Slowly, her mother put down her cutlery and wiped her sleeve across her mouth.
Ruby tensed, half praying her mother’s next assault would be verbal, rather than physical. The other half prayed for the physical because, by God, Ruby was in the mood for a fight. The day had been hellish avoiding Hazel Price as she slid sly looks her way, giggling and talking with a group of shop girls known for their bitching. She was more convinced than ever that Hazel had seen into Ruby’s heart and knew of her true feelings for Victoria. Well, Hazel Price was just another person to add to the list of those out to cause her trouble and Ruby would handle her as well as she handled her mother.
‘Are you telling me what to do, Ruby Taylor?’ Her mother’s voice was dangerously low. ‘Because if you are, you’re making a terrible mistake.’
‘I’m not telling you what to do, Ma. I’m stating a fact.’ Ruby purposefully put down her knife and fork and reached for her water, pleased that the liquid remained steady. ‘I want you to stay well away from Pennington’s.’
‘And if I don’t?’
Ruby tightened her jaw, protectiveness over the life she was fighting so hard to create for herself and Tommy threatening to erupt in an almighty explosion. ‘Then we will have no choice but to leave this house and never come back.’
‘We?’
‘Me and Tommy.’
‘Ha, you think that sop will follow you out of here? I don’t think so.’
‘He will, Ma. I wouldn’t leave him here alone with you unless I was carried out in a box.’
‘Don’t tempt me.’
‘I know you’d like nothing more than to see the back of your children, but just bear in mind, if I go, I take my earnings with me.’
‘And you think that matters to me?’
‘I do. Especially if the sex you give to the waste of space men that come through here runs out.’
‘Why, you…’ Her mother’s cheeks reddened as she leapt from her chair. It clattered against the floor as she rounded the table, her hands outstretched towards Ruby. ‘I’ll rip your bloody face off.’
Ruby was on her feet, but she didn’t move fast enough, and her mother grabbed a handful of her hair. Pain screamed through her scalp as Ruby gritted her teeth, pushing her nails deep into her mother’s wrists. She dug in as hard as she could until her mother cursed and released her enough that Ruby could spin away from her.
She put up her fists. ‘Has it really come to this, Ma? Us fighting like a pair of boxers? My God, what is wrong with you? Can’t you see what you’re doing to Tom—’
‘There’s nothing wrong with me, my girl. No mother worth her salt would put up with her daughter telling her what she can or can’t do. Where she can or can’t go. You think I even want to step foot in Pennington’s? No, I bloody don’t. But that doesn’t mean I won’t, if you tell me I can’t.’
‘So, you’ll risk me losing my job just to annoy me? How does that make any sense?’
Her mother growled and lunged at Ruby again, but this time she was ready. She grabbed her mother’s arm and pushed it high behind her back, before clamping her free hand firmly around her mother’s other arm and frogmarching her from the kitchen.
‘Get your hands off me! I’ll bloody kill you.’
As her mother screamed and turned the air blue with her curses, Ruby shoved her along the hallway, hitching up her mother’s arm until she yelled with pain. Ruby fumbled with the latch on the front door, finally managing to swing it open.
With an almighty push, she put her mother out onto the street, slammed the door and collapsed back against it. Stars floated in front of Ruby’s eyes and her heart raced as her mother’s kicks rattled the door.
Taking a strengthening breath, Ruby pushed away from the door and rushed upstairs into her mother’s room. Grabbing whatever clothes lay about the bedroom, she shoved them into an empty bag, walked to the window and threw the lot out onto the street.
‘Just go, Ma. You can come back tomorrow. Tonight, you’re out.’
Pulling the sash window firmly closed, Ruby started to laugh, adrenalin seeping from her body, leaving her head pounding. What in God’s name had just happened? She had no idea, but her victory felt good.
She rushed across the landing to Tommy’s room. ‘Are you all right, sweetheart? It’s safe now. You can open the door.’
Scraping and shuffling sounded behind the door and then Tommy pulled it open, his face pale and streaked with tears. ‘Where’s Ma?’
‘Gone.’ She pulled him into an embrace and kissed his hair. ‘For tonight, anyway.’
‘You threw her out?’
‘She’ll find somewhere to sleep, don’t worry about that.’ She held him at arm’s length and forced a wide smile. ‘Come on. Let’s get you washed and in your pyjamas.’
Tommy headed for the bathroom as Ruby took some clean pyjamas from his drawer and laid them on the bed. Tears pricked her eyes and her hands shook as her earlier euphoria faded. How could it be that a mother and daughter came to blows? Her and Tommy’s lives were passing by in a home that was unsafe. A house that held no love except for what lay between her and her brother. She had to find a way out.
She entered her bedroom, listening as water splashed behind the closed bathroom door. Walking to her wardrobe, she retrieved a locked box and pulled the key, hanging on a string, from around her neck.
Opening the box, Ruby lifted out the trinkets she’d collected as a child. A shiny pebble, half a silver locket, a twisted satin sash that had once seemed so grand before she’d started working at Pennington’s. Now she knew there were riches enough for anyone prepared to work and dream.
Pulling out an envelope from the bottom of the box, Ruby emptied her savings onto the bed and counted her hoarded booty.
It still wasn’t enough, but it grew with every pay packet.
It was possible she had enough for two, maybe three months’ rent if someone would be willing to give her and Tommy lodgings. The small amount of cash wouldn’t get them more than a single room, but at least they’d be away from Ma.
‘I’m in my pyjamas, Ruby!’
Tommy’s shout came from across the landing and Ruby quickly gathered the money, put it beneath the trinkets and locked the box. Returning her stash to the wardrobe, she breathed deep, her gaze wandering to her washbag on the windowsill.
Inside was a razor blade she’d glided across her wrists time and time again whenever desperation sent her spiralling into a dark abyss. Sometimes she felt she had no way of protecting Tommy. No handle on her feelings for Victoria. No decent clothes. No decent food.
Her life was a mess, but…
‘Ruby? Are you going to say good night?’
She did have Tommy.
She would always have Tommy.
She dragged her gaze from the washbag. And he would always have her.
Seventeen
Amelia walked from the second-class dining room, her head held high as she tried her best to embody the posture and confidence of a high-born lady. After three nights aboard the Titanic, she’d finally managed to convince Mr Weir she could be trusted to walk alone for an hour or so. It was becoming torturous not being able to venture into first-class and see the wonders she’d undoubtedly discover.
She touched the beading along the low neckline of her navy and silver evening dress, revelling in the sensation of the long hem trailing behind her. The feeling of being a princess in a fairy tale had remained ever since she had dressed three hours before. Its beautiful lace sleeves brushed over her shoulders and an intricately woven belt cinched her waist, a beaded pattern of intertwined ivy winding over and around the long skirt. With her smart navy shoes, beaded purse and feathers in her hair, Amelia embraced her renewed confidence.
Heading for the grand staircase, she surveyed the people around her, hoping no one stopped or challenged her. Nerves tumbled in her stomach, but she kept her head high. She had to see her mission through. Had to prove to Elizabeth – to herself – that she deserv
ed the assignment given to her.
She was about to ascend the stairs when her heart sank.
Officer Murphy gave a semi-bow. ‘Miss Wakefield. Good evening.’
Damnation. How was she supposed to sneak into the first-class lounge now? She forced a smile. ‘Officer Murphy.’
His brilliant blue gaze lingered a brief moment on her lips. ‘Walking alone on such a beautiful night?’
Her cheeks warming from his appraisal, she looked around them. Couldn’t the man lower his voice? She faced him. ‘Is that forbidden?’
‘Of course not.’ His smile faltered. ‘You know, I’m not your enemy. It wouldn’t do you any harm to be a little civil to me… on occasion.’
Amelia stilled. She hated being rude to anyone, but instinct told her to be wary of Officer Murphy. To keep her distance. He was a man who clearly enjoyed the pursuit of women. She neither wanted nor needed his attention.
‘You are no more an enemy to me than I am to you,’ she said, glancing towards the staircase. ‘If you must know, I was curious to see the first-class deck. I assume you won’t stop me from doing so?’
He raised his eyebrows, his gaze amused. ‘Can I ask why I should allow that to happen considering you hold a second-class ticket?’
She lifted her chin. Officer Murphy was no more in charge of her than any other man aboard this ship. Mr Weir included. ‘The less you know, the better.’
His attention, once again, dropped to her mouth and Amelia held herself still, determined not to fidget under his scrutiny. ‘Well, then, maybe I could escort you?’ He offered her his arm. ‘It would be my pleasure.’
Indecision warred inside of her. He certainly knew the ship better than her. It would also cause less curiosity from other passengers if she had a chaperone. Especially one who was so tall, so imposing, so annoyingly handsome in his splendid uniform.
She slowly slid her arm into his. ‘Well, if you insist, it would be appreciated. Thank you.’
They stepped onto the stairs and a perplexing tension simmered between them that Amelia had no idea how to dispel. Why did she have to run into him of all people? It was as though he’d made it his personal mission to seek her out at every turn. Any other officer would have more than likely continued on their way, not caring what she was up to.
But it seemed for Officer Murphy, paying no attention to a woman alone was an impossible ask. He obviously suspected she was up to something, yet he had chosen to accompany her anyway.
Which gave her no idea of his intentions.
Swallowing her nerves, she glanced at his firm jaw and sweep of jet-black hair and had the sudden, unsettling urge to push the fallen strands from his brow. She quickly turned away, ignoring the increased thump of her heart.
‘Here we are. The first-class deck. What do you want to see?’
His voice was lower now, more conspiratorial and she couldn’t stem her smile. Maybe he could be an ally rather than an enemy. She only sensed warm amusement from him and was grateful for it. He didn’t seem in any way lecherous, more intrigued.
Deciding the man deserved the benefit of the doubt, she exhaled. ‘I want to see people. As many as possible.’
‘People? What sort of people?’
‘All sorts.’
‘Toffs? Grand ladies? Professional gamblers? You’ll find them all aboard.’
‘Then we’ll seek them all out.’
‘We?’ He raised his eyebrows a second time. ‘Am I now part of this espionage?’
Amelia frowned. ‘I am hardly spying—’
‘I’m teasing, Miss Wakefield.’ He smiled as he led her into the lounge. ‘Why don’t I follow your lead?’
The lounge was a sight to behold and Amelia’s reservations burst like popped bubbles as she was frozen by wonder. Four enormous windows surrounded the room providing panoramic views of the ocean; oak panelling with delicate carvings in warm wood tones covered the walls. At the far end, a huge marble fireplace dominated the space, surrounded by a wooden and mirrored mantel. Clothed tables bearing glinting crockery and flickering candles, their accompanying chairs upholstered in the most luxuriant material and style Amelia had ever seen.
‘It’s fit for a palace,’ she breathed. ‘I would be too afraid to even sit in here.’
‘There are plenty of people around, we won’t be noticed. Let’s take a walk.’
She looked at him and he stared back at her, nothing but kindness in his ridiculously blue eyes. Accepting his company would allow her to achieve her goals and Amelia nodded, certain in the knowledge she’d be able to speak to people more easily with Officer Murphy beside her than she could if she had been alone.
He led her past a table where five gentlemen played cards, crystal tumblers filled with amber liquid beside them, cigars smouldering in an ashtray. On they walked until they reached an area dominated by women gossiping or exchanging praise for one another’s appearances.
Amelia drank in every sight, sound and smell, inhaling the atmosphere deep into her lungs so that she might detail everything in her notebook in the morning.
‘So…’ Officer Murphy cleared his throat. ‘Can I assume it is not just natural curiosity that compelled you to visit this part of the ship?’
She glanced at his handsome profile. What harm could it do to share some of her intentions with him? ‘I’m aboard for business rather than pleasure, and my business is to see what people are wearing, carrying and using through every class on the ship.’
‘Can I ask who you work for?’
‘I’m a window dresser at Pennington’s department store in Bath. Perhaps you know of it?’
‘Bath?’ He stopped, his eyes widening. ‘You live and work in Bath?’
She frowned, disconcerted by his shocked reaction. ‘Is that a problem?’
‘More of a wondrous coincidence. I’m from Bath. I live near the river.’
‘You do?’ Amelia didn’t know whether to believe him, despite the pleasure and sincerity in his eyes. Well, even if he spoke the truth, she would not be divulging her address to him so easily. ‘Well, then, you must surely know Pennington’s.’
‘I do, but as for shopping?’ He grinned. ‘Hardly my area of expertise, I’m afraid, Miss Wakefield. However, if you wish to study the passengers while aboard, I will make it my business to help you. I assume you’ve given Mr Weir the slip?’
‘The slip?’
‘The old heave-ho. Made your escape. Running amok without his permission.’
The teasing in his voice wasn’t mocking or spiteful. Instead, it spoke of his admiration.
She smiled. ‘You assume right.’
They continued to walk slowly around the room until she was satisfied she had seen all she wanted to see. Officer Murphy led her from the lounge onto a sweeping promenade and they were surrounded by even more upper-class and aristocratic passengers. Dresses, hairpieces and adornments, glittering purses and fans sparkled and shone in every direction, jewels the size of Christmas baubles dangling from every female ear.
Glances were directed her way until nerves turned Amelia’s hand clammy on Office Murphy’s arm. Mentally admonishing herself, she squared her shoulders and continued to walk, avidly scouring the men and women.
‘Good God,’ Officer Murphy whispered. ‘The value of the jewellery alone must be staggering.’
Pleased that he was no less overawed than her, she boldly pulled him forward, not entirely sure where her audacity had suddenly come from, but grateful for it all the same. ‘Come, let’s see if we can listen to a little conversation.’
‘You want to eavesdrop?’ His gaze lingered on hers. ‘Well, clearly my first impressions of you were entirely wrong.’
Amelia’s defences rose and she slipped her hand from his arm. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I apologise.’ He looked along the promenade. ‘I just thought you a little nervous when we last spoke.’
The reminder of how she had felt with the men appraising her before Officer Murphy approached on the deck
the day before threatened to diminish her courage and Amelia pulled back her shoulders. ‘Well, that was yesterday. Tonight, I am buoyant and eager to absorb absolutely everything.’
She stepped forward and nonchalantly lifted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray before sidling closer to a small group of women conversing near a doorway.
‘Say something,’ she whispered as Officer Murphy came to stand beside her. ‘Make conversation.’
He glanced at the women and started to speak, but Amelia wasn’t really listening to his words. Instead, she focused on the women’s dialogue.
‘Oh, yes, I know Bath extremely well. In fact, my brother, Lawrence Culford, his wife and children live there. He owns the Phoenix hotel. Perhaps you’ve stayed there on your travels.’
Amelia almost choked on her champagne.
‘Miss Wakefield? Are you all right?’
She took Officer Murphy’s arm to steady herself and peered around him to look more closely at the women. Yes, she could see the resemblance. Not only had she met Lawrence Culford on account of him being married to Esther, her friend and mentor at Pennington’s, but Cornelia, Lawrence and Harriet’s sister, worked on the jewellery counter at the store. So, the woman regaling her audience must be Harriet, the sister she’d heard of, but never met. Why on earth would Cornelia be working at Pennington’s if she came from such a wealthy family?
‘Miss Wakefield?’
Officer Murphy gently squeezed her hand and she quickly withdrew it, the contact feeling oddly intimate. ‘I… I’m quite all right.’ She tried and failed to drag her gaze from Harriet Culford. She really was extraordinarily beautiful. ‘I wonder if I could find a way to speak with her.’
‘With who?’
Not realising she had spoken aloud, Amelia quickly faced Officer Murphy. ‘The woman in the red dress is the sister-in-law of one of my closest friends at Pennington’s.’
‘Really?’ He looked at Harriet Culford. ‘Well, they do say it’s a small world.’
‘I need to find a way to introduce myself so that I might speak with her. There’s every possibility she will enable me to spend a little more time in first class without people beginning to wonder who I am. After all, I can’t stay with you all night.’
A Shop Girl at Sea Page 8