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Copyright
One More Chapter
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First published in Great Britain in ebook format by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © Glynis Peters 2019
Glynis Peters asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008384906
Ebook Edition © 2019 ISBN: 9780008363260
Version: 2019-10-15
Dedication
Dedicated to my husband, Peter, in our 40th year of marriage; our Ruby Wedding Year.
I love you for believing in me, for encouraging me, and most of all – for feeding me during the writing of this novel. This is your medal. x
And to my new granddaughter, Felicity Dilys Piper Smy. You came into our lives during the start of this book. My little Canadian Bunny, Meemaw loves you very much. x
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
A Q&A with Glynis Peters
Keep reading …
About the Author
Also by Glynis Peters
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE
Coventry, 25th December 1938
The table, laden with fresh vegetables and a rib of beef, filled the room. Chairs sat around it, seating her favourite people. Ruby Shadwell watched on as they ate and chatted about the previous Christmas, when the table had held two other elders of her family – both grandfathers.
Although both had been loved, they were also remembered for their dour outlook on life. No one banged the table for silence today, and Ruby slipped into a relaxed position in her seat. Her gran praised her parents for such a feast, her siblings drooled as her father sliced the meat onto a large platter and her mother, pretty in her new dress, trotted back and forth from the kitchen. Ruby studied her family as they moved through the day. Her father, over-polite to his mother-in-law and extra friendly to the children, with praise for her, and she even saw him kiss the cheek of her mother. He’d planned their day with great precision and not a minute was wasted.
They played games of charades after the meal and sang carols around the fire during the evening. They sat in silence and listened to her young sister Lucy recite a poem, and smiled when her brother gave a pretend snore at the end of it, earning himself a gentle clip around the ear from their father.
Boxing Day would be a day of rest too and their father had promised them a day much like their Christmas Day.
Ruby looked forward to reading a good book rather than planting out or pulling up vegetables to sell in the family shop, but she couldn’t quite believe her father would honour his declaration. Contentment resonated around the room, but there was a darkness hovering over the adults too.
War loomed, but not a word was spoken about it during their special day. But once the two youngest of their children had given into sleep, the adults renewed their concerns about Hitler and his desire to hold power over Europe.
At fourteen, Ruby understood the implications of war. Her grandfathers and her father had already fought in one, and she’d witnessed men who’d lost limbs, or who choked still on gassed out lungs. Ruby knew if she sat and listened, her father often forgot she was in the room and broadened his views on the current situation. Today he didn’t fail her, and she hung onto his every word. Ruby knew dark days were around the corner, but when it was due to happen was down to politicians at home and abroad. The Shadwell family could only sit in hope it wouldn’t disturb the balance of their peaceful lives.
Toronto, Canada, 25th December 1938
Jean-Paul Clayton Junior watched his father dip the negative into the solution. Their darkroom housed many dripping negatives waiting to share what the two men had captured through their lens.
Photography was Jean-Paul’s passion and his father’s hobby, so when he’d mentioned his intention to leave the banking sector to take up photography full-time, this had not gone down well with his parents. At nineteen, although he wanted to rebel, he took their advice to continue earning and build a portfolio of work which might stand him in better stead for when he took it up as a permanent career.
Today, he unwrapped their gift to him, one which showed they understood his restlessness. He now owned one of the latest cameras and a ticket to travel throughout Canada. With news of the war brewing in Europe, his parents wanted him to have an adventure during his summer break. His sister received jewellery, which delighted her as much as his gift did him, but Jean-Paul knew his gift would never go out of fashion. A camera would always capture life through a lens and Jean-Paul intended never to miss a moment.
CHAPTER 1
Coventry, 15th November 1940
Ruby Shadwell stared out into the street, blinked away her disbelief and then looked down once again into darkness over the edge of a large smoking crater. A flash of light from the rising sun emerging from behind a cloud skimmed across scattered shards of glass, giving her an insight as to what was below. The epicentre of horror.
The place her parents and two siblings would have sat enjoying their cocoa around the fire, as they did every night. Ruby had no doubt their routine hadn’t altered despite the air raid warnings.
Even if they had been in the Anderson shelter at the bottom of the garden, the scene before her would be the same. Total devastation. Her family crushed to death like ants under the foot of a human.
White-grey flakes fluttered from the sky. She held out her hand. It wasn’t snow, but something like the ash from the fireplace in their house. The house which no longer existed.
Ruby wrapped her arms around her chest and shoulders and gripped hard, digging her fingers into her flesh through the woollen coat she wore. At sixteen, she could not recall a pain so deep, even when her precious grandfather had passed away. Unable to absorb the enormity of the disaster, she remained staring downwards into the crater in the hope it could be a dream. She’d even accept a nightmare. One from which her family clawed their way back to the surface. Back into her life.
Her body, freezing with the November frost and easterly wind, felt stiff and bruised.
Heavy drizzle dripped across her face and she brushed it away, her skin sore with cold, but she was unable to move away from the place she once knew as home. How had it come to this?
Walking home from Lammas Road, Ruby had witnessed the first of the bombs before a warden had grabbed her arm and took her at great speed to the public shelter underneath Radford Common.
Someone gave the time as seven-twelve when the sirens blasted their warning around the city. They ran past the group and towards the shelter, the warden shouting for them to run faster. An elderly lady stumbled and the warden left Ruby in order to help. The enemy attacked before the wailing of the siren had stopped. Ruby screamed as a bomb dropped on the rooftops of a nearby street.
A feeling more than the fear of the bogeyman forced her onwards – it sickened her to think she was streets away from the comfort of her family. Her lungs burned with the cold of the evening air and by the time she made it into the shelter, huddled amongst strangers and a few familiar faces, more bombs had fallen. Too many to count, too many to ignore.
Everyone waited for the all-clear to sound. It never rang out, but the reassurances and door-banging from ARP wardens now that the raid was over came as a huge relief. The warden seeing them out of the shelter warned people to be careful of fires and unexploded bombs, and that electricity was no longer on supply.
Ruby moved forward in the queue to leave and was stunned by what she saw as she stepped outside. Enemy bombs had proved themselves to be powerful and destructive – they’d destroyed Coventry. The people with whom she’d sheltered shouted their disbelief, many sank to their knees, but the majority screamed and ran towards their homes. Ruby headed back; her family would be frantic with worry and she needed to get onto Radford Road and back home to reassure them she was still alive.
The further she made her way back towards the centre of Coventry, the more the mangled streets disorientated her. Once she’d gained her bearings Ruby headed for Eagle Street, picking her way through what should have been darkness, but the city was lit with fires so bright, and the moon shone clear. She had no trouble seeing, although at times she wished it was dark. The more she saw, the more fearful she became of what she might find nearer her own home, and her fears were soon realised. At one point she questioned herself so much she thought she’d go mad. Bombs. Craters. Death. Was she truly staring at the outcome of human action? If only she’d stayed home. Her head throbbed.
She worked out she’d lost hours, as already the day was drifting into late afternoon. She’d lost precious family time after falling and hitting her head. She’d lain in the darkness and wasn’t found by rescuers for several hours. Even without being knocked unconscious, Ruby knew the outcome would be the same. Over eleven hours or eleven days, it made no difference. She was here now, and she knew she was not insane.
Her family were dead.
She touched the bruised area on the back of her head and winced. Gingerly, she pulled her hand away and inspected her fingers, but saw no blood. Ruby walked around the edge of the crater, hoping to catch a glimpse of life – a movement or shout for help. Something, anything to prove her parents or siblings were still alive. Only devastation and darkness reflected back the image of mangled memories. Memories of a happy family life. Of a home brought to its knees by grown men in machines. Ruby had never understood the point of this war, no matter how many times her father drilled into them why it was necessary.
She thought back to when her dark-haired, brown-eyed nine-year-old brother, with his forever-grazed knees, ill-fitting socks and stick-thin legs which dangled from his baggy shorts, had announced he was going to be a soldier and fight for his country. Their mother had laughed and told him to wash his hands and eat his breakfast. With two front teeth missing, he often produced a lisped retort or a cheeky statement. Only that morning he’d teased her for having droopy drawers. James, named for their father, had been a loving soul. Their twelve-year-old sister Lucy had been a quiet, serious girl, her nose forever in a book, and her love of animals, especially cats, frustrated their parents as every day a stray would be brought home and fed. Lucy pleaded for a pet of their own, but their father forbade it and would shake his head and state they already had Coventry’s largest collection of animals hovering in the lane behind the house; he could not be doing with one indoors.
How could her family’s spirited energy disappear so suddenly? In such a cruel way? Painful thoughts dug deep inside and Ruby allowed them space to run free, until a sickness clawed inside her gut.
No more walks on the common, no more hide-and-seek, where her brother would peek from between open fingers. No more listening to the soft voice of Lucy reciting a poem, or her neat and tidy mother singing a verse or two of a song from the radio. No more them. No longer would Ruby use the term us when referring to her family.
The dark hole glared back at her, mocking her tears, tearing her heart in two each time she blinked down in hope.
Even the sunshine had given up trying to spread cheer and waned behind clouds, refusing to dress up such a hideous sight. Ruby shivered and staggered to one side. With a glance back down into the dark abyss, she teetered on the dislodged bricks. Was she meant to jump? What was she to do? How was she meant to survive alone?
Screams and shouting filled her ears. A little girl called out for her mother in the distance, but Ruby remained rooted to the spot. The child was not her problem. Guilt washed over her. Should she make the girl her problem? Should she leave this place – the grave of her family – for there was no reassurance on this earth which would allow her to think they could be rescued. If she had not taken outgrown clothes to her mother’s friend in Lammas Road, she’d have been with her family, enjoying their love, their laughter. More guilty feelings washed over Ruby. She should have been there. It was her mother’s fault. Ruby’s mind spun out reasons and accusations so fast she found it hard to concentrate. Eventually, she stopped and took a deep breath to gain control of her emotions.
What difference would it have made? She’d be dead instead of staring down into the centre of the planet. Either way, she’d be alone. Feeling nothing. Why didn’t she feel anything? Why wasn’t she crying? Slowly a fear crept into her veins. Now she was feeling something. Now she felt alone. No mother telling her off for not folding her clothes. No father reprimanding her for returning ten minutes later than normal. Never again would she hear his sermons. Ruby knew her father had loved them, but he’d struggled to express his feelings. He had good days when he made them laugh, but Ruby now realised his gloomy outlook was because of the never-ending war talk, and she wondered if he’d thought Christmas would be their last together. If he’d thought it, he’d been right, and she was grateful to him for trying so hard. Her family rarely laughed together but when they did the world was a good place to be, even during wartime in England.
Ruby pulled her coat around her as the temperature dropped, when it dawned on her she’d never hear their voices or laughter again. Disbelief set in.
Surely not? There must be life down there. She had to fight for them. Their family business, Shadwell’s Grocery, the place where she’d worked day and night, gone.
‘Here! My family! They are down there,’ she called out.
‘Get away from there, girl. It’s dangerous,’ a male voice bellowed out above the many sounds echoing out around the city.
Ruby turned to see who was talking, and she saw his tin hat bobbing up from a large hole in the ground. The man threw bricks and slates to one side. His plump face glistened with sweat and white vapours escaped his mouth and nostrils as he worked.
‘Get away. There’ll be no survivors down there. I’m sorry if they are yours, duck, but you must get away. Find somewhere safe. Don’t go to town – it’s bad there. Very bad. Those flames –’ he pointed to a red-gold skyline ‘– it’s the cathedral. There’s no hope left here.’ The man drooped his head, his voice gentle yet firm. Ruby said nothing, mesmerised by the flesh wobbling beneath his chin – a flash reminder of her mother. The man was the opposite to her father, whom her mother had often described as scrawny, and Ruby took after him. The man repeated his instructions and returned to clearing rubble, and Ruby shrugged her shoulders. Where’s safe? she thought. How would she find safe without her parents to guide her?
‘Get away, girl. There’s nothing you can do – it’s a mess. Go to a shelter. Get yourself to safety. Follow her,’ a man in Home Guard uniform shouted and nodded in the direction of a woman walking with a baby in her arms, but Ruby ignored him.
She stood and watched as he pulled at pipes and bricks from the doorway of a house which still had some resemblance to a home.
A fierce hissing sound penetrated into the many noises nearby, followed by a loud explosion forcing her to the ground. Ruby fell backwards, away from the crater. It was a sign. Time for her to leave.
The man who’d encouraged her to leave earlier groaned several feet away. Ruby scrambled to her feet. Before she could reach him, he was upright and brushing his hands against his trousers.
‘You still here?’ he said and moved towards her, his hands held out to her. Ruby noticed the thick mud still clinging to them and kept hers to her side.
She remained silent. Her legs refused to move.
‘Young woman here needs attention. Anyone? Family trapped in this one and I can’t leave.’
She listened as he barked out requests and instructions. He represented life. She needed to be near him, to hear his voice above the sirens and screams. She took a step towards him.
‘Gas!’ someone from behind them shouted, and the man turned their way then back to Ruby, his voice thick with concern.
‘The pipes are blowing. Get away, girl – how many times do I have to tell you? Run for your life. You are one of the lucky ones. Run.’
Ruby stared at him. Lucky? He considered her lucky? Didn’t he know what she’d seen? Didn’t he understand?
A tremor of gas hissed, and the man nudged Ruby’s back. ‘Go! Now!’
He ran towards the building in front of them. Ruby heard a woman shout for help when another explosion vibrated through her body. The noise was so loud she put her hands to her head, but the sound continued to penetrate her eardrums. Ruby crouched down to stop herself from fainting. She looked towards the building just as it blew into smithereens. The man didn’t reappear. The woman no longer called for help. Yet again, Ruby was alone.
Where now? As she looked around, all Ruby could feel was despair. She’d never experienced a loss so great and her heart beat fast and furious.
She stood back up and turned full circle. Her lungs choked on smoke, her eyes stung and watered, but she could still see a hell on earth. She’d heard enough sermons to have imagined it over the years, and now she stood in its jaws. Gripped by thoughts so powerful she couldn’t comprehend all of them. What was expected of her now?
Jump into the pit? Or live? Jump or live? The words pounded through her head, then she leaned to one side and retched out nothing. She watched the living retrieve dead bodies for a while longer, when she remembered her grandmother.
Gran! She must be petrified.
Breathing as deep as she could, she gained control of her feelings and got her bearings. She ignored the hunger gnawing in her belly and moved with speed towards Kirby Road, where her grandmother lived. The usual half hour walk took twice the time due to the detours she was forced to make, and Ruby’s calves ached. She turned into Kirby Road and saw it too had fallen foul of several bombs and no longer resembled the street she knew. Smashed chimney pots, cutlery, crockery and items of clothing were scattered everywhere. As in her own road, water flowed free from smashed pipes and added to the mess.
She picked her way from one end to the other, to where she estimated her gran’s house to have once stood. Another crater. The scene before her was much like the one she had just left. Ruby’s grandmother would never greet her with open arms and beaming smiles again. She’d also taken the full fury of Hitler’s bombs.
‘Excuse me,’ she called out to a woman in uniform escorting an elderly man from a house still standing, which Ruby knew had once been his home. His arm was in a sling, the striped material bearing resemblance to a bed sheet.
‘Fred?’ she said and took a closer look at the old man. He and her gran often exchanged produce from their gardens. The man looked different. More aged, and frail.
‘He’s in a bad way. Shocked is an understatement. I’ve got to get him help. You’re welcome to tag along,’ the woman said.
‘Did anyone leave here?’ Ruby asked, and pointed to her gran’s empty plot.
‘If they did, it wasn’t alive, my love. Not many did that side of the street. Sorry, sweetheart. Try the medical tent. You never know. But I’m warning you, don’t get your hopes up. If not, try the gasworks. That’s where the –’
Ruby flicked her chin upwards to indicate she understood, and to stop the woman saying the words out loud. The woman gave her a weak smile, her eyes loaded with sympathy.
‘Come on, Fred, let’s get you out of here before it’s too dark to see.’
Ruby nodded her thanks, fighting back tears.
‘You coming with us?’
Ruby shook her head at the woman and gave Fred a reassuring pat on his arm. ‘You take care, Fred,’ she said.
‘Gone. All gone,’ Fred said, showing no recognition, and he continued to repeat the words as they walked away.
Dazed, Ruby felt the overwhelming urge to run away from all she’d seen, to hide under a hedge on Radford Common until it was all over. Her life or the war, whichever ended first, but there was a chance her gran was still alive. She had no choice; she had to see if there was any news on the last surviving member of her family. She clenched her fists against her ears to drive out the mechanical and human noises pounding around her. Once again, her stomach growled with hunger and her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth. The smoke grew thicker and indescribable smells assaulted her senses; her heart pounded in her chest and for a few seconds Ruby thought she might faint.
Pull yourself together, girl. Gran might need you. She might still be alive.
All the while she walked towards the busy hub of medical tents, hastily erected food and information huts near the town centre, Ruby talked to herself. Forcing her legs to keep moving.
For over an hour she searched for her grandmother. Eventually, she found her name on a list of the dead. Her request to see her body was gently refused for her own sake. Ruby left the makeshift morgue and with a heavy heart made her way towards Radford Common with the intention of gathering her thoughts. She needed to think, away from the terrors she’d witnessed, and hoped the thirty-minute walk would help. Her young brother and his friends had made dens on the common, and for a few hours Ruby intended to make use of one. As she looked out onto the city darkness fell but it remained host to the endless glowing fires. Ruby doubted even the fiercest of flames would warm her through. She glanced skyward and saw a cluster of stars. Five. Were they her family, huddled together, shining out their love? Were they reunited – her parents, her brother, sister and grandmother? Ruby pondered the thought as she continued to stare. A dark cloud flitted across the stars; once again the lights went out for Ruby.