She picked up her handbag, checking her reflection one last time, and as she stared at the woman in the looking glass who looked every inch a lady, it dawned on her how bizarre the last few days had been. One moment she’d been feted by a member of the upper class in surroundings so grand they’d taken her breath away, and the next it had been the other end of the pendulum when she’d visited Ellie down by the docks in filth and squalor. And she? Where did she fit in? she asked herself. Nowhere. She knew Flo and the others, and probably Bridget too although she wouldn’t say so, thought she was an upstart, but surely you could aim to better yourself without having that tag applied? She would never deny her beginnings and she was proud of what she’d achieved thus far, but she wanted more. Much more. Not just her dress shop, although that would be a start, but she wanted to make a difference in the world somehow. But as to where she fitted in she just didn’t know any more and it was a strange feeling. There were times since Ellie had gone when she felt she was alone in a little boat in the middle of the vast ocean with no one to really care if she lived or died.
Oh, for goodness’ sake! Now the stare became a glare and she swung round, disgusted with herself for the brief pangs of self-pity. It was all this with Ellie that had depressed her, she told herself as she heard Mabel call her name, and no wonder, but she had to accept what she couldn’t change and hope for the best for her friend. And yes, it meant she was on her own, but there were worse things than that.
Mabel called again as she opened the bedroom door, and she looked down the stairs to see the landlady standing in the hall, beckoning her furiously. She was only halfway down when Mabel hissed, ‘It’s him, the brother. He’s just drawn up outside.’
‘What?’ Clarissa’s chauffeur would have been bad enough but Edward Forsythe again? Oh, the neighbours would just love this.
‘I thought she was sending her car?’
‘So did I.’
‘Well, it’s him.’ Mabel tucked her chin into her neck. ‘What are you gonna do?’
There was nothing she could do but brave it out. Ruby’s heart was racing but she took a deep intake of breath and said quietly, ‘He must be staying with Clarissa for a few days and probably fancied a run out in his car, that’s all.’
Mabel didn’t answer but her look said everything.
‘I can’t stop him coming, Mabel. I didn’t know, did I? Perhaps the chauffeur was busy.’
The knock came at the front door and now Mabel whispered, ‘You be careful, lass. That’s all I’m saying. Them nobs are a breed apart, everyone knows that. He’ll be after turning your head with all his la-di-da ways and fancy talk, but them type only want one thing from a young lass and once he gets it he’ll be off quicker than a dose of salts, back to his own kind.’
‘Mabel, I’m going for lunch with his sister, that’s all.’
‘You might think that and the sister might an’ all, but take it from me, lass, that beggar’s got something else on his mind than lunch.’
‘Oh, Mabel.’ It wasn’t funny, her name would be mud in the street, but Ruby couldn’t help giggling at the older woman’s outrage. On impulse she bent forward and placed a swift kiss on Mabel’s cheek.
‘What’s that for?’ Mabel asked in surprise.
‘For caring,’ Ruby said softly.
Taken aback by the show of affection and not a little embarrassed, Mabel shook her head. ‘Go on with you, you soft ha’p’orth,’ she muttered to hide the lump in her throat the caress had caused. It had been a long, long time since anyone had kissed her.
The knock came again and they looked at each other for a moment before Ruby whispered, ‘If I’m not back by midnight send out a search party.’
‘Many a true word has been spoken in jest,’ Mabel said darkly. She didn’t go back into the front room but stood just behind Ruby and when the door was open stared silently at the man standing on the pavement.
Edward was smiling, his voice light as he said, ‘We meet again, Miss Morgan.’
‘Hello, Mr Forsythe.’
He was well aware her tone was cool and that the middle-aged woman standing behind her was staring at him with open hostility. Nevertheless, he allowed his eyes to rest on the little woman for a moment as he drawled, ‘I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced. I’m Edward Forsythe, Clarissa Palmerston’s brother.’
Flushing slightly, Ruby turned, saying, ‘This is my friend and landlady, Mrs Duffy.’
‘How do you do?’ Edward extended his hand and unsmilingly Mabel took it but didn’t say a word, her eyes narrowing.
Far from wanting to kiss Mabel, Ruby now had the desire to shake her. Stepping down into the street, she said, ‘Shall we?’ to Edward, and as he opened the car door for her and she settled herself down into the plush leather seat she stared straight ahead without so much as glancing towards the house.
As Edward walked round the car’s bonnet she was aware of him looking at her but she didn’t return his gaze, and not until he had slid in beside her and started the engine did she say, ‘I’m sorry about Mrs Duffy, Mr Forsythe. She’s something of a mother hen with her lodgers.’
‘I’m just counting myself fortunate that hens don’t have teeth.’
She kept her lips tightly together to suppress a smile; then she actually laughed aloud when he added, ‘But I hear they can give a nasty peck on occasion.’
‘She – we – were expecting Clarissa’s chauffeur.’
‘And that would have been more acceptable to Mrs Duffy?’
She didn’t know how to put what she had to say. She didn’t want to give the impression that she imagined he was interested in her in any way – she knew that was ridiculous for a man of his station in life and furthermore they hadn’t exactly hit it off a couple of days ago – but at the same time she felt she owed it to Mabel to explain. Awkwardly, she said, ‘I think she was considering how the neighbours might view someone like you arriving on her doorstep. Gossip is the lifeblood of most of them.’
‘Someone like me?’ he asked interestedly.
He must know what she meant. Her voice slightly reproving now, and determined not to feed his ego in any way, she said, ‘Let’s just say that most of the men hereabouts have a bicycle in the way of transport, and that’s if they’re lucky.’
‘Ahh . . .’ And then he sat up straighter, shooting her a swift glance as he said, ‘I haven’t compromised you in any way, have I? I never intended . . .’
‘It’s quite all right.’ It wasn’t, but she could hardly say, ‘Yes, they’ll all have me as your mistress by nightfall if they haven’t already.’
A silence ensued between them for a moment; then Edward, his voice devoid of the thread of laughter it had held thus far, said quietly, ‘Please accept my apology, Miss Morgan. I didn’t think—’ He stopped abruptly. ‘But I should have, I see that now.’
Of course he didn’t think; his world was so far removed from hers as here to the moon. She didn’t doubt that it was perfectly acceptable among the fashionable upper class and Hooray Henrys for men and women to socialize and get up to who knew what without an eyebrow being raised. But no, that wasn’t quite fair; whatever Edward Forsythe might be, he wasn’t a Hooray Henry. She slanted her eyes towards him and saw that he seemed genuinely concerned.
‘If narrow-minded gossips add one and one and make ten, that’s their mistake,’ she said softly.
‘Yes, but—’
‘Did you enjoy your dinner at Lord Rochdale’s?’
Taking the hint, Edward bowed to the change in conversation. ‘Let’s just say that enjoyment and Lord Rochdale don’t go hand in hand,’ he said drily, ‘although I have to admit Lady Russell’s presence livened things up a bit. I should have known, being one of Clarissa’s friends, that she wouldn’t be shy about making her opinions known, but once or twice I don’t think the poor old boy knew what had hit him. He’s old school and set in his ways and used to having everyone agree with him, so when they locked horns neither would give way.’
He grinned. ‘I thought you might say that. She’s certainly a born fighter.’
‘Most women are – we have to be.’
‘Because it’s a man’s world?’ The mocking note was back.
‘Because men have always been determined to make it so and still are, despite the fact that not one of you would be here if it wasn’t for the privilege of being carried in a woman’s body for nine months.’
‘Believe me, I’m for you, not against you.’
‘Really?’ Ruby said coolly, resenting the slightly patronizing quality to his voice. ‘Have you ever really thought about the judicial unfairness, lack of impartiality at every level of government and the exploitation by men of women and children both in the home and at work and society as a whole? Any show of aggression by women is condemned outright, and yet the male cult of hard drinking in all classes and the violence it causes, and the confrontational attitude to change by men, is considered “natural”. You live and work in the city, Mr Forsythe. How many women are given the same chances of employment as men in your type of business? Don’t tell me you are for my sex until you are prepared to stand up for equal rights and opportunities, even if the “best man winning” means the person concerned is a woman.’
This time the silence stretched on for a while. Ruby was conscious of the view outside the car; of streets flashing by, bairns playing, women standing and gossiping at open doors or walking with shopping baskets, of horse and carts, bicycles and the odd car or two, but it was all on the perimeter of her mind. She was vitally aware of the man at the side of her, of the bulk of him, the clean fresh smell she’d noticed previously, of his hands at the wheel, and most of all his quietness. Had she offended him? she asked herself, her heart beating faster than was comfortable. Well, that couldn’t be helped. He had been laughing at her. Oh, not in a nasty way, she’d give him that, but nevertheless there had been an element of condescension, like the way some folk talked down to a bairn.
They had reached the outskirts of the town and had turned onto a country road with farmer’s fields on either side when he spoke again. ‘You’re not an easy person to be around, Miss Morgan.’
For a moment she felt a sense of deep hurt, before telling herself not to be so pathetic. She hardly knew this man and she didn’t care what he thought of her. She had spoken the truth and if he couldn’t handle it, that was his problem.
‘But an extremely interesting one, nevertheless,’ he continued before she could summon a suitable reply. ‘Tell me, are you always so forthright?’
‘I think so, yes.’
‘Then it’s not just your disapproval of me?’
She had to wet her lips before she said, ‘I don’t disapprove of you. How could I? I barely know you,’ speaking out her earlier thought.
‘No, that is true, you don’t.’
‘Look, Mr Forsythe—’
‘And never will if you persist in being so formal.’ The black eyebrows came together in a frown. ‘Edward really isn’t such a difficult name to say, is it? Now if it was Ethelbert like one poor devil I know, or perhaps Egidius, I could understand it. Egidius was a pal at university and his parents had apparently thought it clever to give him the Latin form of Giles. Needless to say he didn’t agree.’
Ruby stared at him. ‘You’re making that up, about Egidius.’ She couldn’t imagine parents calling their son Ethelbert either, come to that.
‘Not at all.’
‘Poor thing.’
‘Quite.’ A few moments passed before he said quietly, ‘I wanted to call and take you to Foreburn today, I won’t pretend otherwise. I felt our previous meeting didn’t go too well, Miss Morgan.’
Oh, dear. Perhaps he was one of the womanizers Mabel had spoken of, after all. Keeping her voice light, Ruby said, ‘And you think today is going better?’
Now he actually laughed out loud. ‘Oh, no,’ he said ruefully, ‘I’m afraid not. We seem to meet head on if we say more than two words to each other, don’t we, and I don’t quite understand why. I was being completely genuine when I said I support all the aims that you and my sister campaign for. I totally accept that the expansion of women’s liberty needs women like Lady Astor who aren’t afraid to call a spade a spade and stand up to bullies. I applauded the way she handled that swine Bottomley when she first came to the House, for example. He’d cowed most of his colleagues into a state of submission through being the proprietor of that muck-raking journal, John Bull, and thought he could do the same to her by printing a pack of lies and innuendos about her marriage, but she responded with dignity and courage and showed him up for the paragon of unpleasantness he is. I do wonder if he’d have been sent to jail for financial impropriety a couple of years later but for her. But that is by the by. Suffice to say I am not your enemy as I have said before, Miss Morgan.’
‘I never imagined you were.’ Quite what Edward Forsythe was, however, she wasn’t sure. Coming to a decision, she added, ‘And the name is Ruby.’
It was highly unlikely their paths would cross again after today; his sister had been generous in her invitation to lunch, but their different stations in life meant that once this holiday week was over and she was back working at the laundry, normal life would resume. There was no need to be concerned about Edward taking liberties. She would never see him again.
Edward smiled to himself. The first battle had been won, but he fancied there would be many more in the future. Because one thing was for sure – meeting Ruby Morgan again confirmed what he now admitted he had known since the moment he laid eyes on her in Clarissa’s drawing room: she was going to be part of his life. He would make sure of it.
PART THREE
Goodbyes, Reconciliations and New Beginnings
1926
Chapter Twelve
The start of another year. Olive gazed across the bedroom to the faint light coming in the window. Although it was only five o’clock in the morning and still dark outside, the thick snow that lay on the rooftops and made the roads and pavements treacherous brought illumination into the room. How could she endure another year like the last one and those before it?
Adam stirred at the side of her, his snores faltering for a few moments before he grunted and turned over, one arm falling across her waist. Olive lay absolutely still, scarcely breathing, and when she was sure he was fast off again she slid slowly out of the bed. Only when she stood up did she start to breathe normally.
The room was like an ice box. Dressing swiftly and silently, she told herself she’d have a good strip-down wash later when Adam was at work. She’d bring the tin bath through and fill it in front of the range when Alice had her midday nap. Until then she would have to put up with the smell of him on her.
He hadn’t bothered her for some weeks before last night – she supposed she ought to be thankful for that – but he had been three sheets to the wind when they’d got back from the New Year’s Eve jollities and carry-on at his mam’s. Once she’d settled Alice down and come into their room, he’d been waiting for her.
She shut her eyes for a moment. It had only been in the last year that he had started drinking and then, to be fair, not often, but the indignities he inflicted on her when he was in his cups were ten times worse than his usual demands. Whilst most of the women hereabouts complained about their men’s reduced pay packets and longer working hours, calling Churchill and his gang every name under the sun, she was grateful that it meant there just wasn’t the money for Adam to spend on beer, not normally. But there were still the times when his da and brothers persuaded him to keep them company after a shift, or the infamous Gilbert family gatherings to celebrate something or other. The first time he’d got drunk again, after the fateful night Alice was conceived, was the New Year’s Eve before this one, and when, the next morning, she had remarked that she thought he was against getting legless, he’d stared at her with red rimmed eyes and mumbled something about, ‘If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
’
She turned, staring at the humped form under the mound of blankets and thick eiderdown.
She would never have believed that Ruby’s Adam – the happy, funny boy who’d grown into a happy, funny youth – could have turned into the man he was today. Even his own mam said he had changed beyond recognition and she knew everyone blamed her for the way he was. And it was her fault, she knew that. Losing Ruby had infected him like a malignant disease.
Before going downstairs she checked on Alice. Her daughter was just over three now and every day Olive marvelled how something so bonny and perfect could have come from her body. Alice was fast asleep, curled under the covers like a small animal in its nest, and as Olive gently turned back the clothes a few inches she could see the outline of her child’s face in the dim light, her amazingly long lashes lying like a dark smudge on her sleep-flushed skin and her beautiful chestnut hair tumbled about her face and shoulders. Everyone adored Alice – everyone except her father that was, Olive thought as her thin mouth pulled tight – and her two grandmas were besotted with her. How much that was to do with the fact that Adam would have little to do with her, she didn’t know. His mam had been the only one, besides herself, who had dared to take him to task on the matter and by her own account she’d received short shrift. But no amount of love and fondness by the rest of the family could make up for the lack of it in Alice’s own da, and the child, small as she was, was affected by his coldness towards her.
Olive tiptoed out of the bedroom, the familiar weight of self-condemnation and remorse heavy on her heart. She would give her life for her child without a second thought, but through something she had done Alice was the one who had to pay for it every day of her life. The look in her bairn’s eyes sometimes when her da pushed her away or spoke sharply was almost more than she could bear, but for some reason the older Alice had got the more she tried to please him, to get him to love her. It had been easier in one way when Alice was a baby and had been frightened of him, much as she’d hated that, but over the last year that fear had gone and she didn’t understand why.
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