Blue Moon (6 page)

She had lunch at the hotel as well. Once her shift was done, she came back to the staffroom to eat pie and vegetables or fish or, best of all, her firm favourite of chicken stew. Apart from the occasional broiler, the chances of eating chicken at home were slim, except maybe at Christmas. With a few hours off in the afternoon, Ruby would be back at five for a cup of tea and a piece of cake, before she had to turn the beds down while the guests were eating dinner.

Cleaning the bedrooms passed without incident today, which was just as well because Ruby was tired from the day before. She had barely started on her plate of
beef stew and dumplings when Mrs Fosdyke burst through the door.

‘Mr Payne wants to see you, Bateman,’ she blurted out. ‘In his office – now!’

The Warnes family might own the hotel, but Mr Payne was the manager. A strictly no-nonsense man, a stickler for punctuality and strong on personal hygiene, he had only been seen once by Ruby in passing, but she’d heard about his reputation. Until now, she had never once spoken to him or been to his office.

Ruby’s knees buckled. A summons from Mr Payne meant only one thing: the sack. But what had she done? She glanced around helplessly, but the other chambermaids avoided her eyes.

‘I’ll keep your dinner warm,’ said Phyllis, putting a clean plate over the top of Ruby’s meal.

‘Come along, Bateman,’ Mrs Fosdyke snapped. ‘Mr Payne doesn’t want to be kept waiting all day.’

It had been another warm day, so Nelson was preparing his boat and the driftnet, ready to set off in the early evening, an ideal time to catch mackerel. The net itself would drift with the current and form a curtain underwater; and the fish, going into the net, would be trapped by their gills. Nelson always did well, catching everything from herrings to pilchards, sprats and sea bass, as well as mackerel. Although the waters around Worthing had been depleted since the halcyon days of the Victorian era, he made a decent living. He knew exactly where to find a shoal congregating in the upper water
offshore, which was fast-flowing and where the gulls often dived down. He planned to stop his boat and drift through it. If finding mackerel there was a problem, he could move on to Goring, where there was a good chance of finding some flounders or plaice, both of which were popular with the locals. At this time of year the sea yielded up her plenty, and he was doing all right.

A shadow fell over him, blocking the sunlight. ‘Oh, so you decided to turn up after all,’ he said sarcastically. He looked up to see not his son Percy, as he was expecting, but Albert Longman, dressed in what looked like his Sunday best.

He frowned. ‘What are you doing on the beach dressed like that?’

‘I’ve come straight from work,’ said Albert. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’

Albert lived with his mother north of the railway line somewhere near St Dunstan’s Road. He’d met Percy through the social club, although he and Percy had never been great friends. At nearly thirty, Albert was unattached. He was dark-haired and had a rather large nose and narrow eyes. He had high cheekbones and wore his hair short, cut in an old-fashioned pudding-basin style. Being a reporter, he was – in Nelson’s opinion – a bit of a big-head. Nelson’s lip curled as Albert took off his trilby and coughed into his fist.

‘Well?’

‘I’ve come to ask your permission to step out with
your daughter, Mr Bateman,’ he said, licking his fingers and pressing down his hair at the front.

Nelson snorted. ‘Good God!’

‘I’ve got a good job,’ Albert went on, ‘and …’

Nelson’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You want to marry Ruby? Whatever for?’

Albert’s expression darkened. ‘What do you mean: whatever for? Why would you say that? She’s your daughter.’

‘But you’ve got the pick of the town,’ said Nelson, recovering quickly. ‘There isn’t a girl in Worthing who wouldn’t give her right arm to marry you.’

Albert tilted his head and smiled. ‘That’s true, but I want Ruby,’ he said. Nelson hesitated, so he added, ‘I may only be at the
Gazette
right now, but I have good prospects. I also have an inheritance from my grandfather.’

‘An inheritance?’ said Nelson.

‘A small cottage,’ replied Albert. ‘They say it’s perfect for a young married couple.’

‘And where might that be?’ said Nelson.

‘Hastings.’

Nelson tidied up the already-tidy nets, to give himself a chance to think. Hastings was nearly fifty miles away. If Ruby went to live that far away, it would be difficult for her to get home that often and, once she had children … He smiled to himself.

‘All right.’ He swung his legs over the side of the boat and stood on the beach. ‘I’ll say yes, but I won’t have any of my family bringing trouble home.’

‘I won’t touch her until the day we wed,’ said Albert quickly.

The two men each held the other’s gaze, then Nelson shook Albert firmly by the hand. It was a little damp.

‘Thank you, Mr Bateman. You won’t regret it.’

As the two men parted, Nelson couldn’t believe what had just happened. What a turn-up for the books. Ha! Albert would make Ruby the perfect husband. He watched his future son-in-law struggling over the pebble beach and chuckled to himself. He leaned over the boat and put in the dhan flag he used as a marker when putting out the nets. He might not have got rid of Percy, but it looked like the girl would soon be off his hands. His duty as a father was almost done.

‘What have you been up to, Bateman?’ Mrs Fosdyke hissed as they headed for the lift.

‘Nothing, Mrs Fosdyke,’ Ruby protested.

‘Well, it must be something,’ the housekeeper insisted. She pressed the button for the top floor. ‘I make an exception, to give you a special day off, and this is how you repay me. In all my years working in this hotel, no member of my staff has ever been summoned to Mr Payne’s office.’

The lift doors opened and the startled lift operator, an ex-soldier called Scotty, stepped back nervously. Mrs Fosdyke and Ruby walked in.

‘The manager’s office,’ Mrs Fosdyke snapped.

Scotty glanced sideways at Ruby, but she averted his gaze and stared down at her shoes. As the lift ascended,
she was racking her brains to work out what she had done wrong. What could possibly be so bad that she should be sent for by Mr Payne? Had someone seen her helping Miss Russell down the back stairs? Or into the taxi? There was nothing left in the room to indicate that she’d been taken ill, for Ruby had cleaned it thoroughly. In fact the whole plan seemed to have been executed perfectly. So what had gone wrong? Had Miss Russell’s father found out, and complained that Ruby should have told him? Ruby’s head ached with the thought of it. She should never have gone for Dr Palmer. She should have ignored Miss Russell’s pleas and sent for the hotel doctor. If this was the reason why Mr Payne had sent for her, there was little point trying to explain. Miss Russell was guilty of fornication, and Ruby had aided and abetted her in covering up her sin. They would think Miss Russell had got what she deserved. If it came out, it would be a public scandal, and the management of the hotel would need a scapegoat. She didn’t need three guesses as to who that might be.

Ruby’s heart was thumping. They rode to the top floor in silence. The doors opened and Mrs Fosdyke sailed into the corridor. As Ruby followed meekly behind, she glanced back and Scotty gave her a sympathetic thumbs-up sign. The doors closed behind her and he was gone.

Outside the office door Mrs Fosdyke looked Ruby up and down. ‘Smooth down that apron,’ she commanded, ‘and put that stray bit of hair back under your cap.’

Miserably Ruby complied with her wishes.

Mrs Fosdyke cleared her throat, pulled back her shoulders and gave the heavy wooden door a sharp rap.

‘Come,’ said a voice on the other side.

When Mrs Fosdyke opened the door and marched in, Ruby wondered if it would be better simply to run away. If they sacked her, she’d be without a reference. She’d never get another job. Not a decent one anyway. Father would never let her hear the end of it. Her eyes were already smarting with unshed tears.

The room itself was quite dark, even though it had a large window overlooking the Steyne. At least, she supposed it was the Steyne. A large tree waved its uppermost branches just beyond the windowpane. The walls were panelled with dark wood. Mr Payne, a pale, bald-headed man, clean-shaven but with thick-rimmed glasses, sat behind a huge desk that almost engulfed him. As they walked in, he put his elbows on the leather top and pressed the tips of his fingers together.

‘This is Bateman,’ said Mrs Fosdyke. ‘You sent for her, sir.’

‘Yes, yes, I did,’ said Mr Payne. The sound of his voice was quite a surprise to Ruby. For someone reputed to be so fearsome, she had expected a large, booming voice, but it was thin and high-pitched, almost squeaky. ‘Step forward, girl. Let me have a look at you.’

Trembling, Ruby stood with her head bowed in front of the desk.

‘Is this the girl?’ Mr Payne asked, and for the first
time Ruby became aware that someone else was in the room.

‘It certainly is.’

Ruby turned her head to see Dr Palmer sitting in a high-backed wing chair beside her. ‘Oh, sir!’ she gasped.

‘Speak when you are spoken to, Bateman,’ Mrs Fosdyke snapped.

Ruby’s mind was in a whirl. Why was Dr Palmer complaining about her? She couldn’t think of a single thing she might have done to upset him – unless, of course, it was because they had brought the coach to the front door of Warnes. Had Mr Payne found out and complained? Was Dr Palmer blaming her? The driver had only been trying to help. Or maybe it was nothing to do with the trip itself. Was Dr Palmer annoyed because Father and Percy had got into a heated argument with him?

‘I’m sorry if I upset you in any way, sir,’ she said, ignoring Mrs Fosdyke’s instructions and addressing Dr Palmer. And, turning to Mr Payne, she added, ‘I had no intention of damaging the hotel’s reputation, sir.’

Beside her, Mrs Fosdyke tutted and sighed.

‘Damaging the hotel’s reputation?’ repeated Mr Payne. ‘Why, my dear girl, it’s quite the contrary.’

‘Indeed,’ said Dr Palmer. ‘I have told Mr Payne of the great service you did me yesterday, and what a credit you are to Warnes Hotel. In fact, he agrees with me that you should be rewarded, Miss Bateman.’

Ruby was conscious that her mouth was gaping.

Mr Payne stood up. ‘Permit me to shake your hand,
Miss Bateman,’ he said. ‘I only wish we had more conscientious girls like you working in the hotel. Dr Palmer has explained to me that had you and your friends not plucked him from that scurrilous mob, he might not have survived beyond yesterday afternoon.’

With that, Mr Payne shook Ruby’s hand warmly and then handed her an envelope. ‘Mrs Fosdyke, give this girl the rest of the day off, and inform the wages department that she is to have an extra two shillings and sixpence in her wage packet.’

‘This week, sir?’ Mrs Fosdyke asked stiffly.

‘This and every week,’ said Mr Payne.

As Ruby gasped in surprise, Dr Palmer gave her a wink.

CHAPTER 4

Nelson was still by his locker checking his nets and lines. He was a meticulous fisherman, always up to date with his cleaning and making sure that his equipment was in top-notch condition. He heard a footfall on the stones and looked up. Linton Carver, although well dressed, was a pathetic shadow of his former self. Unable to function properly since he was gassed during the Great War, he lived in the old village of Heene to the west of Worthing. However, everyone agreed that Linton was a lot luckier than the other poor sods at Ypres, who’d died a terrible death in those trenches, gasping for breath and in agony. He might have trouble breathing sometimes, but at least he was alive, with his own private income and a home of his own. Like Nelson, he never spoke of his experiences in France, but today something was clearly troubling him.

‘Somebody’s been asked questions,’ he said bluntly.

Nelson looked round crossly. ‘What do you mean: somebody’s been asking questions?’ he snapped. ‘What questions? Who?’

‘I dunno who,’ said Linton. ‘I couldn’t see her face, but two women on the bus were talking about Victor.’

Nelson froze. ‘Why bring him up, after all this time?’

‘Search me,’ cried Linton. He flopped onto the stones and, picking one up, threw it as hard as he could. It fell short of the water by several feet, and his breathing became bad. ‘What are we going to do, Nelson? If this ever gets out …’

‘Keep your voice down,’ Nelson hissed. ‘Nothing is going to get out.’

‘You sure about that?’

‘Course I am,’ Nelson snapped.

‘I’m not,’ said Linton. ‘You see, I think it’s more than what happened in that barn. There’s my uncle Jack Harris, remember?’

‘Jack Harris!’ Nelson scoffed.

‘And the others,’ said Linton.

‘What others?’

‘You’re forgetting Chipper Norton,’ Linton went on miserably.

‘For God’s sake!’ said Nelson. ‘Look, Jack’s death was an accident, and Chipper Norton never could hold his liquor. What’s the matter with you? Pull yourself together, will you? You’re getting yourself all worked up over a couple of gossips on a bus.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Linton agreed sulkily.

‘Of course I’m right,’ said Nelson tetchily. ‘Forget about it. Just keep your head down and your trap shut.’

Linton nodded miserably. ‘If only we could turn the clock back …’

‘I don’t want to hear it, man,’ Nelson hissed. ‘Get a grip, will you?’

Linton stayed where he was, staring glumly out to sea, but the silence between them was hardly companionable. After some time Nelson slammed the lid of his locker shut and trudged back up the beach.

It wasn’t until she had changed into her own clothes and was ready to go that Ruby opened the white envelope. She lowered herself onto the only chair in the staff changing room and her mouth dropped open. She was quite alone and, apart from Mrs Fosdyke herself, no one knew she had been given the rest of the day off. That and a pay rise were, in Ruby’s mind, reward enough. In fact she didn’t even deserve that accolade. She’d only done what any other decent person would have done in the circumstances, and if the boot had been on the other foot, she hoped that Dr Palmer would have rescued her from the mob. If that had been the case, there would have been no reward. Her position was such that she would only be able to give him her heartfelt thanks. But here she was, staring at a five-pound note. Ruby had never seen one before – at least not close up. She’d sometimes seen them peeping out of a wallet when she was cleaning someone’s room, but she’d never owned one of her own. She took it out and smoothed it out on her lap. It was flimsy and white, and she read the words carefully: