The Orphan Thief

Thomas McBrae

Ruby read the second letter, written in the same handwriting.

25th November 1940

To Whom it May Concern,

As the heir to my wife’s estate, and she to her brother’s, Mr Stephen Archibald Peabody of Garden Cottage, Spon Street, Coventry, I hereby give permission to Miss Ruby Shadwell, of the same address, permission to collect and sell personal items belonging to Mr Peabody (my brother-in-law), and use the money for any outstanding debts. Any monies remaining, Miss Shadwell is free to keep in repayment for her work in housekeeping the property after the death of Stephen Peabody.

The letter was witnessed and signed by the Reverend Burns of Dumfries, and formally signed by the sender. Ruby read through both a second and third time, and each time she realised she now had responsibilities beyond her comprehension. Where did you find a landlord of a property if he’d not already been to find out if the property was still standing? How long would it take for her to raise the money to pay for any rent Stephen owed?

Although she’d peeked into the odd drawer or cupboard, Ruby had never fully investigated Stephen’s belongings. Now it appeared she’d been given permission to do just that, and more. Since the bombing, her life had become quite bizarre – beyond a believable story – yet here she was, living it each day.

CHAPTER 6 (#u44fe0a4b-8bbe-5407-a0a7-811e2062d12f)

11th December 1940

‘My, it’s cold outside today, and not much warmer in here, I’m afraid. Sit yourself down, Ruby.’ Helen Morgan unbuttoned her coat but didn’t remove it, and beckoned Ruby to sit in the same seat as on her previous visit. Today, she’d risen early and was the first in the queue to see Helen. ‘Do you have the form I gave you?’

Ruby nodded and with shyness handed the form to her. Helen looked them over and frowned.

‘You have no address written down.’

‘That’s why I’m here, Helen. I don’t know what to do. I wrote to the sister of the man living … well, he’s dead now … in the house I’m staying at, and this is what I received back.’

She passed the envelope containing the two letters from Stephen Peabody’s brother-in-law. Helen ran her tongue across her lips as she read, then replaced the letters into the envelope and handed them back to Ruby.

‘As I see it, all is legally binding. What does the landlord say?’

‘That’s just it. I don’t know who it is, and hoped you might be able to help me find out. I still have to register for a ration book, Identity card and everything else I’ve lost. I’m scared,’ Ruby said, and chewed on her bottom lip to stop herself from crying. Confessing she was scared and speaking out about her lack of papers had taken every ounce of courage. She waited whilst Helen walked around the room, blowing on her hands as she did so.

‘I understand, but I thought you were going to deal with this, Ruby. Give me your details. I’ll get the paperwork sorted out for you. Where is it you are staying?’

‘Peabody Accountants. He was Dad’s best friend. I found him dead.’

‘Not pleasant for you. I remember Stephen, and heard he was one of the unfortunates. Not pleasant at all. Right, why have you left it so long to register yourself, Ruby? It’s not that difficult.’

Ruby looked down at her feet.

‘Ruby?’ Helen said, and sat back in her seat.

‘I don’t want to leave Coventry. A friend’s mother told me I’d go into care or another home somewhere. I can’t … I won’t leave my family.’

Helen gave a slow nod of understanding. ‘But your family aren’t here, Ruby. I’m confused. At our last meeting you were ready to start again.’

‘You’ve heard my idea. I want to keep the Shadwell name alive. To have a business just like Granddad and Dad. They were proud of this city, and I don’t want to leave. If you fill in the forms I might –’

Helen held up her hand, indicating Ruby stopped talking and listen.

‘It will mean you have a right to stay here. We’ll put down the address you are at for now, and it can be changed when you move out. If the landlord hasn’t been around to check on his property, then there’s a chance he’s from out of town. This is to your advantage as it will be some time before they realise the rent hasn’t been paid. Or they have a private collector to collect on their behalf and, with so many dead, well, who knows, they might have not survived. Leave it with me. I’ll do all I can. When I have news, I’ll call on you. I promise. Do you have food in the house?’ Helen asked and pushed a pen and paper towards Ruby.

Ruby scribbled down her previous and present address, full name and date of birth.

‘I’ve plenty of tinned foods, and someone gave me milk for sorting out their property the other day. I’ve learned to go without it in my drinks; it was a real treat. Fresh and creamy.’

‘Right, well, you take care of yourself, and please, do not think me rude, but what about clothing?’

With a shrug of her shoulders, Ruby looked down at her coat, glad it hid her one outfit.

‘It’s due another wash, I know, but this is all I have –’ she gave a cough ‘– I’m wearing a pair of Stephen’s underpants and a vest. I wear one of his shirts and an old cricket jumper when this is drying. I have no fire. I’m not sure about gas pipes in the street. They blow up so easily.’

‘Stay here,’ Helen said and left the room.

Ruby sat watching snowflakes hitting the window; it was to be another cold night and soon she would be unable to retrieve any goods from nearby properties. The Anderson shelter in the garden of the cottage made an ideal storage room, and it was already a quarter full of broken items waiting for repair.

The door swung open and Helen came back into the room and handed Ruby a bulging pillowcase.

‘Inside you will find four pairs of knickers, all new. A cardigan, vest, blouse and skirt – not new but in good condition. You are a little smaller than my daughter and I’d put these in our back room for distributing to those in need. I think they’ll do you a turn. And here’s a small loaf to tide you over. All bakeries are closed, except for the one on Maudsley Road. My mother can share ours,’ Helen said, and waggled the bag in Ruby’s direction.

‘I’m grateful – thank you.’ Ruby took the gift from Helen and clutched it close.

‘It’s the least I can do. I’ll sort out the papers for you and, as I said, will drop by when I have news. Now, get yourself home before the weather sets in and you get soaked. One thing before you go. Do you know if your parents had a bank account? Most business people do, but some preferred to mattress stuff and not trust banks.’

‘I don’t know. I counted the end of day money and handed it to Dad; after that he dealt with it. I can’t recall going to the bank for him. He was a bit funny about money, so the chances are he hid it in the travel trunk we were never allowed to touch,’ Ruby said.

‘Hmm, shame. The bank might have held money in his name. Mind you, we’d have to prove you are his daughter and, without papers – Wait, were you christened?’

‘Yes. We all were. Why?’

‘It will be recorded in the parish records. Unless, of course, they were destroyed. The same with civil documents, recording your family. There will be copies – birth certificates and such. Leave it with me. One step at a time; we’ll sort things out, don’t you fret. Now, as I say, head home and stay warm. And you’re sure you’ve enough to eat?’ Helen said.

‘Yes, and thanks. Thanks for everything,’ Ruby said and hesitated. She wanted to ask more about the bank, but changed her mind. It would keep for another day; Helen had done more than enough for her, and other people were outside, waiting their turn for the next available slot.

As she exited the building Ruby noticed the clouds scudding overhead and threatening to drop more than a few flakes of snow. In her arms she clutched the new clothing bundle from Helen, and hurried home to try them on, excited at the prospect of having fresh things to wear.

A rush of memories caught up with her and she let them flow as she walked home. She recalled the pretty dress her mother had made for her sixteenth birthday in June. Green paisley with a yellow sash. She’d worn it on for the church summer party after the fete, along with white gloves, shoes and a yellow ribbon for her hair. She’d watched Lenny Barnes blink and stare at her as she’d walked towards the church doorway. Lenny often declared her as his girl, and she would retort with a dismissive put down which always ended with a wink from the tallest boy in school. When they left, he made it his duty to escort her to and from the church dances, and Ruby always ensured another female friend tagged along. Ruby had never had many close friends as she preferred her own company and attending the dances was under sufferance, just to please her mother. Her father had no say over Lenny’s protection of his daughter, but always gave a speech prior to them leaving the house. Lenny had left Coventry with his parents when war broke out and Ruby missed his humour. She also missed how he’d made her feel special in her new outfit – a precious gift she’d never see again.

Before melancholy could set in, Ruby walked faster and thought of what room she needed to investigate next. She only just made it inside before a torrent of hail dropped to the ground. Winter was edging its way closer, adding to Ruby’s concerns. The coal store looked full enough, but the fear of exploding gas pipes prevented her from lighting a fire indoors. On the sideboard in Stephen’s office she’d stood Fred’s photograph and she reminded herself to find him and return it the following day. The weather didn’t invite a second visit outdoors. She had a lunch of thinly sliced bread from the small loaf with a smearing of some fruit jam she’d found in a cupboard. Stephen had certainly received a variety of gifts from his customers; she’d found pickles in old jam jars, and more tinned food than was allowed on a ration card.

After she’d eaten, Ruby made a start on the paperwork in the office. She created piles of official-looking papers to take to Helen and ask her to find the appropriate people to deal with them. Whilst she was sorting them out, she came across a file with her family name written in one corner. She lifted the many papers inside and laid them onto the table. Most were scribbled notes from her father and notifications from Stephen, all relating to the business. She also found papers from the savings bank on Hertford Street. They suggested her father held an account there and Stephen paid in money on a regular basis. It made sense and she laid them onto the pile to take to Helen the next day to see if she could find a way of accessing the account on Ruby’s behalf. If her father did have money for the grocery business, she might be a beneficiary. The thought excited her and she made plans in her head as to where she would set up business in the city. Daydream after daydream kept her company as she packed away the papers. Once finished, she moved upstairs.

Ruby stepped inside Stephen’s bedroom. She’d been inside before to find temporary underwear, but this time the room carried an air of sadness about it as she was to clear away his belongings. His clothing was of fair quality, with one suit barely worn. Ruby guessed it was his Sunday best. A drawer of pullovers and knitted waistcoats proved useful, as four of the seven fitted Ruby and she kept a dark navy one as another warming layer. Socks were also placed in a pile for her own use, as were a pair of brown corduroy trousers and a set of braces. Working on the bombsites, Ruby often scraped her knees and the trousers would be ideal for workwear.

With the clothes sorted into piles, she wrapped and tied them with old newspapers, took them downstairs and placed them to one side for the outside storage room. On the top of the pile she placed Stephen’s brown fedora hat, but almost immediately changed her mind and put it back on its hook. It seemed disrespectful and Ruby hoped the landlord would make good use of it, as it looked relatively new.

A loud bang and crash startled her as she carried the last of the packages down the stairs and she lost her footing on the bottom step, causing her to stumble to the floor. The noise came from outside and she listened in the darkness of the hallway to deep muffled voices outside the door.

Looters!