Dead to Me (9 page)

Verity had never been to a funeral before, and so she had no idea what they were normally like.

Hazel told her that it wasn’t usual to be put so hastily into the ground with the minimum of prayers and no hymns, or to have no other mourners. ‘So you must try to forget it,’ her aunt urged her again.

When the day came, Verity made a posy of brightly coloured dahlias which she threw in on top of the coffin. It was only then that she shed a few tears, and only because she could hardly believe that anyone could have such a stark, unmourned end.

The day after the funeral Verity took some of her mother’s best dresses and costumes to a shop in Lewisham that bought good quality second-hand clothes.

Maybe to an outsider this would appear callous, but Verity and Hazel had talked it over and decided they needed to take positive action to free themselves of their anger and resentment. Apart from anything else, they had to pay for Cynthia’s funeral and find money to buy Verity new shoes and to keep her for the coming weeks.

Verity got twelve pounds for the clothes – more than they had expected – and Aunt Hazel decided they would keep the remainder of Cynthia’s clothes to alter for themselves.

Finally, Susan replied to Verity’s letter, but it was starchy and brief. She offered her condolences, but the line ‘my parents feel that it isn’t appropriate for us to spend so much time together now’ meant that in fact she didn’t want to be friends with someone whose mother had taken her own life.

Verity was very hurt, but she kept it to herself. Hazel might say she was in favour of drawing a veil over recent events, and forgetting her sister’s selfishness, but Verity knew in reality she was sad and grieving. She would be deeply disturbed if she knew her niece was being made to suffer for her mother’s actions.

It
was Sunday evening, and Verity was supposed to be starting school in the morning. Tomorrow would be two weeks since her mother’s death.

‘You don’t have to go back to school, if you don’t want to,’ Aunt Hazel said, putting her hand on Verity’s shoulder. ‘No one will expect you to when you have only just buried your mother.’

‘I don’t know what I want,’ Verity admitted. ‘It’s all been so horrible, and I feel so mixed up.’

Aunt and niece were sitting in the parlour companionably. It had been raining all day, and since lunch Verity had been reading a book while Hazel had been taking in one of Cynthia’s dresses.

When the sun came out, Verity suggested they went for a late evening walk.

‘I suppose we could,’ Hazel said. ‘Though I’m so comfy I don’t know that I want to move.’

Verity smiled. Her aunt had become a whole lot easier to live with since the funeral. She wasn’t so sharp, and she seemed much more relaxed.

‘You may have to move,’ she said, pointing towards the window. Mrs Dean, their neighbour, was waddling across the street towards their door. ‘Shall I head her off? Tell her you’re lying down or something?’

‘She’s the last thing I need,’ Hazel groaned.

Mrs Dean was one of the worst gossips in the street, in the hot weather she sat out on her garden wall nearly all day, watching people and encouraging them to stop and chat. People joked that if you told her a secret, the whole of Lewisham would know it within the hour. She had tried to befriend Hazel immediately after Cynthia’s death, with the sole intention of digging up a bit of dirt.

‘No, I’ll deal with her.’ Hazel got to her feet as the doorbell rang. ‘You stay here; she knows you are a soft touch.’

Verity didn’t move from her chair – like her aunt, she was sick of people calling. They often came with a gift of food, but it was just to gain information, not real kindness or sympathy. Verity was astounded at how adept her aunt could be at offering thanks very politely, even with surprising warmth, and yet not telling the caller anything at all. But getting rid of Mrs Dean would be especially difficult; it was often said she had the hide of a rhinoceros and was never deterred by insults, threats or a door slammed in her face.

A minute or two passed and Verity heard the front door close. Aunt Hazel came back into the room, a letter in her hand.

‘That was quick work,’ Verity said. ‘How did you do it?’

Hazel half smiled. ‘I told her the vicar was here. She can’t have been at her usual perch in the window or she’d have known it wasn’t true. It seems the postman made a mistake and put this through her door. She claimed she’d only just found it, half hidden by the doormat, but I expect she steamed it open. It’s for you, dear!’

As soon as Verity saw the Devon postmark she knew it was from Ruby. The unformed childish writing confirmed it.

‘It’s from my friend Ruby,’ she said, knowing her aunt must be curious. ‘I wrote to her that night mother had the accident on the chair, and I posted it the next day. She won’t know mother is dead.’

‘Maybe that’s just as well, and her letter might cheer you up,’ Hazel said. ‘I’ll go and get the tea ready and leave you in peace to read it.’

Verity felt a little pang of something akin to love for her aunt, because she wasn’t demanding to know who this friend was – or even to read the letter – the way her mother would have done.

She opened the envelope hastily, her excitement rising rapidly.

Dear Verity,

There’s a shock! I thought you would forget me. You wrote kind of funny – I suppose you think someone would read it, but they don’t. Anyways, sorry you had to move and leave the nice house. Is your aunt kind? Are the girls at your new school nice to you?

I got lucky coming here. You must have thought it was a prison place but it ain’t. A lady spoke up for me in court, she said I never had a chance with my ma and I needed to go to a decent home. Well blow me down if they didn’t bring me down here by the sea to stay with Mrs Wilberforce. She lets me call her Wilby, time was she used to have eight or nine kids staying, but she lost her old man and she’s getting too old for real young ones. I really like her and living here, I get good food and kindness. My reading and writing is much better now and she’s making me speak posh too and have manners. I told Wilby all about you and she said you can come to stay any time you like. I’ll put the telephone number at
the end, so you can ring me. It ain’t hard to get here, the train goes from Paddington. I would love it if you came.

Big love,

Ruby

All at once the flood of tears that had been suppressed for so long came, great gulping sobs that eased the horrible lump she’d had inside her. The letter was badly spelled, with no real punctuation, but there was affection in every word, and Ruby didn’t even know that things were so bad for her.

Hazel came in, stopping in surprise to see her niece so distraught.

‘Whatever is it?’ she asked. ‘Is it something nasty in that letter?’

Somehow, through the sobs, Verity was able to tell her aunt about Ruby and how she’d got to know her. Hazel looked horrified at the bit about the stolen clock, but she took the letter and read it.

‘Sounds like she’s fallen on her feet,’ she said. ‘She is clearly very pleased to hear from you. Even if she’s no great shakes as a letter writer.’

‘I’m so pleased to get her letter,’ Verity said and tried to dry her eyes. ‘I don’t know why I’m crying.’

‘I do,’ Hazel said. ‘You’ve bottled it all up – not just your mum, but everything – for a long time. Ruby is like a key, she’s unlocked your emotions for you.’

‘Mother would have gone mad if she’d known about Ruby,’ Verity said.

‘Well, your mother was a snob as well as a fool,’ Hazel
said. ‘When we were kids, we were often barefoot, we didn’t even have a better dress for Sundays like most around here. I thought I was dead lucky when I got taken on as an apprentice to make curtains and that. It’s a proper trade. But your mother was always above herself. She said she’d kill herself, rather than sew or be a shop girl.’

‘Did she really marry my father because she thought he had money and was well connected?’

‘I know so. She met him up West. She used to hang around with Iris Petherall back then, a snooty Blackheath girl, her folks had money. They took the two girls with them one night to the theatre and afterwards went for supper somewhere a bit smart. I don’t remember where, but there was a band and dancing, and Archie was there. He’d been in France during the war and no doubt he made himself out to be a bit of a hero. Of course he was handsome, and posh too. Funny thing was, Cynthia didn’t talk much about him the next day, only that his parents had a big house in Shropshire. I got the feeling she’d set her cap at him, and I was right. They got married a few weeks later.’

Verity gasped. ‘Really! That fast?’

Hazel winced. ‘I can guess how she persuaded him, but it wouldn’t be proper to tell you that, any more than to tell you why I always knew he was a cad and a bounder. Anyway, back to this letter from your friend. Why don’t you go down to the telephone box and ring her now? It’ll do you a power of good to speak to someone of your own age.’

Hazel put down her sewing after Verity had gone out to the telephone box. She was worried about her niece, because she knew she would be talked about at school,
maybe even ostracized because of her mother, people were like that.

She wished she could speak out and tell Verity how adult, kind and sensible she was, and that she’d grown terribly fond of her, but she found it impossible to say such things. How Verity had turned out so well she couldn’t imagine, as she’d had little or no parental guidance, with her mother far too wrapped up in herself to think of her child, and her father more interested in gambling and pretending to be something he wasn’t. Yet however well-adjusted Verity appeared to be, she was vulnerable now; her age, her father’s disappearance, the house being taken away and then her mother gassing herself, all this was far too much for a young girl to cope with.

‘I wish I knew what to do or say,’ she sighed. She had had ideas about selling the remainder of Cynthia’s treasures and getting the house tidied up a bit so Verity felt more comfortable here. But maybe she should keep that money in case her niece needed something else – money for a training course or something?

Verity was gone about twenty minutes, and when she came back she was flushed with excitement. ‘It was so good to speak to Ruby. She sounds really happy, but she was sad for me that Mother died. She said Mrs Wilberforce said I could go and stay there with them for a while, if I wanted – even tomorrow – instead of going back to school. I’d love to see the sea.’

‘You’ve never seen the sea?’ Hazel was shocked.

‘No. Every summer Mother used to say we’d go to Brighton, but we never did. The only holidays we ever had were with Grandmother Wood in Shropshire. It was a
lovely old house and a beautiful garden, with a river running through it, but there were no other children to play with and Grandmother could be very nasty.’

Hazel thought that Verity had known more nasty people in her life than nice ones. ‘It would do wonders for you to have a holiday,’ she said impulsively. ‘I’m concerned about sending you off to people I don’t know, but if that woman Wilberforce was good enough to take in a slum kid in trouble, she can’t be a bad sort. Is there a husband?’

‘She’s a widow,’ Verity said. ‘She teaches Ruby at home too. She’s old enough to work now, but Mrs Wilberforce wants to bring her up to scratch before she looks for a job. Please let me go, Auntie? I can’t face going back to school when Susan doesn’t even want to be my friend any more.’

‘She was no friend if she turned her back on you so fast,’ Hazel said tartly. ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll ring Mrs Wilberforce myself tomorrow, and I’ll find out what time the trains go to Torquay. You can stay back from school and do a bit of cleaning for me. And if it all works out, you can go on Tuesday or whenever Mrs Wilberforce says.’

Verity leaned over her aunt and hugged her, and for once she didn’t recoil as if bitten by a snake.

‘I’ll miss you, of course,’ Hazel said gruffly. ‘Just mind you behave!’

It was Thursday when Verity eventually set off for Torquay. Mrs Wilberforce had agreed she could come as soon as she liked, but Aunt Hazel wanted to see her off at Paddington Station so they had to wait for her day off.

Verity was beside herself with excitement from the moment it was arranged she could go. She had to get her
holiday clothes washed and ironed while her aunt was at work, and also buy some sandals. The packing took no time at all, because she only had three summer dresses that still fitted her, a pair of shorts and a blouse. Ruby had said she didn’t need a swimsuit, as Wilby had several that she could borrow.

It was torturous waiting to leave; she cleaned the house, polished the brass, scrubbed the stone doorstep and pulled up weeds in the garden to pass the time. Even reading – the one way in which she’d always managed to escape from reality or make time go faster – didn’t seem to work.

Finally, Thursday morning arrived, the sun was shining and good weather was forecast for the next week. Verity washed, then dressed in the pale green and white cotton dress which had been her mother’s and her aunt had altered.

‘You look very nice,’ Hazel said when she came downstairs to find Verity making toast. ‘That dress suits you. Now the train leaves Paddington at eleven, and it doesn’t get to Torquay till nearly four thirty, so I’ll make you some sandwiches for your lunch.’

When the time came to set off, Aunt Hazel proved surprisingly knowledgeable at getting around in central London. She led Verity down the stairs from Charing Cross to the underground and knew exactly which train to get to Paddington.

They arrived at Paddington with twenty minutes to spare, and Hazel bought Verity a bar of chocolate and a magazine to read on the train.

‘I want you to travel in the Ladies Only carriage,’ she said. ‘And don’t do anything you shouldn’t do.’

Verity wondered what naughty thing her aunt could possibly imagine her doing on a train, but she said nothing.

‘It’s going to be very strange without you,’ Hazel said just as her train was announced as boarding on platform one. ‘Be helpful and polite to Mrs Wilberforce,’ she added as they walked to the train, looking for the Ladies Only carriage. ‘I’ll telephone at the weekend to see if everything is as it should be.’

Aunt Hazel walked away the moment the guard blew his whistle, and Verity suspected that was because she was struggling not to cry.

As the train chugged out of Paddington Station, past the backs of shabby houses and glimpses into mean streets where some of the poorest people in London lived, Verity could almost feel the cares and anxieties she’d been harbouring for so long now leaving her. School and any problems there might be with friends were put aside for now, and there would be no more neighbours pretending kindliness just to inveigle their way into a confidence. She wouldn’t have to see that look of hurt and bewilderment on her aunt’s face for a little while, and there’d be no need to fake grief for Ruby.

The sadness she felt was not exactly because her mother was dead. It was more because she’d realized that their feelings for one another had been very limited. When had they ever really shared anything? Or talked about anything important? When had they ever laughed together till their sides ached? Or for that matter cried in each other’s arms? How could any child respect a parent who crumpled at the first sign of trouble? How could she truly love her mother
when she didn’t believe her mother ever knew what it was to love her?

In a way she was glad her mother was gone, even though that was an absolutely terrible thing to admit to. If she’d lived, Verity knew her mother would always have been hanging on to her coat-tails, always been a liability, a problem she would have had to find the answer to.

She was free now. She might have to go back and live with Aunt Hazel for another year, but that was fine. She respected her, she was grateful for all she’d done.