Before the Dawn - Page 37

36

RUBY

12th May

‘What did I do?’ Alfie said as we sat on the bench in the town gardens – the same bench I’d found him on last year, when Maud Tinney had chucked him. His face was very white except for two spots of colour high up on his cheekbones. He looked as ghastly as I felt. I’d called for him as soon as I arrived home from Southampton.

As the town hall clock chimed six – at last, the churches and clocks could sound again – I gazed helplessly at him. ‘Alfie, I’m sorry.’

‘We’ve known each other for years and years. No one understands us like we understand each other, do they? Sometimes I feel as if I can hear what you’re thinking before you even say it. We have a connection, Ruby! You know we do.’

I fought back a sudden, hideous and unexplainable urge to laugh.

‘Alfie, you’re a very dear friend,’ I began, my head in turmoil as I searched for the right way to say it. But there’s someone else…

‘And you’re very dear to me. Ruby, please.’ He grabbed my hands. ‘Don’t do this. We’ll be happy – I know we will – we’ll have two children – a boy and a girl – and when Father retires I’ll take over the running of the works – I’ll have a good salary. We can go on holiday to Cornwall. I can buy a little car!’

‘I can’t,’ I said, my voice cracking. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t. There’s someone else.’

‘Who is he?’ Alfie said.

My heart contracted painfully inside my chest; I slid my gaze away from his wild, desperate one, unable to look at him.

‘Who. Is. He?’ Alfie ground out from between gritted teeth.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said again, wretched with misery and guilt. ‘I thought he was dead. If I’d known he wasn’t, I would never have—’ I stopped, realising how that sounded. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t have let you—’ No, that wasn’t right either. Oh, God, what could I say that didn’t sound completely dreadful? When I looked up at Alfie I saw, to my horror, that he had tears in his eyes.

‘Alfie, don’t. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Please don’t think you’re second best because you’re not. It wasn’t like that at all.’

I reached out to take his hand. He pulled away and stood, squaring his shoulders. ‘Is it one of those Americans?’ He spat out the last word as if it was poisoning him.

I nodded.

‘Hah! I should have known – I suppose you met him up at the camp?’ He swiped angrily at his eyes with the heel of one hand, his jaw clenched.

‘He’s nice, Alfie – kind – you’d like him,’ I said stupidly, desperately.

‘Don’t, Ruby.’ His voice was so cold it took my breath away. ‘I should be grateful you told me before I wasted money on a ring, I suppose.’

I thought of Sam’s ring, threaded onto a chain around my neck and hidden under my blouse, and felt another swirl of self-loathing and guilt.

‘Come on,’ Alfie said. ‘I had better walk you home.’

*

At dinner that night, I steeled myself, and took a deep breath. Father and Grandmother would know soon enough anyway – better that they heard it from me.

‘Alfie and I have broken off our engagement,’ I said.

That was enough even to make Father look up from his notes. ‘Why?’ he said. ‘What on earth happened?’

Grandmother just looked at me, her eyes narrow and watchful.

You’re twenty years old, I reminded myself. And in a few months’ time you’ll be old enough to marry without Father’s permission.

Another deep breath. ‘I’m engaged to someone else.’

You could have cut the air with a knife. Father’s mouth dropped open; all the colour drained from Grandmother’s face and she dropped her fork onto her plate with a clatter.

‘What?’ she said.

‘I was engaged to him before Alfie asked me, but I thought he’d been killed. Then I found out he wasn’t.’ I swallowed. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they said. ‘I – I haven’t been down in London. I’ve been in Southampton, visiting him. He’s in the military hospital there.’

‘Southampton?’ Father said. ‘But that’s – that’s the American military hospital.’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re engaged to an American?’ Grandmother said. ‘How? When?’

I looked her in the eye, trying to sum up a confidence I didn’t feel. ‘His name is Sam Archer. He’s one of the soldiers who came here to train for D-Day. You met him at that WVS party – he was the soldier I danced with. He’s being discharged – he’s returning to America to see his family – but once he’s got a job and somewhere to live he’s going to send for me and we’re going to get married.’

Silence.

‘No,’ Father said, standing up so suddenly the legs of his chair shrieked against the floor. ‘You will not marry this man, Ruby. I forbid it.’

His voice was shaking. I stared at him.

‘You may marry anyone else you wish – anyone at all – with my blessing,’ he continued. ‘But not him. Not an American.’

‘What on earth do you have against the Americans?’ I cried. ‘Sam’s a good man – he’s honest, kind – I love him, and he loves me!’

‘I don’t care!’ Father thundered, with more passion than I’d ever seen in all the years of my life. ‘I will not have my daughter marrying an American and going over there – I will not!’

I faced him across the table, my heart racing. ‘But why? I’m not a child anymore, Father. If you’re going to forbid me to do something, then tell me the reasons behind it!’

Another tense silence.

Grandmother sniffed. ‘She might as well know, Cecil,’ she said. ‘It’s past time.’

Father’s chest heaved. ‘I – I can’t. I can’t talk about her,’ he said, as I looked from him to Grandmother and back again, wondering what on earth she meant.

‘It’s your mother, Ruby,’ Grandmother said. ‘She’s still alive. Well, as far as we know, anyway.’

I went cold all over, then hot. ‘Wh – what?’

‘She left when you were a baby, to go to America with another man. She was bored, apparently – life wasn’t exciting enough for her. She was offered a part in a play over there and despite your father begging her not to go, she went – and left you behind. Of course, we didn’t find out about him until she wrote to your father to say she wasn’t coming back. But there was an American actor at the theatre in Exeter where she’d been working – it can only have been him.’

Grandmother’s tone was victorious, almost as if she was enjoying herself.

‘So – so where is she?’ My skin was tingling, my head spinning with this revelation. I felt as if I was going to be sick.

‘We’ve no idea. No one’s heard from her since then,’ Grandmother said.

I looked at Father again.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I cried. ‘Why did you let me think she was dead?!’

He didn’t answer. Emotions swirled through me. My mother was alive. She was out there somewhere. But why had she left me behind? Had she ever tried to contact me? I wanted to be furious with her, but at the same time I felt oddly excited – what if it was possible for me to find her one day?

I decided to change tack. I needed to know more; perhaps if I could get Father to come around to the idea of me marrying Sam, he might talk to me about my mother. ‘Father, please,’ I said. ‘This isn’t the same, not at all. I’m not running away – this is still home. But I love Sam and I want to spend the rest of my life with him.’

He still didn’t speak; wouldn’t even look at me.

‘Father.’

He turned away from me and left the room. A few moments later, I heard his study door thump closed.

‘Well, I hope you’re happy,’ Grandmother said.

I wanted to shout at her – something terrible to wipe that smug, self-satisfied look off her face. I wanted to ask her why she and Father had lied to me about my mother for so long – had let me think she was dead, for God’s sake.

But I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Tags: Emma Pass Historical
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