Ruby Flynn

by Nadine Dorries

  He thought of Amy, who he had picked up and dropped over the years, always knowing he needed someone working for him inside the castle. Amy had been more than useful. He had nurtured a fondness for her, knowing that she had spent her entire adult life in love with him. But from the day the old lord did him over, there had been no room for love in his life and he dropped Amy, along with everyone and everything else. The only thing that had driven him throughout these years was the need to get back what was rightfully his. He had used Amy once again, only last week and he vowed to himself that it would be the last time.

  He had smoked almost an entire packet of cigarettes during breakfast and now stubbed yet another out on the platform floor. Kicking it out onto the tracks with the toe of his shoe, he looked down the line at the approaching train and whispered, ‘It’s almost over, almost.’

  9

  Ballyford Castle

  Mrs McKinnon had made everyone in the castle work longer hours since the night Mr McKinnon had returned from Liverpool with the news that a visit from Lord Charles was imminent. In the preceding days, the rugs were rolled up and the dust sheets removed from the furniture in Lord Charles’s study. Each piece of stone was damp-dusted and every surface and floorboard polished until it gleamed. In the library, every book was taken down and dusted individually.

  ‘It’s a good job I wasn’t asked to do that job,’ said Ruby to Betsy, popping her head round the door of the library one morning. ‘I would never be finished until I had read the lot of them.’

  ‘I wish I could read,’ said Betsy from her position halfway up a ladder, ‘but then, I suppose Mrs McKinnon would have asked someone else to do this job. What’s this book called, Ruby? It has a beautiful cover.’

  Ruby placed the clean towels she was carrying to Lady Isobel’s bathroom on a chair and reached up to take the book out of Betsy’s hand. She studied the spine and the cover and then, opening the fly page, felt her heart quicken. The stamp on the inside of the cover read: Ballyford Castle library, 1935.

  ‘Well,’ demanded Betsy, breaking the silence. ‘What does it say then?’

  ‘The book is called The Strange Death of Liberal England, and I’ve never heard of it, but the stamp on the inside looks familiar to me. Do they all have it?’

  ‘Jesus, how would I know?’ said Betsy. ‘Here, take a look yourself.’

  Ruby stood at the bottom of the ladder. She took a book off the shelf, blew the dust away and opened it. There it was again, the Ballyford ink stamp.

  ‘God in heaven, what’s up with yer?’ asked Betsy. ‘Have ye seen a ghost again, or what?’

  Ruby smiled weakly. ‘No, I never have seen a ghost, Betsy, it just feels like I have. Can I take this one?’ Ruby had continued browsing and found a book she knew both she and Lady Isobel would enjoy.

  ‘Don’t ask me,’ said Betsy. ‘I only clean the bloody things. Is it for ye?’

  ‘No,’ said Ruby, ‘I want to take it to read to the lady. It’s called Rebecca. I think she might like it. I better be getting these clean towels to Lady Isobel, or Mrs McKinnon will be sending me up a ladder to join you.’

  As Ruby neared the nursery, she turned her thoughts to how she and the mistress were rubbing along. They occasionally chatted and Ruby had noticed how soft she had become towards Rufus, the dog. She might stare wistfully out onto the lawn while she stroked Rufus, but she was calmer, more serene.

  Lady Isobel made an unusual request of Ruby.

  ‘Could you please do something for me and pop into Belmullet? I am expecting a letter to arrive any day now, but I don’t really want anyone to bring it to me except you. If I send you in the trap with Danny, could you collect the post for me?’

  Ruby was delighted to be asked. Her mind raced ahead and wondered what her chance was of popping in to see Lottie – she wasn’t sure if Danny would wait around.

  Mrs McKinnon was less than thrilled at the sudden change of plan and inconvenience at a time when everyone was so busy.

  ‘Lordy, there is so much to do. Why can’t Jack collect the post as he usually does?’ She immediately altered her tone. ‘If she’s keen to get to the post, that’s a great sign of improvement. Maybe there’s a magazine she especially wants to read. If that’s what the lady wants, that’s what she shall have. Go now to the post office and be straight back for twelve. No dawdling.’

  They left with the horse and trap at a pace.

  ‘Jesus, could the lady not have sent you another time?’ asked Danny. ‘Did she have to choose today? We’ve so much to do before Lord Charles arrives.’

  ‘Danny, could we stop outside the hotel and call in and see Lottie on the way back?’

  Danny knew all about Lottie, they all did. She and Ruby wrote to each other frequently and Ruby often read Lottie’s letters out loud over supper. They were always full of tales of life in Belmullet and it was now the case that the entire staff were excited when a letter arrived from Lottie, even the McKinnons.

  *

  That night in bed, Ruby described the day and the trip to Belmullet to Betsy.

  ‘It would have been grand altogether, if Danny hadn’t got himself lost and made us late back. I wouldn’t have minded, but there wasn’t anyone he didn’t know. How could he have got lost? I reckon he slipped away to see his granny, but he won’t say so. And that made Mrs McKinnon give out to us so bad when we arrived back. I was close to dropping him in it, I was, for making us that late. He had no notion of the time.’

  ‘Did you see Lottie again?’ asked Betsy.

  ‘I did. Would you believe, she is learning to knit. She says they make special jumpers out on the Islands and that we can learn to make them too and sell them for money to live on when we escape to Doohoma. The man who works behind the bar, his people were from Doohoma and he told me my house is still stood there. Oh aye, as solid as a rock he told me.’

  Betsy always listened patiently to these plans. ‘Ye will never leave here, Ruby,’ she laughed, gently, not wanting to burst Ruby’s happy mood bubble.

  ‘I will that, Betsy. I’m desperate to get back to my home. The stable boys have told me they know where Doohoma is. Jimmy tells me he knows my house, too. Everyone knows where my house is, except me.’ Ruby punched her pillow in frustration. ‘Jimmy said there are houses still standing empty since the famine, waiting for the relatives to claim them. I won’t be long. It is no castle, but I will claim what is mine.’

  ‘I had to look after the lady while ye were gone,’ said Betsy, changing the subject as she pulled herself up the bed. ‘God, I’d rather be up the bloody ladder. I don’t want to give out about her, but Mrs McKinnon told me the mistress was a very spoilt young lady who always had her own way. Mrs McKinnon also said that being an only child has made her a very demanding and difficult mistress to work for. Sure, even her own da had despaired of her and he never visited her, once she was married and living at the castle.’

  ‘Can you imagine that?’ said Ruby. ‘All that money and you don’t speak to each other. How can anyone who lives like they do have any problems at all?’

  ‘Well, Mrs McKinnon thinks the world of her, so she does,’ said Betsy. ‘She likes you too.’

  ‘God, I almost wish she didn’t,’ said Ruby. ‘Jane has been teasing me, nasty girl that she is. She keeps saying I am Mrs McKinnon’s pet.’

  ‘At least you get to work on the first floor with me, Ruby. Jane only does the laundry. Imagine that. ’Twould drive ye crazy, so it would.’

  Ruby turned on her side and held her pillow to her chest. ‘Do you know, Betsy,’ she said, ‘I think Mrs McKinnon knows more about me than she cracks on. I have no idea how. I sometimes think she even knows my secret plan. It’s the way she looks at me. I feel as though sometimes she is digging around in my head, trying to work out my thoughts and so, this morning I told her that I feel as though I have been at this castle all my life. She looked taken aback, but I told her I had a notion that I have always known these rooms. I could have been born here, I said, it
feels so much like home to me.’

  ‘Go on then, what did she say?’ said Betsy, who had rolled over to face Ruby. The dying flames from the night peat were dancing their last on the stone walls and the room was filled with a warm orange glow.

  ‘Well now, Mrs McKinnon looked as though she was the one who had seen the ghost. She put both of her hands on my shoulders and almost shook me near to death, she did. “Why do you say that?” she as good as shouted at me. God, I was speechless so I was and then the next moment she gave me a hug and said she was sorry. That woman is all over the place at the moment. She has too much work on with this big castle.’

  ‘Well, maybe you were here once, in a different life,’ said Betsy as, exhausted, they both drifted off to sleep.

  10

  ‘What are you doing in here?’ Ruby opened the study door to see Betsy standing beside Lord Charles’s desk, staring at the telephone. She had searched the castle to find Betsy to tell her that the coffee was ready in the kitchen and Mrs Mack wanted to check that they all had clean aprons and caps on.

  ‘Shh,’ hissed Betsy, ‘I have to listen. When the telephone rings, I have to run down to the kitchen and tell Mrs Mack that Lord Charles is on his way up. They have a phone at the lodge house and Jane’s daddy will ring here and then I tell everyone else. I’m worried I won’t hear it though. She has already checked my apron, twice.’

  ‘Jane and the girls are telling me he is gorgeous, is that so?’ Ruby had sat herself on the desk and was swinging her legs. ‘Are you staring at that phone in case you don’t hear it ring – do you listen with your eyes?’ she laughed.

  ‘No I do not, you eejit, now away with you, Ruby Flynn, I’ve just polished that desk and his study is one of the first places he will come. I want him to know I look after it well for him.’

  ‘God, everyone really wants to be in Lord Charles’s good books, don’t they?’ Ruby had no idea why, but she felt slightly put out by what a tizzy everyone was in today as they anticipated the arrival of Lord Charles, and yet no one had mentioned Lady Isobel.

  ‘And, to answer your question…’ Betsy tore her gaze away from the telephone and grinned at Ruby. ‘He is more gorgeous than you can imagine.’ As she spoke, the telephone rang. ‘Oh God in heaven, look what you have made me do!’ screeched Betsy almost jumping out of her own skin with shock. ‘I didn’t see it ring, I nearly missed it.’

  ‘What? What have I made you do?’ laughed Ruby. ‘Just pick the thing up and speak into it.’

  Betsy picked up the receiver and put it to her ear as she had been shown. Then without saying a word she replaced it nervously on the handset.

  ‘He’s coming up the drive. Quick!’ she screamed as both girls fled from the room. Ruby’s cap flew off and she turned back to fetch it.

  ‘You go on, I’ll catch you up,’ she shouted to Betsy.

  It occurred to Ruby that no one had bothered to let Lady Isobel know Lord Charles had arrived and she took it upon herself to pop into the nursery before she joined the others on the steps.

  *

  ‘How many tons of wheat do we expect to harvest from Maughan this summer?’ Charles pointed out of the car window to one of the castle farms on the side of the hill.

  ‘We will know in the morning, m’lord, when we drive over,’ said Mr McKinnon. ‘I know you don’t agree with me, but I think we should turn that arable land back over to the tenants. We are spreading ourselves too thin. Our pork is the best in all of Ireland and in high demand. I want to show you some plans I have to double our herd over the next five years. There are feeds being produced in England that help to boost the growth of the pigs. I have used it on two of the sows and you can see the difference already. I reckon that if we put our minds to it, Ballyford could become one of the biggest meat producers in Ireland and even beat the English at their own game.’

  Charles looked at McKinnon and frowned. How could he tell him that his heart was now in shipping and no longer in the estate? His life had altered in a way he could never have imagined and he with it. Ballyford had been cruel to him and he could barely face it. It had taken every ounce of resolution to step on the boat earlier that morning.

  ‘I had thought I might fly across today, McKinnon,’ said Charles, knowing that any second now he would catch sight of the river. In the past, it had never failed to tug at his heart and he wondered if it would do the same again today. Or would it disappoint him, like everything else associated with Ballyford?

  ‘But I still love the boats, you know,’ he said. ‘Air travel will never take over from boats. Too expensive for the common man and that is where the money is. It is all in the volume. Rory and I, we are going to make the tickets for the passage to New York on our ship so inexpensive, we will be the liner of choice. There are sometimes queues of up to fifty people at a time down on the Pier Head, waiting to buy tickets to America.’

  McKinnon felt intense disappointment. His heart sank as he thought of how Lord Charles used to speak about Ballyford. McKinnon didn’t trust Rory Doyle any more than Mrs McKinnon did.

  Charles saw McKinnon’s face had fallen.

  ‘Ballyford just isn’t something I can give my time to, McKinnon,’ he said, trying to let him down gently. ‘I need to concentrate all my efforts on the shipping company. Rory Doyle and I have big plans. I want us to be the biggest shipping magnates in Europe, outside of Greece. We have worked together long enough, McKinnon, we know each other’s ways. You just give me a report once a month as to how you are getting along. You have license to manage the farm as you see fit. You know the estate like the back of your hand. Just don’t cover the land completely with pigs.’

  McKinnon kept his eyes straight ahead and his gloved hands firmly on the steering wheel. He knew he would have to be bold. Ballyford had to be more than a folly to the FitzDeane family. Charles was as good a landlord as any of the existing tenants could hope for and they liked, even wanted, to see him around. His ancestors would never be forgotten for their benevolence during the famine.

  It was obvious to everyone, servants and tenants alike, that the young lord was drifting away. They had been filled with such hope after his father’s death. His father had been the least popular of all the FitzDeanes. When Charles had brought his bride to Ballyford, there had been huge excitement, but hope had sunk into the ground along with the FitzDeane babies.

  McKinnon remembered the early days. He recalled the words of Lord FitzDeane as they had ridden out together to the O’Neils’ farm the week before the wedding. Charles had filled McKinnon’s heart with his words as they had ridden back home.

  O’Neil had been too ill to bring in his own harvest. Farm workers from across the estate had provided assistance, some working through the night by the light of lanterns, as anyone with an hour to spare rode across the country, before the rain that they could smell heavy in the air arrived and destroyed O’Neil’s year of toil and along with it, his income and rent for the following year.

  Charles had heard that O’Neil was dying and wanted to see if there was anything he could do to help. O’Neil was barely out of his forties and he had young children. Charles had known him all his life and felt a keen sense of responsibility, in a way his father never had.

  The sun was setting over the hills and dipping down into the ocean. His father had been dead for less than a year and his head was bursting with ideas.

  ‘I don’t need to live in England, McKinnon. It is here I want to live and raise my family. I want my children to love Ballyford as much as I do, but unlike my father I want to be with my children. I want to hunt and fish with my sons and for us to be close, like father and sons should be, before they have to be sent away to school. I want to fill Ballyford with children and for it to be a happy place. You and I, McKinnon, will work with the pigs and the farms. We will travel to England and study some of the new methods farmers are using over there. We can invest in the new machinery. Now the war is over, it is all happening in London.’

  McKinnon
beamed from ear to ear. ‘They say there is new machinery being built which will change how we farm, but not here in Ireland, surely?’

  ‘That is right McKinnon. The English will recover from the war and lead the way, then we will jump on their coat-tails and Ballyford will benefit. They are building tractors and combines like you cannot imagine. One day, every farm will use motorized equipment instead of manual labour. It will be more efficient and if we can be ahead of the game here at Ballyford, we shall continue to prosper. No one will ever remember the famine again, there will be food for all.’

  The tenants chose to never mention Charles’s father, but instead still spoke of the kindness of one of Charles’s forebears and of how he waived the rent during the famine. They remembered the sacks of wheat flour, secretly delivered to Ballyford and then distributed amongst the farms. And every so often, they spoke of the famished girl, the witch, who he had rescued from starvation and when they mentioned her, they spoke in whispers. They never spoke of the curse out loud but they knew it still haunted Ballyford.

  McKinnon changed gear as the outline of the castle came into sight. He turned a steep corner, in through the gates and motored past the flaming fuchsia bushes that lined the driveway. In the summer months they would drip blood-red blooms, and today they dropped a low curtsy in the ocean breeze to Charles, the lord of the castle, as he drove by.

  Rhododendrons fanned out away across the lawn in a burst of crimson. Behind them, as they neared the castle, the ocean changed from a glimmering quiver of sunlit silver to the brooding still, flat grey of Irish slate.

  McKinnon plucked up the courage to speak in the few minutes he knew he had left.

  ‘Well, I’m as excited as you about the plans for the shipping company. Tis all security for the future of Ballyford. The war did show us all that no one knows what is going to happen next and they sound like very grand plans. It seems to me, though, that people might decide not to cross the Atlantic, but that they will always need rashers to eat. I think you could become the largest pig producer in all of Ireland, if you were so inclined. We can’t export enough to England. They love Irish bacon over there and the Danish, they are beginning to push their way in, now that the war is over and they are back on their feet. I wouldn’t underestimate the Danish.’