Blue Moon (9 page)

‘And I’ve got an appointment with the telephone,’ smiled Jim.

No one would have noticed her, a nondescript woman of a certain age. She shivered as she waited by the crossing
for the gates to open again. She wasn’t cold, for the evenings were still warm for the time of year and she wore a coat, but she shivered as she stared across the railway line to the houses beyond and remembered the awful disappointment. Was it only a year since she’d stopped going to see Mrs Knight? She’d turned up on the doorstep religiously every month for the past … she didn’t know how many years. Ten? Twelve? And every time she’d crossed the threshold she’d gone with renewed hope, only to have it dashed again and again. It was strange, really. Mrs Knight had such a reputation for success.

They were a select few, all hand-picked and personally invited. They would file in one by one, not talking; that would disturb the atmosphere. She didn’t mind that. She was used to keeping herself to herself. She never even told anyone why she was there. Mr Knight stood in the doorway, taking five bob from each person. He did it discreetly and it had to be the right money. No change given. Mrs Knight didn’t do it for the money, but everyone has expenses.

Of course she was no fool. She knew that, since the Great War, spiritualists had mushroomed all over the place. Most were charlatans who were in it to fleece vulnerable people who were looking to make sense of terrible events. That’s why she’d refused to talk about her husband. She’d decided that she would know it was him, if he used her pet name when she made contact. No one else knew it, because it was an intimate, secret name.

The room was hot and stuffy in winter with the fire on, and the curtains were always drawn. They would
wait at the table in silence until Mrs Knight came and then they would turn all the lights out. Mrs Knight would close her eyes and put her head back, saying, ‘Come. We are all assembled and we welcome you. Speak, spirit, for we are all listening …’

As the train thundered by, it brought her back to the here and now and she shivered again. A second or two later the great gates began to make their jerky way back across the line, as Johnny Morgan in the signal box turned the wheel. As they clanged shut together, she trudged her way home, being careful not to cast a glance at the Knights’ house. They’d be in there now: a new group, all hoping to hear from some long-lost loved one. The last time she’d waited in that stuffy room, the evening was what Mrs Knight would have called a resounding success. There had been a message from June’s dearly departed mother, and another from the son of a man who was there for the first time. The hour had been charged with so much emotion and tears that she was positive it would be the night that her dearest would speak too. But no … before long Mrs Knight slumped exhausted in her chair, and it was over.

That was a year ago. She’d stopped going then. It didn’t matter, though. He was talking to her now, which was why she was hurrying to get home. She could never be sure when it would happen, but tonight might be the night.

CHAPTER 6

For the next few days, Ruby was walking on air.

She knew she should be feeling depressed. Worthing’s lovely pier was a heap of acrid-smelling charcoal and, because the middle of the walkway had been pulled up, there was no chance of taking a stroll to the end. Although they had saved half of it, the ticket kiosk was closed and barriers had been erected.

She should, by rights, be miserable about work as well. Mrs Fosdyke’s vendetta against her seemed as bad as ever. Ruby had hoped that by now she would have run out of steam, but oh, no; Mrs Fosdyke hadn’t pulled the linen cupboard apart again, but there was a permanent scowl on her face and whenever she spoke it was only to criticize. Ruby toyed with the idea of giving notice, but she had only been in the job for less than a year and her father would go mad if she walked out. Having consistently refused to allow her to train at anything, he’d been the one who’d found the position in the first place. She’d argued, complained and sulked for ages, but he wouldn’t back down. There would be hell to pay if she defied him again. And besides, if she gave
in her notice, although Mr Payne might give her a good reference, Mrs Fosdyke certainly wouldn’t.

Then there was Albert Longman. She really should be concerned about him. He had turned up the same day as the pier went up in smoke. She had only just got in, after turning down the beds, so her mother had answered the door, and by the time Ruby went to see him, Albert was licking his fingers and plastering down his hair again – it was a habit of his that really irritated her.

‘Hello, Ruby,’ he said as she peered round the door. She didn’t invite him in. ‘I asked your father, and he said it would be all right for you to step out with me.’

Ruby swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry, Albert,’ she said, politely but firmly. ‘I’m afraid I’m not really interested in courting yet. I’m only seventeen, and I think that’s far too young.’ For the past few nights she had lain in bed for ages trying to think of something she could say, if Albert came calling. It had to be something that would give him the message, and yet not upset him too much. This was far and away the kindest thing she could come up with.

He looked slightly surprised, then recovered himself quickly. ‘But you will go out with me when you’re older?’

‘Oh, my goodness, Albert,’ she said, alarmed that he hadn’t taken the hint. ‘I haven’t a clue how I’ll feel when I’m older. Um …’ She was panicking now. Did that sound as if she wouldn’t mind if he came calling again?

Her mother came to the door again and opened it a little wider. ‘Is everything all right?’

Ruby was flustered. ‘I – I think it best if you look elsewhere, Albert.’

‘Look elsewhere for what?’ said Bea.

Albert took a backward step. ‘Oh, I understand your little game,’ he said, tapping the side of his nose.

Why did he do that? Every now and then she wondered: what did that mean?

The other thing that made her unhappy was the situation at home. Since the day of the coach outing, her father had become silent. She didn’t know which was more vexing: his constant rants or the silent treatment. Whenever he was in the room, everyone behaved as if they were treading on eggshells, and even Percy looked uncomfortable. May didn’t seem to notice anything of course, but then her father treated her in a totally different way to the rest of the family. It cut Ruby to the quick to hear him call May his ‘sweet poppet’ and ‘darling girl’ as he cuddled her on his knee. She couldn’t ever remember having a hug from him, not even as a small child. In fact it wasn’t until May came along that Ruby realized fathers cuddled their children.

All of these things should have made her life an absolute misery, but they didn’t. Why? Because she was seeing Jim on Monday afternoon. She thought about him all the time. At night she lay in her bed, trying to imagine his powerful arms around her, his warm, sweet breath on her face, and his lips gently pressing hers. Somewhere deep inside her she discovered feelings she
never knew she had. They were delicious and scary, all at the same time. Sometimes, when she’d been thinking about him for a long time, she felt a muscle between her legs expanding and her panties would get damp. Ruby longed to talk to someone about it, but it seemed too personal, too rude, maybe even naughty. What was happening to her? Was she being wicked in some way? Did anyone else feel like this? She also felt guilty. Jim belonged to Martha. That’s what everybody said. What was she doing, flirting with someone else’s boyfriend? Why, Jim and Martha were practically engaged. What would people say if they could read her mind?

There were three of them on the boat: Nelson, Percy and Albert Longman. Albert had told them that he’d never been out on a boat before, but when his editor had sent him out to go and find some local people to interview, his first thought was of Mr Bateman.

‘Let me come fishing with you,’ he’d asked Nelson. ‘I’d like to understand what you do.’

Nelson looked at Albert as if he’d swallowed a fishbone, and sniffed. It was obvious that he didn’t want some novice on his boat, but Albert could be very persuasive, and the promise of a couple of pints in the Anchor did the trick.

The
Saucy Sarah
was an open boat with a Marston Seagull motor – something that Nelson had apparently bought the previous year. He proudly told Albert that he was one of the first Sussex fishermen to have one.

His favoured way of fishing was with a trammel net.
‘It’s made up of three layers of net,’ he told a bemused Albert. ‘A fine mesh sandwiched between two layers of larger mesh. They’re attached to a floated headline and weighted, so that all three hang vertically in the water.’

Albert wrote it all down in his little notebook and, under supervision, drew a diagram. Once they’d set out to sea, the three of them said little. It didn’t take long before Albert said that he was feeling queasy. Percy and his father simply did what they always did, following a skill that had been passed down from generation to generation. After a while Percy threw the dhan flag overboard and, as the boat moved through the water, he paid out the rope until it reached the anchor attachment. After that, Percy dropped the anchor and began running out the nets.

‘Don’t the fish just swim through the net?’ asked Albert.

Nelson looked at him as if he was an idiot.

‘They get caught by the gills,’ said Percy, ‘or else they get trapped by the inner net, which becomes like a bag around them.’

Albert changed his position, in the vain hope that he might feel better with the wind in his face, although it messed up his hair and made the bit in the front stand up on end.

‘Did you talk to Ruby?’ Nelson asked. He spoke in low tones, even though Percy was busy at the other end of the boat and wouldn’t hear over the sound of the engine. He was busy keeping an eye out for the end of
the net, so that he could drop the second anchor and the dhan flag.

‘I think she’s playing a game with me,’ said Albert. ‘Her mother interrupted us, and I think she might have felt shy. She said she’s too young.’

‘Poppycock,’ said Nelson. ‘She’s seventeen. She’s old enough.’

‘I know that,’ said Albert.

‘Then be firm with her, man,’ said Nelson, making his hand into a fist. ‘Show her what’s what.’

‘I can’t make her like me,’ Albert protested.

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Nelson. ‘Good-looking fella like you could charm the knickers off a nun.’

Albert blinked. ‘She already knows I have good prospects,’ he went on. ‘I earn a good wage. I could look after her.’

‘Course you can,’ said Nelson, giving him a hearty slap on the back.

‘Has she got somebody else?’ Albert asked anxiously.

‘Ruby?’ said Nelson. ‘Good God, no.’

Albert turned his head with a sigh. ‘When are we going back?’ he said feebly. ‘I don’t feel too well.’

‘Ha!’ Nelson laughed. ‘Got a few hours on the water yet, Albert,’ he said.

The days seemed to crawl by, but then at last it was Monday. The weather wasn’t as good as it had been. In fact it was deteriorating all the time. The skies were leaden and the wind was cold. Never had a morning seemed so long. Ruby had brought her best dress with
her and, as soon as their shift was done, she got ready in the staff cloakroom. It was a pity about the weather; her coat was a bit frayed at the cuffs, and she would have looked a lot better without it. But, looking out of the window, she had no choice, for autumn had arrived. Edith didn’t bother to change out of her uniform, but Ruby made no comment.

As they walked to the Stanhoe, the place along the seafront where they’d arranged to meet Jim, the wind snatching at their coats and their hair being blown all over the place, Ruby was suddenly seized by a terrifying thought. Supposing he had changed his mind? What if he wasn’t there? Or, worse still, what if he wanted to be with Edith and not her? Ruby couldn’t bear the thought of playing gooseberry. She was a bag of nerves when they arrived, and her thoughts were blanking out Edith’s constant chatter.

She needn’t have worried. Jim was leaning with one foot up against the wall.

‘There you are!’ he cried. ‘Not really ice-cream weather, but if you still want …’

‘I’m sorry, Jim,’ said Edith, ‘but I’m afraid I can’t stay.’

‘Edith!’ cried Ruby.

‘I have to get home. My mother is expecting me,’ said Edith, her eyes wide. ‘But don’t let me spoil it for you two. Have a nice time.’ And with that, she was gone.

‘I hope you’re not thinking of walking out on me as well,’ said Jim good-naturedly.

‘Oh no,’ said Ruby, a little quicker than she would have planned.

‘Good,’ he smiled. ‘So what’s it to be, ice cream or tea and cake?’

‘Tea and cake,’ said Ruby with a small shiver.

They walked to the nearest tea rooms. The Pantry was a popular haunt of day-trippers and locals alike. The pretty embroidered tablecloths and matching chair cushions created a cosy atmosphere. The waitress showed them to a window seat and Jim placed their order. Ruby could see from the menu that it would cost him two shillings and tuppence … each! Gosh.

They chatted about nothing in particular: difficult clients at the studios; Mrs Fosdyke at Warnes; and, of course, the pier.

‘Do you think they’ll rebuild it or just pull it down?’ asked Ruby.

‘They’ve already started up a fund to help get the rebuilding started,’ said Jim. ‘We’ve got a box in the studios. They’ll be insured anyway.’

‘Worthing isn’t Worthing without its pier,’ said Ruby sagely.

‘By the way,’ said Jim, as Ruby poured the tea, ‘I think I may have found you someone who can teach you another language.’

Her eyes grew wide with excitement. ‘Really?’

‘He’s a lodger in the same digs as I have,’ he said. ‘A refugee, actually. He’s Jewish and has just escaped from Germany. He could teach you some German. Would that do?’

‘I should say so!’ said Ruby.

Jim looked thoughtful. ‘He’s had a rotten time of it lately. Things are getting pretty difficult for them over there.’

‘I remember Dr Palmer talking about that,’ said Ruby. ‘The shift of power – or something like that. He was very concerned about the new leadership.’