EPILOGUE
8th May 1945
‘Do you have his flag? John’s hat? Tommy, are you ready?’ Ruby called out to both John and the boy she now classed as her son. ‘Keep your ’air on, Rubes,’ Tommy called back. ‘I’m trying to get Johnny ’ere to keep still. ’e’s bouncing all over the place.’
Ruby laughed. Her little boy had more energy than any of them, and whenever a day out was mentioned he let loose his excitement. A sniffle across the room caught her attention and she turned to see Beatty sobbing into a handkerchief.
‘Beatty, are you crying? Oh, what is the matter?’
Turning to her guardian, Ruby looked at the woman who’d seen her give birth to two children and watched her like a hawk, waiting for the third to make its appearance in a few months.
‘Fred would have loved this. Today, and your wedding next month – on your twenty-first. Our celebrations as a family.’
‘He would, and it saddens me he never got to walk me down the aisle. But at least I’m not marrying in church, so it won’t be such a painful moment. Don’t forget, though, he’s here, Fred’s with us, Beatty. Fred will be celebrating the end of the war with us all.’
Fred had fallen ill in the winter of forty-four and succumbed to pneumonia a few months later. It hit the household hard, despite them knowing how old and unwell he was. John had helped Ruby nurse him when Beatty took ill shortly after Fred, and the influenza weakened her lungs. Ruby had taken over Tommy’s care. At eleven years old, he’d turned a corner and studied hard. His aim was to open the second shop Ruby had once dreamed of, and become a clock repairer. Fred’s skills as a patient teacher gave Tommy his own skills, and the praise from them all drove into him a tremendous ambition. After Fred’s death, John had stepped in to support him as a father would his son, and they all knew the dream would become a reality. He’d once shared with them his memories, and Ruby understood more about why Earl had such a hold over him.
Tommy told them of how one morning he’d peered through the bars of the cot he’d slept in for two and a half years. Nothing around him had changed that day, but he said something told him to look for change or his life would always be like it was – uneventful. A nun took him to the doctor when he had a bout of sickness, but this time it was outside of the orphanage grounds instead of the doctor coming to them. Tommy said that was the turning point in his life. He noticed an exciting world – London buses, people, shops, noises of every kind kept his head spinning as he looked out from the bus window. Even at such a young age, he knew he wanted the life outside of the dismal building in which he lived. He said his violent outbursts of anger whenever anyone came to select a child put people off and unfortunately he was never offered a trial run in a home. That day on the bus he saw the error of his ways. If he could break free of the orphanage, he could break free of his miserable existence and look for his mum, so good behaviour was required.
A few days later, when the Grange family asked if he’d like to join them for a family walk in the park, with tea in their home afterwards, a calm and polite child replied yes, and his carers heaved a sigh of relief. The man he met when he ran from the park, from the suffocating demands that he sit still and listen to the words from the Bible Mrs Grange recited, offered to show him more of the city, and Tommy took his hand. Earl promised him so much and, although the Grange family were kind and attentive, Earl offered excitement and adventure. A trusting Tommy took Earl’s hand, but that Christmas, in the dank basement of a stinking slum miles away from where he’d started out, Tommy regretted his decision. According to Tommy, Earl’s threats of an early death were accompanied by a good hiding, and he’d witnessed others being carried out from the cramped room, never to return. Although he wanted to run, Tommy decided to become a loyal worker and earn Earl’s trust enough to find a way to escape. It never happened as the more he earned for Earl, the more threatening Earl became, so he accepted his way of life and then stumbled across Ruby.
Ruby switched her thoughts back to Beatty, who was still crying into her handkerchief.
‘And next month I’m no longer your guardian. You come of age and won’t need me any more.’
Shocked Beatty had harboured such upsetting thoughts, Ruby bent and kissed her brow. She dropped another kiss on the cheek of the little girl they’d named June after her own mother, at the insistence of Ida. June Ida Beatrice Shadwell-Clayton, born nine months after her father returned to Coventry.
‘We’ll always need you, Beatty. You are more than a guardian to me, and my little ones see you as their grandmother – Nanny B. I’ll always need you for your wise words and guidance. Don’t cry. Let’s enjoy the end of war with good memories and thoughts. John is recovering every day and we are such a united family it makes my heart burst. Beatty, never think you have no place in my future because of my age. John struggles and you listen to my concerns. That’s all I need from you, a listening ear and loving reassurances we’ll be all right. You listen to my worries about John, and it helps.’
‘He’s the best thing that ever happened to you – aside from Fred and the shop.’
‘And you, Beatty, you are also something good in my life. You help John as much as I do. I know you help in the night, when he sleepwalks and cries out. Without your help, I’d be worn to the bone. Never think I’ve not got a place in my life for you. You live in my heart, understand?’
Beatty nodded. ‘He had another bad night last night. What with madam keeping you busy, I sat with him and listened. He saw some dreadful things. Dreadful.’
‘I know. I didn’t realise how much it had damaged him, but it has. Thank goodness for his new line of work.’
John’s injury took its toll on him, and was worse than first thought. His mental health also gave him troubled nights when he suffered tormenting nightmares of what he’d seen during the fighting. When the end of war was announced, he grabbed his camera and spent his days photographing people rejoicing, but never ignored the faces filled with raw emotion. His love of photography helped him through the difficult days. He kept his promise and took Ruby to London to see his work. Some she could not bear to look at for longer than a few seconds, but others made her proud of what he’d captured. She encouraged him to enter competitions, and one photograph, which Ruby allowed him to print and publish, after finding out he’d not destroyed the negative, won an award. The Girl with Dead Flowers hung in his gallery in what was Shadwell’s Buy and Sell. The shop now bore the sign, Clayton’s Photographic Studio. Ruby insisted it bore only his surname as it was his dream. She no longer needed the validation the Shadwell name would live on.
Today, the building wore a string of bright coloured, hand-knitted socks to commemorate the day, all gifts from friends remembering the community rooms.
Only a handful of streets flew bunting. Tables were pushed together, and what foods were available were shared amongst neighbours, but it was a tired and weary city which tried to rejoice. Their losses were overwhelming. Winston Churchill gave the news of victory in Europe, but many found it hard to celebrate.
John, Ruby and Beatty discussed how they wanted to spend the day, and they decided to head for Radford Common with a picnic, and let John Junior toddle and play with a new kite sent from his grandparents in Canada.