The Orphan Thief. Glynis PetersЧитать онлайн книгу.
she’d seen, to hide under a hedge on Radford Common until it was all over. Her life or the war, whichever ended first, but there was a chance her gran was still alive. She had no choice; she had to see if there was any news on the last surviving member of her family. She clenched her fists against her ears to drive out the mechanical and human noises pounding around her. Once again, her stomach growled with hunger and her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth. The smoke grew thicker and indescribable smells assaulted her senses; her heart pounded in her chest and for a few seconds Ruby thought she might faint.
Pull yourself together, girl. Gran might need you. She might still be alive.
All the while she walked towards the busy hub of medical tents, hastily erected food and information huts near the town centre, Ruby talked to herself. Forcing her legs to keep moving.
For over an hour she searched for her grandmother. Eventually, she found her name on a list of the dead. Her request to see her body was gently refused for her own sake. Ruby left the makeshift morgue and with a heavy heart made her way towards Radford Common with the intention of gathering her thoughts. She needed to think, away from the terrors she’d witnessed, and hoped the thirty-minute walk would help. Her young brother and his friends had made dens on the common, and for a few hours Ruby intended to make use of one. As she looked out onto the city darkness fell but it remained host to the endless glowing fires. Ruby doubted even the fiercest of flames would warm her through. She glanced skyward and saw a cluster of stars. Five. Were they her family, huddled together, shining out their love? Were they reunited – her parents, her brother, sister and grandmother? Ruby pondered the thought as she continued to stare. A dark cloud flitted across the stars; once again the lights went out for Ruby.
16th November 1940
A frozen Ruby stretched out her legs and rubbed them warm. Born with her left leg shorter than the right, she despised the limp and cramping of the muscles it gave her whenever she’d walked too far. Today she experienced severe pain, but knew sitting still would not relieve her aching limbs. She massaged them, pleading with her legs not to let her down.
A shiver ran through her as she heard a loud bang. They’d endured another long night of explosions from buildings and gas pipes, and it continued into the new day. Endless screams echoed across the city. The bombing was the cruellest thing anyone could have inflicted upon Coventry.
She felt dirty, unwashed, and needed food and drink. Crawling out from the small den, she made her way towards the public shelter. Bone-weary townsfolk sat propped outside its entrance. They stared at her, but she knew she was invisible to them. A nothing. Nobody’s daughter. She walked on, heading towards the warmth of the city, a fifteen-minute walk towards the heat of death and destruction. Rows of weary travellers passed her by, all fleeing the devastation for fear of more bombings. On more than one occasion she was encouraged to join friends of her parents and other families. She muttered about later, with no intention of leaving Coventry. For Ruby, despite not having one, this was home.
As she walked past a tumbled house, she spotted a blanket lying across a tangled fence. She glanced around but couldn’t see anyone, and tugged the blanket free. Draping it across her shoulders, she felt the weight of an honest parent bearing down on her. For the first time in her life, Ruby had taken something which didn’t belong to her. She’d not been given the blanket, nor had permission to remove it, but she’d gone ahead and done it with no repercussions other than a guilty mind. The freezing air away from the town deemed it necessary, as she fully intended to return to her den after she’d found food.
Picking her way down Little Park Street towards the centre of town, the sight of the burning cathedral in the distance took her fears to another level. It looked no more than a shattered piece of architecture. Splintered shards of brickwork refusing to cave in to a power mightier than itself, it stood defiant in the raging flames. She prayed it would survive. It was the beating heart of the city. The residents were proud of their cathedral and she watched as men battled to save its crumbling shell.
On the corner of Hertford Street, Ruby noticed a crowd praying and sobbing; most were women with children clinging around their legs or held tightly in their arms. To one side of the gathering she spotted a family whose children she knew from church, standing in an obvious queue near a makeshift building Ruby hadn’t seen before. They looked as bedraggled as she felt. She hesitated in her approach, and decided to join them for whatever they were queuing for, in the hope it was food.
‘Hello, Jenny,’ she said to a girl around her age but much shorter, making her appear younger.
‘Ruby, oh, Ruby,’ said Jenny, her voice soft, her left eye twitching. ‘Isn’t it awful? We lost our house. We’re waiting to be taken to my auntie’s at Warwick. We’ll sleep on her floor. Mum’s registering for new papers, and sending word to me dad we’re all safe.’
She sniffled and her mother pulled her close. A pang of envy stabbed at Ruby and she gripped her hands together to remain in control of her emotions.
‘Ruby, where’s your family?’ Jenny’s mother asked.
‘With my gran,’ Ruby replied. ‘Probably heaven.’ She didn’t want to shock the woman but couldn’t think of another way of wording her loss.
‘Oh, my girl, come here,’ Jenny’s mother said, and smothered Ruby in a hug. She smelled of smoke and soot, and clung onto her until Ruby gently pushed herself free. It was her mother’s comfort she yearned for, not a woman filled with pity and sadness.
‘Do you know where I can find food? Is this a queue for some?’ Ruby asked.
‘You need to register your family deaths and get papers for yourself. I assume all is lost?’
Ruby nodded.
‘Food can come later. Stand here – we’ve waited around an hour now, and no one will notice you’ve jumped in halfway,’ Jenny’s mother said.
‘It’s been a busy day,’ Ruby said, and inhaled to fight off another wave of nausea.
Jenny reached out to take her hand, but Ruby gave a brief shake of her head. She could no longer bear the pitying eyes looking back at her. They stirred something inside and Ruby was wary of whatever emotion it was creating the dark thoughts each time she allowed herself to soften to another human’s kindness. Her heart was bruised, battered beyond repair.
‘I feel sick and weak. I can’t focus on anything,’ she said, distracting her from the rejected look on Jenny’s face.
‘Ah, of course. Silly me,’ Jenny’s mother said. ‘Try over at one of the canteen vans. They’ve got tea and beef dripping batches. Be careful, Ruby, and don’t forget, you need to get registered. Find a new home. You’re too young to be alone.’
‘What happens when I’m registered?’ Ruby asked.
‘They might find you a new family. Someone will take you in. If not, you will at least be in the care of someone until a permanent home is found for you. You need a roof over your head. It might be away from here too – safe,’ Jenny’s mother said, and gave her another hug.
Ruby removed herself from the well-meaning arms and gave a brief nod. ‘I’ll sort it as soon as I’ve eaten. Thanks. Bye, take care, Jenny.’
Jenny gave a half-hearted wave and Ruby left the queue and walked to the area where Jenny’s mother had pointed.
Tea and a bread roll steeped in meat fat appealed far more than explaining her predicament to a form-filler at the beginning of a very long queue. Besides, she didn’t want a new family, or to leave Coventry. The thought of being sent to an orphanage frightened her, and if she left the area she’d lose the sense of her family still surrounding her. And what if they’d survived and were looking for her? She needed to stay, to keep her eyes open for them. Registering might mean living miles away and the thought made Ruby shudder.
The best thing she felt she could