Ruby seemed to expand with self esteem. ‘Well, I knew I ’ad to do something, didn’t I? Got that one sussed out soon’s I saw ’im. Toffee-nosed bugger – beggin’ yer pardon an’ all that, but ’e is, ain’t ’e?’ And he tilted his head and looked at her as brightly as a sparrow and again she could not help but laugh.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He is. A – very toffee-nosed.’
‘’N anyway, what I said about Father Jay – you could go further an’ fare worse than ’elp ’im. ’E’s a God palaverer ‘n’ all that, but ’e don’t thump ’is Bible more’n most and ’e’s got a decent respect for Yidden –’
She looked puzzled and he threw his eyes to the ceiling in mock exasperation. ‘You are an ignorant tart, ain’t yer? Yidden, Miss Amberly, is Jews. There’s a lot of Jews down the East End, in case you ’adn’t noticed. But there’s a lot o’ goyim an’ all – goyim – that’s what you are. Not Jews, see – and some of ’em are right bastards and some of ’em are all right. Father Jay, ’e’s all right. Got the best bleedin’ boxin’ school in the ’ole East End an’ that’s saying a lot. The Kid, ’e got ’is apprenticeship there –’ He shook his head admiringly. ‘And there weren’t never a boxer like the Kid. Our Lizah, oh, ’e’s the best. ’E’ll be a world champion, you see if ’e won’t – best bleedin’ welterweight there ever was, ’e is.’
Mildred grimaced slightly. ‘I do not share my brother’s taste for pugilism,’ she said a little primly. ‘Indeed, I dislike seeing men fight. It seems to me to be barbaric in the extreme. Not at all agreeable –’
‘Not agreeable?’ Ruby looked shocked. ‘Not agreeable? The noble art, not agreeable? ’Ow can you stand there an’ –’
‘Ruby, I do not wish to discuss the matter. Why are you here? That is what I need to know, not your opinions on the merits or otherwise of fighting.’
‘Yeah – well –’ Ruby said, but he still looked ruffled and then the door opened and the housemaid Jenny appeared, her hair still tied up in her morning cap and well enveloped in a calico apron, clearly thoroughly miffed at having been taken away from her duties to bring trays to the morning room for such a guest as the person Miss Mildred was entertaining. Her disgust showed in every line of her face as she set the tray, with its glass of milk and a large half-cut cake and a plate and knife on the centre table and stood stiffly waiting for permission to depart. And because Mildred knew she was as besotted with Freddy and his high flown opinions as her father was, and would tell him all that transpired, she said nothing, but nodded and let her take her bad temper away with her.
Ruby came and peered at the milk and the cake and then cheerfully cut himself a slice and with a great swing of his hips, jumped up to sit on the table with his legs swinging. He ate the cake with gusto, scattering crumbs with great abandon and she watched him, rather aware of the way the warmth from the fire was making his unfortunate clothes give up their smells but not unduly upset by that. It was not exactly pleasant but it was not much worse than the scent of naphtha mothballs of which Papa reeked, or the smell of the heavy beeswax Jenny used for the furniture, or Mama’s heavy applications of rose water, meant to disguise the smell of sherry on her breath though not as successfully as she believed.
The more she saw of this impudent boy the more she liked him. He was vivid and alive and intelligent in a way that was foreign to her and also very exciting. Whatever he said and whatever he did he seemed to invest with a drama that was rare in her life and for which she knew she craved. He carried with him, for all his personal squalor, a vision of a world where life was something to be relished and enjoyed and not merely endured. And she ached for that –
‘I’ll take the rest with me,’ Ruby said at length, when a second slice had disappeared after the first and he clearly had no capacity for more. ‘Pity to waste it, eh?’ and deftly he slid the quarter cake which remained under his shirt and sat there grinning at her. ‘Now, to my commission what I was sent to undertake. I got a message for yer.’
‘I imagined you had,’ she said and he grinned at her, his eyes full of wickedness.
‘You ain’t expecting this message and so I’ll tell yer,’ he said, and crowed with delight again. ‘It’s from Kid Harris and ’e says as ’e’ll see yer at Romano’s in the Strand tonight at nine o’clock sharp and don’t be late.’
She gaped at him, her forehead creased in amazement. ‘He said what?’
‘Romano’s, dahn the Strand, ’e says. Bit off my beat, that is, but he’s a real West Ender is Lizah when ’e wants to be. For my part I don’t think you can do better than eat dahn at Ikey’s place in Watney Street, or Curley’s caff. Get nosh there and you get the best. But there it is, Kid Harris does everythin’ of the fanciest and that means up West and Romano’s, ’e says. So –’ He slid off the table and stood there brushing the crumbs off his stained old waistcoat. ‘Nine o’clock all right?’
‘It is certainly not all right!’ she said indignantly. ‘I never heard of such a thing! Of course I shall do nothing of the sort.’
‘Eh?’ Ruby peered at her. ‘What’d you say?’
‘I said I shall do nothing of the sort,’ she said strongly. ‘I never heard of such a thing! What does he take me for? I do not go to restaurants! I do not accept such invitations from men I do not know!’
‘Don’t know!’ Ruby stared at her, his eyes a little narrowed now. ‘’E’s the fella what let your brothers off a sizeable debt. Remember?’
She reddened a little. ‘Of course I do. And I appreciate his – his forbearance. But that doesn’t mean I’m likely to go traipsing off to a restaurant with him! It wouldn’t be proper! I never go out unaccompanied and – and it’s just not possible!’
He stood there, his head again on one side in that birdlike posture and after a moment shook his head mournfully.
‘I thought better o’ you, I really did. Told Lizah as you was a goer, didn’t I? I really thought you was. Got a bit o’ life about you, not like most o’ these fancy madams what lives up West, too niminy piminy to take a breath. I thought you was different. You came down East with me last night, didn’t you? What’s so terrible about going up to Romano’s then? It’s a decent place, ain’t it? Dead posh, as I understand it – don’t you know it?’
‘I’ve heard of it,’ she said. How could she not? She knew it to be a fashionable and expensive restaurant to which her father occasionally went with his cronies, and to which her brothers much aspired. ‘Of course I have. But that is not the point. It isn’t anything that’s wrong with the restaurant –’
‘Well, I’m sure it ain’t anythin’ that’s wrong with Lizah, is it?’ He was still standing staring at her, still fixing her with that birdy sharpness, and she began to feel even more uncomfortable. ‘There ain’t a woman in the ’ole East End as wouldn’t give ’er eye teeth for an invite from Kid ’Arris. I mean, ’e’s the Kid, you know! Not suggestin’ ’e ain’t good enough for yer, are yer?’
‘But of course he –’ And then she stopped. How could she say what she meant without seeming as Basil had seemed last night; as pompous and as unpleasant? That ladies like Miss Mildred Amberly of Leinster Terrace did not expect to be invited to dine with little Jewish boxers from the East End? That well-bred ladies of a certain class could hardly be expected to meet such persons, let alone dine with them? That she was a person of quality and Mr Harris, whom Ruby clearly admired above all men, was far from being that? The words froze in her throat and she stood and stared at the boy, and behind her eyes her mind raced.
Hadn’t last night been the most exciting she could ever remember spending? Hadn’t she, after it was all over and the terror had subsided, regretted that she had to return to the humdrummery of mending the children’s shirts and being disapproved of by the entire family and the servants for being what she was, so ugly and unmarriageable? Had she not sat in the four-wheeler last night, lurching and rattling back to Leinster Terrace, unable to push the memory of that odd little man out of her mind?
> And after all, what was it he was suggesting? Nothing much more terrible than dinner in a restaurant. She had occasionally dined away from home, very occasionally; seaside holidays in boarding houses had meant eating at a public table, and there had been that notable occasion when Papa had taken them all to supper after a pantomime one Boxing Day though the children had cried a good deal and fussed so much that Papa had vowed he would never again repeat the experiment, but she had enjoyed it. The drama of it, the glitter of the lights, the other ladies’ toilettes, the sheer uncommonness of it all, had never left her memory.
So why should she not accept this outrageous invitation? It wouldn’t be such a sin, after all. Yes, the man was quite out of her class, but he was interesting, and didn’t she owe him a debt? He had allowed her brothers to mulct him of his fair winnings, and now he had done her the courtesy of offering her another adventure – and she thought of yesterday and remembered how she had sat watching raindrops run down the window and how Ruby’s arrival had made her feel there was something in life worth making the effort to breathe for after all; and she bit her lip and stared at Ruby, trying to find the right words to say all this. And found she was quite unable to.
Ruby for once was silent. He simply stood and watched her think and had she known how she looked to him, she would have understood. For her usual dullness had given way to a liveliness that would have amazed any of her family had they seen it. Her eyes, those dull eyes that were normally downcast anyway, sparkled a little and their yellowness became a rich amber that was far from dull. Her face, long and irregular though it was and oddly shaped though her long nose might be, looked quite different now that she had some animation; it was the heaviness of her expression, almost a sulkiness, that made the men her Papa brought to meet her so unwilling to pursue the acquaintance. Had any of them seen her now, they might have thought it worth the effort –
But she knew none of this as she stood there in her donkey brown frieze morning dress, her hair pulled back unbecomingly from her face in spite of her attempts to create a fashionable fringe, trying to decide what to do. And Ruby, ever shrewd, chose his time carefully and pushed home his advantage.
‘O’ course I can understand the problems a lady like yourself might ’ave, gettin’ the chance to be about ’er own affairs, like, I mean, I dare say you got them all over you, eh? Wantin’ to know what you’re a’doin’ of, and where you’re goin’ an’ ’oo with – but ladies are always doing charity work ain’t they? And there is Father Jay –’
‘Mmm?’ Her eyes, which had been a little glazed as she thought focussed now and she looked at him. ‘What did you say?’
‘I thought, like, you was worried about goin’ out tonight and people fussin’. Like that toffee-nosed bugger –’ And he jerked his head towards the door.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Not really, I mean –’ She stopped. Hateful though it was to have to admit to this street urchin, who obviously lived a life as free as air, just how trammelled she was and how complicated it would be to keep this engagement even if she wanted to, she could not deny that he was right. She would have to lie and scheme and slip out unseen, like a thief from her own house. And that was a most unpleasant notion.
‘I thought p’raps you could arrange to come down to see Father Jay at ’is place,’ Ruby said almost casually. ‘’E’s a good geezer and there’s lots o’ people o’ quality comin’ down to go to the Evenin’ Services and to see the work what ’e does with us poor pathetic ’eathens –’ His eyes glinted then. ‘An’ nice pickin’s they offer for a good dip, ’n all –’ And at her puzzled face he added, ‘Pickpockets, Miss Amberly. Not me, o’ course, but there are one or two o’ that kidney around. Still no need for you to fret over that. You tell ’em ’ere you’re goin’ to do some prayin’ and a bit of good works for the likes of me dahn East – and go and do yourself some good works up West. That’s my advice to you. So, are you goin’ to take it? Or do I go back an’ tell Kid Harris what was so good to your brothers as ’ow you spit in ’is eye and don’t want to know nothin’ about ‘is nice invite?’
6
As soon as she got there she knew she had chosen the wrong clothes. She had agonized over the matter all afternoon, trying to decide what would look suitable for a place as fashionable as Romano’s and yet reasonable for a lady purporting to visit East End priests on an errand of Christian mercy; and had at last settled on her dark blue tailormade with the back skirt pleated and trimmed with black petersham silk and the slightly paler blue gigot sleeves. The little black straw with the grey dove’s feathers looked quite tolerable with it and no one seeing her walk sedately down Leinster Terrace towards the cab rank would have given her a second glance.
But now she was here at Romano’s, standing just inside the doorway and looking about her, her heart sank. She was so very dull, even dowdy, that surely everyone must stare at her and laugh behind their feathered fans as they smoothed their silk or satin gowns; for every woman who passed her on their way into the restaurant from the lobby where she was standing looked exquisite.
There were short-trained evening gowns in the richest of colours, golds and violets and scarlets, emeralds and crimsons and heliotropes, and the lovely buttery yellow that was all the rage this season, and so much trimming of braid and lace and fringing and fluting that her own subdued costume flattened her spirits even more, if that were possible. And suddenly she was so miserable that she turned to go, wanting to escape before the lofty maître d’hôtel, who had been sent for to deal with her request for Mr Harris’s table, had returned. She had been mad to come here at all, mad to consider doing so, even on the terms she had decided and the sooner she fled back to dullness, where she belonged, the better it would be.
‘Well, then, here we are! I knew you were the sort of lady to be prompt. A real lady, Miss Amberly is, I said to myself, and I must not keep her waiting. So here I am, arriving at the same time.’
He was effulgent, she decided. That was the only word that would fit, for his evening suit was of the most rich of blacks, and his linen of the most glittering white. The front of his coat, cut away in the normal manner, showed a silk waistband in a deep crimson, fastened with carved jet buttons which was far from usual, and across that was draped a gold Albert. Over his arm he carried a rich crombie overcoat and in his hand was a silk hat so gleaming she could see her own reflection in it.
‘Oh dear,’ she said and stood staring at him and he smiled widely at her, clearly full of pride at himself, yet very aware of the other people around them; his eyes darted about busily catching others’ glances as though seeking reassurance that he looked as he should in this place, and that he had a right to be here. The cocksureness he had displayed last night in the cellar room was not quite so visible now; and she realized that he was as ill at ease as she was, more perhaps. And that made her feel a little more relaxed.
‘You must forgive me for not choosing evening dress, as you have,’ she said a little stiffly. ‘But I thought it important that you should understand that I am not here for pleasure. I mean, I did not come to dine with you.’
He frowned, and stepped aside as a new eddy of people came in from the street and pushed past them to reach the main restaurant. There was chatter and laughter all around them and a rich smell of food and wine and cigars came drifting back from the big room and for a moment, in spite of her determination to do what she had come to do and then to leave, she felt herself regretting her decision. It would be rather nice to stay and eat something delicious, and she thought mournfully of the dreadful dinner Cook had once again sent up, of the thin oxtail soup and the cod that had undoubtedly been a good deal older than it had any right to be and the leathery beef, and then smelled the delicious scents wafting out of the main room, and actually heard her belly rumble. She pressed her hands, both still clutching her reticule, against it as unobtrusively as possible, and said a little more loudly, ‘I have brought you the money. Is there anywhere we can go quietly so that I may giv
e it to you to be counted and then go home?’
‘I asked you here to have a bit of supper,’ he said. ‘I didn’t ask you here for money. I thought Ruby explained. He usually gets it right.’
‘He explained,’ she said, and again had to stop as another group of diners came chattering in from the street. They were a particularly glittering group, the women so pink of cheek and lip that she wondered for a moment if they were actresses, for no respectable woman, surely, wore rouge? They went past in a flurry of chypre and eau de cologne with their men, rich and redolent of bay rum, following hard behind, as Kid Harris moved closer to her side to take hold of her elbow, and she stopped wondering about them, concentrating on herself, suddenly alarmed.
‘Then what’s all this about offering me money?’ he said, and his voice was a little rough. ‘I don’t like insults.’
‘I meant no insult!’ She was stung and it showed in her increased colour. ‘It’s no insult to pay a debt.’
‘It is when it’s been waived, written off, forgotten.’ He sounded angry and she felt the familiar twinge of fear from last night back in her belly again. ‘I asked you for a bit of supper because I thought you were an interesting lady. I like women with a bit of – of character about them. You’ve got character. More’n most women have. So I don’t expect to be offered money. Don’t ever do it again.’
‘I won’t ever see you again, so it’s hardly likely,’ she said and tried to pull her arm away from his grip, for he was holding her elbow very firmly and leading her towards the restaurant’s main room. ‘Please let me go.’
Jubilee (Book 1 of The Poppy Chronicles) Page 6