GIs and Ginger Beer, page 7
‘Although it was the war that brought you Chet,’ Eddie offered.
‘That’s right, young man.’ Ruby peered at Eddie. She frowned. ‘You do remind me of him. Maybe it’s the voice. Where are you from?’
‘Rockport, Massachusetts, originally, ma’am.’
‘Yes, it’s the voice. You’ve got the same sort of Yank accent.’
‘Where did Chet come from?’
‘I’m not sure I remember rightly. On the coast, not far from Boston, or some such.’
‘Same ballpark. It’s no wonder we sound alike.’
‘He wasn’t as tall as you.’ Ruby eyed Eddie’s shoulders. ‘Not as big neither. And, of course, he had on his uniform. Not jeans. How old are you?’
‘Coming up to thirty-seven.’
She patted his hand, her eyes misting. ‘Such a child.’
Zoe huffed and rolled her eyes.
‘I must seem ancient to Zoe here.’ He mustered a grin.
‘It’s not that,’ the girl said impatiently. ‘I want to hear more about Chet and Ruby. It all sounds so romantic. How old were you, Ruby, when all this was happening?’
‘I was sixteen. Only just, mind. Chet was nineteen.’
‘You were so young. I don’t think Mum would have let me date a boy at that age and wander around the Bere Cliffs with him, getting up to all sorts.’
Ruby snorted. ‘Doubt if you was much older when you went up there with your Sean. Things were different back then, mind. My generation had to grow up fast.’
‘So, where else did he take you?’
‘We went to the pictures. There’s no picture house here now, I see, but back then there was a smasher at the top of the hill.’
‘That’s where the Co-op is now,’ Zoe said, nodding vigorously. ‘Man, I’d literally die for a cinema in Berecombe. It’s a right miz going all the way into Exeter.’
‘It was difficult to get tickets, especially when the GIs were here. They bought them all up, but Stella Young’s mum ran it, so she used to save us a few. There’d be me and Chet and Iris and Glenn and Stella and her husband-to-be. We’d have real larks.’
‘What was on? What were the hot films of the day?’
Ruby smiled at Zoe’s enthusiasm. ‘A Gracie Fields film was always popular. I liked Shipyard Sally. We all came out singing “Wish Me Luck As You Wave Me Goodbye”.’
‘Who’s Gracie Fields?’
Ruby laughed. ‘Look her up, young lady. There was Gentleman Jim with Errol Flynn, he was always a favourite. Oh, and Mrs Miniver with Greer Garson. That had us all in tears. Casablanca, of course.’
‘I’ve seen Casablanca! It’s a classic. Did you sit in the back row and snog?’
‘Zoe!’ Ashley exclaimed.
Ruby cackled. ‘No, we did not, young lady. The usherette used to walk up and down the aisles and have a nosy to check there was no funny business going on.’
Zoe hooted. ‘Can you imagine that happening now?’
‘I cannot. The last time Serena took me to the pictures it was like a bun fight. Kiddies running everywhere, folks on their phones.’
‘What else did you do? Were you going out with him at Christmas? That must have been different when the war was on. No piles of presents, no mountains of food.’ Zoe stopped, aghast. ‘Did you even have Christmas Day?’
‘Of course we did, child,’ Ruby said, indulging her. ‘But it wasn’t like it is now.’ Ruby’s face took on a dreamy look and she began talking so intensely that no one, including Zoe, wanted to interrupt.
‘By December 1943 Chet had taken me to the dance and had spent a lot of time in the front parlour of the flat, drinking tea with me and Florrie. I think Florrie was of a mind that if she had us under her roof we couldn’t get up to much.’ Ruby’s lips twisted. ‘Considering what happened the next year, she probably had a point. But more than Chet being my beau, Florrie wanted to make the boys feel welcome, knowing they was a long way from home and their own families. Iris and Glenn would come along and it would be quite a party. Jimmy didn’t often join us. I thought at the time it was because he was shy about his scar, but I learned better later on.
‘Coming up to Christmas, Florrie invited Chet and Glenn to Christmas dinner. Iris, too. Florrie couldn’t think of anything worse than not being with your family at Christmas, and I know she hoped that if her Jimmy had ever been in the same situation, another mother would have looked after him in the same way. We saved all our meat rations for weeks so we could put on a half-decent spread. Funny thing was, Chet turned us down, saying he’d be on guard duty that day. I knew something was up, because the men used to take it in turns to do it, and he and Glenn were on not long before. I remember because the weather had turned and they were out in a storm all night.
‘So I said to Florrie that something wasn’t right, and we took ourselves off to the camp and asked the chap on the gate to check the rota. Turns out Chet and Glenn weren’t due on guard duty again until January. The next time they came for tea we asked them. Well, what they said as an answer would make a glass eye weep. Florrie wept buckets. Turns out they knew we didn’t have much on ration and they didn’t want to have off us what little we had. They were such thoughtful lads; they knew an outright refusal would have offended, so they made up this daft story about being on duty.
‘Florrie, when she’d stopped bawling, had no truck with any of this and insisted they come for their Christmas dinner. Well, on the morning they arrived, they came carrying this enormous parcel. It was one someone had sent them from home. From America! Had two salami sausages in it, chocolate, some of that teaberry chewing gum, cans of brisket and – wonder of wonders – five cans of pineapple! I’d never had pineapple, not even before the war, and I’ve never forgotten how sweet it tasted.
‘We had such a good time. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much food and felt so full. We played charades and sang some songs and carols. We had paper chains all across the ceiling made from newspaper, and hats too. We raised a glass to absent friends and family, and that got Florrie tearing up again, and the rest of us weren’t far off having a sniffle. Can’t say it was the best Christmas Day I’ve ever had, but it was the most memorable. Even Jimmy joined in, sort of.’
‘No presents?’ Zoe asked softly.
Ruby chuckled. ‘Not what you’d think of as presents. We were lucky if we got a stocking with some nuts and a silver sixpence in my day, war or no war. Florrie gave me a pair of earrings that had belonged to her mother and Jimmy gave me some gloves, which I think he’d got Florrie to knit.’
‘What did Chet get you?’
Ruby’s eyes misted over. Her hand went to the silver locket around her neck.
‘And you’ve worn it ever since? Oh!’ The sound was long and wistful. ‘Ruby, it’s all so romantic.’
‘Maybe, child. Maybe.’ She reached over and patted the girl’s hand. ‘Now, I’ve sat here long enough and talked myself hoarse. Why don’t you show me around this place? I could do with stretching my legs.’
Chapter Fifteen
Ashley clicked off the recorder, her thoughts with Ruby and a wartime Christmas. It sounded very different to the ones she’d had when growing up. Noah was always there, of course, plus her uncle and aunt and a rota of grandparents and her great-grandmother. Christmas was her mother’s favourite time of the year and was planned with military precision for maximum indulgence. It was a parade of endless food and expensive presents. One year, in an attempt to quell the extravagance, she and Noah had tried to enforce a ten-pound maximum on the present price. Her mother had sulked so much during the day, they ended up having a rerun of Christmas Day, as Lydden family tradition expected, on January the first. Ashley smiled; her mother could be hard work sometimes but she was the hub around which they all revolved. She suspected Ruby’s Florrie had been much the same.
‘I read the plaque that was unveiled,’ Eddie said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘The one in the square that states: The bond between the soldiers of the US Army and the citizens of this town will never be broken. Kind of makes it all the more real when you hear first-hand accounts of folk taking in GIs for Christmas.’
Ashley stowed the recorder away in her rucksack, forcing herself into the present, back to the Workshop’s staff room, with a table cluttered with mugs and a fridge humming to itself in the background. ‘It was a kind thing to do,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m sure it was replicated across the town, if not also the country. Christmas has a way of bringing everyone together.’ She bit her lip. It had certainly brought Eddie and Bree together. Shoving the ungracious thought away, she added, ‘And it was incredibly thoughtful of Chet and Glenn to worry about taking Florrie’s rations. They must have been nice boys.’
‘Yup.’ He sighed. ‘Wish I could find out more about my grandfather. No one seems to know anything about him.’
‘Are you sure he was billeted here?’
‘Pretty sure. He was with the company that was here in Berecombe. I know the 16th were in Lyme Regis and a few were put up in Parnham Hall over Bridport way.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Guess that’s where they put the top brass.’
‘If what Noah says is true about the numbers, the area must have been swamped with GIs,’ Ashley suggested gently. She could see it was bothering him. ‘Maybe he was in one of the outlying villages? Have you been in touch with the regimental contact Noah mentioned?’ Now she’d been in Eddie’s presence for a whole two hours, it felt a little easier talking to him. Besides, despite what had or hadn’t happened between them, she genuinely wanted to help.
‘Yeah. He’s getting back to me. It’s all taking a while, though.’
‘I’m sure it was a chaotic time.’
Eddie nodded. ‘Yup. Must have been. I just hoped I’d be able to tell Mom some human detail. You know, like we’ve just heard. She’d love to know her pa was looked after at Christmas. If there’s one holiday she loves, it’s Christmas.’
‘My mum, too.’ Ashley smiled at him and something reconnected between them.
He reached into his jacket pocket. ‘Speaking of presents… Although it’s not the holiday season and this isn’t, strictly speaking, a present – more a necessity – I got you this.’ He handed over a package wrapped in glittery blue paper. ‘I saw it in a vintage shop in Exeter and thought it was just about damn perfect. Well, open it and you’ll see.’
Ashley peeled away the wrapping paper, ripped off the tissue underneath and gasped. Revealed was a bicycle bell, an old-fashioned one, large and with a prominent lever. But better still, it was painted the exact same shade as her bike. She held it in her palm as if it was a precious jewel. ‘It’s perfect.’ She smiled at him, eyes shining. ‘Thank you so much, Eddie.’
‘I figured that if you’re cycling around Berecombe, you might need to warn people you’re coming. I’ve seen the way folk jaywalk round this town.’
‘You have no idea,’ she said warmly. ‘I’ll put it on tonight.’ She gave it an experimental ding. ‘Ooh, nice and loud.’
‘I tested it in the shop,’ Eddie said solemnly. ‘Several times. Think I drove them wild. “It’s got to be right,” I said to the guy. “Got to be good and loud.”’
She rewrapped it and put it carefully into the side pocket of her rucksack. She was touched. It was a thoughtful present. She couldn’t help but think back to the last present a man had given her: a gold chain. Piers had boasted it had cost an arm and a leg, completely missing the point that a handmade pair of earrings off a local craft stall was much more her style. They’d really had very little in common, she mused. Gazing covertly at Eddie as he gathered up the tea things to put by the sink, she wondered how much she had in common with him and whether it mattered. She still craved his touch, but physical lust was no basis on which to build a relationship. Not one that had the potential to go the distance. Staring at his wide shoulders and sexy back as he ran hot water into the sink, she thought, had Bree not been on the scene, she might have taken the chance to find out.
Getting up, she said, ‘Leave those. I’ll do them afterwards. Would you like a grand tour?’
He dried his hands on the tea towel, looking surprised at the friendly overture. ‘I would love one.’
She showed him the ceramics room, where several potter’s wheels had been installed with a kiln at one end. She pointed out the shelves of misshapen objects. ‘Students’ work,’ she explained on a laugh. ‘Trust me, throwing a pot isn’t as easy as it looks.’ They toured the tutorial rooms and the large space where Ken taught graffiti art.
‘These are cool,’ Eddie said, admiring the vast boards.
‘They are good, but you certainly know when one of these workshops is on. The spray paint reeks. We have to open up all the doors and windows.’ She led him next door into the white exhibition space. ‘And this is where we’re going to hold Jake’s show.’
‘It’s so great,’ he said, looking around. ‘The whole place is really great. If you don’t mind me saying, it looks a bit run-down outside but it’s like a different world in here.’
Ashley smiled ruefully. ‘That’s the next bid for funding. Improve the outside. When Ken set the place up, he wanted to concentrate on the inside first, and getting the right equipment. He’s only just got his own studio sorted. Jed Henville helped get the funding for it. Jed’s married to Millie, of Millie Vanilla’s Café fame, and is the guy to go to for funding. Apparently, he knows all the right people and how to work the system. I think I can hear Ruby and Zoe in Ken’s studio. Want to see?’
‘You bet.’
They walked in to see Ruby, Ken and Zoe crowded around Jake’s easel. Jake was sitting in front of it, looking harassed.
As he heard them come in, he turned and spread his hands as a plea for help. ‘I’m being mobbed here. I keep saying I don’t want your portrait to be seen until it’s finished.’
‘But we insisted,’ Ruby added. ‘I haven’t got long enough to wait around. Might not live that long. And if this young man wants to paint me, I want to see an example of his work.’
‘You’re being a bit unfair,’ Ashley protested. ‘Jake hates his work being seen until it’s finished. And you could have looked at some of his other portraits – most are here waiting to be hung for his show.’
‘Yes, but they wouldn’t have been of someone we know,’ Ruby said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. ‘I want to have a look before I makes my mind up. Don’t want my picture to have three noses and fourteen eyes.’
‘Besides,’ Ken added, ‘I don’t hold with all this pretentious claptrap. Come on, let’s have a look, boy. No room for artistic temperament in this studio, my friend. Especially if it potentially stands in the way of getting you another commission.’
Ashley felt desperately sorry for Jake. Going to his side, she put a hand on his shoulder. He looked hounded. ‘Aw, come on guys, have some respect,’ she urged them.
Jake gazed up at her in gratitude and put his hand over hers. ‘Thanks, Ashley.’
Ruby wasn’t to be so easily thwarted. With his attention diverted, in a gesture so swift it belied her age, she whipped off the tatty material that was covering Ashley’s portrait.
A collective ‘ooh’ rippled around the small crowd.
‘What?’ Ashley said and went to stand in front of it. Clasping a hand to her throat, she let out a long breath. ‘Oh my.’
‘He’s caught you perfectly,’ Eddie murmured, gazing at it intently.
The painting, although clearly unfinished, was recognisably her. Although not naturalistic in style, with great slabs of paint revealing the lights in her hair and on the side of her face turned to the window, something indefinable had been captured. Ashley could see pain, the legacy of her accident, her insecurities and painful lack of confidence. She gasped. She had been stripped bare, more naked than if he’d painted her without clothes. ‘It’s very good,’ she muttered lamely.
‘Good?’ Ken exploded. ‘It’s bloody genius. My God, Jake, you’ve aced it, my friend. What a talent and a half. It’ll be the star of the show!’
Jake flipped the cover back over. ‘That’ll be for me and Ashley to decide,’ he said mulishly. ‘When it’s finished.’
Ashley went back to stand next to him in a show of solidarity, aware of Eddie staring.
‘That’s me decided,’ Ruby said in triumph. ‘Young man, you can paint me like your French girls. With or without clothes. I’m not fussed!’
Chapter Sixteen
‘She said what?’ Petra giggled.
‘She wants Jake to paint her quite possibly in the nude,’ Ashley answered.
‘Good old Ruby. I hope I’m like her when I’m that age. What a cutie!’
‘Poor old Jake,’ Ashley said feelingly.
‘Hey, let’s not be ageist about how old flesh looks.’
‘It wasn’t that I was thinking of. It was him coping with Ruby as a sitter.’
They laughed.
Petra put an arm around her friend and hugged her. ‘Thanks for coming along tonight. You’re a star. I really appreciate the support.’
They were sitting on the edge of the stage in Berecombe’s little theatre by the sea, The Regent, dangling their feet like eight-year-olds.
‘Do you think many will turn up?’ Ashley asked. It was the inaugural meeting of Petra’s community choir.
‘I’ve no idea. Tonight’s an experiment.’
‘What made you begin one?’ Ashley asked curiously. ‘Haven’t you got enough on your plate?’
‘You could say that, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to set up, and Berecombe, with its famous community spirit, has got to be the place to try. I’ve always really admired those military wives’ choirs and I hero-worship Gareth Malone. Not that I see myself as him, of course,’ she added hastily, ‘but singing makes me feel so good, I want to share that with others. Singing in a group is fabulously uplifting. You can escape whatever’s troubling you.’
