Nobody’s Darling

by Nobody’s Darling (retail) (epub)

  Ruby’s heart lifted when she rounded the corner of Fisher Street and there, not too far away, was a familiar figure striding towards her. ‘Dad!’ she yelled excitedly, running over the distance between them. Where’ve you been? Our mam’s worried out of her mind.’

  Breathless, she slipped her hand in his and together the two of them continued with quickening steps, Ruby’s shorter legs doing two strides to Ted’s one. For a while there was silence between them. But then Ruby became impatient for an answer to her question. Looking up, she studied her father’s face; it was grim and tense. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, sensing that he had something to tell. ‘Something’s happened, hasn’t it?’ She could tell from his downcast face.

  Ted reassuringly squeezed her hand, saying firmly, ‘You’re a sharp little thing and no mistake.’ He could never fool this one no matter how hard he might try, and so he admitted as much as he was prepared to. ‘Happen there is summat, sweetheart, but it’s nowt for you to worry about.’ It was a frightening thing to be suddenly out of work, and it was best if he waited until the children were all abed before he talked to Lizzie about it. ‘I expect your mam’s waiting for me with a rolling-pin, eh?’ he asked, forcing himself to laugh out loud when, with a rueful expression on her face, Ruby slowly nodded. Lizzie was right, the lass really did seem to be an old head on young shoulders. ‘We’d best get a move on, he suggested, going at a gentle run and taking her with him. When they reached number twelve, breathless and laughing, the door was flung open and there stood Lizzie.

  ‘What time d’yer call this, Ted Miller?’ she demanded, but the relief in her eyes was unmistakable. ‘And what’s so funny, eh? She glared at Ted, and then at Ruby. All the way down the passage to the back parlour, Lizzie ranted on at them. ‘Shame on the pair of yer… there’s neither of yer deserves any dinner. As for you, you’ve got some explaining to do,’ she told her husband. ‘I’ve been out of my mind… imagining all manner of terrible things happening to yer.’ Anxiety had given way to relief, and now relief had given way to anger. Ted went straight through the parlour, greeting the children as he headed for the scullery where he quickly stripped off and washed himself. He paid little mind to Lizzie’s chastising. After all these years, he knew her well enough to realise that she was only letting off steam.

  Ruby took her place at the table. Like her mam, she too had been anxious, then relieved, but now she was glowing inside because her dad was safely home, and because they had laughed together; although her instincts told her there was trouble brewing. But Ruby didn’t want to think about that now. She looked forward to the times when they were all seated round the table and tonight felt special somehow, though she didn’t know why. She loved the familiar sounds and smells in this house; the sound of splashing water when her dad was having a strip-wash, the smell of her mam’s hot-pot, and that strong aroma of lavender polish and snuff that permeated every room. She even enjoyed her parents’ good-natured bantering, because that was the way they had always been, and she couldn’t imagine them any other way. Outside the factory-sirens called the mill-workers to shift, the high-pitched wails invading the room like uninvited guests at their table. There was nothing of any value in their humble home; thick ageing furniture, a profusion of ornaments on every surface, tatty rag-rugs made by her mam’s own hands, cheery floral curtains, second-hand beds with patch-quilts, a rusty old gas cooker and a crockery cupboard bought from old Joe for a shilling. Nothing grand but it was home.

  Lizzie fetched the large enamel bowl from the oven and placed it on the board in the centre of the table. ‘We’ll wait for yer dad,’ she warned Lenny when the lad reached out with his plate. He didn’t have to wait long because even as Lizzie spoke Ted came in from the scullery. His clean-shaven face was scrubbed rosy and he looked decidedly handsome in his clean white shirt. Smiling at one and all, he went to the head of the table where he seated himself in the carver chair. Bending his head, he folded his hands together and closed his eyes. It was a moment before he spoke, and this was so unusual that the children became restless, opening their eyes and peeking at him from between their fingers. They weren’t to know what was on his mind, how he was wondering whether or not he should thank the Lord at all. After all, his work had just been taken from him, and that wasn’t much to be thankful for was it? He thought about Lizzie then, and about the children, and his faith was restored. ‘Our deepest thanks, Lord,’ he murmured softly. That was all, but it was spoken with such feeling that Lizzie was made to look up and wonder. Later, when the children were in bed, he would tell her the reason for his being late, she knew. It was Ted’s way. But somehow, as she dished out the steaming helpings of hot-pot, she was suddenly afraid.

  After the meal there were the usual protests about having to go to bed. ‘It’s only nine o’clock,’ wailed Lenny. ‘Other lads of my age can stay out ’til dark.’

  ‘I don’t give a fig for what “other lads” do,’ Lizzie retorted with a determined toss of her head, ‘I’ll not have you wandering the streets ’til all hours, and that’s an end to it.’ Another time she might have relented, but not tonight. Not with Ted looking at her in that certain way which told her there were matters to be settled.

  Soon all the children were washed and abed. The younger ones quickly fell asleep but Lenny stubbornly forced himself to stay awake and stare out of the window at the children playing on the cobblestones beneath. Convinced that they had deliberately chosen to play right below his window in order to annoy him, he vowed to dish out a few black eyes at the first opportunity.

  ‘You can leave that,’ Lizzie told her eldest. Every night, after the evening meal, Ruby would clear away and begin the washing up. Tonight, though, Lizzie suspected that her man was itching to tell her something, and from the way he was discreetly glancing at Ruby, it was obvious he didn’t want any of the children to hear.

  ‘It’s all right, Mam, I don’t mind,’ Ruby replied. She piled up the plates and carried them into the scullery.

  Ted followed her, saying in a serious voice, ‘Do as your mam says, luv. You get off and spend a while with yer friend next door but one, but mind you’re back afore dark.’ He tried not to show his anxiety, but it was there, in his voice, and in his eyes which softened to kindness when he smiled on her as the two of them came back into the parlour. ‘I expect young Maureen will be glad to see you. Her dad tells me she’s been asking after you, and it’s all right for her to have visitors now.’ When Ruby seemed hesitant he added with an apologetic little smile, ‘Me and your mam need to talk, d’you see?’

  Ruby did see, and sensed that there was real trouble. She met his gaze with dark steady eyes. ‘All right, Dad,’ she said, lovingly returning his smile. Without another word she departed the room, deliberately leaving the door slightly ajar. Outside in the passageway she lingered a moment, listening for the soft hum of voices. When none came, she hurried along the passage to the front door, where she opened and shut the door with enough noise for them to realise that she was gone from the house. If there was trouble, she would hear about it soon enough, she reckoned. And anyway, the thought of seeing Maureen Ackroyd cheered her up. Three times over the past two weeks Ruby had gone next door but one, and each time she’d been turned away because ‘The lass ain’t fit to see nobody,’ her mam had said. It would be grand to sit and chatter. Maureen always made her laugh.

  Outside, the street was still alive with the sight and sound of busy folk. The cobblestones echoed beneath the wheels of passing wagons, children squealed with delight as they chased each other up and down, and numerous yapping dogs took up pursuit, diving in and out between thin little legs and occasionally pausing to fight playfully and roll about the pavement.

  One shawled woman sat on an upturned box outside her front door, counting her pennies and shouting abuse at her husband, who had the good sense to stay inside where she couldn’t fetch him a right-hander. The immediate neighbour of the Miller family, Ma Collins was well known all over Blackburn, a large for
midable figure in a brown trilby and woollen chequered shawl which folks swore she’d worn every single day for the past ten years. ‘Never been washed yet mended,’ they claimed; which could account for the many holes and stains that made a pattern of their own in the long fringed garment. She sported a handsome dark moustache which made her look more masculine even than the coalman – and he was six foot tall with hands the size of shovels and a back as wide as a tram-car. She was loud and vulgar, and she smelled to high heaven, but if ever there was a birthing, a laying-out, or a pair of strong hands needed to stop a man from strangling his wife, Ma Collins was available. Down the pub of a Saturday night, she was a music hall turn all of her own. She could out-sing, outwrestle and outshout anybody, and she was always good for the lend of a shilling or two – at an exorbitant rate of interest, of. She was a woman of many talents, a good friend and a bad enemy.

  Ma Collins’ unfortunate husband was a tiny nervous fellow whose physical attributes seemed to have withered beneath her insatiable demands. Not a day passed when he wasn’t reminded of his shortcomings. ‘What bloody use are you, eh?’ she yelled out now, as Ruby passed, and for one dreadful minute Ruby thought she was alluding to her. ‘You’re neither use nor sodding ornament!’ she screeched. Suddenly she sprang up from her stool and charged into the house. ‘I’m no fool, you bugger. There’s a woman somewhere, ain’t there? It’s her that’s getting the best from you, ain’t it, eh? By! I swear to God, if ever I find out who she is, I’ll have her bloody eyes on the end of me fingernails!’ Her voice echoed the length of Fisher Street. ‘Look sharp, Bill Collins. Upstairs this minute!’ she ordered. ‘Get your arse up them bloody stairs and let’s see what you’re made of.’ She laughed out loud, and every man in the street thanked the Lord it wasn’t him who’d run up the stairs.

  Ruby was still chuckling when she knocked on her friend’s door. Almost immediately she could hear the sound of footsteps coming along the passage, and when the door opened it was Maureen’s brother who smiled down on her. ‘Ruby! Come to see our Maureen, have you?’ he asked, wishing it was him she’d come to see.

  Johnny Ackroyd was some four years older than Ruby, with coal-black hair and brooding eyes. A well-built lad with handsome gaunt features and long lean limbs, he was the only son and the breadwinner, since his father was always too drunk or too lazy to provide for his own. ‘My mam’s up there with her now, making sure Sis eats something. But I expect it’ll be all right for you to go up,’ he said, opening the door and stepping aside as she came up the steps and into the passage. Ruby would have brushed past him but he closed the door in such a way that she was trapped against the wall.

  ‘Is she better?’ Ruby asked. ‘My dad heard that she could have visitors.’

  Aye, thank God. She’s sitting up and taking notice now. The doctor says she’s to take things easy, but she’s better. You’ll see that for yourself.’ His easy manner was comforting, and when he looked down on her with those smiling dark eyes, Ruby’s heart turned over.

  ‘I’ll go up then, if you’re sure your mam won’t mind?’ She was deeply conscious of his closeness. Things were happening to her lately, things that went on inside her, strange thrilling things that she couldn’t really understand.

  ‘Stay a minute,’ he said, leaning over her, his fingers reaching out to secure a stray lock of her dark brown hair. He knew every inch of her lovely face: the dark blue eyes that were marbled with streaks of black, the wide arched eyebrows and those thick dark lashes, the full mouth that turned gently up at the corners, and the shock of rich brown hair that framed her small heart-shaped face. He loved her. He had always loved her. But he wasn’t yet man enough to know how to deal with this all-consuming emotion. He wanted to reveal all of this to Ruby. He longed to tell her how he dreamed of her at night, and how he made himself imagine what she was doing every minute of the day. He even imagined her without her clothes on, and he was not ashamed. The kind of feelings he had for Ruby were not the kind that brought shame.

  ‘I’d best go up,’ she said. She was confused by those dark brooding eyes and the way he was touching her. She could feel his finger, gentle and loving, shaping the outline of her breast, sending frissons of delight down her spine. She didn’t move away, even though he was no longer blocking her path. Her heart was fluttering, and her insides were churning like her mam’s mangle. Even before he bent his head to kiss her, she knew what he had in mind. His face had coloured up in anticipation and his manner was clumsy, but when his lips came down, warm and soft, melting into hers, her senses reeled, and all manner of longings coursed through her.

  Reluctantly, she pushed him away. Their eyes met and she saw the passion still smouldering in his gaze. She was ashamed then. Ashamed and deeply afraid. That was her first kiss, and she liked it too much. It was never her intention that Johnny Ackroyd should be the very first boy to kiss her; she had always meant to save herself until she thought it was time. Anger spiralled up in her and she opened her mouth to speak, but the words which she might later have regretted were suppressed when another voice intervened. ‘What are you doing there, you two?’ Meg Ackroyd made her way down the stairs, peering into the gloomy passage with inquisitive eyes. Oh, it’s you, Ruby!’ she exclaimed with relief.

  She had known for some time how her son felt about this pretty lass. A mother always knew. Somehow, though, she had an idea that he was setting his cap too high. Young Ruby Miller was a godsend to her mam, and she was a lovely bonny creature, but she would never be satisfied with a tiny back-to-back house and a dozen bairns to keep her down.

  ‘I’m sorry, luv, but you can’t see our Maureen. She’s sleeping just now, and I don’t want her wakened.’ She turned to go into the parlour. Come back tomorrow. She’ll be glad to see you then I know.’

  She sensed the atmosphere and suspected they’d been kissing. A curious little smile flitted across her mouth. ‘A boy yesterday, a man tomorrow,’ she murmured. She only hoped her son wasn’t heading for a broken heart.

  Johnny opened the door to let Ruby out. His voice was low and intimate as he asked shyly, ‘You didn’t mind me kissing you, did, Ruby?’ It was his first kiss too, and he loved her all the more because of it.

  ‘It’s all right, I expect,’ she said, and in spite of a small twinge of regret, her face was still flushed with the pleasure of that wonderful kiss. Unable to bear his dark, searching gaze, she quickly turned away and ran down the road. The knowledge that he watched her all the way gave her an odd feeling of pleasure.

  Ruby was in a lazy, dreamy mood as she came softly into the house and closed the door. She could still feel Johnny’s strong hands on her, and her skin tingled deliciously. Suddenly she couldn’t face her parents, so she went down the passage on soft footsteps. Her curiosity was aroused when she heard what sounded like crying. She paused to listen, but all she could hear were muted tones emanating from the parlour; her mam and dad were still deep in discussion. Something about the timbre of her mam’s voice made her afraid. On tiptoe and holding her breath, Ruby made her way as far as the parlour then pressed herself against the back wall and climbed up the stairs to the third step. Here she sat down, wedged her elbows on her knees, bent her head to her hands and listened hard. She felt no shame at her actions, because this was her family and, for some reason known only to herself, Ruby had taken on responsibility for their welfare.

  ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart,’ her dad was pleading, ‘I’ll get a job the morrow, I swear to God I’ll not be out of work for long.’

  ‘Aye, I know you won’t,’ came Lizzie’s reply. ‘And it ain’t your fault, I know that too.’ She said something then, something that made Ruby sit up and take notice. ‘I can’t make it out though. Why would they finish a good worker like you, eh?’ Before he could answer, her tone hardened. ‘Are you sure it weren’t Oliver Arnold himself who instructed it, to punish yer for complaining about them dangerous platforms?’ She made a noise like a sob. ‘If I thought a fella like that could deliberately
fetch a heap o’ trouble on us heads… well, I reckon I’d swing for the bugger!’

  ‘Aw, to hell with Oliver Arnold! It don’t really matter whether he finished me or not, and harping on it can only create bitterness.’ His tone softened. ‘Come on, Lizzie. We’ve bounced back from worse things than this, ain’t we now, eh?’

  There was a quiet, poignant moment then, a moment when Ruby imagined her dad with his arm round her mam. When Lizzie spoke again, it was in a small trembling voice that belied her words. ‘Yer right, Ted. It ain’t like me to worry over nowt. But we’ve six childer to feed and clothe now.’ Pride surged through her voice. ‘Still… I know we’ll be all right, ’cause I’ve got the grandest fella in the world to take care on us.’ It was the best thing Lizzie could have said to restore Ted’s flagging confidence, because it wasn’t long before the two of them were chuckling and canoodling and he was light-heartedly blaming her for the number of bairns they’d accrued. ‘Yer too pretty, that’s the trouble,’ he complained. ‘A man don’t know how to keep his hands off yer!’ And she laughed like a young bride on her first night.