The Orphan Thief. Glynis Peters

leaving town. Her dream had always been to have an adventure of sorts and, although this was a tragedy forced upon her, Ruby sensed it was time for her to make her own way in the world.

      She kicked a battered box away from her path. Life was going to become difficult for her, and she had already turned her mind to the important issue of obtaining food. She needed money. Maybe she could work off her purchases by washing up. It was worth an ask.

      Entering an area set aside for food distribution, Ruby looked on in dismay. Queue after queue faced her, and all were longer than the previous one she’d stood in. At the pace they were moving, it would be well into the night, even the early hours before she would eat. She shifted from one foot to another, debating what to do. It frustrated her, knowing their shop had housed tins and packets of foodstuffs, along with fresh grown vegetables supplied by growers from nearby towns. Her energy was sapped, but Ruby thought about her gran’s house. Although it was no longer standing, her gran had always kept a good vegetable patch. Maybe there were a few veg or fruit items left amongst the ruins and, though sad at the thought of returning to the bomb site, Ruby knew she stood a chance of finding something to eat without having to beg elsewhere.

      ‘Oi. Where’s your mask, girl?’ a man’s voice bellowed out a few feet away from Ruby. She knew his question was directed at her, as she had no mask to carry. Not wanting to suffer explaining her losses, she turned and saw a man in police uniform. She waved a hand vaguely in the direction ahead of her.

      ‘I’m heading back home for it now,’ she called out.

      ‘Make sure you do. And your ID papers. Keep them to hand too,’ the officer said.

      Ruby rushed away. ID papers, ration book, birth certificate – anything official, her mother kept in a case under the stairs. With the flames flickering within the crater, Ruby doubted the case would have survived and realised she had nothing to show she even existed. Registering would be an impossible task and she was too tired and fearful to face more impossible tasks.

      She entered Kirby Road and made her way to the small row of houses still standing. Each remaining property stood with glassless windows and shredded curtains flapping in the chill wind. The majority of the contents of one house lay strewn along its pathway, and the path she walked crunched beneath her feet. The road had a silent eeriness to it, and there was no one around. Ruby, puzzled by the fact, called out, ‘Hello. Anyone here?’

      Silence. The only noises from the street she stood in echoed across the flattened right-hand side, but human movement and voices no longer existed. Ruby shook off the air of loneliness; she could not afford to dwell on it for fear of breaking down. She gulped as she walked over what had once been a happy house filled with love and baked cakes. Her grandmother cured many a tear with a slice of Victoria sponge and a strong cup of tea. Her beloved gran, lying cold in the temporary morgue. Ruby’s throat tightened against the scream she wanted to release, but she needed to focus on regaining her strength. Her legs and hands trembled with hunger and cold.

      She scouted around her grandmother’s land, but soon came to realise that all was lost. Mangled blackout curtains were a stark reminder of hours spent in the house helping her grandmother with her mother, preparing the windows for war. Only the memory of evenings spent with the two women she loved made Ruby appreciate it had not been wasted time.

      She spotted a few personal items, untouched by the bombs, and for the first time a smile flickered across Ruby’s face. The items were random ones, but they’d belonged to her family. They were the only connection to them she had left: heirlooms. A colander, a blue glass powder pot with no lid, two silver forks, a bowl with pink rose patterns around the edge and a tortoiseshell hair comb. It was one her grandmother used to pin into her thinning grey bun.

      Ruby also found coins amounting to one shilling, which she placed into the blue pot. Twelve pennies would get her milk and possibly an egg or two if available, but it would certainly not help her clothing or accommodation situation. She decided she’d return and search for more once she’d found somewhere to live. The chances were her gran’s electricity meter had burst during the explosion. No one would be collecting their payment for supply. The coins were family money; it wouldn’t be theft.

      Ruby crossed the road and walked up to Fred’s and wondered how he was doing after seeing him so badly shaken. At least he was alive and in the care of someone; the woman she’d seen leading him away yesterday had looked kind and gentle.

      Although she knew he was not home, she still knocked on the door. She called hello through the blown-out front window, but there was no response. She did the same to five other houses in the row. All residents were elsewhere. Ruby headed back to Fred’s house, which sat at the end of the terrace, and went around to the back garden. She doubted he’d begrudge her any foodstuffs, and she’d pay him back when she was able. Only a small patch of turned over soil laid untouched by debris. She peered through the broken back window and door and then, taking a deep breath, Ruby stepped inside. Now she added trespassing to her sins. A shiver passed through her body as she stared around the home. How scared Fred must have felt. Shelves swung downwards, their contents on the tiled floor. The house appeared worse inside than from outside, and Ruby pondered the safety of the walls. She took another look at the exterior and, aside from one or two roof tiles missing, the brickwork seemed sound. She listened. No hissing sounds unnerved her – no gas pipes releasing their explosive poison.

      Ruby spotted a photo frame lying face down and lifted it away from a pail of dirty water. She rubbed away the grime on the glass, and a young couple from an era long gone smiled back at her. The petite young woman in the picture held a small bunch of flowers. A bride and groom, standing in the kitchen where she now stood. This house had been a home of longstanding to Fred and Elsie Lester. Life and age had taken Fred’s wife before Ruby was born, but the enemy had destroyed their home – all he had left of the life they’d shared – and anger built inside Ruby’s chest to the point of exploding into screams, and she feared once she started she’d never stop.

      She’d witnessed a woman’s face twisted with grief, receiving a resounding slap for hysteria, and another bellowing out a sound so guttural and raw Ruby knew the woman had lost her mind. She’d seen a man beat the crumbling wall of a house, his screams as high-pitched as any female. Their pain had been so deep they’d never recover, and Ruby closed a door in her heart to prevent the same happening to her. She locked in memories and her own deep pain so tight; each time she sensed an inkling of it breaking free she suppressed the feeling and replaced it with another. Now was the time for survival. She had little doubt the tears would find her further down the years, but for now she needed to focus on the positive side of things.

      She made a decision there and then. Although she wasn’t close to Fred, he’d been a friend of her gran’s and he was alive. He deserved a home to come back to, and Ruby vowed she’d work and clear the old man’s home in readiness for his return. He looked as if he’d suffered a broken arm when she’d seen him being led away, so she had no doubt, once fit, he’d want to come home. She’d repair as much as possible, as payment for her rent whilst she stayed there. Fred’s home would survive, where hers hadn’t.

      Before she got started, Ruby spent time looking for anything edible. Her hands trembled with hunger, and nausea came in waves. A knob of bread and a thin slice of cheese with a sprinkle of grit sat on the side. A supper untouched; he’d probably prepared it before the siren sounded. She cleaned away as much as she could of the grit and dust, ate it without noticing flavour or added soot, and washed it down with the remains of water left in the kettle. Mains water appeared to be cut off, as did the electricity and gas. After finding a small torch, she set it to one side for the evening. Dragging a mattress still with a bottom sheet wrapped around it, and which she noticed matched Fred’s sling, Ruby made herself a makeshift bed in a corner of the kitchen and then started her cleaning mission with fierce determination. A strange smoke-filled sky made everywhere warmer and darker than normal, and Ruby worked in a dream-like state.

      Four hours into clearing broken items into one side of the garden, the light disappeared. She dragged a blown-off door from the left of the property, unsure if it belonged to the old man’s house or the neighbour’s, but it was too useful to be left to rot. She propped it across