‘What accusations? Let him go. Stop that this minute, Bart. Let him go, I say!’ Ruby was slapping at Bart’s hand, wrenching his arm, quite certain that he was about to beat Kit to a pulp. ‘Stop it! Stop it! You’ll kill him!’
‘I wouldn’t do him the favour.’ Bart flung Kit to the deck in a gesture of contempt, and turned to Ruby. ‘He’s filled with bitter resentment against you and had every intention of robbing you of that pendant, and me of my livelihood, from the start. He’s been planning this for months, with Pearl.’
Ruby looked at Bart with a dazed expression in her eyes. ‘Rob me? Kit and Pearl? Don’t talk daft. Anyroad, how could our Pearl know anything? Kit has only just found her.’
Kit said, ‘Go on, why don’t you tell her the rest of your daft theory?’
‘I don’t want to hear. You’re making all this up out of a fit of jealousy. Well, it won’t wash.’ Ruby half turned towards Kit, anxious to help him up, but he brushed her hands away and got to his feet unaided, his gaze riveted on Bart. ‘Go on, finish it why don’t you? See which one of us she believes.’
‘I’m listening,’ Ruby said, resigned disbelief in her tone. ‘I’ll hear you out, but if you think I’d ever believe that Pearl, my own sister, would want to hurt me, you are sadly mistaken.’
Bart glowered down at the man he loathed, still snivelling like a coward, and then across at Ruby, the girl who had come into his life on a whim. He’d gone looking for an assistant with a sufficient lack of scruples to be useful in his deals and instead had found himself a bride. He’d fallen for her like some sort of besotted fool, and had been punch drunk with love ever since. Even now as she gazed at him with that defiant, dark-eyed gaze, his heart ached for her. What he wouldn’t give for her to love him in return, as fiercely as she seemed to love this no-good piece of scum. But how could he ever hope to convince this supremely honest, this right-thinking, fiercely protective, rebellious, gloriously lovely girl that the beloved young sister whom she’d been seeking for years was now one of the lowest of the low? That she was totally bereft of both morals and scruples. He simply couldn’t do it.
‘Well?’ Ruby folded her arms, a hint of triumph lifting her voice, as if by his silence he proved his own guilt.
Again he felt the urge to explain his feelings to her, to convince her how very much she meant to him, but she was already turning away, a look of mocking disbelief on her lovely face.
‘Ruby?’ He took a step towards her, impatient to make one last effort to capture her attention. The blow came out of nowhere and caught him full on the nose and chin. He saw an explosion of light, heard the crack of bone, felt the spurt of blood that tasted like rusty metal in his mouth. Rage soared through his veins on a burst of adrenaline as he pivoted about to retaliate. But then just as swiftly it drained away, leaving an amazing sense of release as he seemed to be flying through the air. As a cold dark wetness enveloped him, Bart found himself sinking into an all-pervading peace.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ruby could hardly take in what had happened. Fear cascaded through her. One minute the two men had been fighting, the next Bart had fallen backwards off the tug and splashed into the murky depths of the canal. Or had Kit hit him? She’d half turned away, hadn’t quite seen what had caused him to fall. And thus far, he hadn’t yet surfaced.
She ran frantically up and down the tug, wild with distress, praying that at any moment she would see him come rising from the depths, spluttering with rage. But al Ruby could see in the dim light of dusk was a spiral of ripples, like a huge black mouth that had swallowed him up. She whirled about, grabbing hold of Kit, her voice raw with pleading. ‘You must go in after him.’ He didn’t answer and she began to shout, shaking him by the collar of his jacket to make him listen and respond. Kit made no move to do anything. He just stood, apparently mesmerised by the swirling black water beneath. Perhaps he was himself injured, Ruby thought, or in shock. And there was really no time to be lost. ‘If you won’t save him, then I must.’
She ripped off her boots, snapping the laces in her haste, and without stopping to remove her work dress, she scrambled up on to the rim of the tug and prepared to leap in. The action must have brought Kit from his daze for he grabbed her just in time and pulled her safely back, holding her fast in his arms for a moment before giving her a little shake of irritation. ‘Don’t be a damned fool, Ruby. You could drown in there. There’s oil, filth, dead cats, weeds and rubbish, all sorts in that canal. There’s nothing you can do for him now, Ruby. He’s a goner.’
‘Nooo!’ It was a cry from the heart, from the very depth of her soul. ‘Don’t say that.’
She was crying, sobbing, distraught in her distress as she furiously fought him, desperate to break free from his hold. Kit held her fast, his arms wrapped tightly about her till the hysterics finally abated and she grew calmer, if still weeping against his shoulder as if her heart was broken.
Why didn’t the silly woman see this was the golden opportunity they’d both longed for? Kit thought. They were rid of Barthram Stobbs at last. And they still had his tug and pair of barges.
By morning it was clear to Ruby that Kit was right. All night Ruby had watched and waited with hope and fear in her heart but Bart had not emerged from the water. At one point she’d slipped past Kit, who was snoring his head off in the chair, and made her way along the towpath, swinging a lantern, desperately hoping she’d come across Bart sitting in a sulk somewhere.
‘If you’re trying to frighten me, Barthram Stobbs, you’ve succeeded,’ she called, but only the echo of her own voice came back to her over the cold slap of water. At last, chilled to the bone with the damp and a grey, early-morning mist spreading over the city, Ruby crept back to bed and cried silently into her pillow.
She’d hated him, loathed him, hadn’t she? They’d fought from the first moment she’d set eyes on him, yet never in a million years had she wanted it to end like this. She felt bereft, her world suddenly empty, as if she could see the horizon stretching into eternity, pale and featureless, without hope.
She must have slept in the end for she woke with a jerk to discover bright daylight, the awful events of the previous night flooding in upon the instant, which no doubt accounted for the heavy sense of depression she nursed deep inside. It seemed there was nothing left to do now but to wait for his body to float to the surface somewhere. Perhaps when the tide had come up the Irwell, and washed the Ship Canal clean and retreated again, he might be taken with it, deposited in some lock or beneath the struts of a quay or bridge along the way. All of this was described to her with painful clarity by Kit, who carefully explained how the accident had occurred, how Bart had slipped on the rope fenders he’d been making earlier in the day, lost his balance and fallen overboard.
‘I know we were having a bit of a barney, but I never meant him any serious harm, Ruby. There was nothing I could do. It all happened too quick.’
She looked at him in blank acquiescence. How could she believe otherwise? The alternative was unthinkable. Not for one moment did she imagine Kit capable of deliberately knocking Bart overboard and leaving him to drown. That would be murder, and Kit was certainly no murderer.
‘We must tell the authorities, his friends. Sparky will need to be told. And Flitch, and. . .’
‘No!’ Again Kit gave her a little shake of exasperation. ‘You’ll tell no one, d’you hear me? No one’s going to believe it wasn’t deliberate. If they hear we had a fight, they’ll be sure to think the worst, then they’ll blame me. Next thing you know they’ll be stringing me up on the gibbet.’
‘Oh, goodness me, that must never happen.’ Ruby was appalled at the very idea.
‘Why would they believe in my innocence, an ex-reformatory lad? Nay, Ruby, you know well enough how it is. I’d be done for.’ Kit placed a finger against her lip. It smelled of tar and coal dust but she made no protest, mesmerised as she was by the urgency of his gaze and the fear in his voice. ‘You say nothing. Is that clear? Bloody n
owt!’
She swallowed, fighting for breath, and for some sort of calm in her head, but she seemed to be incapable of a single rational thought, could find no voice, nor anything to say.
He gripped her chin between finger and thumb. ‘I’d never hurt you, Ruby. He got that all wrong, jumping to conclusions just because of my past history. He thought the worst, same as they all do. You believe in me, pet, don’t you? You understand how it is.’ There was an edge to his panic which finally penetrated the cloying layer of mist that separated her from reality.
‘Yes, Kit. I understand. And of course I believe in you. I swear I’ll not say a word.’
His shoulders sagged with relief as he gathered her in his arms. Ruby was weeping again, this time out of an indescribable sense of loss.
Ruby was so afraid for Kit that when anyone asked, she said that Bart had had to go away on urgent business. She made no mention of the fight. Kit slipped quietly away that very first morning before dawn and kept out of sight. They agreed not to meet again until the weekend when he would come to the house on Quay Street. He promised to bring Pearl with him.
Day after day Ruby walked the canal towpath, her frozen body wrapped in a shawl. She felt numb, as if she were standing outside herself, watching herself search every clump of weeds, every turn in the canal, every strut beneath the railway arches. When Sparky appeared, as usual, ready for work, she put him off, telling him there was no work just now and that Bart had gone away for a while. He looked dumbfounded, as well he might. Ruby was filled with pity for him.
‘No work?’ he’d repeated, looking shocked. ‘Nay, lass, that’s a bit of a rum do. Me and Aggie depend upon the work we get from t’baron. Are you saying I have to look elsewhere?’
‘It might not be a bad idea Sparky. Just till Bart gets back - from - wherever it is he’s gone.’
‘Eeh, it’s a bad job is that. I can’t afford to lose work.’ But he didn’t argue, just hunched his shoulders with philosophical resignation and turned away. Then a thought struck him and he turned back to her. ‘It hasn’t anything to do with that bit o’ business I did for him the other day, has it?’
‘What bit of business was that, Sparky?’
‘About your Pearl.’
‘Pearl? What about our Pearl?’
A shadow crossed his face as he suddenly remembered his promise to say nothing. ‘Aw, nowt important. I forget now, exactly. I’m sure the baron knows what he’s doing. He generally does.’ Then, brightening, he said, ‘Tell you what, I’ll come back next week. How will that do? Happen he’ll be back by then.’
‘All right, Sparky. Happen he will.’ She couldn’t bear to let poor Sparky down, nor his wife and children, yet how could she tell him the truth and risk a fate even more terrible for poor Kit?
After Sparky had gone, Ruby gave no further thought to whatever bit of business it might have been that concerned Pearl. She’d learned long ago not to take Pearl’s little dramas too seriously. It would be nothing. And Sparky himself was ever one to make a mountain out of a molehill. Nor did she hang around waiting for him to call again. Seeing as there was nothing more she could do to find Bart, she fled to the house on Quay Street.
Here she lit the range, the day being cold and drizzly with rain, and did what she always did when she was upset, she began to clean. She’d already cleaned the tug from stem to stern in the last few days of endless waiting, now she set about the little house with equal energy. Taking each room in turn she turned out all the furniture, scrubbed floors, beat carpets, dusted, swept, even washed the net curtains all over again. Only when everywhere was spick and span and the washing line crowded with blowing clothes, did she brew herself a pot of tea and stop to take stock.
What now? She couldn’t go on cleaning, or playing this game of pretence and denial forever. Everything had changed. Bart had gone, and she couldn’t quite work out how she felt about that, or what she should do about it. The terrible accident seemed too incredible to have any connection with the stark reality of her life. She kept expecting him to walk through the door at any minute, an expression of mock triumph on his face, pleased to have scared the wits out of her.
‘Aye, you’ve certainly done that,’ she would shout at him. Oh, she’d give him what for, she would really.
Ruby stooped to poke the fire and riddle the coals, a task she’d performed only a second before. But then she still couldn’t seem to get any warmth into her bones. She felt ice cold inside, even as her nerve endings tingled as if they were on fire. She paced backwards and forwards in the tiny living-kitchen, arms wrapped about herself in utter and complete misery. She wiped the already clean slop stone, dusted the spotless mantel-shelf before wandering into the front parlour to tweak a tapestry cushion, or twitch a curtain. Then she padded upstairs to smooth the green silk coverlet on the great double bed where so often Bart had made love to her.
She recalled his explosion of jealousy over Kit some weeks ago, the night he’d ‘rescued’ her from the ship. And the last memorable occasion, a more tender coupling, almost as if he’d known it was a farewell.
For some reason this brought a rush of tears to her eyes and, in despair, Ruby put her hands to her face, desperately trying to shut her mind to the memories crowding in. Her cheeks were wet with tears and she wiped them away with the flat of her hands. Without realising it, she’d been quietly weeping while she worked. Wearily she went back downstairs to brew herself a fresh pot of tea, the other having gone quite cold.
She’d barely taken a sip when there came a knocking on the front door. Ruby flew to answer it, hoping against hope it was him, only to discover Pearl standing on the doorstep. She was prettily, if garishly dressed in a kingfisher blue crepe silk dress with an emerald green bolero and matching hat. And if Ruby momentarily wondered how her young sister could possibly afford such magnificence, she pushed the thought aside. She was so delighted by the sight of her sister’s dear face that she burst into noisy, gulping sobs.
‘Oh, Pearl, I’m that glad to see you.’
The two sisters embraced awkwardly then Pearl settled herself comfortably in the only easy chair in the kitchen while Ruby refreshed the tea with scalding hot water. Pearl seemed fidgety and nervous, affected by events, no doubt, as they all were.
‘I’ve heard about the accident. How did it happen?’ she wanted to know. ‘Kit says there was a fight. Did you speak to him - to Bart, I mean, not Kit? Did he say anything?’
‘About what? There wasn’t much time for conversation. He’d been out all day, and it all happened so quick.’ Ruby set a mug of steaming tea in Pearl’s hand. She sipped at it quickly before setting it to one side and leaning forward, her face tight with concern.
‘So what was the fight about? Were they having a row? Why were they arguing? It wasn’t about me, was it?’
Ruby finally lost patience. ‘For goodness’ sake, Pearl, you may find this hard to believe but the entire world does not revolve around you! We don’t spend our entire lives talking about you, or looking for you or even thinking about you, let alone fighting about you. Some of us have problems of our own to worry over.’
Seeing Pearl’s face crumple and the tears well, Ruby momentarily closed her eyes as if silently praying for strength, then setting down her mug of tea untouched, she went to put her arms about her sister. ‘I’m sorry, love. Take no notice. I’m not meself today. Proper crosspatch I am. Well, look at you, pretty as a picture. Where are you off to, love, somewhere nice?’
Ignoring the question, Pearl continued, ‘You’d tell me if there was anything - particular - you were worrying over, wouldn’t you, our Ruby?’
Ruby studied her sister’s face, struggling to damp down the fresh burst of anger that rose in her chest like a hot balloon, swelling and expanding till it threatened to explode at any moment. Could she really be asking such a naive question? What was it about Pearl that forever brought Ruby to the limits of her patience, despite loving the bones of her? But where was the point in allowing
it to consume her? Nothing would ever alter her sister’s self-absorbed view of life.
Even so, there was a trace of bitter irony in the tone of Ruby’s reply. ‘No, Pearl, there’s nothing in particular I’m worried about. Oh, maybe the fact that my husband has fallen overboard into the canal, probably knocked himself out and drowned. And Kit could well be accused of his murder as a result. But apart from that, no, I’d say there’s nothing to worry about at all.’
Kit came on Friday, as promised, although he came alone, declaring that Pearl couldn’t come as she was otherwise occupied.
Ruby groaned. ‘She hasn’t taken offence, has she, over what I said the other day about the world not revolving around her?’
Giving a snort of laughter, Kit shook his head. ‘Hide as thick as a rhinoceros, our Pearl. Why, did you have words?’
Ruby pulled a face. ‘Just a few. Sometimes I could wring her neck for being so flippin’ selfish, even if she is my own sister. Our Pearl is quite incapable of seeing any other problem beyond her own. She was like that as a child, but she gets worse as she gets older, not better.’ A thought struck her. ‘Did she call at your rooms to tell you she wasn’t coming over?’
‘No,’ Kit hastily fabricated. ‘I popped in the pub.’
‘What is it she does there, serve behind the bar?’
‘Aye, that’s it. Pulling pints all night she is. They keep her pretty busy.’ And then he added as an afterthought, ‘She sends her love.’
‘Aw, bless her, she does have a sweet nature you see, underneath.’ Ruby’s eyes filled with a gush of tears, as they were wont to do these days, now that the first shock was receding. She’d felt proper queasy this morning when she got up first thing, though was it any wonder after all that had happened?
‘I know we were always at odds. Me and Bart, I mean. I never asked to wed him, and he wasn’t your normal sort of man. He was a bit of an eccentric, full of more secrets and schemes than I cared to know about. But he never hurt me. In his way, he was good to me. He took me out of the reformatory, fed me, clothed me, gave me the opportunity to work with him on the barges and . . .’
Ruby McBride Page 24