Mrs McKinnon wondered what Jack would make of Edinburgh, the city of her birth, or Liverpool or London even. It always amused her how those in the west of Ireland regarded Galway and Dublin as places to fear, when she found Galway to be the friendliest city on earth.
‘Well, if we are all agreed, I shall inform Ruby of the plans for the morning, then.’
Jane sat down at the table. Her resentment had been building by the day. ‘What do you need to tell Ruby and not me? She’s the newest here and it’s all Ruby, Ruby, Ruby. No one has ever had anything to talk to me about. I think I would like to have been the one looking after Lady Isobel, seems like an easy job to me. Why wasn’t I asked, Mrs McKinnon?’
‘Ruby’s coming with me to Galway, Jane,’ said Jack. ‘To help me with Amy’s shopping list for the ball – it’s her brains I’m needing. Now, if it was jolly company I was looking for, tis you I would have taken, for sure.’
‘Really? But why her and not me?’ Jane looked at Mrs McKinnon. How could she reply, Because you can’t read either, Jane, and would be no use to Jack?
‘Well, there is good reason, Jane,’ said Mrs McKinnon, pausing while she racked her brains for an explanation that would not offend.
Amy beat her to it.
‘Because you are as thick as the muck heap at the back of the stable and would bring back all the wrong things and then I would have to kill you with my bare hands.’
‘Slightly less tactful than I would have liked, thank you, Amy,’ said Mrs McKinnon, frowning sharply.
As Mrs McKinnon climbed the stairs, she thought that it might be a relief to shift Jane off to Liverpool instead of Ruby. Jane was becoming increasingly surly and difficult to handle and she would miss Ruby badly if she left. ‘Never mind,’ she sighed to herself. ‘Another week and we will all be back to normal.’
*
Ruby had just finished giving Lady Isobel her breakfast when Mrs McKinnon walked in to the nursery.
‘Morning, Lady Isobel,’ Mrs McKinnon said brightly. ‘We have the tailor’s wife calling in tomorrow from Bangor Erris. They are to alter the gown we chose for the ball and she and her husband will stay here until the job is done. If it is all right with you, I’m going to send Ruby here into Galway with Jack.’
Lady Isobel smiled wanly, a smile that gave Mrs McKinnon an inordinate amount of pleasure.
‘That will be a fun day,’ said Ruby to Mrs McKinnon. ‘Well, I’m glad it’s Mrs Barrett and not her husband. He would drive us mad with talk of the football. He runs the boys’ club in Bangor Erris and they say there are only two things he can talk about: the price of a suit and the results from the weekend.’
Lady Isobel gave one of her rare laughs and rose from the sofa. ‘Well, I’m also relieved in that case,’ she said, as she left the room.
‘She’s doing so well, isn’t she?’ said Mrs McKinnon barely keeping the glee from her voice as she plumped up the sofa cushions and Ruby cleared the breakfast things onto the tray.
‘She is, yes,’ said Ruby, although there was an element of hesitation in her voice. Ruby wanted to tell Mrs McKinnon that she simply didn’t believe in this new, perkier Lady Isobel. How could she say, her mouth talks but her eyes cry? No, Ruby did not believe this was a genuine improvement. It was an illusion brought about by an enormous effort. It was false of that she was sure but she did not quite know why.
*
Downstairs, Amy had divided the kitchen into three areas of preparation and had taken on four girls from the tenant farms to help. A haze of flour and the smell of almond paste hung permanently in the air and shrouded the kitchen in a grey mist. Everything was ready for the moment when the maids of honour and apple charlottes needed to be loaded into the oven for baking.
Jane, Danny and the remaining servants had left to go about their duties and the four kitchen girls were in the scullery cleaning the copper pans and china for the table, while two boys, specially hired for the occasion, were cleaning the silver, a chore that would take them the entire week to complete.
Jack was deliberately slow with his tea, as Amy busied around the table clearing away the staff plates and mugs. He took his own mug and stood next to her.
‘Oh, Jesus, you crept up on me, there.’ Amy jumped.
‘With feet my size, that’s not something I do very often,’ said Jack, placing his mug on the wooden drainer. ‘Amy, you know what I want, don’t you? I think it would work well, me and you. We would make a grand couple altogether. What do you think, would you consider it? Go on, would ye?’
Amy looked at him. ‘I’m not who you think I am, Jack,’ she whispered. ‘I am no virgin, to be sure. I’m a broiler, not a roaster.’
Jack didn’t look in the least shocked. ‘Well, I am no virgin, either, so we would be the same there. At least we would know what we was doing. Have you been to confession?’
Amy slapped him playfully on the arm with the dishcloth. ‘Of course I have, the following morning, every time.’
Jack was now genuinely shocked. ‘What, ye’ve done it more than once? Jesus, you need to be married quick woman, to save ye from yerself!’ He grinned at her and then added, ‘Go on Amy, I know all about Rory Doyle, but Jesus, that was a long time ago and he’s long gone and anyway, ye were just a girl. Let me, simple Jack, look after you. I have a very nice house and a new van, ’tis the best around here and I’m thinking of getting my own cow.’
Amy almost laughed, but she could see that Jack was deadly serious.
‘Merciful Mother, Jack. Have I waited all this time to be proposed to wearing an apron up to me elbows in soapy water in the sink with a promise of a cow? Get out of my kitchen, go on.’
‘Not until you give me an answer,’ said Jack.
Amy moved a big pan around in the sink, shook the water off her arms and picked up a towel to dry her hands.
‘I’ll promise you this,’ she said, smiling up at him. ‘I will give you me answer after the ball is over, when I’ve had a bit of time to think. ’Tis a big question you have asked me, Jack, and I don’t want to give ye the wrong answer. We can’t rush into this. Marry in haste, repent at leisure, isn’t that what they say?’
Jack couldn’t conceal his disappointment and knowing he was potentially only days away from rejection, he took the audacious move of taking a step closer to Amy and kissing her on the lips.
‘That was a bit of a liberty!’ said Amy, when at last he pulled away, but at that very moment Danny burst in through the back door.
‘The salmon, they’re jumping,’ he shouted.
‘Well, thank God for that,’ said Amy. ‘My prayers are answered. I need twenty for the table.’
Amy and Jack stood at the back door and watched as the stable boys all ran together towards the river, laughing, shouting and throwing their caps in the air.
‘There’s no better place to live than here ye know, Amy,’ said Jack. ‘We all spend our lives looking into the distance, thinking we’ve missed something, wondering if being somewhere else entirely would make us happier than we are today and do you know what I think makes us happy?’
Amy put her hands into her apron pocket and looked at Jack. ‘I can’t know, Jack, because I don’t think I’ve been happy for a very long time.’
‘Well, I might be able to help you there. Knowing where you belong, and who you belong with, that helps. Looking at what is around you and realizing how lucky you are and appreciating everything you do have and not feeling sad about what you don’t. There isn’t one person at Ballyford who doesn’t think there is something better lying beyond the river for them. Even Lord Charles, look at him, with his new shipping empire, when all along, he has the best in the world right here on his own doorstep. I know I’m not as grand as those paintings on the wall in the castle and I don’t have a fortune or a big ship, but I’m here, in the place where you belong and I’m waiting for your answer, Amy, I’m waiting for you, for me to make you happy. When I stand at those pearly gates, me and the Lord and anyone else, we
will all be stood there just the same, wearing and carrying what we came into the world with, which was nothing and all that will have mattered was who we spent our time with.’
Amy blushed. ‘Go on, get going, ye daft lump. I need ye here early tomorrow to collect Ruby and get going to Galway.’
Jack wandered to the saddlestone, lifted his reins and climbed up onto his cart.
‘Well, I’ve waited for years. A week won’t hurt,’ he said to his cob, as he trotted her on towards the gate to collect the milk churns and begin his day’s work.
22
Liverpool
Charles woke and for a brief moment he was confused. He forced his mind to focus on his whereabouts before he opened his eyes. He heard the noise of the horse-drawn milk float trundling down the cobbled street. The sound of the glass bottles jangling sounded much louder than they actually were and pierced through his beer-fuddled brain and he sat up quickly. He had arrived back in Liverpool last night, changed almost immediately and was out on the town within the hour.
Now, a feeling of guilt flooded in and his first thought was of Ruby.
‘Aggh, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby,’ he said to himself in anguish. ‘Why did I ever go looking for you?’
He wondered how Ruby felt about him, a man in his thirties. She probably found him repulsive. He doubted there were many women like Stella.
‘I far prefer older men, much more stable and reliable,’ she had told him. ‘I’ve moved out of me ma’s, but she ’as her spies everywhere, she’d kill me if she knew what we was up to.’
She would indeed, he thought as feeling of self-loathing swamped him.
Charles wondered how what had what seemed so exciting in the evening could feel so sordid in the cold light of day. His dalliance with Stella had failed to heal him in the usual way. It had not cleared his mind or made him forget. He let his thoughts wander to their journey up the stairs and her enthusiasm to remove as many of his clothes as fast as possible, and his own to do the same with hers.
Once it was all over, Charles felt around on the floor, located his trousers and his cigarettes and matches. He always left his silver lighter at home on his away nights. He lit two cigarettes and passed one over to Stella. As he exhaled, he realized he had forgotten nothing. It was all still there persistent and nagging. Ballyford, the ball and Ruby.
‘What’ya like at smoke rings then? Bet I can do a better one than you,’ said Stella, interrupting his thoughts.
Charles had no idea what Stella was talking about.
‘Me record is eight on one drag, what’s yours?’
‘Eight sounds a bit excessive,’ said Charles.
‘Oh my giddy aunt, where d’ya learn to talk with big words like that?’ She leant up on one elbow, shyly pulling the pink candlewick bedspread up to cover the breasts he had almost eaten, only moments before.
Charles pulled deeply on his cigarette. ‘Just ’avin’ a laugh,’ he said, grinning at her. ‘Go on then, show me your best effort.’
She lay flat on her back. ‘Don’t breathe near me, you’ll blow them off,’ she warned, giving him a very stern and serious look, before exhaling eight perfect smoke rings. Grinning and proud of her achievement, she sat up in bed cross-legged and flicked the ash away from Charles. ‘Go on then, show me yours.’
‘I will,’ said Charles, ‘with the next one. Is there an ashtray?’
‘Yeah, down ’ere on the floor by my side of the bed.’ Charles handed her his cigarette so that she could extinguish it.
The only light came from the glow of the Victorian street lamp directly outside the window. Charles could make out a sink in the corner of the room, and a Formica-topped table nearby, which appeared to be covered in dishes and food. A loaf of bread stood exposed on a board, with a bread knife lying next to it, while a hard-backed chair stood near the window with what looked like a small pile of clothes, folded on the seat. There was an unlit fire hearth in the corner, which smelt acrid. There was very little else. The room was cold and his breath formed white clouds that mingled with the smoke. Charles thought that the girls in service at Ballyford lived in better conditions than this.
‘Where d’ya work, then?’ Stella asked him, breaking into his thoughts. ‘What’s yer wage?’
Charles thought hard. Liverpool girls did not surprise him. Their forthright openness used to take him by surprise, but not any longer. He had recently agreed a wage with Kimble, who ran his office. He had an answer.
‘Ten pounds and eight shillings a week.’
‘Do yer?’ She had turned to look at him with eyes wide. ‘No wonder you were flashin’ the cash in the pub, that’s smashin’ that. That’s better than at Plessey’s on nights. Who d’ya work for?’
Another question. She had no notion of social boundaries, but then neither did any of the girls he had met. He could talk to Liverpool girls for hours and never be bored.
He thought of the following day and the publicity that had been arranged for the launch of the ship. He said the first thing that crossed his mind.
‘The Echo,’ he replied. I work for the Echo.’
‘Oh, go’way, do yer? My cousin, Tommy, he works for the Echo. A photographer he is. Really good. Does all the family occasions, weddings, christenings and the like. If me and you get married, he can do ours.’
Charles knew that there was only one way to distract her from this train of thought, so he flipped her onto her back and disappeared under the bedspread, reminding her to keep quiet as he did so.
‘In case yer mam’s spies hear you,’ he said, in his pseudo-scouse accent.
‘Oh my God, what’yer doin’, where are you goin’? I’ve never ’eard of that before, you dirty beggar. Can I get caught like that?’ They were her last coherent words for the next half an hour.
When he finally slipped from her bed, she begged him to stay
‘I can’t,’ he replied gently. ‘Tell you what though, Stella, I’ll meet you back in the pub soon, eh? Keep an eye out for me.’
‘Promise,’ she whispered back sleepily. ‘’Cause if I’m pregnant, you’ll wanna know won’t you. I can tell you’re the kind of fella who will wanna do the right thing. Won’t you?’
‘Course I would love, see you soon,’ he replied, before he was away and back out onto the street, looking for a cab.
Later, back in his own bed, Charles heard the grandfather clock in the hallway chime eight o’clock and it suddenly dawned on him that he was due at the dockside in half an hour.
Today was a big day. The Marianna was due to sail out of Liverpool and they were holding a press and launch party in the Liverpool Swan building, two hours before the bore took her back down the Mersey, and out onto the Irish Sea, on the first step of her journey across the Atlantic to America.
Mrs Bat stood at the bottom of the stairs outside the morning room door, like a sentinel guarding the gates of hell. Her bony shoulders quivered like the black nubs of wings as she looked up at him in disapproval. She always dressed in black, dour and foreboding. Once again he wondered if she slept in a bed or simply refreshed herself, hung upside down on the hallstand.
‘You came home past midnight,’ she said, disapprovingly. ‘You didn’t lock the front door properly and the hallway smelt of alcohol and sin. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes.’
For a delicious moment, Charles wondered what she would think if he brought Stella back home for an evening. He pictured her suspender belt and stockings lying on the stairs to her flat and wondered what Mrs Bat would have said or done, if they had been here in the Sefton Park house instead.
‘I heard you and checked and just as well I did, or we could have all been murdered in our beds.’
‘I really would not be that lucky,’ muttered Charles, as he removed the silver dome from his breakfast plate. Underneath were two nearly black slices of bacon and two rubbery eggs swimming in a puddle of almost solidified cold fat. In her interview, she had told him she was possibly the best cook in Liverpool. He shuddered
at the thought of how bad the others must be.
He thought of Ballyford and the pork sausages made from his own pigs and the bacon which he could smell cooking each morning as the servants’ door opened out onto the landing from the kitchen. The large brown eggs laid by his chickens in the stables were carried into the kitchen early each morning in a basket by Danny. As Charles buttered the cold, toasted bread, in his mind he smelt the fresh bread baked by Amy before anyone else had woken. He thought about the laughter he often heard coming from outside in the kitchen garden. The memory of Ruby’s laughter broke through and his heart lurched. He was almost relieved when he heard the telephone ringing.
‘Morning, m’lord, it’s McKinnon here. The salmon are in.’
‘Damn,’ Charles exclaimed down the phone. It was always a moment of joy when he joined the staff and they ran to the river. He had thought this year that maybe the river was too low and they would have problems.
‘That’s fantastic news, McKinnon, and a relief to Amy I imagine. It is the launch today, but I’ll be on the first boat back in the morning I’ll net a few of those salmon myself. Will you meet me in Dublin?’
‘I will that, Lord Charles. Everything is ready here.’
*
At Ballyford, McKinnon replaced the handset and sighed. It had been a long time since Lord Charles had sounded pleased to be coming home and it was the salmon that had done it.
‘Have you told him?’ Mrs McKinnon asked. She was polishing a brass table lamp in the hall. He couldn’t see a mark anywhere and he was sure he had seen her doing exactly the same thing only a few days before.
‘I have indeed and he said he cannot wait to return home. He was excited about the salmon. Perhaps he’s also got the taste for Amy’s cooking again. Maybe, just like you said, this ball is going to turn things around. I can already feel things slipping back into place. Slowly, mind, but if you think what it was like here six months ago and how everyone is today…’
Ruby Flynn Page 20