‘I’m AWOL,’ Burton said. ‘They’ll be keeping an eye out for me. Thought I’d talk to Ruby and we could slip away. Get married.’
‘Then what?’
‘Wasn’t thinking that far ahead,’ Burton said.
‘Where is she?’ Cook asked.
‘I haven’t seen her since the bus went up,’ he said. ‘If I had, I wouldn’t be sitting out there, day in, day out.’
‘What did you see that evening?’ Cook asked.
‘She wasn’t on the bus,’ Burton said, ‘I know that much.’
Cook drank, and thought about what Burton had said. It was the first time someone had said it out loud, the thing that had been keeping him awake, the thing he’d started to doubt. She wasn’t on the bus.
‘She was crossing the road, then she got waylaid. Some woman. Looked like they were having a barney. Ruby could be like that. Didn’t like to back down.’
‘What about the other girl? From the Lyons?’ Cook asked. Not essential to nail down that part of the story but it was a niggle.
Burton nodded.
‘She was there. Ran right past me, kicked my hat. I had to grab it. The bus was pulling away but the conductor must have seen her. Took pity on her, I suppose.’
He took a long gulp.
‘Poor girl.’
‘Her parents think there’s still hope,’ Cook said. ‘You could talk to them. Tell them what you saw.’
Burton nodded. He seemed like a good lad.
‘What happened to Ruby?’ Cook asked.
Burton shook his head.
‘The bus blew up, and all hell broke loose. It was worse than anything I saw in France. People with limbs blownoff. They didn’t even know. There was an old gent, came towards me, asking where he could get a cup of tea. Had a piece of metal right through his stomach.’
Burton closed his eyes.
‘He died in front of me. Sat down on the pavement and curled up, like a little boy going to sleep. Old gent he was. He didn’t have a chance. By the time I looked for Ruby, she was gone.’
‘Perhaps she was killed?’ Cook asked.
‘No,’ Burton said, firmly. ‘I spent an hour looking for her, or for ... parts of her. There wasn’t anything.’
‘So that’s it?’ Cook asked. It didn’t seem right. He’d tracked down this lad, gone through all kinds of hell. Felt like he deserved to know how the story ended.
Burton finished his pint.
‘There was someone else, who would have seen,’ he said. ‘I’ve been waiting for him to come back.’
‘Why would he come back?’ Cook asked.
‘It’s his job,’ Burton said. ‘He was the doorman. He caught a bit of the shrapnel. When I was looking for Ruby he was sitting on the steps of the hotel, blood all over his face. I think it got him in the eye. But he was watching. I reckon he would have seen where she went to.’
‘Was he one of the brothers?’ Cook asked.
‘Yes.’ Burton nodded, obviously glad to be finally talking to someone on the same wavelength. ‘Normal size, though, not like the big one.’
