Ruby's War Read Online Free Page A

I’ll get the tablecloth. Is it in the dresser drawer, Jenny?’
    â€˜It’s not Sunday,’ Jenny said, handing him a newspaper, which he opened out and spread over the velvet cloth.
    â€˜Ruby and me will set the table,’ he said. ‘Leave that to us. I’m sure she knows how to set a table.’
    â€˜Let’s hope so,’ Jenny replied, getting up from the chair. ‘The plates are in the bottom of the oven in the range. Use the cloth on the rail to carry them, and make sure you put it back. Knives and forks are in the right-hand drawer,’ she said, pointing to the dresser by the kitchen door. ‘I’ll go and cut the bread.’
    When Ruby pulled open the oven door, the smell of stew bubbling in the large brown pot made her feel dizzy. Granddad, who had taken off his jacket and his stiff collar, took a seat at the table, and as she set out the knives and forks, he did his secret grin and winked again.
    â€˜Here. Put this on the table,’ Grandma Jenny said, coming back from the kitchen with a plate of bread. ‘I’ll bring the stew. No doubt it’s dry by now.’
    â€˜Grandma Jenny is a very good cook, Ruby,’ Granddad said.
    Jenny carried the steaming pot to the table. When she took off the lid, the rich smell filled the room.
    â€˜Not too bad,’ she declared, spooning out the deep-brown stew on to the plates and tucking the tea towel in the waistband of her apron.
    The food was warm and comforting. The meat was tasty, although Ruby didn’t recognise the strong, dark flesh. She squashed the soft, waxy potatoes into the viscous gravy and let the taste of the sweet carrots fill her mouth.
    â€˜Now, that was worth waiting for,’ Granddad smiled, when they’d dabbed up every last drop and their plates were clean and dry. ‘Wouldn’t you say so, Ruby, love?’
    â€˜Well it took you long enough to get home to it,’ Jenny said, ‘and via the pub, by the smell of you.’
    â€˜It was the train. It was delayed,’ he said, avoiding Ruby’s eye. ‘The station was that busy, soldiers, all kinds. Ruby was getting knocked here and there. So I took her into the station bar to wait. All that luggage and rushing about, the lass could have been knocked off the platform. Might there be any pudding left?’ he asked.
    â€˜You can’t expect to have decent food served up at the drop of a hat,’ Jenny said, surveying the empty plates. ‘You’re lucky there’s anything left. Was there Yanks at Preston?’ she asked. ‘Our Sadie says there’s a rumour that the Yanks are sending black GIs up here.’
    â€˜No, they was ours. We had some black lads in France last time. They was Yanks. Nice enough lads, from what I could see. Jenny, love,’ he said, winking at Ruby, ‘did I see you coring apples this morning?’
    â€˜It’s more than you deserve,’ she replied, heading over to the oven again.
    The fat apples were filled with dried fruit, made soft and full with fragrant apple juice. At Everdeane, when baked apples were the pudding, there was much less fruit packed inside, and the visitors had been forced to use their individual sugar rations to make the tart flesh edible.
    Once she’d eaten her apple, Ruby began to feel sleepy. It was only a holiday. A few days, he’d said. They just needed her room for a bit. She yawned. If they’d told her sooner, she could have been packed and waiting for Granddad when he’d arrived.
    Jenny brought a large brown teapot over to the table and collected the dishes. Instead of drinking from his cup, Granddad tipped the tea into his saucer and began to sip it. Ruby expected Jenny to complain. Auntie Ethel would never have allowed it. No wonder she hadn’t offered him a cup of tea. But Jenny didn’t say anything. Instead, she opened up the white sheet again, and after pinning part of it across her wobbly bosom,