Ruby McBride (16 page)

‘If she’d thought of
me
for a change, before setting off on that hunger strike, riots and whatnots, we’d be out of this Godforsaken rat hole, that’s why.’ Pearl was even more convinced that if they’d stayed at Ignatius House, instead of running off on that harebrained escape, they might have survived much better. Hadn’t she told Ruby so a dozen times?
 

What if their Billy
had
been knocked about a bit by the bigger boys? What of it? It wouldn’t have done him any real harm, him being a lad and not a soft lass. And Sister Joseph hadn’t taken out her peevish temper on Pearl half so much as she had on Ruby. In fact, every now and then she’d given her a boiled sweet in return for a bit of a cuddle. What was so wrong in that? It was all Ruby’s doing they were in this mess, all because she was such a rebel.

It was then that the pains started, and on a blast of searing fire that shot down her spine like forked lightning, Pearl knew she’d got away with it. This time. So long as she managed to live through the next few hours, she’d be as good as new.

But, by heck, there was so much hate in her, it was a wonder it didn’t burn her insides out. Burn her sister to a crisp, more like. Wherever she was, blast her!

The baron led Ruby along Byrom Street not far from the skin hospital where stood a fine terrace of houses, many occupied by doctors, lawyers and other professionals. Dressed as a very ordinary-looking knife-grinder, he selected a spot from which they could observe the comings and goings on the street, then settled down to watch and wait. Ruby had learned that he was good at waiting, it was one of his most useful skills, but it helped if he had something to occupy him while he kept an eye on things, and sharpening the odd knife now and then would do very nicely. She made the comment that it would also allow him the opportunity to chat to the pretty housemaids who brought them.

He smiled into her eyes. ‘You aren’t the teeniest bit jealous, Ruby, are you?’

‘Of course not!’ She could feel her cheeks start to burn as she staunchly lifted her chin. ‘Why should I be?’

‘Why indeed? 1 shall talk to the housemaids, of course, for it is immensely useful to be a good listener. I learn a great deal that way.’ The smile he gave her would, on any other man, have been considered heart-stopping. Ruby dubbed it smarmy.

She’d no idea what their purpose was in being here this morning because despite having lived with him now for almost a year, he was still the most secretive, unfathomable, uncommunicative, infuriating man she’d ever met.

And the most intriguing.

The next day they were again in Byrom Street, the baron this time dressed as an insurance clerk, complete with satchel, his rugged good looks hidden behind round spectacles and a neatly clipped moustache. He excited no interest from passers-by, not even from a police constable who stood on the corner of Liverpool Road, since he looked very much the kind of man one might expect to see in the city at this time of day, hurrying back to his office, or out on his rounds collecting weekly payments from clients.

And so it continued, day after day.

As he worked and smiled and talked with the maids, every movement in the street had to be noted: the hour a husband left for work in the morning and the one in which he returned each evening. Which particular morning or afternoon the lady of the household chose to visit her friends, or do her shopping at Kendal Milnes.

He was clever enough to choose a new location from time to time, St John Street or Quay Street, which afforded him a different viewpoint. He would change his disguise completely on each occasion, becoming a window cleaner, street sweeper or hot pie seller; putting on a moustache here, blackening a tooth there, colouring his hair, wearing spectacles and wigs. Even Ruby became dazzled by the variety of roles he adopted over the course of a week, and by his clever cunning and endless patience.

Sometimes she would be dressed in similar rig and given a specific role to play; at other times he would insist she remain hidden and simply observe. She found this the most boring part and said so. ‘I don’t want to hang around a back alley all day. What is it, exactly, that I’m supposed to be watching out for?’

‘I know it is dull, Ruby, having nothing much to do, but I want you to stay out of sight, to keep your eyes and ears open for any comings and goings in the street. One man alone arouses much less attention than a man and a girl hanging about together. Besides,’ he stroked her cheek in a lingering caress, ‘I’d hate anything to happen to you.’

Ruby didn’t believe for one moment that it was for her own safety that he hesitated to use her, only his own. And she hated him for that hypocrisy too.

A pattern soon emerged and each night, back on the tug, he would question her to test her out. He loved it if she had missed some detail that he had spotted.

‘Didn’t you notice that the man from number one hundred and forty-nine is always late home on a Thursday?’ he challenged her as she stood stirring the stew on the stove one evening. ‘You must pay particular attention to him, Ruby.’

‘Why must I?’

He reached into the pot, tasting the gravy with the tip of his little finger, and smiled his approval. ‘Will this be long? I find that I am ravenous, though not only for food.’

His gaze upon hers was steady and Ruby felt her limbs turn to water. Why was it that she could live quite comfortably with this man, but whenever he came too close he filled her with the jitters? He put his hand upon her waist, drew her ever closer, and she was afraid that he might hear the rapid beating of her heart.
 

‘Happen he has a mistress,’ she gasped, saying the first thing that came into her head.

‘Who?’ He seemed to have lost track of their conversation. ‘Ah, of course. Why did I not think of that? The value of a woman’s viewpoint. Such details could prove most useful.’

He moved smoothly away from her, poured wine into his tankard. Even his choice of drink was different from other men’s.

‘I’ll follow him for a bit then, shall I?’ Ruby suggested, snatching at the chance to have some time to herself, to escape from his dominating presence for an hour or two. He seemed to be giving the matter careful thought, shrewdly weighing the suggestion from all angles while his brandy-gold eyes fixed upon her lovely face with an unreadable expression in their depths.

‘Very well, but no prancing off and pleasing yourself. I have eyes and ears everywhere, Ruby. Remember that.’

‘As if I would! I’ll find out where he works, shall I, and what he does on that particular day of the week?’ She beamed cheerfully, hugging to herself the pleasure of seeing him thrown off balance by this show of initiative on her part, plainly unsure if he could trust her, but in the end deciding to risk it.

‘I know a good deal about him, where he works and so on, but anything you can discover about his social life could be most valuable, Ruby. Most valuable indeed. And if it turns out that he does have a mistress, follow her too. Anything you can find out about such a creature can only be of benefit to our cause.’

‘And what cause might that be?’ she cheekily enquired, and he playfully tweaked her nose.

‘Perhaps, once I’m certain that I truly can trust you, Ruby McBride, I will tell you everything about myself. Until then you must simply do as you are told, difficult as that may be.’

His hand circled her neck, gently smoothing the nape, and Ruby again began to experience that strange tightening about her ribs, a feeling that left her fighting for breath. `When have I ever let you down?’

‘Just remember, I’ll stand no nonsense. Not from anyone. Not even you, Ruby McBride.’

She let out an exasperated sigh. `Why do you insist on still calling me that after all these months as your wife? When do I become Mrs Stobbs?’

He smiled, though there was sadness still in the intensity of his gaze. ‘When you become a proper wife to me, Ruby.’ Caught in a trap of her own making, she said no more and concentrated on dishing out the stew.

Chapter Twelve

Pearl was feeling decidedly sorry for herself. She’d satisfactorily disposed of the encumbrance of an unwanted child but had again lost her job as a result. Now she sat on the edge of a kerb, her arms wrapped about her knees, soaking wet and shivering with cold in a cutting December wind, and cursed her blessed sister with every nasty swear word she’d ever learned in the reformatory over the years.

‘Happy bleedin’ Christmas,’ she muttered to herself with feeling.

Had it not been for Ruby’s stupid rebellion, she’d never have got into this mess in the first place. It was her sister’s fault entirely, and what on earth Pearl was going to do about it, she hadn’t the faintest idea.

Somewhere in the distance she heard the hooting of a ship, the sound echoing down the alleyways and empty streets, haunting, melancholy. Pearl shivered. It made her feel as if she were all alone in the world. And then she realised with a shock that this was true. She was alone. She had no one at all to call her own now that she’d lost Ruby and Billy. Where can I go? What can I do? Not back to the reformatory, that much was certain. Pearl hadn’t eaten for days and she was ravenous. If she didn’t get help soon, she’d starve to death. That’s if she didn’t die of pneumonia first.

‘Are you working, love?’ So absorbed had she been in the depths of her own miserable self-pity, she hadn’t even heard the man approach.

‘Do I look like I am?’ she snapped, and then heard the jingle of coins in his pockets and her interest quickened. ‘Why d’you want to know?’

‘It’s a cold night, chuck. Bit o’ comfort wouldn’t go amiss.’ She looked at him more closely. He was a seaman, quite young and not bad-looking, no doubt with a week’s wages burning a hole in his pocket. Pearl slowly uncurled herself and stood up, smiling directly into his eyes. ‘What is it you fancy?’

Once Ruby discovered, to her own satisfaction at least, that the man in question owned Pickering wharf which had started up around the same time as the Ship Canal opened, she pursued him no further, fully prepared to tell Bart that he worked late on a Thursday. She made no efforts to discover whether or not he had a mistress. Where was the point? She had more important matters on her mind. She’d heard no word of Pearl, nor any more news of Billy, so she eagerly snatched at this opportunity to set about asking around. She spoke to the people she met in and around the docks, skippers on tugs and barges as well as the dockers who worked on the ships, asking if they’d seen her sister.

‘She’s only young, just a kid really, quite pretty with yellowish-blonde hair, blue eyes and rather plump. She might be working in a factory or warehouse perhaps, or in service at someone’s house.’ Ruby checked out every local address suggested but other places could have been on the moon for all the hope she had of getting there.

Sparky Joe ponderously promised to keep an eye out for her, though he didn’t hold out much hope of success. His gloomy voice held its usual note of pessimism as he explained just how many factories, mills and warehouses there were in the canal basin, let alone in Manchester as a whole.

She got exactly the same reaction when she asked about Billy. ‘Do you know which liners carried orphans and destitute
children out to Canada a few years back, and to which part of the country they might have gone?’

Heads would be shaken, lips chewed in quiet contemplation. Nobody knew anything for certain although various possibilities were mentioned by people trying to be helpful, which left Ruby more depressed than ever as her dreams of starting a new life across the seas in a faraway land seemed doomed to failure.

And what if she ever did manage to reach Canada? That would mean she’d never see Kit Jarvis ever again. This was such a bleak prospect that it made her feel sick inside. It came to her with a jolt that for all these months, while she’d been asking after Pearl, she’d also been secretly keeping a sharp lookout for Kit too. Hoping for one glimpse of his cheery face, his twinkly blue eyes. Oh, it would be so good to see him again. He couldn’t be too far away, surely.
 

It was perhaps a forlorn hope but he may be able to help her find Pearl, then they could all travel to Canada together, which would be grand. What would it matter then if she was still married? Even the baron couldn’t follow her to the other side of the world, could he?

Ruby felt more buoyed up with hope than she had in months. She set about her enquiries without wasting another minute, and to hell with the flippin’ baron and his schemes. What did it matter if one of his scams didn’t come off for once? Serve him right. She had more important matters to attend to.

On their third visit to Byrom Street, the preparations were entirely different. This time there was no disguise, no subterfuge, not for the baron. Today he walked the length of it bold as brass.