Nobody’s Darling Read online

  Nobody’s Darling

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Part Two

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Part Three

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Part Four

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Copyright

  For Chloe Louise, our first grandchild.

  A sweet darling, long awaited

  Also, a loving thought for little Alexander,

  who will never be forgotten

  Part One

  1890

  The Promise

  ‘His lordship may compel us to be equal upstairs,

  But there will never be equality in the servants’ hall’

  J.M. Barrie 1860 – 1937

  Chapter One

  ‘Don’t go putting on airs and graces, my girl. Fame and riches ain’t fer the likes of us, and you’d do well to remember that.’ Lizzie Miller shook her head and blew out a sigh. ‘God help us, but I can’t help wondering what’s gonna become of yer,’ she muttered impatiently.

  Seated in the old horse-hair armchair, with the contented bairn sucking at her flat drooping breast, Lizzie had been secretly watching her eldest daughter for these past ten minutes or so. Not for the first time she wondered how someone as plain and unbecoming as herself could ever have given birth to such a perfect and lovely child as Ruby. The girl didn’t take after her, and was unlike any of the other childer. All the same, Lizzie thanked the good Lord for sending her such a precious little parcel. But, oh, wasn’t it shocking how quickly the young ’uns grew up? she asked herself now.

  Going on fifteen years old, Ruby was already showing the signs of womanhood. On a Friday night when all the childer were washed in the old tin tub, Lizzie had been astonished at the changes in her daughter’s body; the small budding nipples and the fine dark hairs just poking through above her private parts; the way she seemed suddenly to be losing the awkwardness of a child, and gaining that special grace with which some young women are blessed. With her small shapely figure, the abundant spill of rich brown hair and those magnificent blue-black eyes, it was plain to see that Ruby Miller was set to be a beauty. And, for some reason she couldn’t rightly fathom, Lizzie was fearful for the girl. It was true what they said about there always being at least one child who would cause a mother the greatest worry, because of all her brood – and there were six of them – it was Ruby who gave her the worst sleepless nights.

  Surprised and embarrassed, Ruby swung round. ‘Oh, Mam!’ she cried, blushing bright pink as though she’d been caught in the act of thieving. ‘You’ve been peeking at me again.’ Lately it seemed that her mam was always peeking at her.

  ‘It ain’t surprising that I’m fascinated with yer comical antics, is it, eh?’ Lizzie asked with a chuckle, thinking Ruby looked the grandest little lady in the cast off clothes which she herself had worn as a young woman; the long flouncing skirt with its deep frilly hem, the cream-coloured shawl with pretty lace workings all round the edge, and a big-brimmed hat decorated with long black feathers above large silk flowers. In that moment, Lizzie realised with a little shock that she hadn’t always been ugly and clumsy. When Ruby’s dad came courting her some eighteen years ago, she had been thin enough for him to encircle her waist with one arm. She was twenty-one then, foolish and full of dreams. Now she was going on forty, with six young ’uns round her arse, and a waist as far round as the gas works at the end of Albert Street. Life hadn’t been easy, what with three childer taken young by the whooping cough, and always a struggle to make ends meet. Yet, for all that, the thought of her husband Ted brought a warm glow to Lizzie’s tired heart. ‘Yer a pretty little thing, our Ruby,’ she said now, ‘an’ yer deserve pretty things.’

  Ruby looked thoughtful as she chewed her bottom lip and thought on her mam’s words. Presently she said softly, ‘Dad says you looked lovely when you were young.’

  ‘Aye, well, yer dad’s a silly ol’ bugger,’ Lizzie laughed. ‘Anyway, he were in love, an’ it’s a known fact that fellas are daft as brushes when they’re in love.’

  ‘But you did look lovely, didn’t you, Mam?’ Ruby insisted. She couldn’t imagine her dad being ‘daft as a brush’. And anyway, sometimes, when her mam smiled at the babby, Ruby thought how pretty she really was; and when she raised her face for a kiss from Ruby’s dad, Lizzie’s soft hazel-coloured eyes sparkled like jewels. Anybody could see that she had been a good-looking woman, and Ruby wouldn’t have it any other way. ‘I expect you think I’m fancying myself, don’t you?’ she asked, shame washing through her; if her mam had taught her anything, it was that she must never get carried away with grand ideas. Ruby found that very hard because she had so many ‘grand’ ideas, and the greatest of all was that one day, she might somehow be able to give her mam and dad a better life. Day and night, she never lost sight of that dream, although she was careful not to say it out loud to anyone, not even to Johnny Ackroyd.

  ‘Aw, bless yer heart, it don’t matter if yer fancy yerself in yer mam’s old togs,’ Lizzie told her, carefully shifting the babby from one shrivelled titty to the other. ‘So long as yer don’t forget yer station in life, it don’t hurt to pretend, just a little bit. Only don’t forget what yer mam’s allus told yer.’ She shook her grey head and stared hard at the girl. ‘It don’t do no good to spend yer life dreamin’ for what yer can never have, lass. Wishing for the stars can only end in heartbreak. The plain truth is that when yer born poor, yer meant to end yer days the same way, an’ that’s a fact.’

  ‘Who says so?’ Try as she might, Ruby had never seen the reason for that.

  ‘I say so, my girl!’ In the early days, Lizzie had dreamed her own dreams, and had been bitterly disappointed when they came to nothing. She had never revealed her own secret longings, and she never would. But she didn’t want any child of hers to suffer the feeling of being ‘second-best’, in the same way she had. In time Lizzie had come to accept her lot, and now she wanted her young ’uns to do the same. ‘Wanting what you can’t have is a sure way to hating what the good Lord has already seen fit to give you,’ she retorted sharply. She didn’t like putting Ruby down in that way, but she believed it was for the best. There was something about the girl, that strong, deep-down yearning. Such ambitions were dangerous.

  ‘But, I like to dream, Mam,’ Ruby said wistfully. She dropped the hat on to a chair, then slipping out of the garments, sat opposite her mam by the empty firegrate. ‘I don’t think the Good Lord would mind me wishing, ’cause I don’t want him to give me anything for nothing. I’ll work hard, Mam, I promise, and I won’t be bad. All I want is for you and our dad to have lots of nice things, like you deserve.’ She smiled widely. ‘Oh, our mam, wouldn’t it be lovely if the childer could have grand presents of a Christmas, and if our Lottie could have a pretty white shawl like the grocer’s babby?’ She lowered her gaze until it rested on her mam’s face, and the magnificent blue-black eyes were dark and serious. ‘I don’t think it can be wrong, wanting special things for people you love. And I don’t think it’s wrong wanting to live in a house where the rats don’t come in from the brook and run round the young uns’ legs when they’re playing in the yard.’

  ‘Well, it is wrong!’ Lizzie yelled. ‘And I don’t want to hear you talking like that, d’yer understand? Get rid o’ them fancy bloody ideas, my girl… else I’ll have to ask yer dad to knock ’em out of yer.’ Ruby put Lizzie in mind of herself when she was younger, and it frightened her. ‘D’yer hear what I’m saying?’ she insisted. ‘Yer ain’t rich and famous, and yer never will be.’

  It took a moment for the girl to answer. In her young heart she was convinced that she was right, but she wouldn’t upset her darling mam, not for all the world, she wouldn’t. ‘I’m sorry, Mam,’ she said, wounded, her gaze falling away to the threadbare mat. There was bitterness in her then, and it tasted nasty. She was angry and hurt. Part of her wanted to promise that she would never again think above her station, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Her dreams were too precious, and the thought that one day she might make them come true was too fierce inside her. Sometimes in the middle of the night, when it was dark and she lay in her chilly bedroom listening to the fidgeting and snoring of the other childer, it was only her dreams that kept hope alive. She couldn’t give them up. They were too much a part of her.

  Getting up from the chair, Ruby came to kneel at her mam’s feet, and there was such love in her eyes that it made the woman ashamed. ‘I’m sorry, our mam. I didn’t mean to make you mad at me,’ she said, stretching out her hand to stroke the infant’s sleeping face. There was so much more she could have said, but not now, because the words wouldn’t come easy. She could have said how she hated to see her dad come home from work worn and weary; she could have explained how sad it made her when little Lottie was laid to bed in an old orange box instead of a proper cot. She might have reminded her mam about the ragged clothes that the childe
r went to school in and how the other kids from better families made fun of them. And what of Mam herself? When was the last time she had had something new to wear? When did she last go out and enjoy herself? Why was there never enough money to buy that dear woman a new frock or a pair of boots? Ruby had thought and thought about all of these things, and it only made her all the more determined. She wanted to speak of it, but she knew it would only hurt her mam all the more so said nothing except: ‘I do love you, Mam.’ She saw Lizzie’s gaze soften, and her young heart was full.

  One glance at Ruby’s downcast face had warned Lizzie that she might have been too harsh. No mother should have a favourite, but if she was to tell the truth and shame the devil, Lizzie would have had to admit to herself that her first-born was closer to her than the five that came after – although hell and high water could never drag that admission from her. Lowering the sleeping child to her ample lap, she fastened her blouse and smiled at the girl. ‘Aw, lass,’ she said in a gentler voice, ‘I’m sorry an’ all, ’cause I should never ’ave shouted at yer like that. Yer know I wouldn’t ask yer dad to do any such thing as knock yer about… not that he ever would,’ she added with a wry little chuckle. The laughter died away and she was serious again. ‘But I want yer to listen hard to what I’m saying, sweetheart. Dreamin’ and wishing can make yer bitter if yer let them get out of hand. Oh, I expect it don’t do no harm to pretend now and then. But, yer have to know which is pretending and which is real.’ She hoped she was making herself understood.

  ‘I know what you mean, Mam,’ Ruby assured her. ‘And I do know the difference.’

  Lizzie was visibly relieved. ‘That’s all right then,’ she said, ‘just so long as yer know.’ She struggled forward in the chair and waited for Ruby to stand up before placing the child in her outstretched arms. ‘Mek her comfortable, lass,’ she instructed. ‘Then yer can help yer mam get summat on the table afore yer dad comes home from his work.’

  Lizzie watched with pride as Ruby pressed the infant close to her, making for the makeshift cot in the corner. Here she laid the child down and fussed about it for a while, tucking its legs beneath the patched eiderdown and stroking its face with tender fingers. There was no doubt that Ruby was very special… ‘An old head on young shoulders’ was how her dad described her, and he wasn’t far wrong. Lizzie deeply regretted the harsh scene that had just taken place between her and the lass, and was eager to make amends.

  ‘Set the table, sweetheart,’ she instructed, ‘then see if yer can round the others up for their teas. Afterwards, yer can fancy yersel’ all yer like.’ She strutted across the floor, mimicking the manner of a fine lady. ‘Oh, la de da!’ she said in a grand voice, clasping the girl to her when they both collapsed with laughter. ‘Only don’t break that there mirror with all yer rouge and finery,’ she warned, ‘’cause it were a present from yer old Irish granmer. I don’t want the ol’ bugger turning in her grave when that mirror cracks from top to bottom at the sight of you in yer old mam’s long begones. We don’t want the divil to come down on us with a sack full o’ bad luck, do we, eh?’ she teased.

  ‘No. It’s all right, thanks, Mam,’ came the reply. Ruby looked into her mam’s hazel eyes, putting the fear of God in her when she said firmly, ‘Your clothes are lovely, Mam, but they’re not mine. And you needn’t worry about Granmer’s mirror because I’ll put it back in the cupboard where it’ll be safe. The next time I look in it, I’ll be wearing my own finery.’ Realising she had said more than she intended, she promised, ‘I’ll put the clothes back upstairs when Lottie settles.’

  ‘Aye, you do that, lass,’ Lizzie told her softly. When Ted came home, happen she would persuade him to have a quiet word with his daughter.

  ‘Isn’t she lovely, our mam?’ Ruby was fascinated with the infant. When her mam had gone into labour with this latest addition to the Miller family, Ruby had been the only one there and so she had seen the whole birth from beginning to end. It was an experience she would not easily forget.

  ‘Yer all lovely,’ Lizzie retorted. And you most of all, she thought, gazing at the dark brown tumbling hair and the sparkling blue-black eyes that looked on the tiny infant with such wonder. In that moment Lizzie knew instinctively that never again would Ruby dress up in her mam’s old clothes. Never again would she allow others to see her ‘pretending’. It was a sad thing but suddenly she knew that her little girl was gone forever. It was another stage in Ruby’s development, another step towards being a woman.

  ‘Take the things back upstairs then, and put them in the box where you found ’em,’ Lizzie said. She watched the girl a moment longer; loving her all the more when the child began crying and Ruby’s soft lilting voice sang her back to sleep. It made a very special picture for Lizzie, one that she would cherish ’til the end of her days.

  Still singing, Ruby gathered the clothes together and went up the stairs two at a time. In a minute she was running back down, and in another could be heard at the front door, calling out to the childer, ‘Come on, you lot. Mam says you’ve to get washed for your teas.’

  Lizzie smiled to herself and shook her head. ‘Kids!’ she moaned. ‘Nowt but trouble.’ Taking a small oval tin from her pocket, she opened the lid and with finger and thumb pinched out a generous helping of the brown snuff, afterwards pushing it up into her nostrils and coughing from the shock. Taking snuff was a weakness of Lizzie’s and she rarely did it in public, although the tell-tale brown signs beneath her nose were an obvious giveaway. ‘By! That’s some strong stuff,’ she spluttered, quickly putting away the tin before the childer should come rushing in through the door.

  Glancing at the mantelpiece clock, she was astonished to see that already it was nearly five o’clock. In less than an hour her husband would be home, wanting his tea after a hard day’s work. She hurried into the scullery where she filled the big old black kettle to the brim with water. As usual when she placed it on the gas ring, Lizzie stood well back. The rusty ring had an unnerving habit of spitting and popping the minute a lighted match was put to it. All the same, this was the time of day she loved best; when Ted was on his way home, and soon all the family would sit round the table, cosy in each other’s company. Lizzie smiled at the thought. The sight of her man seated at the head of the table always gave her a rush of pleasure. It was strange how she and Ted could still be so much in love after all these years of ups and downs and so many childer between. A feeling of warmth and contentment spread over her as she went about her work.

  But suddenly a strange premonition rippled through her, and somehow she couldn’t seem to settle inside herself. It was a peculiar feeling, an instinct that something awful was waiting to happen; and yet there was no rhyme or reason as to why she should think it, unless it was because of those few hasty words with Ruby just now. ‘Aw, stop worrying about the lass,’ she muttered. ‘Yer daft ol’ bugger, Lizzie Miller! She’ll sort herself out, you see if she don’t.’ Then she launched herself into the business of peeling the onions, and in spite of the burning tears streaming down her face, was soon in a happier mood.

  * * *

  The foundry buzzer rudely interrupted the men. It was six o’clock; another back-breaking shift was over and already the night workers were beginning to filter in. One by one the men put down their tools and stretched their weary limbs. With grim expressions and tired eyes, they began the slow, hazardous journey along the narrow terraces, a long snaking line of dark-blue overalls and dirty faces, all heading for the fresh air and daylight beyond that awful place. Hell itself could hold no greater horror than the foundry. Immediately below the terraces, monstrous cauldrons roared hungrily, deep bubbling furnaces of unimaginable heat with wide-open mouths and licking tongues of flame; the slightest mistake, one foot wrong, and the cost was too horrifying to contemplate. Only a few years before, two men standing on a platform lost their footing and fell into the glowing mass beneath. There was no saving them. There was nothing anyone could do.

  From the higher reaches, the manager oversaw the change of shift, his sharp eyes surveying each man as he passed beneath. When the small balding fellow came within hearing, the manager called out to him, ‘Ted! Ted Miller.’ When the little fellow stopped and looked up, he would have called again, but the roar of the fires below was almost deafening. Instead he made a sign, jerking his thumb backwards to indicate that he wanted Ted to come up to the office. He waited for a nod of acknowledgement before returning to the relative safety of his tiny office. Here he sat down behind the desk and waited.