Ruby McBride (20 page)

‘What good will that do? How can they find Sir Joshua Parker, when he doesn’t exist? I never return or use exactly the same disguise twice. Besides, she can afford it. Did you see the emeralds dangling from her ears? Made of money, she is. Won’t miss the odd trinket here and there. And for all you know, she may not have come by it honestly herself.’

Ruby gave up. It was impossible to reason with someone who clearly had his own twisted sense of morality.

Chapter Fourteen

The second gin had gone down much quicker than the first, nicely lifting the chill off her stomach. But then it was warm anyway in the tavern, with the press of all the sweaty bodies around her. It stank of coal dust, beer and body odour, but that didn’t trouble Pearl in the slightest. She probably ponged a bit herself, but then who would care or even notice? These men, factory hands and tradesmen of all sorts, were more interested in the contents of their glass and the need to wash the day’s dust and tiredness from their throats.

All told, Pearl decided, life was pretty good. She’d just enjoyed a substantial dinner of roast beef and Yorkshire with one of her clients, with a couple more lined up to while away a happy and profitable afternoon which would pay for her supper, as well as contributing towards the rent on the room she’d found for herself here in Rochdale.

The young seaman who had started all of this weeks ago had, in Pearl’s estimation, done her a favour. He’d chanced along at just the right moment. This was the easiest, most pleasurable way of making a living anyone could imagine, and one she might never have considered had she not found herself in such dire straits. Pearl felt as if she were in clover. Since then, of course, there’d been a whole stream of men, young and old, in need of a bit of comfort, whom Pearl was more than willing to oblige. She took great pride in her work, made sure her customers were given the kind of care she felt they needed. Everybody deserved
a bit of loving after all. She certainly did and, so far, touch wood, she’d had no trouble from any of them.

‘Now then, Pearl. How you feeling?’

‘Champion, thanks.’

‘Are you working today, lass?’

She smiled and twirled her empty glass. ‘I’m allus working, love. But I’m busy this afternoon.’

The man took the glass from her with a grin. ‘Can I see you later then?’

‘I always find time for you, Tommy.’

‘Aye, yer a grand lass. Do you need a top up of gin?’

‘Ta, love.’ That was another thing. She had friends. Folk who talked to her like a human being, instead of a number.
 

Tommy came to her in the early evening. ‘Just a quick one, chuck, before supper.’

He was old and it didn’t take much more than a kiss and cuddle to keep him happy. He just loved to touch her young, firm flesh. Pearl sent him off a happy man, tucking away the shilling he’d given her in the pocket she’d stitched into her skirt. She’d no intention of finding herself on the brink of starvation ever again, nor up the duff. She’d learned ways to stop that little problem happening again. How could she afford to keep a child when she could barely afford to feed herself? She was only sixteen, after all. Her childish plumpness had been replaced by a newly voluptuous figure, one which men appreciated. Her cheeks were rosy and pink, and her dandelion-yellow hair had disappeared beneath a liberal application of henna.

‘I’m a survivor,’ she told herself, countless times in a day. She was back in the tavern the next day, and the one after that, it being her favourite place for picking up clients. The rest of the time her pitch was a stretch of road near the gasworks. But it must be carried out with discretion. Not for the world would she risk the rozzers getting wind of her activities since they took a somewhat narrow-minded view of soliciting, as if sex were an activity reserved exclusively for the legally married.

Pearl kept well away from Salford and Castlefield, the canal basin and the railway arches, because she still had bad memories of Sister Joseph on the prowl down there, the sound of police whistles and Billy screaming the place down. Gave her the shivers just to think of it. And not for one moment did she imagine that the old dragon would be dead, not after only seven years. What’s more, the woman would have a long memory and be short on sympathy for Pearl’s situation, her being a nun.

It was one evening as she sat enjoying a drink, between clients as it were, that a fight broke out. Pearl paid little attention. Bar-room brawls were commonplace when drink got the better of the men who packed this place to the doors night after night, usually finishing off in the street with a jeering crowd to cheer them on, bets being placed on the likely winner. This one was no different, or at least it seemed not to be, until she heard a familiar voice.

‘I’ll beat yer bloody brains in, if’n you call me that again.’

‘Nay, it’s true enough. Thou art scum. Nothing less. You were scum when you went into the reformatory, and scum when you came out.’

Curious to check on her suspicions, Pearl picked up her glass and wandered over. One man was sitting astride the other who lay prone beneath him on the floor. The one on top had his fist raised, preparatory to knocking his opponent’s brains out.

Pearl bent over for a closer look, eyes wide with surprise. ‘Kit?’

She would have known him anywhere. The slouch cap still miraculously in place at the back of his head, the thick crop of shaggy black hair, the brilliant blue eyes. The only difference was that his face was now more mature, the lines at each corner of his mouth seeming to harden and sharpen the sunken planes of his face. The once pale skin was now dark and swarthy, no doubt from years spent working on the deck of the reformatory training ship. It was the face of a man who was a youth no longer, a man who had looked into the jaws of his own personal hell and somehow survived. Pearl recognised this in him instantly, and welcomed it as a form of kinship.

She grinned, lifted her glass and winked. ‘It’s me, Pearl, remember? I was ten when you saw me last, but I’ve grown up now.’

He paused, fist suspended in the air, the other still clutching the collar of his victim as he glanced up at her with a puzzled air. ‘So you have, Pearl. So you have.’

‘How about buying me a nip o’summat, by way of a reunion?’

‘Aye, why not?’ Kit Jarvis flung aside the man whose brains, moments before, he’d been about to beat to a pulp, as if he were of no consequence. He took off his cap, smoothed back his hair, then replaced the cap again exactly where it had been. ‘What’ll it be? Same again?’

As she handed him her glass, a man paused as he passed by, placing a hand on her arm. ‘Are yer working, lass?’

‘Not just now, Ted. Happen later.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Kit interrupted. ‘I reckon she might be busy later an’ all.’

Ruby attempted to bury her concerns in hard work and, perhaps so Bart could prove that he was a hard worker after all, life settled into a routine with the pair of them working together on the barges. To her surprise, she enjoyed it. They carried cargoes of tobacco to a bonded warehouse on Chapel Street, sisal and alpaca to Liverpool where Ruby scented the salty tang of the sea for the first time in her life. They transported cotton
to Blackburn, and regular loads of coal to the various factories linked to the canal basin, often having to break the ice on the surface of the water as they went along so that great shards of it would stack up, one on top of the other, making progress difficult.

They would pass from the canal basin, crowded with tugs, barges and narrow boats, through the docks with ships displaying flags of every nation. It seemed a miracle to Ruby that these great vessels could sail right into the heart of the city.

Within no time they’d be over Barton swing bridge which carried the Bridgewater Canal over the Ship Canal, water leaking from the corners of the aqueduct gates. When the big ships came through this would move first, followed by the swing of the road bridge, its arches supported by massive steel girders. Ruby would look out for the man in the peaked cap who operated the gates to stop the traffic, and the children standing on walls and railings to watch the spectacle. She’d feel their excitement as they waited for the big ships to pass through, often accompanied by a tugboat or two; and share their amazement that water, a whole stretch of the canal, could be contained and moved on a bridge, in addition to a road normally bustling with traffic. In no time Ruby would be looking out upon open countryside, where cows grazed in flowered meadows. It was like another world, far removed from memories of destitution and the harshness of the reformatory. It gave her the first glimpse of how it might feel to be free.

The work on the boats, and Bart’s constant scheming, continued as normal and then one day he took her to another house, this time situated in a terrace on Quay Street, one among a hundred others of similar ilk.

‘There you are,’ he announced. ‘Didn’t I say I’d do right by you, Ruby? It’s modest, admittedly, but I trust you won’t turn your nose up at this.’

Ruby was stunned. She walked wonderingly through the dusty rooms, touching a broken chair, stroking the blackened surface of the stove, pulling away a tangle of cobwebs. The house was filthy, had the usual dank smell of neglect and vermin, but it was spacious with three bedrooms above, a kitchen and parlour below, and a private yard at the back complete with their own privy. Far grander than anything they’d lived in with Mam. She could make something of this house, given the chance.

But what would agreeing to live here with him cost her? She’d come perilously close to breaking the law on a number of occasions and very much doubted the police would be prepared to consider her an unwilling accomplice if he ever got caught, not as an ex-reformatory girl with a history of absconding. If they ever swooped on the baron, she’d be done for. They’d throw her in t’clink and toss away the key. Wouldn’t it be better just to get as far away from him as possible? And yet there was her responsibility to Pearl to think about.

‘What about me sister?’

‘I’ve asked around. Nobody has heard of her.’

‘I don’t believe you. Why would you even bother?’

‘You know why.’ With his eyes narrowed, it was well-nigh impossible for her to read his thoughts behind those lowered lids, though she could guess them since he’d made no secret of his desire for her. His soft chuckle sounded harsh, edged with the stirrings of anger or passion, Ruby wasn’t sure which. ‘There is, admittedly, a part of me that wonders why I should bother. You are my wife after all, and I could simply claim my rights here and now. It would be perfectly legal.’

Ruby swallowed the lump, which must be fear, that had lodged in her throat. She really mustn’t antagonise him too much. Intimacy with Barthram Stobbs was the last thing she wanted, wasn’t it? ‘If
I
were to find her, would you have any objection to her moving in?’

‘So long as she helps with the chores and keeps out of my way, no. Can’t say fairer than that, can I? Have I fulfilled all the criteria
you require, Ruby? Here, at last, is your own home. Cleaned out and furnished, it’ll serve for weekends. During the week we will remain on the boat, naturally. And you can have your sister with you, if that’s what you wish. Now, don’t I deserve a little reward for such generosity?’

He pushed her gently back against the wall as he stroked her face, the skin of his hands hard and rough against the satin softness of her cheeks, catching in the silky tangle of her hair. Ruby was breathing hard, desperately trying to quell a surge of panic. And yet, somewhere deep inside, she felt the stirrings of some other emotion, one she didn’t care to put a name to.

‘No! Not till I’ve found our Pearl. That was the agreement.’

‘Oh, Ruby! What an unfeeling wench you are. Won’t you even give me the slightest nibble, just a taste of what you have to offer?’ He put his lips against hers, brushing them lightly from side to side, a delicate overture to further plunder. The effect was startlingly sensuous and Ruby found herself instinctively lifting her mouth to his, her hands creeping up to grip the lapels of his jacket, her own body betraying her by its need. Hard on its heels came a kickback of guilt when she thought of Pearl, and she shoved hard at his chest, pushing him away.

‘I told you, no! I need to find our Pearl first.’

‘Don’t you care about my feelings at all?’

Ruby tossed her head with defiance. ‘Why should I? Nobody ever cared about mine.’

‘Oh, Ruby. That’s not true. Have you found nothing in my treatment of you that would count in my favour?’

‘Not that I’ve noticed.’ There was such a heart-rending sadness in his tone that she felt compelled to turn away, unable to bear to look at him in case she weakened. He didn’t give a toss about her. Nobody ever had, so why should Barthram Stobbs be any different? She certainly had no intention of dropping her guard.

Ruby put all her energies into cleaning the house. She was thrilled to be permitted to buy a few pieces of second-hand furniture, then set about scrubbing and black-leading the Lancashire range till it shone. She even stitched some lace curtains to make it look homely, something she’d never had in her life. This was the nearest she’d had to a home and Ruby was entranced by it. All she needed now was for Pearl and Billy to share this good fortune with her, so she could give them the love they’d lost when their mam had gone into the sanatorium.