‘Can you feel their love, little one? This is where I began my life, and I think they are here to guide us through this, my little angel.’ Another pain told Ruby it was true. ‘Ouch. Let’s go find Beatty. It’s time for you and I to meet.’
12th September 1943
Dear Jean-Paul and Ida,
Forgive me for not writing before, but my world fell apart after your letter, as I’m sure Beatty and Fred explained in theirs.
I have news. Wonderful news. On the 7th of this month, I gave birth to a healthy baby boy. He weighed in at a bouncing seven pounds, at five to eleven at night. He is dark-haired like his daddy. All fingers and toes are complete and, I’m thankful to say, he has not inherited my shortened limb. In fact, we marvelled at how long his legs are, so definitely like his daddy. He is a feisty feeder, and a content baby. It was a long labour, but worth the effort. As to be expected, my emotional dam burst, and I cried for so long the midwife called for the doctor to visit me, but he said it was the combination of sadness for John, and joy.
I hope you will forgive me, but I have given our child the surname Shadwell. I have to register his birth, and named his father for his birth certificate. John had agreed we were to be Shadwell-Clayton when we married to ensure my family name continued. His name is to be John Shadwell-Clayton (John junior). I know it isn’t his father’s true name, but for me it is. I do hope there is news of John soon, for all our sakes.
With affection,
Ruby
June 1944
‘’appy Birfday, Rubes.’
‘Yes, Happy Birthday.’
‘Happy Birthday, duck.’
‘Thank you, all.’
Ruby looked at her family around the table. All were going about their daily breakfast ritual, something most people took for granted, but Ruby no longer did. Tommy was ladling porridge into his mouth before heading for his lessons, now taken with a teacher in the community room, as he shoved forward a homemade card.
‘It’s from me an’ Johnny boy.’ He grinned up at her, and Ruby leaned in to kiss his forehead.
‘Git orf, soppy. Give me baby brother a kiss, an’ leave me be.’
Fred laughed at their antics, and continued to scrape a thin layer of butter onto a slice of toast whilst bemoaning his small portion, and Beatty beamed at her as she poured tea into Ruby’s cup.
‘I swear that baby will be taller than you by supper.’
Ruby dropped a kiss onto her son’s head and whispered to him as she took him to her breast.
‘They might not be related to us by blood but they’re as close as any family will ever be. Tommy has decided you need a big brother, and I think it is a wonderful thing. Your daddy’s family arrive today, and will meet us both for the first time. They are very brave as they are coming by aeroplane. Oh, darling boy, I know they will adore you, but we have to hope I don’t disappoint them. Oh, John, Mummy is scared. So scared.’
Ruby’s breathing would not calm, and no amount of soothing words from Beatty helped. John’s parents were in the house, and talking with Fred downstairs. She took each step down with care, and at the bottom of the stairs checked baby John over for the umpteenth time. He was perfect, and no one could help but fall in love with him. His dark lashes lay on plump rosy cheeks, and his lips still suckled in his sleep. Deep inside she’d buried her heartbreak, and she allowed her son to give her the strength she needed as she stepped inside the room where his grandparents waited to greet them.
‘Oh, my, you are every bit as beautiful as Jean-Paul said you were. Come here, darling girl.’ Ida Clayton rushed towards them and embraced Ruby, who clutched her child for dear life, with warmth and genuine affection. But it was the man across the room who captured Ruby’s attention as he spoke and walked to Ruby to give her his loving embrace.
‘Everything he said. The boy has good taste. Thank you for our grandchild. For allowing us into your lives.’ His voice and tone were the same as she’d heard from his son.
He stood tall and good-looking, a mature version of the man she loved. His image brought her Jean-Paul Clayton, alive again – a vision of what he would look like and, in all probability, what her son would look like at that age. She looked to John’s mother and smiled, then held out her son to enjoy his first snuggle with his grandmother.
‘We have a gift for him. For both of you,’ Ida said, and looked over at her husband with a gentle smile.
‘It’s something Ida and I created, and we want you to keep it. We know you’ll love it as much as we do.’ He walked to the hallway and pulled open the door.
Ruby turned back to Ida, holding baby John. ‘Did Jean-Paul look like this when he was born? Dark hair and lashes, chubby cheeks? Beatty called his skin olive. I just want to kiss him all day!’
Ida laughed. ‘He did. A handsome baby. A boy from the onset. And as for kissing him, I could never help myself. Your son has brought back good memories and, holding him, I know his father will return to us.’
‘And then maybe I’ll get kisses all day too.’
A silence hit the room and Ruby heard gasps from Beatty and a whoop from Tommy, and a grunt of approval from Fred, but she dared not turn around. Dared not believe John stood behind her. His hands touched her shoulders and he manoeuvred her around to face him, and Ruby thanked goodness she’d handed over her son to his grandmother, for her arms flew open wide to embrace John.
‘You’re home. You came back to me – us. Oh, John.’
Ruby allowed the tears to flow. Tears of happiness and the unleashing of grief she’d held back no longer necessary.
She gripped his hand and looked into his eyes. ‘Are you well … sick … injured?’
‘I was rescued and flown back to Canada. I have an injury to my back, and am classed as officially medically unfit, but I’m much better now I’m back with you. I’ve missed you …’ He kissed her with a fierceness and no concern for the others in the room. ‘My girl. Oh, my Ruby, I’m home. I got here and I’ll never leave you again.’
Tommy held out his hand. ‘Oi, big bruvva, shake me ’and so I know you’re real.’
John obliged then turned his attention to Beatty, holding out his hand.
Beatty looked at him, and Ruby saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘Handshake? Come here and give your stepmother-in-law a hug.’
Fred stood back and Ruby turned to him. His face held a look she’d seen before, when she’d told him he’d be the one to walk her down the aisle.
‘Fred?’
He gave a slight cough and held out his hand. ‘Nothing to see here. John, welcome home.’
John’s father moved to Ruby and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘Nice surprise? As we said, you can keep him. We have fallen in love with you already. Jean-Paul’s a wise man.’
‘He certainly is, and I agree his place is here with you, Ruby. He came home to us two days before we planned our trip, and it is because of him we’ve been able to fly to England. Isn’t it wonderful?’ Ida said.
‘It is, and thank you.’
Ruby tugged John’s arm. ‘Come and meet him. John Shadwell-Clayton – our son. Hold him.’
Ruby took the baby from Ida’s arms and gently laid him into the protection of his father’s. Father and son locked eyes, and Ruby witnessed their love for each other surge to the fore. Their child grasped his father’s finger, and John lifted the chubby hand to his lips. Their likeness was undeniable. The boy was a Clayton through and through, and with Shadwell blood in his veins – in Ruby’s eyes – he was the perfect new generation. A triumph of love over war.