The Orphan Thief. Glynis Peters

be rescued. If she had not taken outgrown clothes to her mother’s friend in Lammas Road, she’d have been with her family, enjoying their love, their laughter. More guilty feelings washed over Ruby. She should have been there. It was her mother’s fault. Ruby’s mind spun out reasons and accusations so fast she found it hard to concentrate. Eventually, she stopped and took a deep breath to gain control of her emotions.

      What difference would it have made? She’d be dead instead of staring down into the centre of the planet. Either way, she’d be alone. Feeling nothing. Why didn’t she feel anything? Why wasn’t she crying? Slowly a fear crept into her veins. Now she was feeling something. Now she felt alone. No mother telling her off for not folding her clothes. No father reprimanding her for returning ten minutes later than normal. Never again would she hear his sermons. Ruby knew her father had loved them, but he’d struggled to express his feelings. He had good days when he made them laugh, but Ruby now realised his gloomy outlook was because of the never-ending war talk, and she wondered if he’d thought Christmas would be their last together. If he’d thought it, he’d been right, and she was grateful to him for trying so hard. Her family rarely laughed together but when they did the world was a good place to be, even during wartime in England.

      Ruby pulled her coat around her as the temperature dropped, when it dawned on her she’d never hear their voices or laughter again. Disbelief set in.

      Surely not? There must be life down there. She had to fight for them. Their family business, Shadwell’s Grocery, the place where she’d worked day and night, gone.

      ‘Here! My family! They are down there,’ she called out.

      ‘Get away from there, girl. It’s dangerous,’ a male voice bellowed out above the many sounds echoing out around the city.

      Ruby turned to see who was talking, and she saw his tin hat bobbing up from a large hole in the ground. The man threw bricks and slates to one side. His plump face glistened with sweat and white vapours escaped his mouth and nostrils as he worked.

      ‘Get away. There’ll be no survivors down there. I’m sorry if they are yours, duck, but you must get away. Find somewhere safe. Don’t go to town – it’s bad there. Very bad. Those flames –’ he pointed to a red-gold skyline ‘– it’s the cathedral. There’s no hope left here.’ The man drooped his head, his voice gentle yet firm. Ruby said nothing, mesmerised by the flesh wobbling beneath his chin – a flash reminder of her mother. The man was the opposite to her father, whom her mother had often described as scrawny, and Ruby took after him. The man repeated his instructions and returned to clearing rubble, and Ruby shrugged her shoulders. Where’s safe? she thought. How would she find safe without her parents to guide her?

      ‘Get away, girl. There’s nothing you can do – it’s a mess. Go to a shelter. Get yourself to safety. Follow her,’ a man in Home Guard uniform shouted and nodded in the direction of a woman walking with a baby in her arms, but Ruby ignored him.

      She stood and watched as he pulled at pipes and bricks from the doorway of a house which still had some resemblance to a home.

      A fierce hissing sound penetrated into the many noises nearby, followed by a loud explosion forcing her to the ground. Ruby fell backwards, away from the crater. It was a sign. Time for her to leave.

      The man who’d encouraged her to leave earlier groaned several feet away. Ruby scrambled to her feet. Before she could reach him, he was upright and brushing his hands against his trousers.

      ‘You still here?’ he said and moved towards her, his hands held out to her. Ruby noticed the thick mud still clinging to them and kept hers to her side.

      She remained silent. Her legs refused to move.

      ‘Young woman here needs attention. Anyone? Family trapped in this one and I can’t leave.’

      She listened as he barked out requests and instructions. He represented life. She needed to be near him, to hear his voice above the sirens and screams. She took a step towards him.

      ‘Gas!’ someone from behind them shouted, and the man turned their way then back to Ruby, his voice thick with concern.

      ‘The pipes are blowing. Get away, girl – how many times do I have to tell you? Run for your life. You are one of the lucky ones. Run.’

      Ruby stared at him. Lucky? He considered her lucky? Didn’t he know what she’d seen? Didn’t he understand?

      A tremor of gas hissed, and the man nudged Ruby’s back. ‘Go! Now!’

      He ran towards the building in front of them. Ruby heard a woman shout for help when another explosion vibrated through her body. The noise was so loud she put her hands to her head, but the sound continued to penetrate her eardrums. Ruby crouched down to stop herself from fainting. She looked towards the building just as it blew into smithereens. The man didn’t reappear. The woman no longer called for help. Yet again, Ruby was alone.

      Where now? As she looked around, all Ruby could feel was despair. She’d never experienced a loss so great and her heart beat fast and furious.

      She stood back up and turned full circle. Her lungs choked on smoke, her eyes stung and watered, but she could still see a hell on earth. She’d heard enough sermons to have imagined it over the years, and now she stood in its jaws. Gripped by thoughts so powerful she couldn’t comprehend all of them. What was expected of her now?

      Jump into the pit? Or live? Jump or live? The words pounded through her head, then she leaned to one side and retched out nothing. She watched the living retrieve dead bodies for a while longer, when she remembered her grandmother.

       Gran! She must be petrified.

      Breathing as deep as she could, she gained control of her feelings and got her bearings. She ignored the hunger gnawing in her belly and moved with speed towards Kirby Road, where her grandmother lived. The usual half hour walk took twice the time due to the detours she was forced to make, and Ruby’s calves ached. She turned into Kirby Road and saw it too had fallen foul of several bombs and no longer resembled the street she knew. Smashed chimney pots, cutlery, crockery and items of clothing were scattered everywhere. As in her own road, water flowed free from smashed pipes and added to the mess.

      She picked her way from one end to the other, to where she estimated her gran’s house to have once stood. Another crater. The scene before her was much like the one she had just left. Ruby’s grandmother would never greet her with open arms and beaming smiles again. She’d also taken the full fury of Hitler’s bombs.

      ‘Excuse me,’ she called out to a woman in uniform escorting an elderly man from a house still standing, which Ruby knew had once been his home. His arm was in a sling, the striped material bearing resemblance to a bed sheet.

      ‘Fred?’ she said and took a closer look at the old man. He and her gran often exchanged produce from their gardens. The man looked different. More aged, and frail.

      ‘He’s in a bad way. Shocked is an understatement. I’ve got to get him help. You’re welcome to tag along,’ the woman said.

      ‘Did anyone leave here?’ Ruby asked, and pointed to her gran’s empty plot.

      ‘If they did, it wasn’t alive, my love. Not many did that side of the street. Sorry, sweetheart. Try the medical tent. You never know. But I’m warning you, don’t get your hopes up. If not, try the gasworks. That’s where the –’

      Ruby flicked her chin upwards to indicate she understood, and to stop the woman saying the words out loud. The woman gave her a weak smile, her eyes loaded with sympathy.

      ‘Come on, Fred, let’s get you out of here before it’s too dark to see.’

      Ruby nodded her thanks, fighting back tears.

      ‘You coming with us?’

      Ruby shook her head at the woman and gave Fred a reassuring pat on his arm. ‘You take care, Fred,’ she said.

      ‘Gone. All gone,’ Fred said, showing no recognition,