‘Ma, Wilby doesn’t allow smoking in this house,’ Ruby said. ‘Could you put that out?’
‘Well, fiddle-de-dee!’ Angie snapped. ‘No smoking! Bet you get everyone down on their prayer bones too, an’ all, bet that’s why my Ruby don’t want to visit ’er old ma no longer.’
‘If you are going to be insulting, Ma, you’d better go,’ Ruby said. ‘Wilby is not a bible basher, and she only bans smoking inside because she believes it’s bad for the children’s young lungs. I could hardly come to visit you in a wheelchair, and even before that I didn’t want to because of the way you live.’
Angie stubbed her cigarette out in the sink. ‘Well I’m ’ere now and you’d best tell me ’ow you are.’
Wilby interrupted and suggested Mrs Taylor sat down and that they all had a cup of tea.
‘Nice ’ouse you’ve got!’ Angie said, looking around with a somewhat scornful look. ‘’Spect it costs a pretty penny to run, is your old man rich?’
Wilby felt her hackles rise. ‘I am a widow,’ she said. ‘And the housekeeping costs are none of your business. Now I suggest you say what you’ve come to say, then leave.’
Angie sneered at Wilby. ‘I ain’t goin’ nowhere tonight. I’m sure there’ll be room for me in my Ruby’s bed. Won’t be the first time we’ve ’ad to bunk in together.’
‘Mother!’ Ruby exclaimed. Two bright red spots on her cheeks showed how angry and embarrassed she was. ‘You do not speak to Wilby like that. I don’t want to share a bed with you, not even a room. Look at the state of you! Get out of here, crawl back to whatever hole you came out of.’
Wilby realized that she had to be the adult here. She didn’t like the look of the woman, she didn’t want her in the house. But it was too late to expect her to find somewhere else to stay in the blackout, and she didn’t want to have it on her conscience that she’d thrown someone out to sleep rough.
‘Now, Ruby, that’s enough,’ Wilby said. ‘She is your mother and she’s come a long way. She can sleep in the box room, the bed is made already.’ She paused and turned to Angela. ‘But you, my dear, are going to be polite and obey my house rules. So no smoking, no swearing and no unpleasantness, or I’ll show you the door.’
‘You didn’t even tell me my girl ’ad been ’urt,’ Angie spat at Wilby. ‘You think she’s yours, don’t yer?’
‘I sent you a telegram the day after Ruby was hurt,’ Wilby said calmly. ‘And you know this because the telegram boy put it in your hands, as telegram boys always do. When you didn’t come or even telephone, I wrote you a letter telling you what had happened. And don’t tell me you didn’t get that, either. Because if you didn’t get it, or the telegram, how on earth would you know she’d been hurt?’
‘Yes, Ma, how would you know?’ Ruby asked. ‘I bet you were drunk both times, put the telegram and the letter down and forgot. Just like you forgot about me when I had that abortion and nearly died. Just like all the times you forgot to buy any food for me and spent the money on drink. I sometimes wonder how I survived my childhood.’
Angie’s face crumpled. ‘Okay, you got me bang ter rights. I admit I’ve let you down. But I’m ’ere now, I wants to know ’ow you are, if you’ll ever walk again, and all that.’
‘Yes, you are here now, unfortunately.’ Ruby turned her wheelchair, as if to leave the kitchen. ‘All you bring with you, Mother, is bad memories. You can stay tonight, it’s too late to go anywhere else now. But you leave tomorrow.’
‘Just talk to me now, tell me how you are?’ Angie begged.
Wilby saw how hard Ruby’s face had turned, and it hurt her to think how much Ruby must have gone through with her mother.
‘What is there to talk about?’ Ruby sneered. ‘I know you’ve come because you haven’t got anywhere else to go. I bet you’ve been slung out of Rhyl Street. Did you do the business at Paddington with someone to get the train fare here?’
Wilby was shocked that Ruby could be that cruel. Yet she could see by Angie’s expression that she had hit the nail right on the head.
‘I’ll show you to the box room,’ Wilby said quickly. ‘Please keep quiet, as there’s two little boys up there asleep. You can have a bath if you like, the water’s hot. We’ll talk in the morning.’
Wilby saw Angela up to the box room and gave her a towel to use. She came back downstairs and made some cocoa to take in to Ruby.
Ruby was just sitting on her bed, leaning forward and gripping the parallel bars as if to practise walking again.
‘I bet you are going to tell me off for not being nice to her,’ she said.
‘No, I understand too much for that.’ Wilby put the cocoa down and sat on an easy chair. ‘But tomorrow you will have to deal with her. You’ll tell her how you are, and say she can’t stay. If necessary, you’ll give her the train fare back to London.’
‘It’s all the wrong way round with her and me,’ Ruby said, and her voice was full of despair. ‘I always had to be the adult. If I give her money, she’ll just stay in town getting drunk. She’ll get arrested, and we’ll have the police at the door. Why couldn’t she have been killed in the Blitz, instead of someone sweet and kind who people actually wanted in their lives?’
Wilby couldn’t even bring herself to tell Ruby off for saying such a wicked thing.
‘The thing is, we have to deal with her tomorrow,’ Wilby said. ‘And my suggestion is that I give her breakfast, you talk to her and give her a pound or two. But I’ll take her to the station, buy her a ticket and put her on the train to London. That way you’ve done the right thing, and if she gets herself into any trouble you won’t have to feel responsible.’
Ruby sipped her cocoa, looking glum. ‘The worst thing is,’ she said eventually, ‘that I don’t even know what made her go off the rails in the first place. The chances are it was something far worse than I, or even Verity, have been through. Aren’t we all the sum of everything that’s happened to us?’
‘To a certain extent,’ Wilby said. ‘But we each have a mind, and we can choose whether we let the bad stuff influence us for ever or decide to rise above it. As you and Verity have.’
‘But we had you, and we had each other too – well, recently, that is.’
Wilby got to her feet and gathered Ruby into her arms. ‘I love you, Ruby, you’ve given me back far more than you’ll ever know. You’ll do the right thing with your mother tomorrow. I know you will. Now off to bed with you.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Archie walked past the raddled-looking older woman pushing a wheelchair and, somewhat surprised by her appearance, looked again. Just one glance at her blotchy, flabby face was enough to know she was a heavy drinker, and judging by her very shabby clothes, she’d fallen on hard times. Yet the woman in the wheelchair was young, pretty and fresh-faced, with flame red curls.
‘I can see why you likes it ’ere, Ruby,’ the older woman said, her voice rough and her accent a London one. ‘Maybe you and I would ’ave done better if we’d lived somewhere like this when you was a nipper.’
Archie was startled by the name Ruby. It jangled a bell in his mind.
When he first moved into Weardale Road he’d gone through all Verity’s letters and other papers to find out all he could about her. He found a whole stack of letters from a girlfriend; she was called Ruby and lived in Babbacombe.
There was nothing in these letters to interest him, just the inane prattling of young girls, which was why until now he hadn’t remembered the name of the other girl, and he still couldn’t remember the road she lived in. He’d been walking up and down all the streets, hoping to see one with a familiar name, but he’d been out of luck.
Resigning himself to the reality that looking for Verity would be like the proverbial needle in a haystack, he came up on to the Downs. It was a lovely spring day, and although he wasn’t a nature lover he had to admit the view of the sea from there was spectacular, just as Verity had claimed.
Ruby was most definitely the name of her friend, but
Verity hadn’t said the girl was in a wheelchair, so that couldn’t be her. Anyway, that old hag pushing her couldn’t be the woman Verity’s friend lived with, as she was by all accounts holier than the Pope.
Disappointment had made Archie feel weary, so he sat down on a bench. In the guest house last night he’d had a bath, scrubbed his shirt, washed his pants and socks, and although he had to put them on again this morning and they were slightly damp, it made him feel better. He’d even borrowed shoe-cleaning stuff from the landlady, and a clothes brush.
He’d walked to Exeter Station feeling fine, but when he bought the paper and opened it, there was his picture. It was an old picture – one he’d always liked, as it flattered him, wearing an evening jacket and bow tie – but he didn’t like what it said about him one bit. ‘Ruthless killer and con man’ was how he was described. The police had joined up all the dots now, and knew it was he who had killed both Pearl and Mildred. They also knew he was in Bristol, as the barber who shaved him had called the police. He was suspicious about a man who put an eye patch on before leaving his shop, when he didn’t appear to have anything wrong with his eye.
So now they knew he had a moustache and beard too.
At least he wasn’t on the front page. That was taken up with a story about people in Bethnal Green being crushed to death as they ran into the underground station they were using as an air-raid shelter. One hundred and seventy-three died, which made him killing two women seem like nothing.
Although weary, he felt strangely calm about everything. He felt he ought to be flapping and terrified; he didn’t even have any kind of plan, other than finding Verity and killing her. That was the only thing that mattered to him, and maybe once it was done everything else would drop into place.
‘Right, Angie, on you go,’ Wilby said jovially, giving the woman a little nudge to get her on the three o’clock train. ‘Sorry it wasn’t a better trip for you. But at least you got a chance to speak to Ruby.’
The guard blew his whistle and Wilby sighed with relief as she slammed the train door shut. Ruby had given her mother ten pounds, but they both knew she’d spend most of that in a pub as soon as she got back to London.
Wilby walked along beside the train, waving so Angie wouldn’t feel quite so rejected.
As the train gathered speed, she left the station to catch a taxi home.
‘Please tell me she did actually get on the train,’ Ruby called out as she heard Wilby come in through the front door.
‘Yes, she did,’ Wilby replied, going into the dining room to speak to Ruby. ‘But you, my girl, need to learn a little compassion. I know she’s embarrassing and a complete failure as a mother, and to be honest I wanted her out of here as quickly as possible, but we don’t know all the reasons why she is like she is. Maybe, if we did, we’d get down on our knees and thank God for not inflicting that on us.’
‘I take your point, Wilby,’ Ruby grinned cheekily. ‘But she didn’t once ask about my injuries, and she had no real interest in hearing about Luke, or where I’ll work when I’m able to again. Between thinking about her next drink and fag, she can’t manage anything else.’
Wilby leaned on the doorpost and sighed. ‘Well, she did leave an impressive tidemark on the bath! I doubt she’d had a bath for weeks. Anyway, she’s gone now. And more to the point, how is the walking practice going?’
Ruby hauled herself out of the easy chair, braced herself, and then took two unaided steps towards the parallel bars.
‘That’s wonderful!’ Wilby exclaimed, truly impressed. She had thought it might be weeks before Ruby found the courage to try a step without holding on to something.
‘I’m even better if I do it between the bars, that way I’m not scared of falling over. I walked up and down about five times this morning. I need to hold on to turn, but I’m winning at last.’
‘That deserves a celebration,’ Wilby said. ‘When Verity gets home, let’s open that bottle of wine we’ve been saving. The boys can have lemonade.’
At four thirty in the afternoon Archie was almost ready to give up on the search for Verity. He’d asked several women and even more shopkeepers if they knew a Verity Wood, who had a friend called Ruby, but none of them did. He had systematically gone along every street in Babbacombe, and he was just approaching St Marychurch when he saw the little haberdashery shop. They always seemed to be run by elderly ladies, and this one was no exception. He could see the owner perched on a stool watching people passing by.
He’d always had a knack of getting older ladies to give him information, so he went into the shop asking for shirt buttons. He told her that his grandson had been evacuated down here during the London Blitz.
‘My daughter wrote down the lady’s name and the address when she knew I was coming here,’ he said. ‘She wanted me to take her some flowers or something, as a thank you. But blow me down, I’ve lost the bit of paper.’
‘A great many people took in those children,’ the old lady said. ‘But most children went back to their mothers before Christmas.’
‘Our boy stayed,’ Archie lied. ‘I seem to remember him saying there was a big girl called Ruby there too.’
‘Oh, that’ll be Mrs Wilberforce, she’s always taken in waifs and strays,’ the old lady said without any hesitation. She had a soft, very lined pink face and a broad Devon accent. ‘She’s had young Ruby since she were fourteen. She’s got two boys with her still, and t’other young lady. Terrible shame Ruby got hurt in the bombing at the RAF Hospital, there was talk she’ll never walk again.’
Archie put on his most concerned expression. ‘How awful! As I recall, Ruby used to help Mrs Wilberforce a great deal with the children, our John adored her. All the more reason for me to call and offer my commiserations. What road is it?’
‘Higher Downs Road, it’s called Beeches and it’s got a red front door.’
‘I do hope the other young lady helps her out. Young boys can be hard work.’
‘She does when she’s home, but she works for the Post Office and often goes down to Plymouth or Exeter if the phone lines are down. She’s a bonny girl is Verity, she was badly hurt when she first came here. I don’t know if she was caught in an air raid or what, but they brought her down from London in an ambulance. She’s fine now, I see her flying past on her bicycle most evenings just as I’m shutting up.’
Archie saw from the sign on the door that she shut at five thirty – half an hour from now – and with that he thanked the lady, left the shop and made straight for Higher Downs Road, which was just around the corner.
The road began at the cliff railway. He hadn’t gone along here earlier today because, according to a street map he’d looked at, it was in St Marychurch. He found the house with the red front door and realized it was going to be hazardous grabbing Verity. At half past five it was still light, and possibly people would be around.
Fortunately Higher Downs Road was very much a residential street with no guest houses. The sizeable houses were not divided up into flats, and they all had five- foot stone garden walls, which would make it difficult for anyone in those houses to see what was going on in the street.
Archie had considered how he was going to kill Verity many times. He still wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to do it, but he did know it wasn’t going to be a quick, grab her by the throat, squeeze the life out of her, all over in seconds kind of death.
It was the thought of her terror that exhilarated him. He needed her to know that he intended to kill her because she’d ruined his life. He planned on spinning out that terror, savouring the thrill of hearing her beg for her life, taking her to the point of death several times before he actually put her out of her misery.
Earlier in the day, he’d earmarked a secluded spot to take her to, if he found her. It was the cliff footpath down to Oddicombe Beach. The cliff railway car took passengers there and back in peacetime but it had been closed in 1941, and the beach too. The cliff path was supposed to be blocked off with barbed
wire too, but someone had made a gap through it. To his jubilation this path – a series of badly maintained steps, and winding paths with steep drops down through woodland – began only a couple of hundred yards from the house with the red door. He hadn’t even got to drag Verity very far to get her to it.
He was still standing by the cliff railway, considering where best to wait for the girl coming home, when all at once it began to rain. It was light rain at first, but it quickly turned into a deluge. People who had been ambling along the Downs all rushed to find cover.
Archie smiled. It was just what he needed.
As Wilby began to prepare the supper, Ruby was reading the newspaper which had been lying on the kitchen table unopened since breakfast when it was delivered.
‘How awful, all those people killed at Bethnal Green,’ she said. ‘There can’t be a much worse way to die than being crushed to death.’
‘Hmm,’ Wilby murmured, busy with her own thoughts, wondering if she’d done the right thing putting Angela on the train home so quickly.
The telephone rang and Ruby wheeled her chair over to answer it. ‘Oh, Miller!’ she exclaimed, her voice high with excited surprise. ‘Where are you? Are you on your way here?’
Wilby looked round hopefully.
Ruby held the receiver away from her mouth. ‘He’s at Exeter changing trains,’ she said, before going back to him. ‘Get a taxi, Miller, at Torquay. It’s Beeches, Higher Downs Road, in Babbacombe. We can’t wait for you to arrive.’
She put the phone down, grinning excitedly. ‘He couldn’t chat, the train was due. It’s going to take him perhaps an hour to get here. Verity should be here in about half an hour. How are we going to play it? Try and get her to change and dress up?’
‘No, because she’ll guess something is up,’ Wilby said. ‘We just carry on like we normally do. But there are two reasons for celebration now! I’ll do more vegetables, and I’ll turn the sausages into Toad in the Hole so they stretch to another person without looking meagre. It’s a good job I changed the sheets in the box room after your mother left, or I’d be rushing around now like a headless chicken.’