‘Mummy!’ a voice shouted, as her bed bounced and Ruby jolted awake with a start. ‘Mummy, I have my own bedroom and so does Grandma,’ her son exclaimed excitedly. ‘Do you want to come and see our beds?’
Ruby held out her hand to ruffle his light brown curls, but it felt like lead and flopped back down onto the covers. ‘My darling boy, have you been good for your nan?’
‘As good as a child of that age can be,’ Milly Tomkins huffed as she sat on a hardwood chair set by the fireside. ‘I saw the baby,’ she said quietly, noticing George was out of earshot, having climbed down from the bed and wandered over to the window.
Ruby gazed beseechingly at her mother. ‘I know I’m to blame for killing her.’
‘Kill? What are you talking about, girl? The child wasn’t killed.’
Ruby glanced over to where George was still looking out of one of the tall windows and waving to passing neighbours. Lowering her voice, she said, ‘It must have been something I did, as our George didn’t come along early, and look at him now. As fit as a fiddle. I must have overdone things, what with scrubbing floors to bring in money and then humping our belongings on and off the drayman’s cart.’
Milly put her hands on her hips and huffed again. ‘The child would not have survived if you’d taken to your bed for the past six months and never lifted a finger. It wasn’t meant for this world. It’s best you forget all about it. There will be more babies, just as night follows day; you mark my words.’
Ruby wiped her eyes on the edge of the bed sheet. ‘What do you mean by “never meant for this world?” What was wrong with her?’
Milly pursed her lips. ‘It’s best you don’t know. As I said before, forget about her.’
Ruby shuddered as she fought to hold back sobs of frustration. ‘She’s my daughter, how can I forget her? Besides, there’s the funeral to think about,’ she added, wondering if the few shillings she still had put by for things for the new house would be enough to bury her daughter. It didn’t feel right to be thinking about burying her own child, but sadly it happened. Why, there was a woman she’d known who’d worked down the market who’d died birthing her child, and the baby had gone to the grave with her. Ruby had been told that the woman had lost as many as had lived – and there’d been five young kiddies who’d ended up in the orphanage after their father dumped them and ran off, rather than face his responsibilities.
‘It’s been taken care of, so don’t you go worrying yourself.’
‘What do you mean? Don’t I get a say on where my daughter is to be buried? I want her name on the marker until I can have a headstone made. I can do that, can’t I?’
Milly gave a deep sigh and turned to her grandson. ‘Georgie boy, why don’t you pop downstairs and put some more butter on Mr Tibbs’ paws for me? We don’t want him wandering off and getting himself lost, now, do we?’
‘Yes, Nana,’ the child said as he ran to the stairs.
‘And mind you hold on to the banister rail. If you fall and break your neck, don’t come running to me in tears,’ she called after him as she perched herself on the side of her bed and took Ruby’s hand in her own. ‘Now, I don’t want you fretting yourself over this. It’s just something women have to put up with. You need to harden your heart and get yourself back on your feet. I’ll allow you this one day in bed, but there are things needing doing in this house, so pull yourself together and stop wallowing. It’s time you thought about others, and weren’t so selfish,’ she concluded, before hauling herself to her feet and heading downstairs, muttering as she went.
Ruby lay staring at the ceiling. Was her mum right? She didn’t feel as though she was wallowing in grief. All she knew was, one day she was carrying a child and the next day she wasn’t – and there was nothing to show for it apart from a pain so raw she wanted to scream out loud, even though no one would listen to her. Where was her baby – what had they done with it? Didn’t the poor scrap of life deserve a grave – somewhere its mother could go to mourn? Someone must know, and she was determined to find out what had happened to her daughter.
Ruby must have slept again for a while, as she came to with a start when she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. ‘Is that you, Mum?’ she called out. She would press Milly to tell her more of what had happened.
‘No, it’s me, your husband,’ Eddie Caselton said loudly as he entered the room and stared down at his wife.
‘I wondered when I’d see you,’ she said, looking for just a spark of sorrow in his face at the loss of his child. ‘It was a baby girl,’ she whispered.
‘So your mother told me, although it doesn’t matter what it was. There’ll be others,’ he added, looking towards his side of the bed.
Ruby couldn’t believe what he was insinuating. ‘Perhaps you can bunk down with our George for a few days? Being poorly, I don’t want to disturb you, and you’ll need your sleep if you’re to get to work on time.’
Eddie shrugged his shoulders and turned to look out of the window. ‘They didn’t want me after all. I’ll have to go back to doing odd jobs for Cedric.’
Ruby sighed as she fought a lump forming in her throat. ‘Oh, Eddie. I thought this move would be a fresh start for us – a lovely new home, a new baby, and you with a decent job. Now we’ve just got the home, and no way to pay the rent. What are we going to do?’
There was a short silence before he replied. ‘You’ll be back on your feet soon and can pick up some work cleaning, or perhaps even working in one of the shops in the town. After all, they’re only round the corner. You could be back to get me dinner, and your mother can do her bit around the house and look after the kid.’
Ruby digested his words. It was as if nothing was going to change. She could see her dreams fading before her eyes. ‘I’m going to call her Sarah, after my nan. I always liked the name.’
‘What are you talking about, woman? There’s nothing to name.’
An ache deep inside told Ruby otherwise. She’d not argue with her husband. What was the point? For him, it was over and done with. Stella was right: men just didn’t understand, or the few who did grieved differently. For all they knew, having a baby simply meant a wife disappeared into the bedroom while the husband was ushered from the house. Hours later, there was a baby, and he was treated to drinks, a slap on the back and a good evening down the pub, she thought bitterly.
When she’d met Eddie Caselton, Ruby had thought herself the luckiest woman in the world. He was a good ten years older than her and considered a lucky catch. Her mother, Milly, had not been so impressed. ‘The only reason he’s married you is because of what you’re carrying in your belly. How could you be so stupid, girl? He wanted you for one thing only. I should wash my hands of you. Your two sisters made good marriages and I expected more of you,’ she’d sniffed.
Ruby had been adamant that Eddie loved her. Hadn’t he treated her like a lady and courted her in the manner expected? It had only been the once that their kisses had gone too far and she’d consented and enjoyed his lovemaking. When she’d cried afterwards, thinking of what had occurred, he’d apologized and promised to care for her if there were any consequences. He’d been as good as his word and married her, declaring to the world it was time he settled down. Sadly, not long after George had been born, Ruby had begun to see that her husband had a different side to him. He preferred doing the odd bit of work for Cedric over holding down a proper job; not that the money he earned often reached home. If not for the few coppers she earned cleaning down the pub, she had no idea how they would have coped. On occasion, when Eddie stumbled home the worse for wear after celebrating a lucky win on the horses, she’d gone through his pockets, taking several coins and hiding them away while he slept off the drink. Was that what she had to look forward to for the rest of her life? Granted, he doted on his son, and no one could say he was a bad father.
Perhaps it was her fault that he behaved the way he did. After she’d given birth to a healthy boy, further pregnancies had failed within weeks of
her knowing she was expecting. Sarah was the only one who had almost gone full term. As the weeks turned to months and Ruby’s stomach expanded, she had clung on to the hope that she could give her husband a second child. There must be something wrong with her, to fail her husband like this. There again, her sisters had not provided their husbands with any offspring. She’d once mentioned this to Milly, suggesting there must be something wrong in the family, what with all three sisters having only the one child between them. Milly had scoffed at the suggestion, pointing out that she herself had birthed three healthy girls and Ruby should stop with her fanciful thoughts.
Ruby reached for her bag, which had been placed by the side of the bed. Pulling out her purse, she took a couple of coins and held them out to her husband. ‘Why don’t you go and get yourself a jug of beer? I reckon Mum would like to share a glass with you.’
Eddie took the money and gently stroked her cheek. ‘Look after yourself. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you,’ he said as he left her alone.
She lay back down, pulling the covers up over her shoulders. The fire in the bedroom was burning well and, with the rain again rattling against the windows, she took a little comfort in its warmth. Who’d have thought it was August? She shivered as she thought again of her daughter, who should have been a September baby. ‘I’m going to do my best to find you, Sarah,’ she whispered. ‘You deserve to have a decent resting place – and I deserve to be able to pay my respects. As soon as I’m on my feet, I’ll find you . . .’
2
‘I’m not sure you should be out and about so soon. You still look very pale,’ Stella Green said as she accompanied Ruby on her walk into town. ‘It hasn’t been three weeks since . . .’
‘Since my daughter died,’ Ruby finished, giving the older woman a sympathetic look. ‘Please don’t feel you can’t mention it. It’s bad enough indoors, with Mum refusing to talk about it. Her last comment was “it’s done and dusted”, as if I could ever forget about losing Sarah. I’m glad to be out of the house for a while, and away from her advice. I’m all right, honestly I am.’
‘If you say so,’ Stella said, giving her a hard stare. ‘Sarah?’
Ruby’s face looked a little flushed as she tried to explain. ‘I’ve named her Sarah. My baby deserved a name, at the very least. I may never have seen her, but somehow she feels more real if I can think of her as Sarah.’ She looked sideways at the older woman. ‘Do you think I’m daft?’
Stella stopped walking and turned to face her young neighbour. ‘You must do as you feel fit. I wish I’d given my oldest a name. I love my three sons dearly, but my firstborn is a ghost of a person . . . a ghost I reach out to, but can never quite touch,’ she said with a note of sadness to her voice. ‘Giving him a name might well have helped me grieve his death. I was told by my mother that as he hadn’t cried or taken a breath, he was never a person and must be forgotten. When I lost a second child – he was born after my Donald – it was different. I named him and I could grieve; I know him as my little Stanley.’
Ruby slipped her arm through Stella’s and gave it a squeeze. ‘I’m sorry for your loss. It must have been so hard, being your first.’
‘First, second, third. Is it ever any different? I’ve known women never have another child because they couldn’t bear another loss.’
Ruby frowned. ‘But how . . .?’
‘They either had understanding husbands, or they were strong characters and banished their man to another bed.’
Ruby thought of how Eddie had begged and sulked until she had relented and allowed him back into their marital bed, even though she had no interest in what went on between them. In the past few days she had simply gone through the motions of being a wife and mother, her mind firmly on the daughter she’d lost. Eddie and her mum acted as though the pregnancy and Sarah’s death had not occurred. ‘I can understand why they did it,’ she answered, with a haunted look in her eyes.
‘You and me have got a lot in common, Ruby Caselton. There may be nearly thirty years between us, but we’ve both shared a suffering that we hold deep inside us. I’ll always be here for you, if you need to talk about this. Now, let’s get our shopping done, and then I’ll treat us to a cup of tea in the cafe. I reckon we deserve it, don’t you?’
Ruby gave her new friend a weak smile. ‘I’d like that, thank you. There is something else I’d like to speak to you about, but it doesn’t seem right here in the street.’
‘Then leave it until we’re in the cafe. Hopefully we can find a quiet table. Speaking of being quiet, where is your George today?’
‘Mum’s got him. I had to beg her to keep an eye on him, as shopping with a lively child is something I couldn’t cope with today. Give it a while and I’ll be as right as rain and back to normal. Well, if I ever feel really normal again.’
Stella patted her hand, and they continued walking. For Ruby, this outing was her first look around the thriving riverside town. Shiny new trams followed tracks in the road while linked to overhead cables that seemed to be alive. She could hear a distinct hum from the carriages and spotted sparks, which she found unnerving. Businesses and shops filled the two main roads, with horses and carts delivering all kinds of wares to the traders. She even spotted a motor vehicle parked by the cottage hospital. ‘George will love seeing all this,’ she declared, as the uniformed chauffeur nodded good morning to the two women. ‘It’s much posher than where we lived before.’
‘You’re not from Erith, then?’ Stella asked as they stopped by a butcher’s shop and she peered at a display of skinned rabbits in the window. ‘You know, there was a time my husband brought them home for me to skin . . .’
Ruby wrinkled her nose at the thought of skinning an animal. She was partial to a bit of rabbit for her dinner, but didn’t want one in her kitchen wearing its fur coat. ‘I suppose needs must if you’re hungry enough, but I’ve not got the stomach for doing the skinning,’ she said, turning away from the window. ‘And no, I’m not from round here, but I’m pleased we made the move from Woolwich. I didn’t much like it there. Well, not where we lived, anyroad. This is a lovely town, and I’ve only seen a bit of one street. Is there much work to be had?’ she asked, thinking that Eddie could do well if he put his mind to it and settled into one job.
‘There’s plenty, even if a man doesn’t have a trade.’
‘My Eddie would be looking for labouring work. He had a job, but wants to work down this way now we have the house,’ she explained. ‘He’s a grafter and doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.’ She didn’t add that of late, hardly any of the money reached home on payday – and although it was true Eddie was a hard worker, he’d had many jobs. ‘I’ll be looking for something for myself as well, once I’m on my feet. Mum will be caring for George – he’d not be left on his own,’ she added, with a spark of defiance in her eyes.
Stella gave a thoughtful nod as she handed coins over to the butcher for the scrag end she’d chosen, placing the wrapped packet in her basket. Ruby Caselton wasn’t telling all, but it was early days, and who was she to question a young woman she’d only known for a few weeks? She liked Ruby a lot, but thought of her more as a young girl than a woman of twenty-five with a small son. In age she sat neatly between her oldest son, Frank, and middle son, Derek. Stella would have loved a daughter of her own. Well, perhaps Ruby Caselton would fill her need for a daughter, even though the waspish Milly Tomkins could claim the position of mother, being the real blood relative. She’d mentioned this very fact to her husband just the evening before. Wilf had laughed, warning her not to interfere in a stranger’s life. He’d mentioned that he thought Eddie Caselton was one of life’s wasters, and as much as he too was taken with Ruby, his opinion was that getting involved in their lives could bring trouble to their own family.
Whatever her husband said, though, Stella knew she would look out for the girl and be a good neighbour to her.
‘There are boards up outside the Vickers factory most days,
along with others, calling for people with a trade as well as labourers. Then there’s the docks, the coalyards as well as the brickfields. Why, my Derek is doing well working down the brickfield, and the money is regular during the summer months. Making bricks is a good honest trade if you don’t mind outside work.’
Ruby looked thoughtful as she listened to Stella. ‘Does your Frank work there too?’
‘No, he works down at the coalyard. He’s a clerk in the office,’ she said proudly. ‘My Wilf wanted Frank to join him on the river, but Frank’s not so keen. It’s a shame, as being a lighterman runs in the family. Unless a family member puts you forward for a job, you can’t get in. Wilf is the master of his own tug, the Merry England, and he has rowed in the annual Doggett’s cup race on the river.’
‘That sounds really important,’ Ruby replied, although she didn’t really understand half of what her neighbour had said. She liked Stella’s husband and sons, who had sat with her when she was poorly. Frank had read to her while she was weak and lent her a well-thumbed copy of Great Expectations to take back to number thirteen. Wilfred Green had sat smoking his pipe, pointing out items of interest from his newspaper. They were polite to Eddie the few times he’d popped over the road and they’d entertained George, too, pulling out old wooden toys that had belonged to the three brothers when they’d been younger.
‘Wilf says Frank is a thinker, not someone to work with his hands on the river. Even Derek would rather work with his mates making bricks. Perhaps Frank will reconsider when he’s older. It would be good to keep the tug boat in our family.’
Once Stella’s doctor declared Ruby strong enough to be moved, her eldest son had carried her with ease across the road and up to her bed, Stella hurrying behind all the time telling him to be careful and watching out for the nosy neighbours who peered from behind their lace curtains. Ruby had still been very weak, and she had little memory of it now apart from Frank’s strong arms and twinkling blue eyes. This wasn’t Eddie, the man who had stolen her heart when she was a mere slip of a girl, and who her mother had hassled to marry her when she was expecting her George. Any man was better than being an unmarried mother. A moment of madness when she fell for Eddie’s charms had resulted in her mother marching them both down the aisle long before anyone outside the family was aware there was a child on the way – which was surprising, considering her slim outline at that time.
A Mother Forever Page 2
