‘Don’t talk like that, lad. That’ll help no one.’
She followed him into the shop, unbolting the door and letting him pass her. In spite of the bitter cold the sky was high and blue and a white winter sun illuminated the snowy rooftops and pavements, promising that spring was round the corner. It was a perfect day for a wedding.
Adam stepped down onto the icy pavement and then turned to look at her as he said, ‘Can it be right to stand before God and promise to love someone you hate with every fibre of your being, Mrs Walton? Because that’s what I’ll be doing, sure enough. But like you pointed out, I have no choice, do I.’
‘Oh, lad.’ His face now wore a closed, hard look and she realized that somewhere in the last hour or so while he had been with her he had become resigned to his fate. For a moment she almost retracted her words, almost told him to go and find his Ruby and try one last time, but what good would that do? Ruby’s mind was made up and besides, there was the bairn. A bairn born out of wedlock would suffer for the sins of the mother round these parts; it would be made to feel shame and humiliation from the time it was out of nappies. The most vicious and determined predators in the animal kingdom didn’t have a patch on human beings when they got going, especially some of the housewives hereabouts. And so she remained silent, and after a moment he walked away, towards a marriage made in hell, Vera told herself wretchedly, but then what could she do? What would be, would be.
Adam stood in Cissy’s kitchen facing his future father-in-law. Earlier that morning when he had called asking to see Ruby, George hadn’t been up and it had just been Cissy stirring a pan of porridge at the range. Now it was George who said, ‘What do you mean, Ruby’s gone? Gone where? Not left Sunderland?’
Adam nodded. ‘First thing this morning.’
Cissy gave a little cry. ‘No, she wouldn’t just disappear without saying goodbye.’ Yanking off her pinny she threw it on a chair as she said, ‘Mrs Walton knows where she is sure enough. I’ll stay there till I get it out of her.’
‘She doesn’t. I was there for some time and she told me herself she’d begged Ruby to have her spare room but Ruby wouldn’t be persuaded. She’s gone and Ellie with her.’
Cissy stared at him before sitting down suddenly. The house was in a mess; her two sisters had been round half the morning after George had let them know the wedding was off. She’d been carting the chairs she’d borrowed back to the neighbours for what seemed like hours and Olive was refusing to come out of her bedroom. Adam’s mam and da had sent a message to say they’d be round later to discuss things, and now here was the instigator of it all telling her that Ruby had disappeared to who knew where.
Turning her gaze on her husband, she said weakly, ‘We have to find her and make her come home.’
It was to Adam that George said, ‘Have you any idea where she might be? Has she talked about anywhere particular in the past, anywhere she would like to see?’
Adam swallowed hard. He knew Ruby’s father was furious with him. It was there in his stiff face and deep-set eyes. He shook his head. ‘We only talked about us, getting married and having bairns and things like that.’
It was too much for Cissy. She rounded on him as she ground out between her teeth, ‘For two pins I’d throttle you. She only ever looked at you and she could have had her pick round here as you know full well. James Mallard was after her from when he was in short pants and his da owning the rope works and a string of houses, and Rory Stamp an’ all and his family in that great big house in Southwick and his da tipped for mayor one day. But no, she only had eyes for you. And for you to take our Olive down, her own sister. Aye, I could swing for you, Adam Gilbert.’
Stung into retaliation, Adam bit back. ‘No doubt Olive’s painted me as the villain of the piece but let’s face facts here, Mrs Morgan. Your poor innocent daughter came up to my bedroom on New Year’s Eve when I was too drunk to know it wasn’t Ruby and forced herself on me. Aye, forced. So don’t go putting all the blame on me and acting as if she’s as pure as the driven snow, not unless you want me to shout it from the rooftops.’
‘Why, you little—’ Cissy sprang to her feet.
‘Cissy!’ George’s voice wasn’t raised, in fact it was low and deep, but it vibrated with something that caused his wife to lower her hand and collapse onto a chair before bursting into tears. Over the sound of her crying, George said grimly, ‘You swear that’s how it happened, Adam? Now think before you answer because I can forgive most things but not being lied to.’
‘I swear it.’ Adam’s face was drained of colour but his voice was steady. ‘Get Olive in here and I’ll repeat it in front of her. She was intent on doing the dirty on Ruby and she used me to do it.’
George sighed a long, heavy sigh, the significance of which was not lost on his wife.
Cissy scrubbed at her eyes with a handkerchief as she said, ‘You don’t believe him, do you? Olive wouldn’t do that.’
George loved his wife. He always had. From the first time he had set eyes on Cissy one balmy Sunday afternoon when he and a group of his pals from the steelworks had been taking a walk Southwick way, and had come across Cissy and a couple of her friends, he had known she was the one for him. But his love didn’t blind him to the fact that she saw only what she wanted to see, particularly in those she loved. He had recognized long ago that his elder daughter was jealous of the younger, and also that Cissy compensated for the marked difference in their appearances by favouring Olive to a degree that had bordered on the absurd at times. He had tried to talk to her about it on a number of occasions but to no avail.
Now, because of his love for Cissy, his voice was soft but it also carried a remnant of the tone he had used to check her when she was about to slap Adam, as he said, ‘You ask me if I believe that Olive is capable of what Adam’s alleged? Absolutely. And do I think he has spoken the truth about what happened that night? Again, aye, I do. For years her resentment of Ruby has been like a poison in this house and if you can’t accept that now, after this, then I am sorry for you, lass.’ He lifted his hand as Cissy went to speak. ‘Hear me out. I love the pair of them – they’re my flesh and blood and all we’ve got left – but if we are to survive this, it’s time you stopped burying your head in the sand.’
He turned to Adam, and bluntly now, said, ‘Are you prepared to give Olive your name?’
‘I’ve no other choice, have I.’ It was bitter.
George nodded slowly. Looking at Cissy, he said, ‘Get her down here.’
‘You know she won’t come out of her room.’
‘Tell her if she’s not down here within a minute I’ll come up and drag her down.’
Cissy opened her mouth to protest, took in the expression that made George almost into a stranger, and shut it again.
As the two men waited for the women to enter the kitchen George was aware of feeling sick to his stomach in a way that even the interminable slaughter of the war hadn’t caused. He had witnessed horrors beyond a man’s imagination and he still couldn’t think of their Terry and Robert without wanting to scream and shout at God for the way his lads had died, but through it all he had held the images of Cissy and the girls deep in his heart as justification of what he was fighting for. Family was everything; it was what they had fought for and what his brave lads had died for. It made the sacrifice worthwhile.
When Olive walked in ahead of her mother her face was set in stiff lines and around her thin lips ran a white border as if painted on the flesh. She didn’t look at Adam, keeping her gaze on her father. ‘You wanted me?’
George didn’t rise to her tone, which had been confrontational. ‘Sit down, lass. We’ve things to sort out.’
For a moment Olive contemplated turning round and defying him, defying them all. Her mother had told her what Adam had said and it had shown covertly in her manner that, however unwillingly, she believed him. Gone was her mam’s indignation and anger for her; instead Cissy’s face had expressed bewildered disappointment and so
rrow. Olive upbraided herself for being so hurt by it, knowing it was nothing to what she would have to put up with in the coming weeks. Adam marrying her would stave off the worst of people’s derision, at least to her face, but she knew full well that behind her back the rumours would be scandalous. She would have to get used to scorn and contempt from now on. What folk didn’t know they would make up. Sliding down onto a chair, she waited.
‘Adam here has explained how this thing has come about,’ George said quietly. ‘I’d like to think it was a moment of madness on your part that got out of hand, but be that as it may, your jealousy of your sister has resulted in a bairn. That being the case, the one I feel the most sorry for in this whole sordid mess is the child, closely followed by Ruby. She’s taken herself off to other parts, by the way, I don’t know if your mother told you?’
Olive remained silent, merely shaking her head.
‘Well, she has, so I think we can say that your intention to separate Adam and Ruby has been successful. Adam’s parents are coming to the house shortly and you will be present in the discussions that will have to take place. No disappearing to your room. Is that understood?’
‘Yes.’
‘Adam, do you want to say anything more before your parents arrive?’ George looked at him, well aware that the lad’s steely blue eyes had been fixed on Olive from the moment she had entered the room, and that if looks could kill, Olive would be six foot under. Like Mrs Walton, it occurred to George that the young happy-faced youngster he had always known was gone for ever, and in his place was a bitter and hate-filled man who looked years older. With this in mind, he added quickly, ‘Recriminations are no good now, lad, and to be fair it always takes two to make a bairn.’
Adam didn’t glance at his future father-in-law, neither did he speak. Instead his top lip curled away from his teeth as though he was surveying something putrid as he continued to look at Olive, and as she raised her head and met his gaze, her face paled to a dead whiteness.
Cissy stared at the pair of them, shocked by Adam’s expression and wondering what on earth they were all going to do. Everything was in ruins, everything, and from what George had said to her a few minutes ago he held her responsible for the animosity between Olive and Ruby. The thought brought a trembling sensation into her throat and for the first time since Ruby had been born she questioned herself, and as she did so, she was forced to acknowledge that there was an element of truth in what her husband had said. Even when Ruby had been a babe in arms, Olive hadn’t taken to her, but she had excused this by telling herself that Olive was just a baby herself at three years old and once Ruby could walk and talk, a big-sister affection would kick in. But it never had. And Ruby had been so bonny, so bright and beautiful, and there was poor Olive as plain as a pikestaff and painfully aware of it. Her heart had gone out to her. It still did, in spite of all that had happened. So perhaps George was right; perhaps she had brought this catastrophe on them all.
She lowered her head, drawing in a deep breath. She wanted to go back in time to when her two girls were bit bairns and do things differently; she wanted to make Ruby understand that she loved her just as much as Olive, and convince Olive that her baby sister was no threat and that having a sister was a precious thing if she’d open her heart to her. Instead she had made fish of one child and fowl of the other, and in so doing had unwittingly allowed Olive to justify her jealousy of Ruby in her mind. And now Ruby had disappeared, and her so bonny and young and innocent – what would befall her? And Olive, she’d brought disaster upon herself because however this turned out, her life was ruined.
Panic gripped her and it was all the more terrifying because she knew that nothing she said or did could change things now. Her house had always been well ordered and she was quietly proud of this. No matter what occurred outside its four walls – births, deaths, short-time or strikes – inside all was spick and span and her routine never varied. Monday was wash day. Tuesday she ironed even if Monday had been a wet day which had necessitated all the washing hanging on the lines above their heads in the kitchen in order to get it dry in time. Wednesday she cleaned the house from top to bottom, and Thursday she did the windows inside and outside and scoured and bleached the privy in the yard. Friday she shopped and whitened the front doorstep and blackleaded the range, and on Saturday she did her big bake. The birth of her four children had not been allowed to impact on this practice; neither had the death of her two sons or George returning from the war an invalid. But now the front room was topsy-turvy and in disarray, and the kitchen was a mess; Adam’s parents were coming round shortly and normally that would have been incentive enough for her to be putting things to rights, no matter what was going on. But she didn’t care.
She raised her head, her heart beating so rapidly it made her head swim. No, she didn’t care; all the things that were normally so important had ceased to be of significance and this frightened her most of all.
To fight the panic she forced herself to stand up, saying to no one in particular, ‘I’ll make a fresh pot of tea,’ as she walked over to the range. Her life had fallen apart and her family was going to be the talk of the street in the weeks and months ahead, and nothing she could do would change any of it.
Chapter Five
‘This is the room. It’s two bob a week, being the larger bedroom, an’ the rent’s paid a week in advance. I don’t hold with no gentlemen callers or “friends” –’ this was said with a meaningful sniff – ‘and I lock the front door prompt at eleven o’clock. I only take lady lodgers here, it’s a respectable house, all right? I don’t provide no meals but you’ve the fire there to do a bit of cookin’ if you’ve a mind.’
Ruby looked at Ellie who stared back at her silently. Since arriving in Newcastle at midday and emerging from the train station, both girls had been overwhelmed by the sheer size of the town. With no clear idea of where they were headed, they had set off clutching their bags and feeling very small and lost in the teeming streets of humanity. Before and during the Great War Newcastle had enjoyed a steadily increasing prosperity as world demand for its products – ships, engineering, chemicals – had grown, and although the richer inhabitants of the town had long since moved away from the quayside leaving their once fine houses to decay into rat-infested slums, new suburbs well served by public transport had mushroomed demanding a wide range of leisure and recreation activities for the middle and upper classes.
Ruby had expected Newcastle to be much like Sunderland but within a short time it dawned on her that it was far bigger, though the smells were much the same. They had walked aimlessly after leaving the train station to find themselves in a seemingly endless grid of streets, terraces of small mean houses with pubs and corner shops and the odd school and bathhouse leading to more of the same. It was only much later in the day, when Ellie said in a small voice, ‘I think we’ve been in this street before, lass,’ that Ruby realized they’d probably been wandering about in circles some of the time. She’d been so eaten up with misery and immersed in painful thoughts of Adam and Olive and her mam that she’d walked blindly without talking or being aware of her surroundings for hours, Ellie valiantly trailing after her and not saying a word. Now Ruby became aware that she was tired and thirsty and that Ellie looked ready to drop.
The street they had been standing in was much the same as many others they’d walked down, and as she had stared at Ellie her friend had said, still in the same tentative voice, ‘I recognize the name, Bath Lane Terrace, and that sawmill we passed a minute or two back.’
‘Oh, Ellie, I’m sorry.’ She’d been full of contrition.
Relieved Ruby was talking again, Ellie said, ‘There’s been one or two cards in windows saying they take lodgers – how about we see if that one over there is still free?’ She pointed across the road. A large white card in the window of the two-storeyed terraced house said, ‘Room available within’ in big black letters, but unlike some of its neighbours the house looked as if it had seen better times. T
he front door had flaking paint and the stone step was unwhitened and soiled; the windows clearly hadn’t been cleaned for a while. But what did such things matter? Numbly, Ruby had said, ‘Come on then,’ and that was how they came to be standing in one of the three bedrooms the house afforded. According to Mrs Duffy, the owner of the establishment, the other two bedrooms were considerably smaller than this one, which, if true, meant they were little more than rabbit hutches.
Ruby dragged her gaze away from Ellie’s hopeful face and glanced about her. She was aware her friend would have settled for almost anything at this point – it was eight o’clock at night and dark outside – but even so she contemplated leaving. The room was dingy and cold and smelled of damp. It held a basic three-quarter-size bed that was wire sprung and fixed onto a wooden frame complete with a blue-striped mattress; two hard-backed chairs tucked under what appeared to be a stained plank of wood that had been fastened to the wall, and a battered chest of drawers. The fireplace that Mrs Duffy had mentioned was a small blackleaded affair which had a bracket fixed to the back of it enabling a pot or kettle to hang from a chain over the coals. To the side of this, and about three feet from the bare floorboards, were two shelves holding an iron kettle, a couple of pots and some other utensils. There was no other storage space and barely room to swing a cat.
The landlady, a little plump woman with hard eyes, pointed to an old wooden coal scuttle next to the fireplace. ‘I always leave that full ready to start a new lodger off,’ she said, her tone making it clear she considered this a great concession, ‘and I should point out the mattress on the bed is brand new. My last lady ruined the previous one.’ She didn’t elaborate on this and Ruby didn’t like to enquire further. ‘And my house is mice and bug free, which is more than can be said for some in this street.’ Another sniff punctuated this remark, something Ruby was to learn was habitual when Mrs Duffy felt she had a point to emphasize.
One Snowy Night Page 5