Blue Moon (2 page)

The girl was distraught. ‘It’s not fair,’ she began to wail. ‘It’s not bloody fair.’

It was at that moment that Ruby thought of Dr Palmer. He didn’t always go out straight away. With a bit of luck, he might still be in his room. He would know what to do. She was sure he would help. ‘One of the other guests is a doctor,’ she said quickly. ‘If you let me help you into bed, I’ll go and get him. I’m sure he will be discreet.’

The girl looked as if she was going to pass out as Ruby hauled her to her feet. She helped her to the bed, pulling the towel from her shoulders and placing it over the already soiled sheet before the girl lay down. ‘What’s your name, Miss?’

‘Imogen,’ said the girl weakly. ‘Imogen Russell.’

Stopping only long enough to wash her hands, Ruby ran along the corridor to Dr Palmer’s room and knocked on the door. To her immense relief he was still there. He looked up in mild surprise when Ruby walked in. As she quickly explained that the guest in room 40 had apparently had a miscarriage, he didn’t hesitate. Seconds later they were on their way back to Imogen’s room. Ruby showed him in, then made as if to go.

‘Stay here,’ he said gruffly as he walked to the bed. ‘I may need you.’

While he examined Imogen, Ruby busied herself in the bathroom. It gave her time for her racing heart to slow and, besides, it was going to take some time to get it back up to Freda Fosdyke’s standards.

Tears pricked her own eyes as she heard Imogen begging the doctor not to tell anyone. ‘You have to go to hospital,’ he said. ‘You may need a blood transfusion.’

‘But I don’t want my father to know,’ she choked again.

Their voices dropped, and Ruby pushed the bathroom door to and got on with her work. Of course Imogen had been a silly girl, giving herself before she was married, but she was right: life was unfair. When a young man sowed his wild oats, everyone nudged one another and said, ‘Boys will be boys.’ But for every lad having his bit of fun, there had to be a girl doing the same, and yet, if she was caught out, she would be called a loose woman or, worse still, a slut.

A few minutes later Dr Palmer put his head around the door. ‘She has to go to hospital,’ he said. ‘We cannot avoid it. However, I’m going to arrange for a taxi to come to the back of the hotel. If you can help Miss Russell to get herself cleaned up and dressed, we’ll try and get her down the servants’ staircase.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Ruby.

‘For the purposes of discretion, we’ll let it be known that Miss Russell has appendicitis,’ he went on. ‘That
will explain the haste and the hospitalization. I trust that we can rely on you not to gossip about this?’

‘Absolutely, sir,’ said Ruby.

They managed to do it with military precision. By the time Dr Palmer had come back to say the taxi was waiting outside, Ruby had helped Miss Russell to get washed and dressed. In fact, luck was on their side, because they managed to get her out of the hotel without seeing another living soul. Back in the bedroom, Ruby rinsed some of the blood on the sheet under the tap. If the laundry questioned it, she would say that the guest must have done it herself. It took some while to do the room and, just as she’d finished, she had a nasty moment when Imogen’s father knocked on the door, looking for his daughter.

‘She’s not here, sir,’ said Ruby innocently. Should she tell him his daughter was in hospital? Then, to her immense relief, she heard Dr Palmer’s voice in the corridor. ‘Ah, Mr Russell? May I have a word …’

Her work done at last, Ruby hurried to put everything away.

‘You still here?’ asked Edith, when Ruby appeared by the broom cupboard.

‘You won’t believe the morning I’ve had,’ Ruby began.

‘Oh?’ Edith was all ears.

Ruby hesitated. Much as she wanted to tell Edith all about Miss Russell, she had promised to keep it a secret. ‘Every room was a tip,’ she said quickly, ‘and it took me ages to clean one of the bathrooms.’

‘Tell me about it,’ said Edith. She was picking off the fluff from one of the long brooms. ‘That Mr Herbert kept hanging around, and I couldn’t get started in his room for ages. Here, leave that – I’ll tidy it up for you. You go, or you’ll miss the coach.’

‘Are you sure?’ said Ruby, rinsing her dustpan under the tap.

‘Go on,’ said Edith, taking the pan from her. ‘Hurry up.’

‘Thanks, Edith. You’re a pal.’

Ruby changed out of her uniform – a grey belted dress with a starched white collar – in the staff cloakroom and made her way back to the servants’ staircase. Edith was right. She was going to have to hurry if she was going to make it to the coach.

‘And where do you think you’re going?’

As soon as Ruby heard Mrs Fosdyke’s acid tones, she froze and her heart sank. She had hoped she could slip away without being seen. Ruby turned with a smile – not too bright, or it would have been deemed insolent. ‘It’s my afternoon off, Mrs Fosdyke,’ she said. ‘It’s the day of the outing.’

Mrs Fosdyke’s lip set in a thin red line and her expression hardened.

‘I did ask you, Mrs Fosdyke,’ Ruby protested mildly.

‘Is all your work done?’

‘Yes, Mrs Fosdyke.’

‘Are the bins emptied? Is the broom cupboard tidy?’

‘Yes, Mrs Fosdyke.’ Ruby bit her bottom lip and,
clenching and unclenching her fists, prayed inwardly:
Please don’t let her make me go back. I’m late already
.

‘Come with me,’ the older woman snapped.

Reluctantly Ruby followed her back upstairs, her angry thoughts hitting Mrs Fosdyke’s back like arrows. Why did she always have to spoil things? Ruby had asked weeks ago for this time off. In fact Mrs Fosdyke had agreed to it, and had put it on the staff roster herself. All the girls working at Warnes Hotel dreaded the housekeeper, who was strict and critical, and Ruby had never once heard her compliment any of the staff on their work. Instead she towered over them, like a glowering vulture ready to pounce on its prey. No matter how hard they worked, she seemed to take great delight in demoralizing all the chambermaids. For two pins Ruby would have told her where to stick her job and would have walked out, but times were hard and getting another job wasn’t always easy.

As she trailed behind her, Ruby held her breath. Mrs Fosdyke’s favourite trick was to make a girl tidy her locker room, after she’d stripped the locker and tipped everything into a big pile in the middle of the room. If she did that today, Ruby would have no chance of making it to the coach in time.

On the landing Mrs Fosdyke opened the linen cupboard, as if she was expecting it to be untidy, but every towel was neatly folded in exactly the same way, so that the edges were level. You could have laid a ruler against them and every towel would have touched it. Ruby watched the housekeeper running her hands over
the sheets. Beside them, the pillowcases were in matching pairs, ready to take down at a moment’s notice. Everything looked perfect, but Ruby could hardly breathe. If Mrs Fosdyke decided something wasn’t to her liking, she’d pull everything out onto the landing floor and Ruby could kiss the trip goodbye. It would take at least an hour to put everything back the way it was. To her great relief Mrs Fosdyke closed the linen cupboard, but then headed for the broom cupboard. Miserably, Ruby followed.

As they walked round the corner, Mrs Fosdyke had just gone past one of the doors leading to a guest room when Edith came out, carrying a tray of dirty cups.

‘Blimey, Roob,’ she blurted out, ‘you’re cutting it a bit fine, aren’t you?’

Ruby flashed her eyes, in the hope that Edith wouldn’t say too much, but she didn’t seem to notice.

‘Give my love to your mum when you see her. Tell her I hope she’ll soon be better …’ The words died on her lips as she finally understood Ruby’s frantic eye movements and realized that Mrs Fosdyke was in the corridor as well.

‘Don’t stand there gawping, Parsons,’ Mrs Fosdyke snapped, as Edith turned round. ‘I’m sure you have work to do.’

‘Yes, Mrs Fosdyke,’ said Edith, giving her a little bob before she fled.

They’d reached the broom cupboard and Mrs Fosdyke threw open the door. It was tidy enough to be a showroom: polishes on the top shelf, labels facing to the
front; dusters neatly folded on the lower shelf; the dustpans washed and spic and span, and lined up along one wall with the matching brushes dangling from hooks above them. The vacuum machines were at the back of the cupboard, and the floor cloths were draped over mirror-clean galvanized buckets. The floor was spotless and, as Ruby’s mother would have said, you could eat your dinner on it.

‘Very well,’ Mrs Fosdyke said, surveying the room, ‘you may go, Miss Bateman.’

‘Yes, Mrs Fosdyke,’ Ruby breathed. ‘Thank you, Mrs Fosdyke.’ As she hurried away, the dreaded voice called after her, ‘Walk, Miss Bateman. Walk.’

Ruby slowed her pace to a sedate walk until she was halfway down the stairs, where she broke into a frantic run, at the same time muttering, ‘Miserable dried-up old prune.’

Outside in the street the bright September sunshine hit her like a wall. The Indian summer of 1933, which had brought many day-trippers to Worthing, was a welcome end to the season. It was still so hot that few promenaders were out and about along Marine Parade. The odd one or two sat on deckchairs in the Steyne, a pretty shaded area that overlooked the seafront. Her brother Percy, a bit of a history buff, once told her that the name Steyne meant ‘stony field’ and that, in Victorian times, local fishermen mended their nets there; and before that it had been the garden of a big house – all of which were long gone. The many fishing families
who worked along the shores of Worthing had, since its heyday, been reduced to a few diehards, and now mended their nets on the beach or in their own back gardens.

Ruby was glad she had chosen to wear her coolest dress, a pretty blue-and-pink cotton frock with a V-neck and a large blue bow across the chest. Gathered at the waist and tied with a blue sash and bow at the back, it had small cap sleeves, which flapped cool air onto her arms as she ran. She carried a side-fastening white clutch bag, and had matching shoes with straps across her feet. She wore no cardigan – something that she already regretted because, when the sun went down, she might be cold; but there was no time to go home for it now. Her short dark hair was, as her mother would say, as straight as a yard of pump water, but suited the new bob style very well. The other chambermaids in Warnes told her that, with her big sultry eyes, she looked just like the American movie star Louise Brooks, so Ruby didn’t complain.

She had to run the length of the town to where she was supposed to meet the coach, and she was hot and out of breath long before she got there.

As she turned the corner, Cousin Lily’s shrill voice rang out, ‘She’s here!’

And May, Ruby’s seven-year-old sister, pretty as a picture in her blue-and-white gingham dress and with a blue bow in her light-brown hair, ran up the road to meet her. ‘I was scared you weren’t coming.’

Ruby gave her a quick hug. ‘Of course I’m coming.’

‘Did you really think we would go without our Ruby?’ Cousin Lily laughed.

Ruby smiled and put her arm around May’s shoulders. She could put all the horrors and frustration of today behind her and relax now. She was going to have a lovely afternoon.

As they made their way to the coach, to the sound of cheering, an ambulance went by, its bells clanging. Ruby’s thoughts went immediately to Imogen Russell. That poor girl was still living her nightmare, but at least Ruby could console herself that she had done her best to help her keep her secret.

‘Nice to see you, Ruby,’ Albert Longman said, as she climbed on board the coach. He grinned and ran his tongue over his slightly protruding teeth. Although twenty-nine and reasonable-looking, he was still single and, according to some, looking for a wife. He worked for the local paper, the
Worthing Gazette
, as the reporter who covered local events, but he also wrote the occasional feature. ‘You’re looking very pretty today.’

Ruby gave him a polite nod, but tried not to encourage him. He was all right, and he always made a point of chatting to her, but she wasn’t interested in him – not in that way anyway. He was too old!

Her father was sitting in the seat behind the driver and, as she walked past, he stepped out of his seat to let May have the window seat, blocking the gangway in the process. Taking his watch out of his waistcoat pocket, he stared at Ruby. ‘You’re late,’ he began gruffly.

‘Sorry, Father,’ said Ruby.

‘Can I sit with Ruby for a bit?’ May asked.

Their father looked crestfallen. ‘Don’t you want to sit with your old pa?’

‘I do,’ said May, ‘but I’d like to talk to Ruby as well.’

Nelson Bateman threw himself sulkily into his seat, and May skipped off down the aisle without a care in the world. Ruby was concerned to see her father’s flushed and angry face and felt sorry for him. He adored May, and she knew he would have taken her thoughtlessness very personally. She bent to kiss his cheek as she went by, but he quite deliberately turned his head. Embarrassed, Ruby lowered her eyes. It hurt when he shunned her, and yet there was always that urge to try and get him to show some affection towards her. He never had, but she found herself falling into the same trap again and again. She tried hard not to be jealous of her little sister, but Ruby was no plaster saint, and it was a struggle.
Get a grip
, she told herself angrily.
You should have known he wouldn’t let you kiss him. Why would he?
She had never even seen him kiss her mother. It wasn’t his way, although he had plenty of kisses for May. According to her mother, it was the war that had changed him, although Ruby had no idea why. She had been born in 1916, a couple of years before it ended. May had come along seven years later. Nelson never talked about his experiences; few ex-soldiers did, although everyone knew that places like the Somme had been hell on earth. Her mother and Aunt Vinny (short for Virginia) always said it was best not to think about the bad things, for what good would it do? What was
done was done; better to forget it and get on with life. As a result, theirs was a household where everyone, except May, tiptoed around their father, afraid of his sudden mood swings and of upsetting him. But if it was difficult for Ruby and her mother, it was even worse for their brother Percy.