Ruby McBride

by Freda Lightfoot

  ‘If you’ve borrowed or pawned it, I’ll…’

  ‘What will you do, eh? What will you bleedin’ do? If you must know, I sold it. Got a good price for it. In a day or two I’ll buy me own train of barges and take you over, or put you out of business, whether you like it or not.’

  She ignored this last threat. ‘Who did you sell it to? One of your mates in the pub, I suppose?’

  ‘S’matter of fact, yer wrong. It went to a good home. I sold it to Giles Pickering, would you believe? Since he has plenty of dosh. That’s a laugh, eh?’ He was highly amused to see all the colour wash from her face, so stunned was she by this revelation.

  ‘Giles Pickering?’ Ruby could hardly believe it. It seemed cruelly ironic to sell her precious pendant, the only memento she had left of him, to Bart’s own father. Not that Kit was aware of the true nature of their relationship. Nobody was, so far as she was aware. Bart had taken great care to keep this fact quiet. And who would ever suspect any connection between the baron, content to live on his tug, and one of the most powerful, wealthiest men in the city? But then he’d been an eccentric had Barthram Stobbs, a one-off. Ruby certainly had no intention of revealing his secret.

  Kit was rubbing finger and thumb together, to indicate money. ‘He has plenty of the readies, d’you see. You’ll not get it back off him, so there’s nowt you can do about it.’

  ‘You don’t know what I might do.’

  ‘Don’t make me laugh. What can you do? Tell me that!’

  What Ruby did was to order Kit Jarvis, the one time love of her life, to leave. That night, that very minute. ‘Get out of my house, and don’t ever attempt to come back on to my boat. There’ll be no work for you there. Yes, it’s my tug, and I’m asking you - nay, telling you - to leave. Now! I’ve had enough.’

  ‘You’ve had enough?’ He gave a loud snort of disdain. ‘What about us, me and Pearl here? We’ve waited years to get our hands on these boats and some of the baron’s money. If it hadn’t been for Pearl’s earnings, we’d’ve starved. Then, when I finally got rid of the flamin’ baron, you decide to turn stubborn and not share your spoils. Pearl’s right, you are selfish.’

  Ruby could feel herself going hot and cold all over from a mixture of anger and shock. She was sure that at any moment she might actually throw up. ‘If you don’t leave my house this minute, I’ll fetch the police.’

  ‘If Kit goes, I go with him,’ Pearl yelled.

  ‘Fine. Good riddance to the pair of you.’

  And so they left, packing their goods and chattels in a flurry of fury and taking half of Ruby’s stuff with them as well. Not that she cared. Ruby sat in her chair shivering, despite a blazing fire in the hearth, until they had done, and only as they reached the door did she add one more thing.

  ‘That door’s always open for you, our Pearl. Remember that. As for you, Kit Jarvis, you can go hang yerself for all I care.’

  ‘Fortunately, Ruby girl, you made sure that I wouldn’t, so I reckon I’ll survive.’

  As before, Ruby buried her pain in her work. Sparky’s wife, Aggie, became a great friend, sometimes travelling with them on longer journeys, with all her brood on board. Ruby loved them as if they were her own family. And it did at least solve the problem of someone to mind little Tommy.

  ‘What would I do without you?’ Ruby would say as Aggie brought her a cup of tea and offered to put the little fellow to bed. ‘I’m exhausted.’

  ‘And soaked to the skin, by the look of you. Get yerself out of them wet clothes. There’s a stew bubbling. When I’ve put these babbies down, we’ll get some of that inside you. We have to keep our lovely boss healthy and strong, eh?’

  ‘Oh, Aggie. What would I do without you?’ She reiterated the oft-repeated phrase, and both women would laugh.

  Ruby loved having them all on board. The children were noisy and full of fun, as ready to buckle to and help with the work as race around playing games in a field during a stopover.

  Aggie was a dark haired, steady-eyed, handsome woman, far more cheerful and outgoing than her husband, though having his family about him lifted Sparky’s natural gloom wonderfully. He was almost a different man. Almost! To Ruby’s great delight, she saw that Aggie very much wore the trousers in that family and her word was law. So there was also less drinking on board when she was there, and consequently the work got done quicker. But it made space even more at a premium since every spare inch was taken up with cargo, a necessity if they were to survive.

  Aggie was also a Trojan worker, never still for a minute, and they all grew used to dodging the line of washing flapping over the decks by seven every morning, all because she’d been up at four using the canal-side tap. Not that there were many of those about. The canal companies were ready enough to provide money for the church or chapel but less forthcoming when it came to washing and lavatory facilities. Bathing the children was always a problem and if a tap wasn’t handy, they’d have to take a dip in the canal, assuming a clean stretch could be found.

  ‘Failing that, we has to rely on a lick and a promise,’ Aggie would say, scrubbing each of their grubby faces with a loofah and carbolic soap.

  ‘If they survive that treatment,’ Ruby would laughingly remark, ‘they can survive anything.’

  ‘Oh aye, canal children are tough. Have to be. This is where they get their education, not at school, even supposing we stopped long enough in one place for them to attend. And the teachers allus picks on canal children, making them sit on their own, away from all the rest, as if the others might catch summat off them. Waste of time schools are, teach them nowt of any use. They learn everything they need to right here.’

  Ruby didn’t argue, her own memories of schooling being similarly blighted.

  Sometimes, though, she went along to meetings to express her concern over the lack of welfare, or even a doctor for the women and children. She held little hope of anything being done as it was the same old story, the employers leaving it to the voluntary bodies to provide welfare, as they themselves were only interested in profit. But she remembered how Bart had fought for the canal folk, and so would she.

  Business went from strength to strength and Ruby was not only holding her own, but at times earning more with her train of barges than many men. Aggie introduced her to the other women in the canal system and most accepted her, despite the lingering gossip and rumours about the baron’s fate.

  From time to time there were hints that Bart had run off because he had some dark secret, which Ruby always furiously refuted. She hated the thought of people prying into his affairs, even after his death. The nasty rumours about his absconding with the burial club funds were quickly silenced by Ruby handing over all the necessary papers, record books and details of bank accounts to his successor.

  But the whispers persisted. No one quite knew what to believe, and she had no answers to give. Not without endangering Kit’s safety, and however much he might have betrayed her, that didn’t make him a murderer, only an opportunist, as he had ever been. He and Bart had been fighting, after all. They were surely equally to blame, and it had simply been an accident. She’d no intention of allowing rumour to rule, or to be panicked into hasty action.

  But then one morning she was woken early by Sparky hammering on her cabin door, shouting that the tug was taking in water. Ruby hurriedly threw on some clothes and joined him on deck. It had been a calm night with no rain and very little wind. Now, as dawn approached, the sky was tinged with soft pinks and blues, promising a lovely day ahead.

  ‘She’s been holed, and it must be deliberate because she were nice as ninepence when we tied her up last night.’

  ‘I didn’t feel anything. How could anyone bump into us and we not feel it? It wouldn’t be the weather, could it?’

  ‘No, but it could’ve been done with a spike, nice and slow like, levering out a plank till there’s a gap wide enough to cause a leak. Whether it’s splintered or not I won’t know till I take a look. I’ll kill ‘em when I find o
ut who did this.’

  As Sparky desperately shouted to Jackdaw to start pumping while he went underwater to check the extent of the damage, Ruby thought she might know who was responsible.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  In the days and weeks following there were similar incidents, some more dangerous than others, such as other unexpected leaks, a cargo loosened or even goods tipped into the water. They once found a dozen or so frogs in their water barrel, more of a nuisance than anything as it had to be refilled, but Ruby began to feel unsafe. It gave her the feeling that they were being followed, and could no longer leave the boat unattended, or who knew what might happen?

  They set a watch, taking turns to sit up at night and keep an eye out for whoever the vandal was. Without exception they’d decided it must be Kit, but had talked it over and decided nothing could be done without proof.

  Their suspicions seemed to be confirmed when they heard that he’d bought a tug and train of barges of his own, and was undercutting everyone. The word was that he was picking up a lot of orders as a result, that he and Pickering were working hand in glove. Ruby said she could well believe it and admitted to having thrown him out of the house.

  ‘He took something of mine. I’ve no wish to go into details, but this is his revenge. And there were some problems with our Pearl.’ She looked away, flushing slightly, as she’d no wish to air her family’s dirty linen in public. Sparky came to her rescue.

  ‘I don’t blame you for throwing him out. He’s a wily monkey, that one. But there’s no point in tackling him till we can catch him red-handed. He’d only deny it.’

  ‘I could get him seen to,’ Jackdaw offered, for although he had once been Kit’s firm friend, he had long since changed his allegiance. Ruby swiftly put a stop to that idea.

  ‘Goodness no. Whatever we do must be proper and above board. We’re not going to be the ones put in the wrong.’ Ruby came to a decision.

  The very next time they took on a load from the Pickering wharf, she’d ask to have a word with the great man himself. It was surely up to him to make sure that competition was fair, and help her put a stop to these reprisals.

  Ruby sat opposite Giles Pickering, striving to catch any likeness in him to Bart. She failed utterly. This man’s face was tightly set, cheeks sunken, with deeply etched lines drawn from a narrow, bony nose to the corners of his mouth. This gave him a spiteful, sour demeanour, not helped by the dullness of his pale brown eyes that held none of his son’s golden glow. There were streaks of dull brown amongst the grey hair, not a sign of Bart’s red. She concluded that perhaps he’d taken after his mother. If so, she must have been a beauty.

  Ruby was instructed rather than invited to sit, and a plump, bustling woman, no doubt Mr Pickering’s secretary, poured tea, handing her a cup with what might pass for a sympathetic smile before quietly withdrawing. Ruby was impressed by such hospitality. She couldn’t imagine Pickering entertaining all the independent carriers he used in this way, albeit he largely depended upon them to transport his goods. She wondered what this politeness was all in aid of.

  It didn’t surprise her that he came straight to the point. ‘Now, young woman, what is it exactly you want from me? I’m a busy man, so say what you’ve come to say and look sharp about it. If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s shilly-shallying about.’

  ‘I shall try not to waste your time,’ Ruby drily remarked, her smile warm. Lancashire bluntness didn’t trouble her one bit. She thanked him for the tea and sipped it gratefully, hesitating not out of fear but uncertainty as to how best to proceed.

  She’d rehearsed various versions of her tale, different ways to approach this man, from a vague description of the vandalism done to her tug and barges, accompanied by a polite request for assistance, to a more detailed explanation. The first sounded as if she was simply whining, which might lead him to assume she was unable to cope because she was a woman. The second touched on matters she’d much rather keep to herself.

  Much as she might regret the fact that Kit had sold Pickering her pendant, Ruby had no intention of asking for it back. Where was the point? He’d no doubt bought it in good faith, and for all she knew it may well have been nothing more than tinted glass. He could very well accuse her of being in league with Kit, of trying to get it back so she could play the same trick on someone else. Besides, she didn’t imagine for a minute that Kit would have admitted how he came by it.

  She was taken aback, therefore, when Pickering interrupted her thoughts with the question, ‘I suppose you want it back?’

  ‘I - I beg your pardon?’

  ‘The pendant. I suppose you’ve come to try and get it back. You are Bart’s widow, aren’t you?’

  Ruby swallowed and bleakly nodded.

  ‘I thought the name was familiar. And you asked that chap of yours to sell it for you. Well, I gave him a good price, more than he deserved, so if you’ve spent the money already, that’s your bad luck. So far as I’m concerned that’s an end of the matter. You can whistle for it.’

  ‘I didn’t actually expect to get it back,’ Ruby began, thrown into sudden confusion by the viciousness of his tone. ‘What I mean is, I never asked him to sell it for me. I just thought you might...’

  ‘Be persuaded, so you went along with it, eh? And now you think it might be worth seeing if I’m good for a bit more, where that came from. Well, you can think again. I know about you money-grabbing boat people. Never satisfied. And don’t think you’ll be in my will either, just because you wed my son. I may be well off, but I’ve a good few years in me yet, and when I do get to the stage of pushing up the daisies, there’ll be nothing coming your way.’

  During this long diatribe he’d got to his feet and begun to pace about the room, his face like thunder, spittle flying as he vented his spite upon her. Ruby sat astonished, struggling the find the words to explain that nothing of the sort had ever entered her head, when he leaned over his desk and hissed, ‘I suppose you do know that Bart. or the baron as you no doubt call him, was my son?’

  ‘Yes, I do know. Bart told me.’

  ‘And no doubt he also told you why he’d left home, and that we’d not parted on the best of terms.’

  ‘He said something of the matter, yes, but I’m not sure that it is any of my business. I only came to ...’

  ‘Too damn’ right it’s none of your business! None whatsoever. By heck, but he had poor choice when it came to women. First a piddling grocer’s lass and then you. Which bush did he drag you out from under?’

  Ruby could hardly believe what she was hearing. She certainly had no intention of pretending to be what she wasn’t, but she met his accusing gaze with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘As a matter of fact, he found me in the reformatory.’

  Giles Pickering snorted his derision. ‘Aye, he would. That’s typical of him, that is. Daft bugger. ‘Always did have a soft heart when it came to a pretty face. For all I know you could have stolen that pendant from Jess. We’d assumed a sneak thief had got into the house. She was proper cut up about it when the police failed to catch him.’

  Now Ruby was on her feet too, indignant colour flaring upon each cheek and the pair faced each other across the mahogany desk, open animosity on Pickering’s face, a mixture of defiance and dismay on Ruby’s. ‘I never did anything of the sort. Bart took it himself, if you want to know.’

  In that moment everything finally slid into place. Bart had taken the pendant from the dressing table because it had once belonged to his mother. No doubt he believed that he’d more right to it than the woman who had supplanted her. Jessica must have been his father’s second wife, perhaps his mistress before his first wife died. No wonder Bart had known where the study was, and that he’d been careful to wear a disguise.

  ‘Even my rapscallion son wouldn’t be so soft as to give away his mother’s heirloom. He worshipped the ground she walked on. And you can kiss goodbye to any hopes you might have had for that son of yours. Oh aye, I know all about him.
Tommy, isn’t it? Well, so far as I’m concerned he’s no relation to me. He’s no doubt a by-blow of that no-good-piece of rubbish who came to sell me the piece in the first place.’

  Ruby’s mouth dropped open. ‘He’s your grandson!’

  ‘Not unless I say he is. And I don’t say any such thing. He’s nothing to do with me. Not my responsibility, and neither are you.’ He wagged a finger at her. ‘So if you think you can smarm your way in here and have me grease your palm with silver, you’ve mistaken your man this time round, madam. I suggest you take yourself off home, before I call the constabulary.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m going.’ Ruby marched to the door, pausing with her hand on the brass knob. ‘I came here for your help because Kit Jarvis, that no-good-piece-of-rubbish as you call him, is making my life a misery as well as damaging all the other carriers by undercutting them. I can see now that you probably put him up to it. Which means your grandson’s livelihood is at risk, but clearly you don’t care about that either. I didn’t come here for any of your money. It never entered my head, and as for the pendant, I never thought it particularly valuable in the first place. I just loved it because Bart gave it to me. And now he’s dead, so…’ She could say no more. Her throat closed, choked with emotion, her eyes filling with tears. Ruby valiantly drew breath and finished what she had to say. ‘I can see now why Bart left home. You’re a nasty, mean, selfish old man who deserves to be left all alone, even by your own son. And I certainly don’t want mine anywhere near you. Good day to you, sir.’

  She was vastly proud of the fact that she didn’t even slam the door.

  As Ruby walked briskly home, ignoring the tram in the hope that the fresh air might help to cool her temper, she suddenly began to laugh as she recalled how the woman, Jess, had flirted with Bart, not recognising her own stepson. But then the laughter changed to tears.

  Bart had given her the pendant. The fact that it had once belonged to his beloved mother somehow made the gift infinitely more precious, and even more painful that she had lost it. Did that mean that perhaps he had cared for her a little, after all? Oh Bart, if only we could start all over again, she thought. She had lost more than she’d realised that day. A love that could never be regained.