At least, she wouldn’t when he’d grown six feet tall, broad-shouldered and man enough to defend himself.
They came to a stop outside Victoria’s house and Ruby stared up at its façade. The sand-coloured stone glowed beneath the streetlamps, the dark blue door gleaming, and its brass knocker shining. The windows were so clean, she could make out the dark swirls on the drapes inside and see the porcelain trinkets lining the inside sill.
Part of her knew that living here might not be any less difficult to bear than living with her mother… albeit for entirely different reasons. She was infatuated with Victoria and she held Ruby’s stupid heart in her hands and most likely had no idea of her inappropriate desires. To think that Ruby might see Victoria in her nightclothes, spend nights side by side with her in front of the fire, run her a bath or maybe help wash her hair would be torture beyond anything she had already endured.
So why was she here? Ruby swallowed against the dryness in her throat. Because she offered me a way out. She looked into my eyes and said, ‘For you.’
She slid her arm around Tommy’s shoulders. ‘Everything will be all right.’
Lifting her chin, she walked to the door and firmly knocked.
‘You’re here!’ Victoria’s face was alight with pleasure as she stood back to let them in. ‘I’ve been looking out of the window like a madwoman. Come in, come in. And you must be Tommy.’
Ruby’s throat clogged as she looked down at her brother who solemnly took Victoria’s hand. When she met Victoria’s eyes, the immediate fondness she saw in their beautiful depths tipped Ruby a little deeper towards inevitable heartbreak.
‘Let me take your coats.’ Victoria practically shook Tommy out of his and hung it on the stand behind her before doing the same with Ruby’s. ‘Leave your bags there and come through to the parlour, my maid, Susie, will take them up to your room. I’ve made some sandwiches and a chocolate sponge. I hope you like chocolate, Tommy.’
He shyly smiled and nodded.
‘Good, because—’ she whispered behind her hand ‘—I know that sister of yours is like an animal when she sees chocolate, so we’ll have to be super quick to get a slice first.’
She grabbed his hand and hurried into the parlour, leaving Ruby to follow.
Once she could move her feet.
Tommy’s giggles drifted through the open door like music to Ruby’s ears. Why, for the first time in forever, did she feel as though she’d come home?
Thirty-Seven
His shoulders stiff with tension and unable to stop his foot tapping on the floor, Samuel sat on a wooden chair in the Grand Central Station offices and sent up a silent prayer that he would walk out of here in new employment. He needed this job for himself, for Amelia and for Archie.
He looked along the row of young men sitting alongside him. Most of them seemed to be around his age, expressions of nerves mixed with desperation etched on their faces which no doubt matched his own. Naively, he hadn’t expected quite so many people to be here looking for employment when the building work had been going on for so long. He couldn’t help wondering, as he was newly arrived from England, whether his chances of gaining work over these New York men would be considerably lower.
He had heard the stories of thousands of immigrants flocking to America looking for work and the possibility of a better life, but he’d also learned of the prejudices that had been dumped on them from every direction.
Rising at dawn, he’d taken his first awe-inspiring walk through Times Square, marvelling at the amount of motorcars and cabs on the roads and the number of people walking the streets at such an early hour. Southampton and Bath could hardly be considered ghost towns, but the small amount of New York he had seen so far had crept under his skin and lit his imagination with excitement and ambition.
And now he was at Grand Central Station with its foundations laid and gargantuan ironwork erected, following the dream Archie had wanted him to reach for. As God was his witness, Samuel vowed to do all he could to take the first step on this new journey as his best friend would have wanted. Tears burned behind his eyes. Archie had been lost among hundreds of others and, in truth, Samuel was unsure how he would fare for the rest of his life without Archie’s constant, unshakeable optimism urging him on.
‘Next!’
The shout came from a man in his mid-forties, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly trimmed and his navy-blue, pin-stripe suit of a quality that illustrated a successful man.
Taking a deep breath, Samuel stood and approached with his hand outstretched. ‘Samuel Murphy, sir.’
‘Mr Murphy. Good to meet you. Malcolm Denning. Come on through.’
Samuel followed Mr Denning into a small office, sparsely decorated with a metal shelfing unit against the far wall and a steel desk behind which another man sat reading some papers.
Mr Denning gestured towards a chair on the other side of the desk. ‘Take a seat, Mr Murphy. This is James Winston, one of the overseers here at the Grand Central.’
Samuel nodded. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Winston.’
The man looked up from his papers, nodded and returned to his reading.
‘So…’ Denning settled into a chair beside Winston. ‘You’re British.’
‘Indeed, sir. I previously worked in Southampton.’
‘Southampton?’
Winston looked up and mirrored Denning’s wide-eyed stare.
Samuel frowned, unsure why mentioning Southampton should cause such a shocked reaction.
‘Are you a Titanic survivor?’ Winston lowered the paper he’d been reading, pushing it away, his gaze firmly on Samuel’s. ‘You were on the fated ship?’
There was no indication in the men’s expressions of whether admitting such a thing would be beneficial or detrimental, so Samuel inhaled a long breath and nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Holy mother of God.’
‘A real Titanic survivor right here in our offices.’
Denning and Winston spoke over one another, insensitive grins spreading across their faces, their eyes alight with awe. Samuel’s gut knotted with revulsion as he held their gazes. For crying out loud, did these two imbeciles not realise how many people had died? The pure terror of what it was like in those final hours? The clawing guilt the survivors battled with every minute since; the mourning they suffered for those they’d lost?
Samuel clenched his jaw, anger simmering deep inside of him.
‘Mr Murphy…’ Winston stood and offered his hand across the desk. ‘It is an honour to shake your hand. I cannot imagine the sights you’ve seen or the hell you’ve been through.’
Samuel slowly took his hand. ‘I’d rather not revisit my memories right now, sir. If you don’t mind.’
‘Of course, of course.’ Winston held up his hands, his smile dissolving as he glanced at Denning before facing Samuel again. ‘The trauma will take a long time to heal, I’m sure.’
Samuel held his tongue.
‘So, you’re looking to stay in New York?’ Denning asked. ‘You’d like to play a part in building Grand Central?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You have experience on the railroads?’
Samuel sat a little straighter and looked Denning straight in the eye. ‘No, sir, but I’m a quick learner and I work hard. I have experience with mechanical engineering and have a mind and inquisitiveness about the workings of all transport. I worked on Southampton’s docks for years and learned about sailing from the bottom up. Promoted from sailing boats to steam, to liners, and eventually given a prominent role in Titanic’s control room. I like to think that given the chance to work on the railroad, I’d have the same success here as I did in England.’
Denning’s brow furrowed, his gaze unconvinced. He turned to Winston.
Samuel held Winston’s gaze.
The look in his eyes was a lot more encouraging than Denning’s, giving Samuel hope. He recognised the look. He’d seen it half a dozen times before. A man who liked a challenge. A man who liked to t
ake raw talent and mould it into a practised expertise. A man who liked to give others a chance.
Winston leaned forward and picked up a box of matches. ‘How long do you intend staying in New York, Mr Murphy?’
‘As long as I can. Perhaps forever.’
Winston lit his cigar and puffed, the end sparking red and then orange until smoke drifted making Samuel feel nauseous.
‘Well, then, if you’re willing to work from the bottom up…’
‘I am, sir. I’ll prove to you what I’m capable of.’
Denning cleared his throat. ‘The railroad isn’t easy, Murphy. It’s tough work. You’ll need strength of character as much as muscle.’
‘That was true of the sea, too, sir. I have strength. Challenge me in any way you see fit and I’ll overcome. I guarantee you that.’
Denning studied Samuel through narrowed eyes before turning to Winston with a shrug.
Winston grinned and offered his hand to Samuel a second time. ‘Welcome to Grand Central, Murphy. Leave your details with Denning and we’ll see you first thing Monday morning.’
Fifteen minutes later, feeling as happy as he had when he’d stepped off the Carpathia and onto solid terra firma, Samuel hurried back to the hotel, desperate to tell Amelia of his success. Pride burned inside him, and tears pricked his eyes once again as Archie’s face filled his mind. Despite Samuel’s fears of what would happen in New York, how long he’d last here or if he’d stay forever, he’d done what his friend had asked of him.
He was staying in New York and he was going to work the Grand Central railroad.
Now he wanted to have Amelia share in his euphoria, have her see his face and want the same feeling of anything being possible. The two of them could make a life here, he was sure of it. Whether or not that would be together romantically was too early to hope for – to assume – but either way, why would Amelia want to go back to England?
He understood her passion for Pennington’s, but she could work in one of the huge department stores he’d passed that morning. She could rise higher than she’d ever dreamed, or could, in a small city like Bath. He sensed her ambition. Loved her determination and innovation. She was perfect in every way. He just had to try to find a way for her to see it, too.
Up ahead, Samuel spotted a post office and reached into his pocket. He should have just enough change to send home a wire. The White Star Line had given each surviving passenger a small amount of money to start them on their way until they could arrange for funds to be sent from home. He needed to be frugal but updating his mother was paramount. With a job secured and the promise of him sending money her way as soon as possible, she shouldn’t resist too much about sending some cash to him urgently.
Well, he bloody hoped not. Surely, she’d be pleased by to hear from him, that he was alive, rather than upset about the idea of his not returning home for a while?
Thirty-Eight
Ruby sat in Elizabeth Pennington’s office, her notebook tightly clutched in her lap. She surreptitiously watched Elizabeth finish her conversation with her husband, Joseph Carter, whom she had asked to join their meeting.
‘So, Ruby…’ Elizabeth smiled as she and Joseph joined Ruby in the comfortable seating area by the window. ‘I hope you’ve had a little time to think about what we can do next with the main window. It’s been three days since we cleared the Titanic display and I’m keen to start work on something to cheer and inspire the public. We all need a burst of something beautiful to get us through what will be a most horrible time for so many.’
Joseph sat down beside his wife on the settee. ‘I have put several workroom staff on standby if you need some extra stitching and altering done, Miss Taylor. The new window must be a priority. A large part of Pennington’s reputation and attraction are our windows. With the curtains closed, it only reminds people of the Titanic tragedy, rather than giving them hope for the future.’
The importance and expectation of Ruby’s ideas was obvious, and she sat a little straighter in her chair, battling the tumble of nerves in her stomach. ‘It’s very generous of you to allow me use of your staff, Mr Carter. Their help will be most welcome. I’ve written up notes for two ideas, but I am leaning towards one more than the other. I’m quietly confident it shouldn’t take too long to design and erect the display if we get to work as soon as possible.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He smiled and glanced at his wife. ‘Have you shown Miss Pennington?’
‘No, not yet. I—’
There was a knock on the office door before Mrs Chadwick, Elizabeth’s secretary, walked briskly into the room, her glasses perched on the end of her nose. ‘Miss Pennington, I have Esther Culford here. She wondered if she might impose on your time for a few moments?’
‘Of course.’ Elizabeth immediately leapt to her feet, pleasure brightening her green eyes. ‘Show her in, please.’
Ruby swallowed, her nerves escalating. As Pennington’s previous head window dresser, Esther Culford’s reputation preceded her. Arguably, she’d had as much of a hand in Pennington’s new, equal opportunity philosophy as Elizabeth and Joseph before Esther had left the store to birth her baby. Her eye for detail, innovation and excitement for change, had played an integral part in bringing Pennington’s into the twentieth century.
Ruby’s mouth dried. How would she ever measure up to Esther? Would Elizabeth ask Ruby to share her ideas in front of Esther? The notion was terrifying.
‘Esther! Oh, my love, it is so wonderful to see you.’ Elizabeth embraced her friend. ‘Haven’t you brought darling Beth with you?’
Esther laughed. ‘No, your namesake is happily playing with her brother and sister at home. I made my escape and left them with Helen. Our nanny is a godsend, you know that.’ She turned and nodded at Ruby. ‘Hello, Ruby.’
‘Hello. It’s nice to see you, Esther.’
‘You, too.’ She opened her arms to accept Joseph’s embrace. ‘Joseph.’
‘Come and join us,’ he said, waving towards an empty armchair. ‘You might have some helpful input into Ruby’s plans for the main window.’
Ruby’s heart sank and her hands ever so slightly trembled. Any hope of Esther not being involved had been futile. Well, she was here now so there was no other option than to dig deep and find the confidence to get through this meeting with passion and verve. Prove herself capable of executing a good job.
‘I’d love to,’ Esther said, as she sat down. ‘My mind has been filled with worry and grief ever since the sinking. Lawrence is beside himself trying to get Harriet home. We think she will be on the first ship to leave America for England. At least, we hope she is.’ Her eyes filled with concern as she looked around the group. ‘The sombre tone of her telegrams indicated she is much changed. Not herself at all. I cannot imagine what she’s been through.’
Elizabeth took Esther’s hand. ‘I have the same concerns about Amelia. Her telegrams have convinced me she was trying to be happy when she really isn’t at all. She wants to stay in New York and continue with the scouting assignment, but I worry she wants that for fear of disappointing me should she abandon everything we had planned.’
Esther set her bag on the floor and sighed, tiredness shadowing her gaze. She pushed a blonde curl behind her ear. ‘Well, there is little any of us can do when the survivors are thousands of miles away. Harriet wants to get back to Culford Manor as soon as possible and…’ She looked at Elizabeth and then Joseph, a silent something passing between the friends that Ruby couldn’t decipher. ‘She wants Lawrence, me and the children to come and live with her there. Permanently. I really think we have no choice but to agree, considering all Harriet has been through.’
‘Surely you won’t go?’ Two spots of colour leapt into Elizabeth’s cheeks. ‘After everything that happened in that house, how Harriet was so awful to you when…’ She blinked and looked at Ruby as though suddenly remembering she was there.
Ruby immediately stood, her cheeks burning that she been party to a convers
ation that clearly concerned personal and private matters. ‘I should go. It was lovely to see you again, Esther.’
‘Oh, no, Ruby stay.’ Esther’s hazel eyes softened, her smile kind. ‘I’d love to hear your plans. It will be a welcome distraction, I promise.’ She looked at Elizabeth and Joseph. ‘Why don’t you both join Lawrence and me for dinner tonight at the house? We can talk more then.’
Joseph nodded. ‘We’d love to.’
‘Absolutely.’ Elizabeth squeezed Esther’s hand before turning to Ruby. ‘I’m so sorry, Miss Taylor. I fear I am no more myself than anyone else these past few days. Why don’t you share your ideas with us and Mrs Culford?’
‘Of course.’ Ruby sat down and pushed her fears away. This was yet another chance that Miss Pennington was giving her. An opportunity for Ruby to show what she could do and hopefully gain the added benefit of Mr Carter’s and Esther’s approval too. ‘I would appreciate everyone’s opinion.’
Inhaling a strengthening breath, Ruby opened her notebook and scanned her notes before studying each of the three faces in front of her. All their eyes were upon her, alert and interested.
‘Considering the pain and suffering happening across Great Britain and America at the moment, I think it would be good for the public to see a display at Pennington’s that can only provoke feelings of hope, optimism and happiness.’
‘Hear, hear.’ Joseph Carter leaned forward on the settee, his blue eyes gently encouraging. ‘What do you have in mind?’
Ruby pulled back her shoulders. ‘Weddings.’
‘Weddings?’ Elizabeth frowned. ‘Surely weddings are the last thing anyone will want to think of when so many have lost husbands, wives, sons and lovers? Wouldn’t a wedding theme risk being insensitive?’
Ruby’s throat dried. For two days she’d agonised over a premise to bring smiles to people’s faces, to lift their hearts and look to brighter horizons. Had her overwhelming instinct that weddings were the ultimate symbol of hope been wrong?
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