Ruby stopped in her tracks as the lad burst into tears. She rushed to his side and knelt beside the chair. ‘Whatever’s the matter – er … what’s your name?’
‘T-Tommy, miss. Tommy Jenkins.’
Ruby handed him her handkerchief. ‘Why the tears, Tommy?’
‘I’ll be in bother if I don’t take back some money. We’re living with her and she’s strict. Nasty to me mum. We moved ’ere from Isle a Dogs when Dad joined up. We ‘ave to stay ‘ere now ‘cos ‘e wrote an’ asked me auntie. I ’eard me auntie say she ’ates me mum for it, ’cos her brother married an Irish woman. She don’t like kids neiver, so Mum ’as to move out soon. We ain’t got money though.’
As she looked at him, cuffing a snotty nose against a rough black jacket too short in the sleeves, Ruby came to the conclusion that this was a moment when she had to make a serious decision. Children of this age shouldn’t have to hear cruel words against their parents. Nor should they be homeless. Tommy was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
‘I’ve never heard of the Isle of Dogs, but I bet you miss your old home. I know I’d miss this place.’
‘It’s in London. I come from the capital city of the country. Learned that at school on me first day. I miss it every day,’ Tommy said between sniffles.
Touched by his story, Ruby turned the bracelet around in her hand. She liked it for herself and, although she had no idea of its value, to the child it meant far more. He’d not get into trouble and he’d eat. She could afford to treat herself, and had already considered creating a collection of her own for any future family she might be lucky enough to have – when she was married and old enough, it was her dream. To settle down. Coventry was too important to her to leave. The spirit and blood of her family had been spilled here; it stained the soil of a beating heart which Ruby clung to, for her sanity.
‘I’ll give you two pounds. If it isn’t a fair rate your aunt will know and come tell me, I’m sure. She sounds a tough one. Now, tuck it into your pocket and dry your tears. Run along – it was nice to meet you, Tommy. Stay safe.’
The child scrambled from his chair and gave her a grateful smile. He looked nothing more than a ragamuffin, but Ruby fell for his charm. As he scampered away down the street, she watched him and knew she’d done the right thing, but her heart broke as she remembered another young boy. His gangly legs splaying out as he ran towards her with his arms wide open in readiness for a swooping swing. Ruby snatched at her chest and a small cry of angst left her lips before she could quell the pain. The loss of her little brother and sister had sneaked up and nipped at her heart when she’d least expected it, and seeing Tommy had opened a raw wound.
‘You all right there – are you hurt? Can I help?’
A startled Ruby looked over from where the voice projected itself; it wasn’t an accent she recognised. She saw a young man in uniform step into the doorway. He beamed out a smile, one which begged to be returned. Ruby dried her eyes and gave a half smile.
‘Tommy –’ she pointed to the back of the little boy, jumping over bricks ‘– reminds me of my brother … he’s dead.’ Unsure why she’d confided that snippet of her private life, Ruby gave a brighter smile, not wanting to put off a potential customer. She’d seen the camera around his neck, and recalled his face from the community funeral. ‘Can I help? I’m closing shop for the day, but can stay open a few more minutes if you want to browse.’
The soldier stepped closer, and held up his hand. ‘I won’t keep you. I just wanted to ask if you knew when the next bus leaves town. I’ve missed my train.’
Ruby closed the ledger she’d written inside when she made her sale to young Tommy, and gave a short sigh. ‘I’m afraid you’ve missed that too.’
‘Oh. Really? I was due to return to London tonight.’
‘I don’t recognise your accent as a London one,’ Ruby said.
The soldier gave a laugh. ‘That’s because I’m Canadian. From Canada.’
Ruby, irked by his last remark, replied with deep sarcasm. ‘Really? Is that where Canadians come from?’
With both hands up in surrender, the soldier gave another of his beaming smiles.
‘Forgive me. I wasn’t being patronising.’ He put his arms down and held out a hand for her to shake. ‘Jean-Paul Clayton, but you can call me John – my friends do. My family stick to the formal.’
Ruby took his hand and felt his firm grip. ‘Ruby Shadwell. Nice to meet you, John.’
His fingers wrapped around hers and she looked into his face; he gave a slight wink and Ruby sensed a warmth rush through her skin. She hoped her face was not as red as it felt. The man was handsome, and Ruby doubted there was a woman who would argue it wasn’t the case. His eyes shone, and their handshake lingered beyond what was usual for two strangers meeting. Ruby was disappointed when he pulled his hand away and pushed it into his pocket.
‘I’ll have to find somewhere for the night if that’s the case. A guest house, bed and breakfast. Maybe you know of one?’
Unable to think of a place in Coventry which would not be full or destroyed, Ruby suggested one or two she knew of out of town, with only a twenty-minute walk. It was windy, but not raining. Weather a soldier could handle.
‘I’m grateful to you, Miss Shadwell.’
Ruby watched John walk away. Then he turned around, waved for her to stand still and photographed her in the doorway. When he lifted the camera for a second time, she giggled and closed the door, retaining her own image of him. Of one of the most handsome men she’d ever spoken with – the first male she’d ever noticed as desirable. His photograph of her would be black and white, but her image of him was filled with colour. Brown eyes, dark hair, neatly cut, tanned skin and a white smile beneath full lips. A sharp jawline, tapering to a neat chin, with a slim neck and not a sight of a protruding Adam’s apple. His voice was velvet-smooth and natural, not forced to be suave, and the way he’d thanked her was as much a caress as his fingers might have felt on her cheek. It was deep, with a husky tone. She’d heard and looked up in a dictionary the word sensual, but now she understood its physical form.
Ruby felt shaken by the way a young man, in his twenties at most, she guessed, had affected her heart rate. She felt daring and in need of a small adventure. He’d brought something new with him, a slight air of mystery, and she wanted to learn more about him. It wasn’t every day she got to meet someone from another country. She turned the key in the lock and called out to him. ‘Soldier … John. John Clayton – wait. I’ll walk you through the streets to the main road. It’s not easy to find your way out of the city.’
After she said the words Ruby felt a little foolish. Here was a soldier who’d found his way from another country to Coventry, and she expressed concern about him trying to find his way to the end of the road. This time she knew the blush was there, burning beacon-red and showing him her naïve ways.
‘That’s mighty kind of you – thanks,’ John said, and Ruby liked him even more for not dismissing her as a foolish girl. She tried not to rush and stumble as he waited for her to join him.