Mourning Ruby (10 page)

‘You have to think of a cunning man, a fanatically suspicious man, as suspicious of being fed false information as he was of being fed poisoned food. A man whose wife had killed herself and left a letter which scorched his spirit for the rest of his life.

‘Was Stalin really cornered when he went out to the dacha and disappeared from public life? No, I’m not sure. Maybe it was more like a body in crisis. The way the body can shut down most of its functions so that the vital ones are preserved. So that it keeps on living. Maybe, with most of his life shut down, Stalin could think at triple speed –’

‘My God,’ said Olya, ‘my God, Joe, you are making my head hurt.’

‘I’m sorry, Olyenka,’ said Joe, and he passed his hand
over her thick black hair. The touch made it clear to me that there would be no babies for Olya from Joe. He stroked her hair as if it were beautiful fur.

It was almost dark. I wanted to take Ruby on my lap, to feel the warmth and weight of her pinning me down.

I thought of the little boy whose mother had gone. Volodya. Six years old. Maybe he went back to sleep again, after the door closed behind his mother. When he woke, the daylight was strong. He sat bolt upright in bed, completely awake. He listened for her footsteps, but they didn’t come.

‘Give Ruby to me,’ I said to Adam. He stood up carefully, so as not to wake her. He laid her down on my lap, inside the shape of my arms. Ruby stiffened, then relaxed.

‘My two darlings,’ said Adam. His voice was so quiet no one else in the room would have heard it. My whole body flooded with happiness and I looked down so that he wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes. I thought that this was why we had come to Moscow, though we hadn’t known it. We had come to be loosened from ourselves, to hear of griefs that were larger than our own, to be able to say those sweet words that so often stuck on our tongues.

13

Barnoon is Heaven

beautiful today the surf on Porthkidney sands

and the standing out of the lighthouse, sheer

because of the rain past, the rain to come, the rain

Adam’s gran was a girl from St Ives. Her daughter married Adam’s father, who was Jewish and gave Adam the red hair that darkened into Ruby’s curls. Adam’s parents met in London, during the war. Everyone was leaving their homes then and the old links were broken. They came together in a rented flat in Primrose Hill.

His gran is buried in Barnoon Cemetery, overlooking the sea. We found her grave and stood beside it, reading the lettering. It had long ago lost the raw look of death. It was settled into the earth and the wind and light played around it in a jewel-like way I had never seen in any other graveyard. Most graveyards collect darkness, but this one collected light.

Adam’s father was irreligious in a Jewish way, like Adam. Adam’s mother had been brought up a Methodist, but after she was twenty she had no time for it.

‘But she never told my gran that,’ said Adam. ‘She didn’t want to upset her. My gran had a hard life and the chapel kept her going.’

I liked to hear of all these things being carried on in the bloodstream. Adam reached so easily into his past, and pulled down handfuls of history. My gran, my great-granddad, he said. He knew them on both sides, back and back. He had documents as well as stories, he had buildings where they’d lived, and gravestones. Adam had told Joe those stories once, and Joe had listened intently. I watched Joe soaking them up in the way he absorbed material he might one day use. Joe saw me looking, he saw me frowning maybe, warning him off. But he only smiled, a faint, sweet smile.
You know me, Rebecca. You know how I am
.

Adam’s ancestors would be Ruby’s, too. She would pass through my historyless body and come into her inheritance. When she could speak, she would be able to say,
My gran. My great-granddad
.

‘The baby will have cousins all over Cornwall,’ said Adam, when I was pregnant and we came to St Ives. ‘God knows how many.’

We stood in Barnoon Cemetery, by his grandmother’s grave. It was November and I was seven months pregnant. The wind blew and the sky was pale and torn with cloud. We’d come in from Trevail where we were staying in a cottage which had no running water. Adam lit the fires, pumped the water, made me stay in bed until the rooms were warm.

I bent down, balancing myself, and touched the stone of his grandmother’s grave. I thought of the years she had been there with the smell of salt on the springy turf, and the sea sounding, and the boats sailing around the Island and out to the fishing grounds. Her grave was tended, with white pebbles on it and a little bush
that was bare now but might have flowers in the spring.

‘One of my cousins looks after the grave,’ said Adam.

‘I’d like to be buried here,’ I said.

‘Lots of people want that,’ said Adam. ‘There’s competition.’ He helped me up and clasped me close so that my belly bumped against him. ‘Don’t think about it now.’

Ruby jumped inside me and I felt how alive I was, packed with life.

‘I could belong here,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t feel lonely here.’

The wind whipped hair into my eyes and I turned my face aside, but Adam made a frame for my face with his hands and turned me to look at him.

‘Are you lonely?’

‘No, of course I’m not.’

Adam opened his coat and wrapped it so that we were all inside it, the three of us, him and me and the baby who would be our daughter. Ruby.

‘Let’s keep you both warm,’ he said.

We went into town and the wind pushed us in and out of the salt, intricate streets. It was a white gale, with no rain in it. Adam tapped the smart paint on a cottage door as we went by.

‘The town’s changing,’ he said. ‘London money coming down.’

The wind raced and roared and I wanted to run with it. Ruby was excited too. She turned inside me like a fish and thudded against my flesh. I wondered if she knew where she was, and felt that she belonged here.

We went into an hotel and a slow, tired man served
us coffee. I lifted the cup and tasted its sour taste and I was flooded from head to foot with happiness.

You can write about memory forever. You can do it to avoid writing about what happened. It’s one way out of it. Tell a story, tell another story. Stories falling as thick as snow to bury what happened. But it won’t work any more.

So, this is what happened.

It was a warm evening in August. Adam was home, and so for once I didn’t need the babysitter when I went out to work. I had to be at the bar at seven, and usually I’d have bathed Ruby first, but it was such a beautiful evening that Adam thought he’d take Ruby to the park after they’d eaten. It would be light until eight-thirty. Ruby wanted to ride her bike. She’d just started to ride it without stabilizers, which was good for a five-year-old. Adam always made her wear a bike helmet.

They were still eating when I left. They were sitting together at the table, eating macaroni cheese.

‘Have some of your lettuce, Rubes,’ I said. I was standing at the mirror, tying back my hair into its tight knot. I put on lipstick, and blotted my mouth. In the summer we wore sleeveless black dresses and after months of sun my arms were a smooth even brown. I was pleased with the way I looked, even though I knew it didn’t much please Adam when I walked out of the door on my way to the bar. There was no need for me to work there. Why did I hang on to the job? He would have understood if I had been taking an evening class, or working as a nurse. But what value is there in going
to a bar and serving drinks and listening to people’s stories of their lives?

‘I’m going to work now, Ruby,’ I said, as I always did.

‘Have you got to?’ she asked, as she always did.

‘I’ll come in and give you a kiss when you’re asleep,’ I said.

‘Even if I’m fast asleep?’

‘Even if you’re fast asleep. I’ll tiptoe in. I won’t wake you up.’

We said the same words every time. They had no meaning except to satisfy Ruby. I straightened up, and smoothed down my dress. I kissed Adam too and then I started looking for my keys and couldn’t find them, so I was late and I think I forgot to call goodbye.

But when I got to work there was a problem. Anna had changed shift, because her babysitter couldn’t come in the next day. Pauline was supposed to have told me this already, but she’d been off sick and she’d forgotten. There was a new girl being trained, and we had too many staff that night and not enough the next. So…

I was in a good mood. I told Anna I’d do her shift the next night and I made sure it was all written down on the rota so there wouldn’t be any mess-up over pay, and I walked back out into the sunshine with everybody happy.

Ruby would be so pleased. I wouldn’t tell her I was working tomorrow. Today was what mattered with Ruby. I’d walk up to the park and meet them, and maybe we’d go for a drink at the Silk Garden. It was such a beautiful evening and they lit the lamps around the garden when it went dark. Ruby loved those lamps.

I was going to go straight up to the park and meet
them, but then I thought I’d change first. The house had that quiet sunlit feeling and I knew straightaway that it was empty. I changed quickly because I wanted to get up to the park before they left. I put on my white T-shirt with the embroidered daisies that Ruby liked, and my jeans. As I was going out of the house I remembered that my hair was still pulled back for work. I unpinned it, shook it out and combed my fingers through it. It took about a minute in front of the mirror.

It was ten to eight as I went out of the door and locked it. I ran down the steps and turned left, walking east. The sun was on my back, the air thick and golden as syrup. The sun was going down and the light was beautiful after the stale whiteness of the day. I noticed a few plane leaves on the pavement, dry and brown. I thought of the thick fallen leaves of autumn and how Ruby liked to jump and stamp in them. I was walking fast, hoping to get to the park, up its long green slopes and into the children’s play area while Ruby was still there, high up on a swing maybe, her heels in the blue air, her red curls tipped back. She was always yelling at me to push her higher and I was always holding back, not wanting her to go too high.

I was coming down the road, looking down towards the end. I had a clear view. The main road was ahead of me, cutting across, and opposite was the road that led downhill from the park. And there was Ruby. The sun was full on her face and she didn’t see me. She was running down the pavement and Adam was behind, bent over the bike to push it, one hand on its saddle, the other on the handlebars. Ruby’s bike helmet was strapped to the handlebars.

She wasn’t far ahead of him. Two cars went along the main road, hiding her. Then there she was again, racing downhill. The gap between her and Adam was wider now. She was running faster than he could keep up with, because of the bike –

she always stops at roads
she’s never run into a road
but look how fast she’s going
Adam
she’s too far ahead
the gap between them
stop Ruby stop Ruby stop
Rubystop

‘Ruby!’ I shouted. ‘Ruby, stop there!’

Ruby heard me. She looked up as she ran, squinting through the sun which was behind me and full in her face. Ruby saw me. She didn’t stop. She took off, racing for me with the wildness that she knew was safe because my arms were there. She would spring through the air that divided us, thud into my body and I would break her fall.

I saw things in a jigsaw all at once and very clear.

Adam dropped the bike. He was off the ground, he was tearing for Ruby in great leaps. A dark-blue car flashed round the bend in the main road.

‘Adam!’

He was behind her. He was fast but the gap was too big. I was running and Ruby was running for me, full tilt into the dazzle of the setting sun. I don’t think she even saw the main road.

The blue car skidded. The brakes screamed and the wheels tore at the road. I saw the blue car go sideways
past me with Ruby on its bonnet. The driver’s mouth was wide open. Then the car hit the side of a plane tree, and Ruby was thrown off. I watched her fall on her back, on the back of her head. Her body convulsed.

She was moving. She was alive. She was trying to get up. I was on my knees in the gravel.

‘Don’t touch her, don’t touch her, don’t touch her,’ said Adam. She arched again as if the road was shocking her. Then she went still. She went small. Adam had his mouth over her mouth, trying to find her breath.

There were people pressing round us. I looked up at them from all fours, like a dog. ‘I rang on my mobile,’ said a man. ‘They’re sending an ambulance.’

‘He’s a doctor,’ I said. ‘Her father’s a doctor.’

I could barely see Ruby. I bowed down so my face was almost touching her foot in its dirty trainer. Ruby’s trainers were never dirty like that. I always put them in the washing machine every week. Her pink jeans too, they had stuff all over them. I lay on the road and stroked her ankle inside the thick trainer. Adam was still crouched over Ruby, but he wasn’t breathing into her any more. He had stopped. He wanted me to look after her now. I lifted my head and saw Ruby’s face, shocked sideways and covered in muck. I knew I would have some wipes in my bag. I always carried them, for when Ruby ate ice cream or there wasn’t any paper in public toilets. I would clean her face, and then I’d put her jeans in the washing machine, and her trainers. I would come back and wash the road with a bucket of water and Ruby would help me swoosh it over the gravel. She would like that.

*

Barnoon is heaven. We wanted somewhere for Ruby where she would be safe.

It was possible to open Adam’s grandmother’s grave and put Ruby there with her. Adam wouldn’t have a heavy coffin for Ruby. We didn’t want her to feel locked in. The coffin was made of a special kind of cardboard and it was so light that Adam carried Ruby in his arms, by himself.