And look where wistful hazel eyes got me mam, Ruby would think. With three children by different men. A fate that would not be repeated by her daughter, same lovely eyes or no.
‘It’s small change to them,’ Barthram Stobbs was saying. ‘Meat and drink to those less fortunate.’
‘It’s still wrong to steal, and you can’t claim to be starving.’ Nevertheless Ruby found herself required to play many parts and became quite certain she must have heard every lie under the sun, seen him in every possible disguise from undertaker to solicitor’s clerk, military man complete with monocle to idle vagrant. Though she was utterly convinced that the baron was a fraudster, yet she learned he also possessed the skills of an artist and the charm of a rake. He was, without doubt, master of his craft and she couldn’t help but admire his fertile imagination and gift of the gab, for all she neither approved nor understood the necessity for either.
‘Why do you do it?’
‘The whys and wherefores needn’t concern you, Ruby McBride. You’d be well advised to keep your nose out of my business.’
‘What you make me do is my business. I need to understand why. She did nothing to disguise the contempt in her voice, meeting the answering fury in his blazing eyes.
For his part, he wanted to protest, to object to her prying too closely into his affairs and demand to know why she always thought the worst of him, but then he would bite back the words unspoken. She was right. He did push boundaries to their limits, and he couldn’t explain, not to her, not right now, why he did so. Not till he could trust her completely. ‘What is it exactly you object to, Ruby McBride?’ His voice was savage in its harshness.
‘The way you treat people, for one thing. Why do you play these cruel tricks? It’s dangerous, for another. If you got caught, you’d end up in t’clink.’
‘I won’t get caught. The people who contribute to my “fund”, as you might call it, wouldn’t welcome the publicity any more than I would.’
‘Oh, I know you think you’re mighty clever, but it’d take only one mistake, one person to spot you thieving, and that’d be it.’
‘You underestimate me.’
‘That’s what they all think, except in your case maybe I do,’ she agreed with a weary sigh. ‘But you must admit you’re hard to fathom. You have brains and intelligence, and although you’re getting on a bit, you’re not that old.’
‘I’m twenty-eight Ruby. No age at all.’
She was momentarily startled. There was such a sadness to the planes of his face, handsome though it might be, a bitter twist to the sensuous mouth, that he appeared older than his years. What had made him so? Ruby wondered, before briskly brushing the thought aside to be considered later, at her leisure. ‘Well then, why don’t you find something more worthwhile to do, instead of fleecing folk? You could make good money out of these barges that you drag around, if only you’d put your mind to it.’
He pulled a face, as if there were a bad smell under his nose. ‘You’re saying I don’t work hard enough?’
‘I am.’ She tilted her chin, challenging him to dispute this damning indictment in an effort to persuade him that honest labour was good for the soul. ‘It wouldn’t be too bad a life. I’d be prepared to do my bit.’
‘I suppose you’re right in a way. It’s true that if I put more effort into the barge work, I could build myself a good business. I’d have no objection to that, so long as it was done in a way to suit me. In the meantime, the boats are a good cover for my “other interests” shall we say, and I’ve no intention of dirtying my hands with heavy toil and sweat for a pittance, not if I can avoid it. That would be a waste of my resources.’
Ruby rarely understood the fancy words he used, yet still she struggled to grasp how his clever mind worked. She couldn’t help but be intrigued by him, despite the fury he invoked in her. He’d robbed her of the freedom to marry where she chose - Kit Jarvis - if she’d had her way, and sometimes this resentment boiled over into pure hatred. ‘I’ve seen you stashing away all your ill-gotten gains so, go on, tell me, what are you saving your brass for? What’s it all in aid of?’
‘I need my comforts, Ruby.’
‘What for, yer old age?’
‘I think we might start dipping into it before then. My living expenses are modest at the moment, but I aim one day to surround myself with the luxury I deserve. A fine house by the river perhaps, and the money to pay for it without too much effort. Would you like that, Ruby? Do you dream of a place of yer own some day?’ he teased, mocking her Lancashire twang, and she found herself flushing.
His voice, generally speaking, showed no trace of an accent. Where did he come from? Who was he? She was becoming curious about him but, young as she was, Ruby understood how dreams could be magical, dangerous fantasies and sympathised with anyone who harboured them. ‘Aye, happen I would, if pigs could fly.’
She wanted a home of her own very much. It needn’t be big, just roomy enough for Pearl and Billy to share it with her. She loved to indulge this particular fancy along with the sweeter one where Kit Jarvis turned up out of the blue, announced that he’d loved her since the first day he’d clapped eyes on her, and asked her to wed him. That one had kept her going for four years in the reformatory. It turned to bitter ashes; all hope destroyed on the day Barthram Stobbs had forced her to become his wife. Which brought her back to her current problem: staying on the right side of the law.
‘I don’t think you should achieve your dream at other folk’s expense.’
He laughed. ‘Ruby McBride, champion of the underdog! I like that. But it is possible to be too honest, don’t you think? Fortunately we don’t all possess your high moral scruples. Nevertheless, I would recommend that you keep your nose out of my affairs! I don’t pay you to argue, or ask a lot of damn’ fool questions over matters you don’t understand.’
‘You haven’t paid me anything at all yet,’ Ruby spat back, rigid with temper. ‘Not that I’ve noticed.’
‘As my wife, I don’t have to. Clever of me, don’t you think?’
‘Because you’re a selfish git, more like.’
He seemed amused by her invective. ‘I may pay your something, in due course, out of the kindness of my heart. In the meantime you have a home of sorts, food in your belly, and you’re not being ill treated, are you?’
The calmness of his response made Ruby incandescent with rage. It was difficult for her to mumble an agreement that she was not.
Stroking her uptilted chin with the ball of his thumb, he trailed it onward down the curve of her throat to withdraw it only seconds before it dipped into the enticing vee of her neckline. ‘Well then, I’d start thinking of ways to offer a return on my good will if I were you, or I may change my mind about saving your little sister from the yawning jaws of the factory system where she is almost certainly bound. I’m sure you’ll find it worth your while to be generous, in the long run.’
Then he walked briskly away, leaving Ruby both disturbed by the bold caress, and oddly insulted that he could resist her so easily.
Chapter Ten
Ruby’s life had changed beyond recognition. The ordinary, everyday tasks she now carried out were no longer strictly controlled by a committee of reformers. She could choose what food she wished to eat, which clothes she wore, even borrow whatever books she fancied from the mission library. Yet still she did not feel that she had any real control over her life. What had gone wrong? She’d expected to be mistress of her own fortune once she’d left the reformatory but seemed to be more trapped than ever. Barthram Stobbs, husband and conman, was very much in charge of both their lives. Why didn’t she stand up to him as she used to stand up to Sister Joseph and Miss Crombie? But then Ruby knew why.
She didn’t dare take the risk, for Pearl’s sake. Not until she was good and ready, until she had all her plans in place and was quite certain Pearl was safe. Ruby had never feared punishment on her own account but it grieved her to think that it was her sister who was suffering for her latest burst
of rebellion. The reformatory regime would be even tougher as a result of the riot, Miss Crombie’s replacement no doubt as stern and austere as the Board of Guardians could find. And all because she’d stupidly taken out her irritation over Barthram Stobbs by complaining about the food. What was it about institutional food that brought out the worst in her? Being left starving hungry, no doubt.
Pearl was now lost to her, temporarily at least, and Ruby herself married to a man she loathed. She’d failed her sister, failed Billy too. In trying to save him from the bullies, she’d somehow caused her little brother to be sent to a far-off land. And all because she hadn’t taken proper care of him. Tears of grief rolled down Ruby’s cheeks. She’d broken her promise to her mam. Let them all down badly.
Perhaps it was too late for Billy, but there was still Pearl to think of. Ruby wished that she could believe that Barthram Stobbs would help her to save her sister, but she couldn’t trust him. All she knew for certain was that if she couldn’t alter a situation then she must somehow find it in herself to tolerate it, and not confront every problem with reckless defiance. Hadn’t she learned that much during the harsh years of her childhood?
From time to time she would hear of a ship heading for Canada and Ruby would make up her mind to be on it. She longed to go there and find Billy, to reunite her family and give them the love they’d been denied in their miserable lives. She was surely old enough to take charge of them both now? Ruby went over and over her plan. She would cut her own hair, and Pearl’s, dress them both as cabin boys. A wild scheme, admittedly, but hadn’t she learned the art of disguise from a master? Or they could simply stow away in a lifeboat. Somehow, it must be possible to get on board.
What they would do after that, she hadn’t quite worked out. She certainly couldn’t afford the passages home. Ruby hoped they would find employment in Canada. It was a big country, after all. Billy had said so. There must be plenty of work there, not like here in Salford where a job was increasingly hard to come by.
Night after night she would adjust and add to these plans, and then come morning she’d wake to discover that the latest ship had sailed to Canada and she was no nearer to putting them into effect. She still hadn’t found Pearl, which somehow must be achieved before they could begin to look for Billy. Ruby would weep sorrowful tears into her pillow, then console herself that it had all been nonsense anyway. How could she possibly stow away on a big liner, travel to a far-off country on the opposite side of the world? Lot of nonsense, she’d sternly scold herself, and for a while manage to put the whole notion out of her head.
And then another Canada-bound liner would steam into port and the same old dreams would start up all over again.
Ruby concluded that until the happy day arrived when these dreams could be fulfilled, the only way to survive, and ultimately achieve her freedom, was to play along with Barthram Stobbs’s scams. For now. She would do her best to please him so that he wasn’t watching her every second of the day. She would fool him into thinking that he was in control, when really she was the one in charge.
So, although she gave every impression of trusting him, Ruby remained very much on her guard. What other choice did she have, if she was to do right by her sister?
Her first task each morning was to clean the tug from stem to stern, tidying and sweeping out the cabins, scrubbing the board table and paintwork with washing soda till they glowed like new. She’d fill the water barrel and coal bunkers, trim the lamps, and, of course, it was her task to cook the meals. There was a tiny stove with a chimney, meant to keep them warm though its effectiveness was limited. A cupboard in the main cabin held their few provisions: tea, sugar, bread and butter and a tin of condensed milk. The hinged door would fold down and double as a table, where they ate breakfast and supper.
Fortunately, more often than not and to Ruby’s immense relief, Barthram left her to her own devices for much of the day, while he went off gallivanting with his docker cronies. Sometimes he wouldn’t come home until quite late and she would hear the rumble of their whispered conversation through the thin cabin walls, well into the small hours.
She didn’t ask where he went, or what they got up to, or pay attention to whatever issues apparently absorbed them. Nor did she want to know, simply glad to have some time to herself. Ruby was only too relieved that he wasn’t involving her quite so often in his nefarious schemes these days.
While he was away she would pretend the boat belonged to her alone. Ruby would take pride in scrubbing it clean, in touching up any varnish which had got scuffed or scratched, redoing the paint work, even to painting flowers and other pretty designs on the walls of the vessel. She didn’t mind the hard work, the cold, or the cramped discomfort of life on board. She’d come to love the tug. She loved her tiny cabin with its narrow bunk, the shelves where she stowed away her clothes and the precious copy of Robinson Crusoe that Mam had given her all those years ago. If it weren’t for missing Pearl and Billy, and pining for Kit Jarvis, she’d be happy as Larry here.
So long as her husband stayed away.
When she’d got everything ship-shape and gleaming, she’d gossip with the other boat women. Depending where they were on the canal, this might take place at one of the little shops that had sprung up along the towpath selling hot pies and mugs of tea, soup, meat and other provisions to the boat people, since they weren’t always welcome in normal shops. A favourite place to meet was at the Boatmen’s Mission. Some of the women occupied narrow boats with very limited facilities, and stopping off at the mission for a cup of tea and the chance to escape their claustrophobic living quarters for a bit of crack while they caught up on news was always welcome. The mission also provided laundry facilities, a small lending library, which Ruby cherished, newspapers for the men, games for the children, and the opportunity for her to write long, loving letters to Billy.
The women would tell her how fortunate she was in her husband. ‘Good man, Barthram Stobbs,’ they would say. ‘Do anything for anybody will Bart.’
‘Aye, proper toff is the baron.’
‘Never has a thought for his own safety,’ said another.
‘That’s true, whatever yer problem, Bart’ll sort it out for you.’
Ruby would frown and listen to these words of praise, thinking maybe the women were talking about someone else entirely and not the man she’d married at all.
On the days when he was home, they’d visit a grubby wooden hut on Trafford Wharf where for a couple of pennies they could buy a bowl of thick pea soup and a slice of bread and butter each for their midday meal. Ruby would concentrate on the delicious food while Bart would talk with the dockers. She didn’t trouble to listen too closely as it involved people she didn’t know, officials of the Company, secretaries and union leaders. But it was clear that the men weren’t too happy with their rates of pay, which she didn’t wonder at. Times were hard, what with another cotton slump and a lot of folk in Lancashire being on short time. Ignorant as she was of business matters, even Ruby realised that this state of affairs didn’t help the dockers one bit as there was less cotton and coal to transport on the canals if the mills weren’t fully operational.
‘Bleedin’ slave labour it is. And some of these bags contain dangerous stuff,’ one man complained. With typically Lancashire irony he was known as Sparky Joe because of his constantly doleful expression and slow way of speaking.
‘Aye, Sparky, you’re right there.’
‘He is. We should be paid danger money for handling bags of lamp black,’ another cried. ‘It comes in paper sacks that split soon as you touch ‘em. Then you get covered in black powder from head to bleedin’ foot. They ought to pay us extra for the flippin’ washing, if nowt else.’
‘The Company could at least provide us with showers, and give us time to clean up before we go home. Sometimes the conductor won’t let us on the bus as we’re that filthy we’d mucky his seats.’
Bart frowned. ‘Ask the foreman for a meeting and put these points to
him.’
‘We have, but he won’t take them to the Superintendent.’
As so often in the past, Bart felt infuriated by their apathy, wanting to take them by the throat and shake them, make them stand up for their rights, though he understood and sympathised with their vulnerability. `Well then, your only recourse is action.’
‘That’s fighting talk, man.’
‘Why not?’ Bart struggled to remain calm, knowing they needed support and encouragement, not bullying tactics. ‘If reason doesn’t prevail, you have to force people to listen to you, not buckle under. Isn’t that what gets results?’
‘Aye, listen to the baron, he’s right.’
‘Hear, hear.’
‘All you have to do is get your union man to call a halt to work whenever he spots a dangerous cargo.’
The men glanced at each other, sheepish expressions on their weary faces. ‘We haven’t joined no union, not us unskilled workers. We leave that to the seamen and the craftsmen. We dockers are a casual labour force, with no rights to call us own.’
‘Rubbish! It’s time you did join. For God’s sake, unions are for all, skilled and unskilled alike.’
There were mumbles of agreement, while others put forward excuses, names of employers who had strong objections to union activity among their workers, no matter what the law of the land might allow, and then one name emerged above all the rest: Giles Pickering.
Sparky said, ‘He owns a whole fleet of barges, tugs, ships. You name it, it bears his name on the ticket somewhere. And I’ve a family to feed. It’s more’n my life’s worth to stand up to him. You tried it once, Tom, didn’t ya?’
‘Aye, and he made sure I got no work for weeks because I’d complained about the haphazard way some hessian bags were stacked. I kept me mouth shut after that.’
Then they all leaned closer, putting their heads together to plot and plan. Ruby paid no attention. She was far too busy eating her custard tart.
As Christmas approached, Bart grew increasingly restless, sometimes sitting for long hours staring at Ruby in reflective silence, at others endlessly fidgeting, almost nervous in his demeanour. She observed this strange behaviour with covert interest. What might he be planning?
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