Ruby McBride

by Freda Lightfoot

  Chapter Seven

  1900

  After almost four years in the reformatory, Ruby was to be allowed out on licence. She was eighteen and could hardly wait. It meant that although she would still be under the watchful eye of Miss Crombie, the Superintendent, she could at last get a job and start a new life. Strict rules would be enforced such as a monthly report from her employer and, should she lose her job for any reason, she would be obliged to return to the reformatory.

  This was not the first time she’d been allowed out on licence. It was, in fact, the fourth. Each of her other prospective positions had lasted less than a month, one of them barely a week. The trouble was that Ruby had never quite acquired the necessary degree of obedience and subservience. What was worse, the more those in authority attempted to mould her to their rules over the years, the more fiercely she’d held on to her own strong will.

  There had been the case of the woman who had tested her honesty by placing a sovereign clearly in view on her dressing table. Ruby had handed it back to her employer together with her resignation, saying she wouldn’t work where she wasn’t trusted.

  Then there’d been the jealous wife, so certain that Ruby was sharing her husband’s bed that one night when Ruby had gone out to fill the coal scuttle, she’d found herself locked in the coal shed as punishment for her supposed sins. After hammering and knocking on the door for an hour to no effect, Ruby had squeezed out through the back window and walked the seven miles back to the reformatory. The woman had been furious, accusing her not only of depravity but of absconding from her duties as well.

  It was common to be employed by those who wished only to exploit reformatory girls by promising them respectable employment while having quite other requirements in mind. And then there were the snobs who were quite happy to get a reformatory girl as they were cheap, so long as the neighbours never found out. Ruby, naturally, was not prepared to lie about her past, nor keep it a secret.

  ‘I’m not ashamed of what happened to me. I’ve committed no offence save to be poor. The worst thing I ever did was to run away from the nuns,’ she would say to anyone who cared to listen. ‘I did it to find Mam for our Billy, and because he was being bullied, only I was too late. Mam was already dead of consumption and nobody had bothered to tell us. So if you don’t like it, you can always send me back.’ Which was generally what they did.

  It choked her up whenever Ruby thought of Billy. If only they hadn’t been too late and Mam had still been alive, everything would have been so different. Memories of that moment they’d torn him from her arms to take him to the Farm School would torture her for as long as she lived. His cries and sobs still echoed in her head. She’d thought nothing worse could ever happen, but then less than a year after that, he’d been packed off to Canada. His big chance, he’d told her in his letter. A wonderful country with acres and acres of land, thousands of trees and limitless fresh air. Just like Mam had wanted for him. There was even a family ready to take him as one of their own. Would Ruby agree to let him go?

  She’d seriously thought about objecting, although whether the Board of Guardians would have listened was another matter. She and Pearl had talked about it for hours but, in the end, had agreed that it might well be a new beginning for their little brother. What did Salford have to offer to the likes of Billy McBride? It might at least be better for his health.

  They’d been allowed one final meeting to say goodbye, at which they’d all wept copious tears and clung together, reluctant to let go for this last time. Ruby had made him promise to write every week and he’d kept his word, at first. Now they were lucky if they got more than half a dozen letters a year. This year they’d had two. That first family hadn’t worked out and he’d been moved on, but he sounded happy enough, always looking on the bright side. Ruby could only hope this increasing silence between letters was a good omen and meant that he was well, busy working and enjoying life.

  There were times too when she thought of Kit Jarvis, the boy who had tried to help them, and she’d feel an odd sort of ache inside, a longing to see him again. She could remember every exciting detail about him: the masculine scent of his skin, the warm hardness of his young body, the brilliant blue of his eyes. How had he fared in the training ship? She’d heard those places could be pretty tough, far worse than Ignatius House and the reformatory put together.

  But all of that was in the past. Today, Ruby was being considered for the post of housemaid by a merchant who apparently owned a fine house close to the Duke of Bridgewater’s at Slate Wharf. Ruby wasn’t too clear where exactly that might be, nor did she recognise his name, Barthram Stobbs, but then it was many years since she’d last visited the area and she’d been but a child at the time. Besides, if he was offering escape from the reformatory, he’d need to have two heads and a hunchback before she refused anything he offered.

  Even Miss Crombie was doing her utmost to get her the job by painting a rosy picture of her, despite Ruby being considered as one of her most troublesome inmates. ‘The girl has an individual, determined nature and although she has in the past been somewhat wilful, is nevertheless capable of being agreeable, when she puts her mind to it. And she is most certainly clean. Oh, dear me, yes, Mr Stobbs. As are all our girls. What’s more, she is a hard worker, I’ll give her that.’ The woman’s expression clearly stated that she might wish for more success in other directions.

  Ruby became aware that Barthram Stobbs was studying her with surprisingly close attention, and felt herself grow pink under his scrutiny. What was it that he found so fascinating about her? She began to wonder if she had a smut of soot on her nose.

  He was noting the flutter of dark lashes against her flushed cheeks, the way her eyes seemed haunted by some sort of need. To his great astonishment he found himself unaccountably mesmerised by the sight of this chit of a girl who stood so proudly before him. He paid particular attention to her mouth, full and sensual and slightly parted, as if begging to be kissed. Yet the institutional clothes, her scrawny, childlike figure, were not only sad but pathetic. What in God’s name had got into him? He ached with pity for her, yet he wasn’t normally a man with room in his heart for such emotions. He scowled. ‘And what have you to say in your own defence, over this “individual, determined nature” of yours?’

  ‘Do I need one?’ Ruby asked, quick as a flash.

  He was startled by her swift response, and intrigued by it. For all her years in the reformatory she couldn’t in any way be described as cowed. ‘Individual is the word, ma’am. A rare prize indeed.’ Then he put back his head and roared with laughter.

  Ruby frowned with displeasure. What right did this man have to treat her with such mocking contempt? Admittedly he wasn’t half so old as she’d expected, though he must be well past thirty if he was a day, and no doubt some might call him handsome. He was nowhere near as good-looking as her lovely Kit, not with his high cheek bones, florid complexion and long nose. He was also oddly and inappropriately dressed in what could only be described as a loud checked three-piece suit, as if he’d just returned from the races rather than Castlefield. He wore a starched white collar and blue spotted silk necktie, and sported a white carnation in his buttonhole. Looped across a surprisingly rotund stomach for one so tall, hung a watch chain that was unmistakably gold. The ensemble was completed by a pair of white kid gloves and bowler hat, both of which he’d taken off and placed on the Superintendent’s desk during the interview. The whole effect was rather dapper and sporty, if somewhat incongruous in a businessman.

  Miss Crombie seemed to be utterly captivated by him, and was as simpering and sweet as she always was with men who entered the portals of her grey, untidy office and offered her the least little bit of attention. On the other hand she could well have been on the gin, it being well past lunchtime, which would account for the glazed expression in her eyes and why the jowls of her several chins wobbled so alarmingly. Ruby wondered if she was even giving the matter proper attention, save for hoping
to be rid of a girl who had become something of a nuisance. To be fair, she did express mild alarm over the fact that the gentleman had not brought his wife with him.

  ‘I would have done so, good lady, were I able. Sadly, I am a widower. My wife died several months ago from a heart condition. I am comfortably placed, though not a rich man, and therefore don’t want any silly young miss. I need a girl with common sense and acumen, if you take my meaning, as she will be required to carry out varied duties on her own initiative.’

  The Superintendent was nodding most sympathetically. ‘Indeed, yes, I understand perfectly, Mr Stobbs. How very sad.’ She responded warmly to his smile, poured more tea into the china cup she’d set before him, offered a slice of seed cake, and then seemed to recollect her duties. ‘Nevertheless, I should remind you that if Ruby turns out not to be suitable and you have need to return her, then it must be in the same condition as she left. If you take my meaning?’

  He looked shocked, and then adopted a wounded air. ‘Madam, I am surprised you should entertain any doubts on the matter. How could it be otherwise? I am a gentleman after all.’

  Flushing bright crimson, Miss Crombie became quite flustered. ‘Indeed, sir, indeed! That is perfectly plain to see. As your excellent references from this reverend gentleman so clearly state. I’m obliged to you for being so frank and understanding, and for having come so well prepared.’ She gathered up the collection of letters and papers he had supplied as proof of good character in a flurry of breathless embarrassment and handed them back to him with an apologetic little smile which sat oddly on her round, fleshy face. ‘I hope you will not take offence at my speaking so plainly? Although it is clearly quite superfluous in your own case, I am duty bound to consider the proprieties. The Board of Guardians would not deem it at all proper for me to allow one of our gels to leave the premises with a male person without making the necessary checks.’

  ‘Of course, dear lady. I understand perfectly.’

  ‘Besides, in some instances these gels are known to have light morals, one must remember that. In Ruby’s case, although there was one slight incident it was of no moment, and we have no reason to doubt her honour, I do assure you.’

  He seemed to consider Ruby with keener interest, as if this possibility had not previously occurred to him. ‘I trust you are correct, madam.’

  ‘Oh, indeed.’

  They seemed to have forgotten she was even in the room. Ruby hated it when she was spoken of as if she were not present but bit down hard on her lip, willing herself to keep quiet. She must remember that it was vital she get out of here, at whatever cost.

  Thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, Barthram Stobbs circled Ruby where she stood stiffly on the shabby rug, giving a thoughtful little whistle between his teeth as he did so. ‘I’ll admit there’s a show of insolence in those flashing brown eyes, not to mention the tilt of that chin, although it reveals strength of character nonetheless.’

  He put out a hand and drew his fingers over her cheek, unable to resist touching her. She possessed the kind of tantalising beauty that any man would love to own. Her skin was pale and translucent, satin smooth beneath the flat of his hand as he traced the line of her jaw before moving instinctively downwards over her throat and shoulders. Her eyes met his, blazing with defiance, silently demanding he stop his wandering hand forthwith. He did so, chuckling softly. ‘The girl appears healthy enough. Does she have all her teeth?’

  ‘I believe they are quite white and straight, Mr Stobbs,’ Miss Crombie assured him. ‘Open your mouth, girl.’

  For an instant Ruby considered refusing but then bared her teeth in a parody of a smile, her eyes challenging him to dare ask her to demonstrate any more of her attributes.

  ‘My word, what a difference when she stops scowling,’ he mildly commented.

  After that came a long, drawn-out silence while he examined her with a shrewd, narrow-eyed gaze that had a dangerous glint to it. Ruby found herself again flushing beneath his scrutiny, wishing she could acquire the art of subduing these flashes of defiance. Wasn’t she putting her entire future at risk?

  For the first time to his recollection Barthram Stobbs was wrestling with his conscience. It was true that he’d come here today seeking a girl, one who wasn’t too particular about where she lived so long as she escaped the reformatory and who would do as he asked without question. The interrogation he’d been subjected to by the Superintendent had perhaps led him to embroider his situation somewhat, which was unfortunate, but Ruby McBride was not at all the compliant sort of girl he’d had in mind. She would undoubtedly be a challenge. At the same time, she may well suit his purpose admirably. The trouble was, his thinking was being clouded by baser needs. He felt captivated by her, enchanted almost. Lord, he was acting like a love-sick fool. He gave a soft, throaty chuckle at the thought.

  ‘Your earlier summary was most astute, Miss Crombie, and, I believe, correct. We might make something of her yet. But anyone would think you were anxious to be rid of the little hellcat.’ These words, and the broad wink he bestowed upon Ruby, brought a bubble of laughter into her throat and, against her better judgement, she giggled.

  Barthram Stobbs grinned. ‘Dash it, I’ll take her. I’m sure we’ll suit each other very well.’

  Ruby felt very much as a horse might when bought at auction.

  The Superintendent expelled a huge sigh of relief and at once proceeded, together with Ruby’s prospective employer, to discuss such essential matters as wages and living conditions. The girl’s wages would be ten pounds a year and her uniform provided, all found, with one half day off a week.

  Miss Crombie said, ‘The money will be paid directly to me, naturally, and I will supply the girl with whatever she needs for personal items, clothes and such like.’

  Again Ruby ached to protest at the unfairness of still being tied to the reformatory and to working for very little reward, but she’d tried objecting to this system before and it had gained her nothing. Her complaints had been treated with open contempt, as if her wishes were of no account, and the prospective employer on that occasion had walked out of the office, declaring she would not offer work to a mercenary little madam who didn’t know how to show gratitude. So now Ruby simply prayed for deliverance. Survival was everything.

  Looking back, she wondered how she’d survived at all.

  If life in Ignatius House had been harsh, the reformatory had been a thousand times worse. Gone were the lessons given by patient nuns. There were few, if any, books for them to read beyond worthy moralising tomes, and the only games they were allowed to play were of the home-made variety such as hop scotch and skipping which demanded little more than a rope, ball or piece of chalk. Not that there was any time for games or relaxation for older girls like herself who were instructed in the arts of needlework, cooking, housewifery and knitting. They were trained for domestic service, nothing more.

  Ruby and Pearl had spent much of their time working in the steaming heat of the laundry with the large and cumbersome hot irons, or winding the handle of an ancient mangle. Any surplus energy was expended on doing endless physical drill and exercises, which Pearl quite enjoyed, as she said it developed her bust line.

  ‘One day I’ll find meself a good-looking chap who’ll appreciate this figure of mine. Don’t you reckon, our Ruby?’

  And Ruby would laugh and agree. She generally found it easier not to quarrel with her sister, and Pearl certainly was growing into a voluptuous and attractive young woman, one who was most particular about her appearance.

  Ruby couldn’t have cared less how she herself looked, and since these drill exercises took place while they were still dressed in the regulation heavy calico skirts and long-sleeved blouses, she found them hot, tiring and uncomfortable. Made worse by the fact that for much of the time her insides were churning with hunger, and energy was something she sadly lacked.

  She thought of Pearl now. There was nothing more to be done for Billy, but she must never forget her sister
. Ruby longed to have her family all together again under one roof but, for the moment at least, this was no more than a fanciful dream for the future. She cleared her throat and took the plunge. ‘I have a sister. I wondered if you might have a job for her too, Mr Stobbs?’

  Miss Crombie made tut-tutting noises through her teeth while Barthram Stobbs raised a pair of golden brows in mild surprise at her temerity. ‘Though I may consider myself comfortably placed, I’m not made of brass, you know.’

  The mocking tone was sharp and the Lancashire expression seemed at odds with the rest of his careful diction. Ruby wondered if she’d caught him off guard, but for some reason the change in him gave her pause for thought. Perhaps she should think again before accepting his offer. There was something not quite right about him. Those odd clothes, the interrogative stare, a certain ambiguity about his manner. Then she told herself sternly that perhaps this only showed he’d come up the hard way and made good, as she intended to do one day. She pressed on with her request.

  ‘I wouldn’t expect you to take her right away, she’s not quite fifteen, but I’d hoped to go somewhere large enough to offer her employment later, perhaps in a month or two.’ In normal circumstances they would each have left school by now and been free to find employment. The reformatory, however, worked to its own timetable and set of rules.

  Barthram Stobbs appeared to give the notion serious consideration. ‘We’ll see, we’ll see. Perhaps Miss Crombie has an opinion on the matter?’

  He smiled enquiringly at the Superintendent who, Ruby knew, couldn’t have cared less one way or the other what happened to Pearl, or to any girl in her charge for that matter.

  Few of the reformatory staff stayed longer than a few months, a year or two at most, as infections were rife here and ill health the norm. Miss Crombie had stayed longer than her predecessors, being now in her third year, but the way she was hitting the gin told its own story.