Blue Moon (8 page)

‘Morning, Ruby,’ Winnie, the florist, called cheerfully as she walked by.

‘Good morning,’ Ruby smiled. For some reason she had difficulty in getting the linen-cupboard door open and, when she finally did, she discovered that Mrs Fosdyke had pulled everything from the shelves onto the
floor. Her heart sank and tears sprang to her eyes. She was going off-duty in ten minutes, and refolding and stacking everything into neat piles would take at least an hour.

‘Oh, dear,’ said Winnie sympathetically. ‘That’s a shame. I’d offer to help but …’

‘Blimey, Roob,’ said Edith, coming up behind her. ‘What has the old witch done now?’

‘I wondered what Mrs Fosdyke was doing,’ said Winnie. ‘That was a bit unkind, wasn’t it?’

‘I really wish I hadn’t been given that extra half-day off,’ said Ruby miserably. ‘She’s made my life hell ever since.’

‘Don’t let the bugger get you down,’ said Edith. ‘She likes to see she’s upset you. Don’t give her the satisfaction.’ She bent to pick up some pillowcases. ‘Come on, let’s get started.’

‘Well, I’ll leave you to it,’ said Winnie, collecting her things and going upstairs. ‘I’ve only got a couple more vases to do, and then I’ll come and help.’

‘That’s all right, Mrs Moore,’ said Edith. ‘Ruby and I’ll get it done in no time.’

‘You don’t have to stay either, Edith,’ said Ruby, blowing her nose. ‘Why should you give up your afternoon as well?’

‘Because you’re my pal,’ said Edith, ‘and besides, with two of us on the job, we’ll get it done in no time.’

Ruby could have hugged her.

‘You’ll never guess,’ said Edith.

‘What?’

‘I’ve got a gentleman caller.’

Ruby’s eyebrows shot up.

‘Don’t look so surprised,’ beamed Edith.

‘I – I’m not,’ said Ruby, slightly flustered. ‘It’s just that you used such an old-fashioned expression.’ She hoped Edith believed her. She didn’t want to hurt her feelings, for the world. ‘Who is he? Do we know him?’

‘His name is Bernard Gressenhall,’ said Edith, ‘and he works at Potter & Bailey in Montague Street – on the bacon counter.’

The people who worked at Potter & Bailey wore long aprons over their clothes, so it was hard trying to recall any distinguishing features. However, Ruby did vaguely remember a rather jolly man with dark hair who worked on the bacon counter.

‘He’s ever so nice,’ Edith went on. ‘He’s got a brother in the army, and his dad works on the railway. We’re off to the pictures on my day off.’

‘Good for you,’ smiled Ruby. ‘I wish there was someone I was keen on. Though there is someone interested in me, it seems,’ she said.

‘Oh?’

‘Apparently,’ Ruby said confidentially, leaning closer, ‘Albert Longman asked my father if he could court me.’

‘Oh, Ruby,’ cried Edith. ‘He’s such a bloomin’ big-head.’ They were folding sheets as a team, and the cupboard was quickly taking shape. They heard a rustle behind them and froze, thinking it was Mrs Fosdyke, but it was only Winnie Moore coming back downstairs. ‘Oh, you gave us a scare,’ said Edith.

‘Sorry, dear,’ she said. ‘Can I give you a hand?’

‘We’ve nearly finished,’ said Ruby, ‘but thanks for offering.’

‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ said Winnie with a nod.

Edith waited until she was out of earshot and then said, ‘You don’t like Albert Longman, do you?’

‘No, I don’t. He may be good with children – that’s what they all say – but he’s old. He’s boring.’

‘All right, keep your hair on,’ Edith laughed. ‘Do you fancy a stroll when we’ve finished this? There’s hardly time for me to get back home, before I have to come back to turn the beds down.’

‘Yes,’ said Ruby, ‘why not? I might even treat you to an ice cream, if you like.’

‘Oooh, thanks, Roob,’ said Edith.

The weather was quite good as they came down the staff stairs, but when they stepped into the street there was an acrid smell in the air.

Edith took a deep breath. ‘Whatever’s that?’

‘It smells like a fire,’ said Ruby, and at almost the same moment a fire engine came hurtling out of High Street and into the Steyne, its bell clanging. People were running along Marine Parade, but it wasn’t until they turned the corner that they saw the heavy pall of dark-grey smoke.

‘The pier!’ cried Ruby. ‘The pier is on fire.’

They hurried along the road, hardly able to believe their own eyes. Hundreds of holidaymakers, some still in their bathing costumes and others with wet towels over
their mouths, had formed a human chain and were struggling to salvage articles from the Southern Pavilion. As they broke into a run along Marine Parade, a group of men were trundling a grand piano along the walkway, and by the time they got onto the pier themselves, they were met by people carrying plush seats, tables and chairs. It was obvious that the people of Worthing were anxious to save whatever they could from the inferno.

Ruby was so upset she could have cried. The lovely pier, where she’d walked as a child, was going up in smoke. Where would the men who fished off the end go now? Where would the Waverley paddle steamer dock if the pier was gone? Who would want to come to Worthing if there was no pier?

The firemen had rolled out a hose, but some well-meaning civilians had accidentally knocked one of the joins apart before the water could reach the seat of the fire.

‘Look out!’ someone cried, as another man reversed a car onto what remained of the walkway. Ruby and Edith helped the rescuers load it up with bits of furniture and anything else they could lay their hands on. It was imperative to take it to the shore, and safety. Another human chain, from the iron steps to the water’s edge, was passing buckets of sea water up and was dousing the decking. Dodging a photographer who was taking pictures, Ruby and Edith decided they could be of more help by joining them.

Fit young men then began attacking the wooden planks halfway along the pier.

‘What on earth are they doing?’ Ruby cried, dismayed. ‘Why are they pulling it apart?’

‘To try and stop the flames from taking the whole thing,’ said a man with a handkerchief on his head, knotted at each corner. ‘I’d help them too, if it weren’t for me bad back.’

Some men had picks and some had crowbars, whilst others prised the planks away with whatever they could find. They were doing quite well until a man stepped back, not realizing that the decking behind him had already been removed. There was a terrified scream, and seconds later he hit the water some fifteen feet below. By some miracle he missed the girders on the way down and wasn’t hurt. Ruby was relieved to see him being picked up by the coxswain of the Worthing Inshore Rescue boat, who was patrolling the area in the sea around the pier.

Underneath them, and a little further along, a fireman had attached a workman’s ladder to one of the steel girders and began aiming the hose at the underside.

‘The fire’s running along the bottom,’ said Edith anxiously. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t get all the way to shore and burn the pavilion at the other end.’

Then they heard the sound of breaking glass. It sounded like machine-gun fire. ‘Get back! Everybody get back,’ shouted a fireman. ‘It’s too late. We haven’t got a bloody chance.’

The smoke cleared for a second, and Ruby saw about fifty people running from the flames. They’d been caught out unawares as the cafe began to burn. A waitress
came by in tears and was met by a man who pulled her into his arms.

‘I’ve lost all our lovely wedding photos,’ she wept. ‘I brought them to show the girls at work.’

‘Don’t worry about it, darling,’ said the man.

‘We didn’t even know it was on fire, until Mrs Tull saw the flames coming through the storeroom door,’ the girl sobbed.

‘Never mind,’ said the man, putting his arm around her and drawing her away. ‘At least you’re safe and sound. That’s all that matters.’

The firemen had attached their hose to the only hydrant, which was 500 yards away from the seat of the fire. Ruby shielded her eyes from the smoke. It was beginning to catch in her throat, making her want to cough. Like the others, she was forced to pull back. Tears pricked her eyes. It seemed crazy that a structure overhanging the sea might be lost forever, for lack of water to put the flames out. Her chin was quivering. It felt as if an old friend was dying. How could this possibly have happened? And in broad daylight as well.

‘Here, somebody take this.’ A woman was pushing a charity box into her hands. She was covered in sooty marks and was perspiring profusely. Her dress was dirty and torn. ‘Keep it safe for me, luv.’ She turned back and began picking her way along the pier.

‘Where are you going?’ Ruby cried after her.

‘I’ve left my handbag on the seat,’ the woman called.

‘You can’t go back,’ Ruby shouted after her. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

‘I must. It’s got everything in it.’

She didn’t get very far. A fireman sent her back in floods of tears, protesting loudly that she
had
to return. Eventually her friends came for her and she disappeared into the crowd.

Judging by the lack of sound from the collection box the woman had given her, there wasn’t a lot inside it. Ruby looked round for a policeman. Once she and Edith had surrendered the box to a passing constable, they joined with others in moving the stacked deckchairs, in case the fire engulfed them as well. By now all the flames had given way to thick black smoke. The restaurant was completely engulfed, and the choking fumes lay along the pier like a shroud. After only about thirty minutes of chaos and controlled panic, it was all over, and the lovely pavilion was nothing but a charred ruin. Ruby and Edith stood with the others on the beach in a shared sad silence.

‘Hello, Ruby.’

Her heart leapt as soon as she heard his voice. She knew who it was, without turning round. Jim Searle looked as handsome as ever. She hadn’t realized he was the photographer taking pictures when she and Edith had rushed past him.

‘I thought it was you,’ he said, ‘but I wasn’t sure until I saw you handing in that box. That was amazing, what you did.’

‘What – handing in a charity box?’ said Edith incredulously.

‘No, trying to save the pier.’ Jim came closer. ‘I’ve taken some pictures of you. I hope you don’t mind.’

Ruby felt her face colour. ‘Why on earth would you do that? I must look a dreadful sight.’ She ran her fingers through her untidy hair.

‘I will admit that you’ve got a smudge on your nose,’ said Jim, taking out his handkerchief. ‘But I thought you looked lovely. Here, allow me.’

As he gently rubbed her nose with the handkerchief, Ruby could hardly breathe. Surely he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. It was thudding so hard that she was scared it would jump out.

‘Did you get some good pictures of the fire?’ she asked, her voice an octave too high.

He nodded. ‘Alan did too.’

‘Alan?’

‘Alan Duncan,’ he smiled. ‘He works for the
Worthing Herald
.’

‘Which means you’re worried that his pictures will be in all the local papers, and not yours?’ said Ruby.

Jim smiled ruefully. ‘Never mind. I’ve got some good ones to show my grandchildren.’

Ruby frowned. ‘There’s more than one paper in this country,’ she said. ‘The
Herald
and the
Gazette
might be spoken for, but what about the
Daily Sketch
or the
News Chronicle
? I bet the London newspapers would give their eye-teeth for some good pictures.’

For a second Jim looked startled by her outburst.

‘Get on the phone,’ she cried.

Jim put his hands up in surrender. ‘You’re right. I will.’

‘We’d better be getting back, Roob,’ said Edith, looking down at her sooty hands. ‘We’ve only got an hour to get cleaned up.’

‘Come back to the studio,’ said Jim. ‘You can have a wash and brush-up, and I’ll make you both a nice cup of tea.’

Ruby hesitated.

‘Then you can make sure that I phone,’ he grinned.

She lowered her eyes, blushed and smiled.

Warwick Studios wasn’t far from Warnes Hotel. It was a little untidy, but contained just about everything you might need as a background for a photograph. Ruby spotted some lovely drapes, and a maidenhair fern in a large jardinière. There were several chairs of different shapes and sizes: you could sit in a Windsor chair, a chair with a padded seat or a burgundy-coloured chesterfield. One wall was panelled and another had floral wallpaper. Although the windows had something over them to mute the light, she could see that it was all spotlessly clean.

Jim took them through to the back rooms. ‘There’s a sink and a toilet to the left,’ he told Edith as he handed her a towel. As she left, he showed Ruby to a chair.

‘So this is where you work,’ she said.

He nodded. ‘The darkroom is through the back door,’ he said, lighting the gas under the kettle. ‘My boss is out today. He’s working with a client in Ashington. I’m usually the general dogsbody, but occasionally I get to be on the right side of the camera.’

‘Like today,’ said Ruby.

‘Like today,’ he nodded.

The kettle had just boiled when Edith came back. She handed Ruby the towel, and Ruby took her turn in the washroom. When she’d finished, her clothes still smelled of smoke, but she couldn’t do anything about that. Having combed her hair, using the comb in her handbag, Ruby came back to find Jim and Edith enjoying a lively conversation.

‘Edith has just been telling me about your windfall,’ said Jim.

For a second Ruby almost panicked. How on earth did Edith know about the five pounds? Had somebody told her what was in the envelope? Did Mrs Fosdyke know? And who else knew?

‘An extra two and sixpence a week,’ Jim teased. ‘Ruby Bateman, you’re a rich woman.’

‘She said she was going to buy me an ice cream,’ said Edith.

‘Oh, Edith!’ cried Ruby, ‘I’m so sorry. What with the pier catching fire, I clean forgot.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Edith. ‘I was only teasing.’

‘I think we all deserve an ice cream,’ said Jim. ‘If you girls are free next Monday afternoon, I’ll buy you one.’

‘You’re on,’ said Edith and, glancing up at the clock, she added, ‘Come on, Roob. We’d better go.’