Tuppence To Spend (20 page)

That was all very well, Ruth thought, but it didn’t seem as if she was going to be allowed to have a youngster. The room was going begging but nobody seemed to want it.

She switched on her wireless next day to hear the news. Southampton (referred to merely as a ‘town on the south coast’) had received what was called ‘sustained bombardment’. Nearly a hundred and fifty people were feared to have died and hundreds more injured. Theatres, cinemas, hotels and the newspaper office were all burnt out.

It took Lizzie most of the day to find out if Alec’s ship had been in dock, but in the end she found that it was still at sea. Ruth, almost out of her mind over the Purslows, was in two minds whether to go into Southampton and see for herself when a telegram arrived. She had a moment of fear, as she stared at the little brown envelope, then sagged with relief as she read the brief words.

‘They’re all right. Oh Jane, they’re all right.’

‘Thank God for that,’ her sister-in-law said. She had come down after dinner to see if there had been any news
and they were standing in the little hallway together. ‘D’you think they’ll come out to Bridge End now?’

‘Oh, I shouldn’t think so for a minute,’ Ruth said, half annoyed, half admiring of the old people’s defiant courage. ‘They’ll stay there and let me worry every time a plane comes over, just for devilment! They’re Jack’s mum and dad, when all’s said and done, and he’d have been just the same.’

‘They’re talking about evacuating from Southampton now,’ Jane said, scanning the paper. ‘About time too. You’d have thought they’d have known a big port like that would be in danger. I suppose they thought it would be just military ports, like Portsmouth. Well, perhaps you’ll get your evacuee after all.’

‘Perhaps,’ Ruth said, seeing her out. ‘But I reckon they’ve crossed me off their list.’

She shut the door quickly so as not to show a light, then went upstairs and looked again at her spare room. No kiddy was ever going to sleep here now, she thought sadly. There’s something about me the billeting people don’t like. Perhaps Mrs Hutchins gave widows a bad name, perhaps it’s because I work at the hospital so couldn’t be here all the time. But even if they do bring the women and children out of Southampton, like they’re saying they should, they won’t bring any of them here. It’s just me and Silver, and always will be. I might as well just give up hope.

She wasn’t even thinking about evacuees when she crossed the road from the hospital the next afternoon to find a woman in a brown hat and coat standing on her doorstep. It was a cold day, with a bruised look to the lowering clouds and a raw nip in the air.

‘Mrs Purslow?’ The woman consulted a sheet of paper. She wore fur gloves and a woollen scarf, but her nose still looked blue with cold. There was a small car parked a little way off along the muddy lane.

‘That’s me,’ Ruth said warily, wondering who she was.
She looked official, as if she’d come to complain about rent arrears or some other unpaid bill, but Ruth knew she’d paid all her bills. It was a matter of pride to her that she didn’t owe a penny to anyone.

‘I believe you’ve expressed your willingness to offer hospitality to an evacuee,’ the woman said, looking at Ruth with some doubt.

‘I’ve said I’ll take in some poor kiddy, yes,’ Ruth agreed, when she had sorted out what the woman meant. ‘But I didn’t think I was getting one after all. I thought they’d come, all those that wanted to.’

‘Most of them have. But we do have this particular case. A child whose parents …’ The woman looked down her nose and evidently decided not to say any more about the child’s parents. ‘Evacuation seems to be the best answer … I’m afraid it’s a boy. Would you still be able and willing to take him?’

‘Yes, of course I would.’ Ruth’s heart gave a tiny leap. ‘I don’t mind a boy at all. I get on well with boys. When will he come? What’s happened to the poor little mite’s mum and dad?’

The woman ignored the last question. ‘He’ll be arriving some time in the next few days. I can’t say exactly when – travel’s difficult at the moment. I believe you work in the hospital?’

‘Yes, it’s only just across the road. It won’t be any problem. And he’ll have Silver for company too.’

‘Silver?’ The woman looked at her papers again. ‘I understood you were a widow and childless. Do you already have a lodger? The rooms—’

Ruth laughed. ‘No no, Silver’s my parrot. He’s very friendly,’ she added hastily. ‘Children love him. He talks, you see. My hubby brought him back for me years ago, to keep me company when he was away. Jack was a sailor, he was away a lot.’ She knew she was babbling but there was something about the woman that made her feel nervous.
‘He died a few years ago. Silver and me have been on our own ever since – except for having Dad with us, of course. But I love kiddies, I nurse them a lot in the hospital, you see, when they have their tonsils out and that sort of thing. And we deal with more serious cases too, of course. I’d be able to look after the little boy. He wouldn’t be any problem.’

The woman gave her a dubious look. ‘He’s a city child, you know. From Portsmouth. They’re different from country children.’

‘They’re children just the same,’ Ruth said stoutly. She was getting a little tired of being patronised by this woman in her brown coat and hat and fur gloves. Probably never had any kiddies of her own, Ruth thought, never wiped a snotty nose or bathed a grazed knee. ‘You just bring him along when he arrives,’ she ordered. ‘His room’s all ready for him, and Silver and me’ll look after him like he was our own. He’ll be safe with us.’

The woman gave her a few more details, about the billeting fee, schooling and so on, then departed along the icy street. Ruth unlocked her door and went inside.

She never even asked to see the room, she thought. Never showed any interest in how I lived. That’s all they care about these poor evacuees. They could be putting them with just anyone, anyone at all.

She went into the back room and opened the door of Silver’s cage so that he could hop out on to his perch. ‘We’re going to have our evacuee soon,’ she told him. ‘A boy. Something wrong with his mum and dad, poor little scrap. You mind and be nice to him now, no swearing, see?’

‘Bugger me,’ the parrot said in a tone of astonishment and then, changing to rebuke, ‘Language! Language!’

‘I should think so too,’ his mistress said severely, giving him a scratch on the head. ‘I said
no
swearing. We’ve got to set a good example. Make the poor little mite feel at home. And now I want to listen to the wireless while I get my tea
ready, so you just eat up your sunflower seeds and be quiet for a bit.’

She put on the kettle and went upstairs to look at the room she had got ready for the evacuee. It looked fresh and clean and tidy. Soon it would be strewn with a child’s belongings – a few clothes, a toy or two, maybe some books. She felt a surge of pleasure and excitement, and reminded herself sternly that the child wasn’t coming for her benefit, but for his own safety.

Well, he’ll be safe enough here, she thought. He’ll be safe with me and Silver.

Ruth’s evacuee arrived on her doorstep the very next day. She hadn’t been told exactly when to expect him and was taken aback to find the billeting officer in her brown coat and hat standing there once more when she crossed the road after her shift at the hospital.

‘You were out,’ the woman said accusingly. ‘We were just about to give up.’

Ruth looked at her and at the small boy standing at her side. He looked about seven years old and he was wearing a thick tweed coat, tied round the middle with string, and grey flannel shorts that drooped beneath his chapped knees. His socks were wrinkled round his ankles and his boots were split and worn down at the heels. He had dirty hair that might, she thought, be quite fair when it was washed, a grimy face and large blue eyes, and Ruth’s heart went out to him at once.

‘I was at work,’ she said, fitting her key in the lock. ‘Let’s get inside, out of the cold. It’s starting to snow.’

Inside the narrow passage they stamped their feet and the little boy blew on his fingers. He looked pale and unhealthy, Ruth thought, accustomed to the ruddier complexions of country children, and she made up her mind at once to feed him up.

‘Come into the parlour,’ she said, aware of Silver’s presence in the back room. She didn’t want his remarks and language causing the woman to change her mind about Ruth’s suitability as a foster-mother. She took them into the room kept only for best, with its polished sideboard and
family portraits, and invited the billeting officer to sit down on the horsehair sofa.

The woman spoke briskly. ‘There are just a few formalities. I need your signature here, on this form, as a receipt for the child. This is his ration book and here’s his identity card. If you have any problems, call on me at this address – I’m Mrs Tupper – and here’s the office telephone number. I’ll come round in a week or so to see how you’re getting on.’ She began to get to her feet.

‘Wait a minute,’ Ruth said. ‘Aren’t you going to give me his address in Portsmouth? And why’s he being evacuated now, all by himself? There aren’t any other children coming here as far as I know. It all seems a bit queer to me.’

Mrs Tupper looked at her with irritation. ‘We’re in the midst of a national emergency,’ she said as if explaining to a child. ‘Ours is not to reason why. You expressed yourself willing and able to take in a child, and here’s one who needs a billet. And I’m sure he knows his own address, don’t you?’ she added, turning to the boy, who stared at her with wide, frightened eyes and backed away slightly.

‘Of course I’m willing to take him in,’ Ruth said quickly, half afraid that the woman would march him out of the house again. ‘I just think I ought to know a bit more about him. You haven’t even told me his name.’

‘Gordon Hodges. It’s on his identity card.’ The billeting officer sounded impatient. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go. Despite what you seem to think, there are other children to be placed and a mountain of paperwork to be done. There’s a war on and we all have to do what we can. All
you
need to do is look after this child.’ She made it sound as if Ruth were the lucky one with no responsibilities, while others took on the real work. ‘You have all the information you need and I’ll call again next week. Now I’m afraid I really must go.’ She was properly on her feet now, looming like a brown tweed mountain in the crowded room. Ruth got up too and put her hand on the boy’s shoulder, feeling the
bones through the material of his coat. She felt him flinch slightly. ‘You’ll be a good child, won’t you –’ Mrs Tupper consulted her papers ‘– Gordon.’

The boy stared at her. She tutted impatiently. ‘A little lacking, I’m afraid. Anyway, you’re a nurse, you’ll know what to do for the best. I’ll leave you now, Mrs Parker. He may need something to eat and drink before bed – some bread and milk, perhaps.’ She was at the front door, brushing aside Ruth’s attempts to speak. ‘I dare say the most important requirement is a good wash. You may find you have some little visitors.’ She lowered her voice and mouthed the next word. ‘
Fleas
.’

‘I can soon deal with them,’ Ruth said firmly. One of her jobs had been to tour schools examining the children’s heads for nits. ‘But—’

The billeting officer had the front door open now, letting in a swirl of snowflakes. The wind snatched Ruth’s words away, or perhaps Mrs Tupper just didn’t want to hear them. Perhaps she’d had a hard day as well and was longing to get back to her own fireside. Ruth decided to leave it as it was. If there was anything else she wanted to know, she could ask next time the woman called.

Mrs Tupper thrust her way out into the storm and marched along the street towards her Baby Austin. Ruth closed the door and turned, almost trampling on the boy as she did so.

‘Good heavens, I didn’t realise you were right behind me.’ She regarded him in the dim glow of the hall light and he stared back at her, his eyes enormous. ‘Well, you are a little scrap, aren’t you?’ she said, bending towards him. ‘Now, I’m your Auntie Ruth, see? And your name’s Gordon, is it?’

He shook his head and she realised that so far she hadn’t heard him utter a word. Not that he’d had much chance, with that tweed elephant of a woman talking the minute
she’d got into the house. Ruth waited, then repeated her question.

‘What’s your second name, love? You do know it, don’t you? Gordon what?’ It would be on his ration book, of course, but Mrs Tupper had hinted he might be a bit simple, and if he didn’t know his name it didn’t look likely that he would know his address either, although of course that would be on his ration book too.

He shook his head again, more violently this time, and opened his mouth. Ruth bent lower to hear what he was saying.

‘Not Gordon,’ the boy whispered. ‘I ain’t Gordon. Gordon’s my brother.’

‘Your
brother
?’ Ruth stared at him. ‘So where’s he, then? Has he come to Bridge End too? Why didn’t they keep you together?’ But to her dismay she saw the huge blue eyes fill with tears and she added hastily, ‘Never mind that now. You can tell me all about it tomorrow. So what’s your name, if it isn’t Gordon? And mine isn’t Parker, by the way,’ she added, remembering what she’d been trying to tell Mrs Tupper. ‘It’s Purslow. So she got both our names wrong, didn’t she? Now you tell me yours and we’ll be equal, see?’

The boy swallowed back his tears, but she knew they weren’t far away and she bent again to catch the whisper. Poor little chap, she thought, he’s tired, cold and scared to death. And he needs something hot inside him. I’d better get him straight into the living room and light the fire, and give him a nice wash and some supper.

‘Sammy,’ the boy whispered. ‘Me name’s Sammy. Sammy Hodges. It’s me brother what’s Gordon. Me
brother
.’

‘All right, I understand that,’ Ruth told him. ‘And we’ll find out about your brother tomorrow, see if he’s anywhere near. Now you come along with me and see what I’ve got in my living room.’

She opened the door as she spoke and switched on the light. Silver, who had been waiting impatiently at the door to his cage, let out a squawk and danced up and down on his perch. He saw Sammy and stretched his neck, turning his head sideways in the way he had when something had taken him by surprise. Then he squawked again.