‘Oh, I’ve got a tonic. Our Olive’s made me up a potion, one that won’t hurt the baby when I’m feeding her.’
‘I don’t mean summat like that to buck yer up. I mean a change. So get on yer best bib and tucker and we’re off out.’
‘I can’t, unless it’s somewhere I can take the children.’
‘Oh yes yer can. Our Florrie’s promised to look after them. You and me are going to the pictures, and I’ll not stand here arguing so don’t start. We’ll go to the first house so be ready by five.’
The visit to the cinema did prove to be a tonic. Ruth laughed at the antics of Will Hay and swooned over Charles Boyer, surprised she could even consider fancying another man after her past experiences. Only the newsreel depressed her as she realised her father’s prediction seemed to be looming closer. ‘Do you really think there’ll be another war?’ she asked her friend as they nibbled chips out of newspaper on their way home.
‘Sure to be, according to my Albert. Thank God he’ll be too old to be called up this time. Besides, I doubt they’d have him with his chest.’
‘Isn’t it any better?’ Ruth frowned. Albert Armitage could be heard coughing all over Wire Mill Place when he was at his worst.
‘No. I doubt it’ll ever get any better. There’s not much can be done about dust on’t lungs. Bloody brickworks. I always said they’d be the death of ’im and I wasn’t far wrong. I’ll tell you what, though, that inhalant stuff Old Mother gave him doesn’t ’alf fetch some stuff up. Poor old girl.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. She told me she was ready to go. But she’ll be missed and no mistake.’ Ruth chuckled, relaxed for the first time in weeks. ‘Our Olive’s determined to carry on where Old Mother left off. She’s down there every night after work. Got a good little business going already, selling skin creams to the umbrella girls.’
‘Well nobody could be a better advert for beauty ointment. I don’t think a bonnier lass ever walked Cottenly. Your Lizzie’ll ’ave to watch her when the lads start sniffing around.’
Ruth laughed. ‘They’ll have a job to get near her if our Billy’s anything to do with it. He watches her like a hawk.’
‘Aye well, I’ll take my Albert his piece a fish. Tell our Florrie to come straight home or hers’ll be cold.’
‘I won’t keep her,’ Ruth answered. ‘Oh, and thanks for the treat. It’s really done me good. I feel better already.’
‘Me too. My Albert’s not one for the flicks – gets too many black looks when he gets a coughing fit. And as for our Florrie, well she’d rather go with the lasses, or on the back row with the lads. Not as much fun going on yer own.’
‘Well, thanks anyway.’
‘Goodnight, lass. The kids’ll be wanting their chips.’
‘Goodnight, and thanks again.’ Ruth made her way across the yard. Funny – the place didn’t look half as bad as it used to. Then she realised that it hadn’t been the Place that was bad but the man she had lived with who had made it so. But that was all behind her now. She may be poor, but as Mrs Armitage had said things could only get better, and she could feel they were doing so already.
Ruth was on her hands and knees whitening the step when she heard the boots on the cobbles. She turned round as the rag and bone man approached her.
‘Hello, scrubbing again?’ He smiled.
‘Aye. It’s not much of a place but I like to keep it clean.’
‘Er, I’m sorry about the accident. Your husband, I mean.’
‘Thanks.’ Ruth emptied the bucket over the flags and scrubbed it in with the yard brush. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘If it isn’t too much trouble, I just called to see if the little lad was all reight after his soaking. I didn’t like calling before, what with your husband’s accident and that. I see yer managed to get a fence up after all.’
‘Aye, our Billy and Joe put it up.’
‘They made a decent job of it.’
‘Aye. He’s a good man is our Alice’s Joe.’
‘One of the best.’
‘You know him, then?’
‘I used to work for the firm. He was always well respected. That was before I took over from me grandfather.’
‘What about your father? Wasn’t he interested in the rag and bone business, or had he enough with the farm?’
‘He died.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘It’s all reight. I can’t remember anything about him. I was a bairn at the time.’
‘What made you leave the works? It can’t be much fun trudging the streets in all weathers, fishing kids out of rivers and things.’ Ruth laughed nervously as she poured tea into two cups.
‘Oh, I like the open-air life, especially in summer. Besides, I’m me own boss, just like me grandfather before me. And there’s money to be made – not a lot, but I’m not without a bob or two. Besides, I love the farm. I could never let that go – it’s in me blood, all that rich, fertile land.’
‘Aye, it’s lovely up there. We used to play in your fields when we were little.’ Ruth’s face clouded momentarily as she remembered that her last visit had been with Walter on the picnic.
‘Why not bring the kids up one day? They could run around to their hearts’ content, and no danger of them falling in any watter or owt.’ Jack grinned.
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Why not? Me mother’d be there. She hardly ever goes out.’
‘It wouldn’t be right, not with Walter hardly cold.’
‘By what I can gather you’re a lot better off without him. You look ten times happier than last time I was here.’
‘Yes, but even so, what would people think?’
‘Be buggered to what folks think.’
‘Well, maybe after a little while.’
‘I’ll look forward to that then. Don’t leave it too long – it’s nearly time for the lambing, and the little ’uns’d like that. They’d enjoy seeing the lambs.’
Frankie suddenly burst in with the energy of a hurricane.
‘Hello,’ Jack Dolan said. ‘You’re getting to be a big lad.’
‘Where’s yer horse?’
‘In’t field at home.’
Frankie’s mouth drooped. ‘Why didn’t yer bring him?’
‘I thought I’d take an hour off and come to see yer mam.’
‘Why?’
Jack looked embarrassed. ‘Well, I just wanted to see yer were all all reight.’
Frankie suddenly brightened considerably. ‘Me dad’s not,’ he said. ‘He’s dead, thank goodness.’ He suddenly had a brainwave. ‘Mam, can the ragman be our new dad?’
Ruth wished the floor would open up and swallow her. ‘Don’t be so silly. Go out to play. Go on, go and find our Sadie.’ Frankie ran out with all the energy with which he’d entered and Jack Dolan grinned. ‘Sorry about that,’ Ruth apologised. ‘I never know what he’s going to come out with next.’
‘Nay, don’t be sorry. Perhaps it’s not such a bad idea about them having a new dad. I mean, it can’t be easy bringing up four kids on yer own.’
‘It’s a damn sight easier than bringing them up with someone like their father to contend with.’
‘Aye, well, we’re not all like him, so don’t dismiss the idea without giving it a second thought.’
‘I won’t. Here, get your tea before it goes cold.’
Jack looked thoughtful. ‘Yer don’t mind me calling, then?’
‘No, I don’t mind you calling.’ Ruth quite liked Jack Dolan. He was nice to talk to.
‘Perhaps we could go to chapel together then, on Sunday. Surely nobody could see owt wrong with that.’
Ruth laughed. ‘I shouldn’t be too sure about that. But yes, I’ll go to chapel with you. I reckon it’s about time I started going again, if only to set the kids a good example. Besides, I should go and thank the minister for organising the collection. I was very grateful and I haven’t thanked him yet.’
Jack beamed. ‘I’ll see you on Sunday, then. By,
but it’s a good cup of tea, lass.’
Ruth smiled and assumed Jack’s broad Yorkshire accent. ‘Aye, lad, it is that.’
Hubert Hancock broke into a sweat every time he thought of Ruth Wray. He couldn’t forget her softness and femininity or the way he had held her close and breathed in her womanly scent. Hubert was a fool where women were concerned. The trouble was he wasn’t the sort whom women found attractive, and the only way he could enjoy their company was to dig deep into his pocket. Not that he actually paid for the favours of prostitutes; he was more subtle than that. An invitation to dinner at one of the top class hotels over in Derbyshire, a few bottles of expensive wine and a double room for the night was all it needed to tempt a woman into his bed. The bored wives of his business associates were the easiest prey, especially on the weekends when their husbands chose to join a shooting party or golfing weekend at Wormleighton Hall. But he had yet to come across one with even half the beauty of Ruth Wray. He knew he was playing with fire by calling on her, particularly if his visit was discovered by his wife Sophie. Yet he had the perfect excuse. It was most unusual for a tied property to be rented out to a tenant not employed by the works and he could always say he was checking on the condition of the house, or delivering a new rent book. The manager had weighed up the pros and cons for a week now and could no longer resist setting eyes on the young widow. Discreet enquiries had informed him that three of her children were of school age, so he straightened his tie, flattened what remained of his hair, which wasn’t much, and set off early in the afternoon, banking on her being alone in the house.
Winnie Armitage frowned as she saw the well-dressed man approach Ruth’s door. She had always been relieved that their own home was owned by a private landlord rather than tied to the works. There was something about Hubert Hancock that made Winnie’s flesh crawl.
Ruth had just finished feeding Margaret when she answered the tap on the door, still fastening the buttons of her blouse.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Wray. I hope I’m not inconveniencing you, but I thought it my duty to call and check on your health, particularly after the distress on your visit to my office.’
Ruth was flustered at the sight of the man standing on her doorstep. ‘Oh, Mr Hancock, sir, won’t you come in?’ Her heartbeat quickened as she worried that he might have changed his mind about the tenancy. ‘It’s kind of you to enquire but I’m really quite recovered, thank you.’ She stood aside to let him in and he sidled round the table and lowered his heavy weight on to a chair by the fire.
‘Can I offer you a cup of tea? I’m sorry that’s all I have in the house.’
‘No, don’t trouble yourself on my account. I’ve just eaten lunch.’
Ruth sent up a silent prayer: ‘O God, please let him go.’ The prayer went unanswered.
‘I take it the house is to your satisfaction? No complaints to be reported?’ He knew she wouldn’t dare complain, even if the house was falling down around her.
‘No. Oh, no, everything’s fine.’ She made an effort to smile. ‘The rent’s been paid. My brother-in-law paid a month’s in advance.’
‘Quite, quite.’ He settled himself more comfortably, conspicuous in the shabby surroundings. ‘It’s a heavy burden you have on your shoulders, my dear. A young woman on your own – my heart reaches out to you.’ Ruth smiled weakly, remaining silent. ‘If there is any way I can be of assistance, any way at all, you must let me help.’
‘You’re very kind, but I have a good family. My father’s always on hand if I need anything.’
‘But a father can’t provide everything.’ His fat cheeks quivered and glowed a florid scarlet. ‘For instance, affection such as a man can provide to a lonely woman, a most attractive woman I might add.’
Ruth’s face was burning. ‘I’ve only just buried my husband, Mr Hancock, sir. I’m still too shocked to think about such things.’
‘Quite, quite. No need to rush, so long as you know I’m here if needed.’
Winnie Armitage thought Ruth’s visitor had been there long enough. She picked up a pie that was fortunately cool enough to carry and marched across the Place. She knocked smartly on the door and entered. The scene before her told her she had been right to intrude. The man was obviously settled for the duration and the gleam in the small, close-set eyes mirrored the thoughts on his mind.
‘Oh, I didn’t know you had a visitor. Just thought I’d better remind you about your appointment at the clinic, lest you’d forgotten.’ Winnie turned to the man with an air of conspiracy. ‘She’s not herself, you see. Can’t remember the slightest thing at the moment.’ She turned to Ruth, winking as she did so. ‘I’ll see to the baby whilst you get ready.’
Ruth tried not to show her relief. ‘I had forgotten, Mr Hancock, sir, if you’ll excuse me.’ She went to the door and held it ajar. ‘It was good of you to call, but really there’s no need to worry on my account.’
The man had no option but to leave, his anger simmering inside him and almost reaching boiling point when Winnie Armitage said, ‘Remember me to your wife. We went to school together, you know. Tell her Winnie Stedman was asking about her.’ He flounced across the Place, wondering what he was doing visiting such a devil of a spot. And that bloody woman; it would be just like her to bump into his wife and mention where she had seen him. Nevertheless, he would come again. Ruth Wray was worth the risk. If he could only get his hands on her his wife could go to hell for all he cared, and he would get his hands on her no matter what.
‘Oh, thank God you turned up when you did.’ Ruth flopped into a chair.
‘He didn’t get his filthy hands on you, did he, lass?’
‘No. Oh, no, but Mrs Armitage, what do I do now? He’s bound to turn up again and you won’t always be there to rescue me.’
‘He’s nothing but a filthy old sod. I’ve heard about him and his dirty weekends. And there’s old Sophie, all prim and proper. Not two pennies to rub together had her family when they were all small. But she’d make a dozen of him any day. Lovely friendly lass she was.’
‘But what happens now? If I spurn his advances he’ll evict me, I know he will, and then what will I do?’
Winnie frowned. ‘I don’t know, lass, but we’ll think of something, so don’t worry yerself.’
But Ruth couldn’t help but worry. In fact she wondered if there would ever be an end to all the worry. Still, she had Sunday to look forward to, even if it was only a visit to chapel.
Music drifted round the small, sparsely furnished chapel, which meant that members of the congregation could have a good old gossip without making themselves conspicuous.
‘I see Agnes Boothroyd’s got a new hat,’ the woman next to Mrs Armitage whispered.
‘Aye, and you know what they say, red hat and no knickers,’ Winnie joked.
‘That wouldn’t surprise me, either. That Horace Holroyd doesn’t spend all that time at their house for nothing.’
Winnie looked shocked at such a suggestion. ‘Mr Holroyd and his wife were friends of the Boothroyds for years. They’ve been right good to him since she died.’
‘Oh, I’ll bet she’s been good to him all right. Funny ’ow he always turns up when her old man’s just gone on’t afternoon shift over at pit.’ The woman’s voice rose with excitement. ‘She gets washed and changed every day before he arrives. Dolled up like a dog’s dinner she is, you ought to see her.’
‘She gets washed and changed every day. She always did like to keep herself nice. There wasn’t a smarter-looking lass walked Cottenly than Agnes in her heyday, nor a pleasanter. What’s more, yer never get her talking about folks, or letting her imagination run riot like some I could mention.’
The already assembled congregation turned to see what the commotion was about as Ruth and her children shuffled their way into the pew behind Winnie, with Jack Dolan as escort.
‘Mam, I don’t want to sit next to our Frankie. He sings all the wrong words and then people stare at us,’ Sadie whispered.
; ‘I don’t want to sit next to her either, Mam. Can I sit next to the ragman?’
‘It’s Mr Dolan, Frankie. I’ve told you umpteen times.’
Jack didn’t mind. ‘It’s all right. I am a rag and bone man after all.’
The woman next to Winnie looked as if her eyes might pop out of their sockets at any moment. ‘Eeh, just look who’s walked in with Ruth Wray, as brazen as brass, and her old man not yet cold.’
‘Oh, I think you’re wrong there. He were bound to be cold after being covered in ice in’t river all night.’
The woman whispered louder in her frustration. ‘Yer know very well what I mean. Walking into’t chapel with him. I don’t know how she dares.’
‘Well, I don’t know what there is to be scared of in’t chapel, except mucky-minded scandalmongers like some I could mention.’
The woman ignored the insult. ‘I heard tell the other day that that rag ’n’ bone man were sniffing around before her old man copped his clogs.’ She put her hands together as if praying, muttering, ‘God rest his soul.’
Winnie Armitage had heard enough and her voice rose as high as her temper. ‘God won’t rest his soul if He’s any sense. The lass is well rid of a bugger like him and everyone knows it, including you.’
The minister, who was about to begin the service, hurried down from the pulpit. ‘Ladies, ladies, may I remind you we are in a place of worship? Either watch your language or leave the premises. I’m particularly surprised at you, Mrs Armitage.’
‘Eeh, I am sorry. I don’t know what came over me except that I was driven to it. May God forgive me all the same.’
Sadie pulled at her mother’s coat. ‘Mam, did you hear Mrs Armitage swearing?’ she asked.
‘Yes, Sadie, we all heard what she said, and we all know why she said it.’
The minister had never known anything like it. He mopped his perspiring brow and hurriedly started the service. ‘We will begin today with hymn number 373, “God Moves In A Mysterious Way His Wonders To Perform”.’
Billy couldn’t believe it. The very words his Uncle Joe had used on the night his dad had died. He looked across the aisle and caught his uncle’s eye and neither of them could stifle a giggle. Alice glared at Billy and nudged her husband, ‘Joe, shut up and remember where thee are.’
The Stanford Lasses Page 15