Well done for being brave, not easy at your age, but girls are having to grow up fast during this war. Stay safe.’
As she heard the door click shut the house fell silent and Ruby absorbed what had just happened. Everything seemed like a story from a book. A horror story, and one from which she couldn’t escape. A tear slithered down her face, swiftly followed by more until she could no longer catch her breath between sobs. She’d found sanctuary for at least another night, and this place held memories. Cigarette and pipe smoke from Stephen and her father playing cribbage. Hearing her father laugh when Stephen lost and had to forfeit a few coins, or a dram of whisky. A simple friendship which both men acknowledged through daily actions or a game of cards. Neither of them were sentimentalists, but no one who’d known them could ever doubt their strong bond, which stemmed from their first day at school. Ruby also recalled the scratching sound of Stephen’s pen as he worked through the mathematics of their weekly earnings. And of how he’d helped her understand the muddle of learning her times table. He’d ruffle her hair and chortle out a ‘well done’ when she succeeded with a difficult sum. An uncle, as she’d told the woman? If that was what an uncle did to support a brother or niece, then yes, Stephen was her uncle.
CHAPTER 4
20th November 1940
Pulling the last of the small cupboards across the room back into their rightful place, Ruby stopped and stretched her back. Clearing the kitchen had proven to be quite a task for her, but the dust and soot from outside blew in each time she opened the door. During the day she’d cleaned and scrubbed Stephen’s property, and at night she’d slept through intermittent nightmares and new noises from outside.
Whilst wiping down the last of the shelves and replacing the few china cups Stephen owned, a babble of voices distracted her and Ruby went to the window at the front of the house, but could see nothing. The drone of aeroplane engines throbbed overhead. She had learned the difference between enemy planes and friendly ones, and she identified these as British. She grabbed the coat she’d found in Fred’s house and rushed out of the back door, locking it behind her. A Fire Warden stood on the pavement and Ruby could see he was watching a crowd of people walking past the entrance of the road. She saw many wore black armbands, and some carried flowers or wreaths. Another two planes flew overhead. Everyone looked skyward.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked the warden.
‘Burying our dead. Planes are out to stop the Jerries from attacking the cemetery. You should go. Pay your respects. Say a prayer for the dead. Think yourself lucky,’ he said.
Shocked to think the enemy might attack the dead and their mourners, Ruby shuddered. ‘Not all my dead can be buried. There’s nothing to bury,’ she said, her voice tightening with emotion.
‘Oh, God, girl, I’m sorry for your loss. My boy –’ The warden shrugged his shoulders mid-sentence and pinched his lips together.
Ruby watched his face flush red; she guessed his thoughts: men don’t cry. Put on a brave face.
She’d heard the words said to her brother so often; she now realised it was true. From now on, she’d put on a brave face. Become a boy inside. Keep her emotions to herself. Hide from the world her thoughts. She’d ‘toughen up’, as her father had often instructed her brother, James.
‘My gran’s body was found, but I don’t know what there is to bury. I told them her name. No one said anything about a funeral, and I forgot to think about it. I’m not a good granddaughter, am I? I must go. You are right. Sorry about your son.’
Fully aware she’d not drawn breath throughout her garbled speech, Ruby ran towards the crowd. She pushed herself into a line of mourners and picked up their solemn pace towards London Road Cemetery. As they stood beside their dead, a soldier in uniform lifted a camera and recorded the despair of the living. Ruby watched him, and wondered how he could bring himself to do such a job. It seemed ghoulish – an uncaring act. She frowned at him as he lowered his camera, and he smiled at her. A soft smile from a handsome face, one which looked neither ghoulish nor uncaring. It puzzled Ruby, for she’d expected an older male to look back at her, not one with youthful features. She moved along with the crowd and, when she glanced his way again, he’d moved away towards the back of the cemetery and out of view.
The town buried everyone in an open grave of tagged bodies. There was no time to look and see if it was your loved one’s name scribbled on the label in the large vat of beloved bones, huddled together after life, but there was time enough for someone to record their pain. All she could do was remain calm. Her duty was to pay her respects, shed tears and move forward at a snail’s pace. Ruby returned her focus upon the words of the officials performing their last task for over five hundred residents of their city. Her city. This war was beyond cruel. Its actions were vicious, and Ruby pledged there and then to bring back a little joy to her small community, however she could.
Once home, Ruby composed herself and wrote to Stephen’s sister. She’d put it off, unsure she’d want to learn of her own brother’s death by post, but there was no other way. In true Stephen style, all was in an orderly fashion at his desk and she sat to write in her neatest hand. It took several attempts, but the final version satisfied Ruby enough to hunt out a stamp. She’d seen the postman tramping across town and had been amazed by how soon things were returning to normal practice. Water dribbled through the house pipes once again, and for an hour she’d enjoyed electricity. Every day the city moved one step towards recovery. The clanging of factories repairing themselves gave renewed hope. Warnings to boil the water were called out on regular occasions, and Ruby heeded the instructions – surviving was to be her tribute to her family.
Rereading the letter for any possible additions, Ruby knew once Stephen’s sister received the letter and arrived she’d be without a roof over her head yet again. The letter was not a comfort to her, but she hoped it would comfort Stephen’s sister to know someone from the city cared about him.
Wednesday 20th November 1940
Ruby Shadwell c/o S Peabody, Accountant,
Garden Cottage,
Spon St,
Coventry.
Dear Mrs McBrae,
This is a difficult letter to write for several reasons. One, it is to inform you of your brother’s death. You might not be aware of what happened, but we have been attacked in the most vicious way. Fortunately, if that is the correct word to use, he was not killed by a bomb, as my family were in the dreadful attack upon our city. Instead, Stephen’s heart gave out with shock.
My own family were killed, so I am the only one able to write this letter. Sadly, Stephen has already been buried. The council organised a mass grave at London Road Cemetery. I’ll be willing to show you when you visit. Stephen’s house is in good order despite the crumbling surroundings, and I am staying here to ensure it is kept safe and clean. I keep a bed aired in anticipation of you receiving this letter and coming to Coventry to sort out your brother’s affairs.
My deepest sympathy and kind regards,
Ruby Shadwell, Miss
After posting the letter, Ruby took a walk around town. The queues still held strong, longer than ever. People wore an assortment of clothing, and held their heads high, the days of despair waning due to the united spirit to not allow the enemy to beat them down. The further she walked, she could see areas cleared of debris and personal items piled high in large mounds. She stood and watched lorry after lorry drive away, loaded with the city’s rubbish. After seeing the same thing street after street, she headed towards the Council Office, the only place she could think of to find someone to speak to about the seedling of an idea. For the first time since the bombing, Ruby had a purpose in life and was prepared to queue for an answer to her question.
Three hours later a woman beckoned her to a small room. Efficient and tidy in her brown suit, the woman gave the impression of someone who could be trusted. Her blonde hair was neat with buoyant curls seated at the nape of her neck. Her skin, peach and blemish-free, was a stark contrast to the dirt and grime gracing Ruby’s. For one moment Ruby experienced a sense of shame; her mother would not have approved of her sitting in such an important office looking like a vagrant.
‘Please, take a seat,’ the woman said, her voice soft and encouraging. A delicate hand directed Ruby to a chair with a gentle wave.
Ruby’s feet and legs ached, and she expelled a deep sigh as she sat down across the desk from the woman.
‘It’s hard work getting back on our feet, isn’t it? My name is Helen Morgan, but feel free to call me Helen. What can I do for you, Miss …?’
‘Shadwell – Ruby Shadwell,’ Ruby said, and watched as Helen frowned in recognition of the name.
‘My entire family were killed – gone. There was nothing left of them. They were crushed beneath our house.’
The woman put her hand to her mouth and Ruby heard a sharp intake of breath. She continued talking, wishing she wasn’t so blunt with her speech, but she needed to keep control of her emotions.
‘I believe you knew my mother, June Shadwell, and am grateful for you seeing me like this,’ Ruby said and tried not to speak in a monotone downbeat voice, but all strength and energy had left her in a dark mood. A fear of what was to come swamped any feeling of hope.
Another gasp left Helen’s lips and she moved both hands as if in prayer to her mouth. ‘I did know your mother. Very well, as it happens. I’m sorry for your loss. Your mother made my wedding dress several years ago. And I am … was a regular customer of your father’s. I am blessed enough to have not lost either my home or any member of my family, and I cannot imagine how you must feel,’ Helen said, and Ruby saw tears glisten in her eyes.
Ruby twisted the piece of damp scrap paper in her hand. She’d written notes whilst waiting in the street, but now she sat talking with someone she no longer needed them.
‘I feel numb, lost. Confused.’
‘I cannot register you here, Ruby. I’m a secretary manning the offices. Although I have more jobs every day. There’s so much to be done for recovery. Everyone else dealing with reissues are out there, in the temporary buildings.’ She pointed to the window.
Ruby shifted in her seat; there was nothing comfortable about it and her tense body ached. It was time to move the meeting along. Her future depended upon it and Helen had a long queue of desperate folk waiting outside.
‘I can deal with the registering. I’ve come about something different. I’ve questions to ask about personal items lying around the streets.’
‘Ask away, and I’ll see what I can help with. Your family’s items are yours to claim, Ruby,’ Helen said.
‘There’s nothing left. Nothing. I borrowed – no, took, as I still have it, a blanket which had blown from a house. There was no one there, no house. When I went to my gran’s I found a few things. Silly things, but they are mine, and it got me to thinking – what happens to all the other things lying around if no one claims them? Can they just be taken, collected and sold on, or given to those in need? I saw a mound of perfectly good items scooped up and put into a truck with mud and rubble. Such a wicked waste when so many have lost so much. I’ve an idea to set up a collection business. To repair, sell and, if possible, return to the rightful owners. It is something I can manage alone, and I’ve a feeling it would be useful to others.’
Helen stood up from her chair and walked to a filing cabinet. She tugged open the drawer and pulled out a form. She placed it in front of Ruby and tapped it with a manicured nail. Ruby sat on her hands, ashamed of her own dirt-ingrained ones.
‘You will need permission from the owners of the houses if they are contactable before you touch anything.’
Ruby flinched and thought of Fred’s photograph. She’d find him as soon as possible and return it to him. The last thing she needed was trouble with the police; she’d definitely be sent away from the city then.
‘I’m not sure what the War Department will expect of me if the war continues. I’m not much use with this short leg.’ Ruby tapped her thigh.
‘We’ll cross that bridge when need be; in the meantime, let’s get you set up with the great idea you have. The white form is to apply for a trading licence. You are under twenty-one, but I’ll act as co-owner until then. I want no payment. Your parents helped me, and it is my turn to help you. Red tape must not stop you from your dreams. Goodness knows we all have witnessed how quickly life can be taken from us.’
Helen placed the forms into a large brown envelope. ‘The form will take several weeks, possibly months, to process, given the circumstances, but maybe you could collect items to repair in the meantime. To take things without permission would be classed as looting – a criminal offence, which carries a prison sentence. Sadly, there is a lot going on at the moment, and several people have been caught red-handed. Make sure you are not one of them, Ruby.’
Ruby gave a gasp. ‘The blanket –’
Helen gave her a smile. ‘The blanket won’t be missed, and it’s between you and me. Don’t fret. Ruby, are you staying somewhere? Are you safe?’
Unsure whether to give her whereabouts to Helen as she was determined to remain as independent as she could, Ruby gave a tight smile. ‘I’m looking after a family friend’s house. He died, and his sister is coming from Scotland to arrange things.’
She gave away no more about her living arrangements, or where the house was. Helen might be kind and supportive, but Ruby could not risk being sent away from Coventry.
Helen tapped the white form on the desk. ‘Fill it in and return it to me when you are ready. Think of a name for your business and put it in this box. Your name and address must go in this one. Once done, we can make you official.’
Ruby’s heart gave a disappointing dip and rise. She had no formal address. ‘What if I move house?’ she asked.
‘Then you inform us and we amend the paperwork accordingly. Don’t worry, Ruby. I’ll help you.’
Rising to her feet, Ruby held out her hand. Helen had helped remove the depressive mood and fired up her passion of wanting to succeed once again. ‘Thank you. I’ll get the form filled in once I’ve given my idea some more thought.’
‘Good luck, and well done for being so brave. I’m not sure I’d be so clear-headed as you. We’ll speak again. And I am really sorry about your family.’
Outside in the damp air, the cold nipped at Ruby’s skin. A shiver ran down her spine and she gave herself a shake. Had she really just set herself on the path of a new business? And ensured she didn’t have to leave the city? Helen had been upbeat and reassuring, and her confidence renewed Ruby’s. She would fill in the form. She would make a new life for herself. It could be done.
She set her mind to speak with as many residents as she could. Stephen had always impressed the importance of good paperwork to encourage her father in keeping better records for the business. A task she would attend to once she and his sister had spoken face-to-face.
CHAPTER 5
25th November 1940
‘Excuse me. Was this your house?’
Ruby approached a woman perched on an upturned metal bucket, staring at a partial end of terrace house. The exposed interior showed brown striped wallpaper, a badly damaged horse-hair sofa, and she could see the building meant a lot to the woman. Large teardrops trailed from her chin, and she snuffled into a grey-white handkerchief.
‘I came back for my stuff, but I can’t find a thing.’ The woman waved her hand in front of her. ‘I’m exhausted. Too tired to look.’
Ruby didn’t like to say she looked worn to the bone, but that was exactly what the woman presented. A washed out, hollow-cheeked living ghost with black rings framing terrified eyes.
‘I lost everything too. It’s frightening, isn’t it? Have you found much yet?’ Ruby asked.
‘Only bits and pieces, and I haven’t got time to find more. I’ve got to get food for the kids. You stood in a queue yet? Murder on your feet, and nothing to sing home about at the end.’
‘I’ve stood in one. Three hours. Listen, go and get food for your children. I’ll scout around here and anything I find, I’ll store … er … over there,’ Ruby said, and pointed to a lopsided shed.
‘That’s very kind, but why? Why would you do this for me? A stranger?’
‘We have to pull together. And I’ll be honest with you. In a few months I’m getting a business licence to set up a shop repairing and selling unwanted items, or ones I’ve been given permission to salvage.’
‘How do I know you won’t take anything today?’ the woman said, and gave Ruby a frown.
Ruby clasped her hands together, then wiped them down her dress. They would not warm up with the cold wind and fresh sleet falling feather-like to the ground. She held her right arm out and flexed her fingers in readiness to shake hands.
‘Trust. We have to have trust between us; that’s all this city has left. I promise – promise to help you. I have nothing in my life except this new idea. No family, and no home of my own. I have to wait for the licence, but was told I could approach people like yourself. You are the first and I’ll be honest, at sixteen I’m finding this hard, but I have to survive, to carry on the Shadwell name.’
‘Shadwell?’ The woman rose to her feet. ‘As in Shadwell the grocer?’
Ruby lowered her head; just hearing someone else mention her family name and business was painful. She held her breath for a moment. ‘Yes,’ she said.
‘All gone? What a loss. Your dad gave me extras at the end of the week for the kids. I’ve four, and their dad’s away fighting. Your dad was a good man. Churchgoer like my mam. Girl, take anything broken and if you think you can fix it, sell it and get your shop going. Good for you. Brave girl. I’ll go and get food for the little ones; you have my trust,’ the woman said and took Ruby’s hands in hers.
As she walked away, she turned back and called out to Ruby. ‘By the way, what will you call your shop, just so I know what to look for if I find stuff I don’t want, or something I need?’
‘Shadwell’s Buy and Sell,’ Ruby replied. The name rolled off her tongue with ease for the first time. It came to her in that split second. It was meant to be and gave her a warm sensation of pride.
‘Sounds a good name to me. Good luck.’
Watching the woman pick her way out of the street, Ruby felt a strange sense of peace wash over her. She lifted her head skyward and smiled.
‘There you all are. Watching over me. I know you’re there; I’d never have thought of that name alone … Oh, and if you can think of how I might buy things with no money, I’d be grateful if you could let me know!’
With a light-hearted giggle, she blew a kiss to the clouds. Something had changed during her conversation with the woman. She’d found a friend. For Ruby, it was a crutch, something to hold onto during the dark, grey day – and beyond.
A fork here, spoons there, cracked plates, pillows, cushions, whole sideboard drawers were piling high inside the shed. No longer cold, Ruby worked with steadfast determination to find as much as she could for the family. Even a one-armed teddy bear lay, waiting to be reunited with its owner. Baby clothes made a large pile of messy washing, and Ruby didn’t envy the woman the task of cleaning them. With limited water, it was virtually impossible to wash her own clothing, but Ruby debated taking them home, then reminded herself of the pact she’d made. To take them away was not an option but, then again, they were in need of repair of sorts, and she was allowed to take what she wanted according to that conversation.
Around two in the afternoon, the woman reappeared with her family in tow. She hitched a baby on her hip whilst the others, the eldest no older than six, ran around the grounds of what had once been their home. A little girl ran to the teddy bear and squealed with delight.
‘Ah, you found Ted, thank goodness. Now maybe she’ll sleep at night.’
They walked to the shed and the heap of broken items, and Ruby opened the door.