Night's Child (26 page)

Ruby was trembling, as much with fear and cold as with sorrow, but she whispered, “Oh Miss Georgina, I am dreadful sorry to hear it.”

“Fortunately for her, another family, who had lost their only child, took her in. They prospered when they came to Toronto, which was why Mama was able to make such a good match when she grew up.” She smiled at the girl. “But I am giving you such a long face. That part of the story is a happy one and I shall tell it to you another day. You looked perished, you poor little mite.” She lifted the quilt. “Why don’t you get into Mama’s bed. It will keep you both warm. I’m going to stir up the fire and sit in the armchair for a while. She’s be right as rain in the morning, you’ll see.”

Ruby did as she was told. Mrs. Crofton’s body was warm under the covers and soft. The older woman stirred for a moment and pulled her close, whispering drowsily, “What would we do without our precious jewel, Georgina? What a comfort she is.”

Georgina blew out the candle and went to the big armchair by the fire. It wasn’t long before Ruby heard her light snore. Mrs. Crofton’s breathing deepened and she knew that they were both sound asleep.

She lay watching the shadows of the flames flicker on the wall until the fire died down. The feather pillow smelled faintly of the lavender water that Mrs. Buchanan sprinkled on the pillowcase when she was doing the ironing. Mrs. Crofton was lying against her and her breath was on her neck. Ruby cautiously touched the silk of her mistress’s nightgown.

She had a good idea why Mrs. Crofton had dreamed what she had. She had met that evil man who took pleasure in others’ suffering. Ruby covered her ears with her hands as if she were blocking out cries. No matter what happened, she would never give up this sanctuary she had found. There was nothing she could do.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE

R
alph Tibbett stroked his wife’s breast, swollen with milk, the nipple dark. Kate was half asleep but instinctively shifted to make herself more available. As if sensing the movement, the smaller twin woke up, snuffled, then started to wail.

“Leave him,” whispered Ralph into Kate’s neck. But the brother was disturbed and he woke too.

“I’ve got to see to them,” said Kate and she rolled away.

Ralph caught her arm. “Let them cry. They’ll fall asleep in a minute.”

Kate hesitated, reaching down to rock the cradle beside the bed. Her nipples were already oozing milk in response to the infants and both babies smelled it, making jerking movements with their arms as if they would get right out of the cradle and grab hold of her.

“I’ll feed them first.”

She sat up in the bed, pulled the pillow onto her lap, and picked up Jacob, who immediately stopped crying. She laid him on the pillow so he could latch on to her right breast and took the other infant, James, out of the cradle and placed him at the left breast.

Ralph was propped on his elbow, watching. “You spoil them,” he said.

Kate tried to smile at him although she quailed at the disapproval in his voice. “Ma always said there’s no use in letting a babe cry itself into a fit. They’re much happier if they know I’m here.”

“And your husband would be much happier if he had a wife he could count on.”

“I’m sorry, Ralph. I can’t help it.”

“Can’t you? I don’t know about that.”

“It’s true. I was so sore at first and then…I don’t get much sleep.” She glanced over at him with a sudden uncharacteristic resentment. “You aren’t here when it’s the worst.”

“Thank goodness for that.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I said I’d be in to work early anyway. Did you wash my shirt?”

“Yes, it’s in the wardrobe.”

He got up and padded across the floor. “It’s bloody cold in here.”

“We’re almost out of coal. You said you’d bring a bucketful in last night.”

The twins were slowing down on the suckling, their cheeks flushed with pleasure and exertion. Kate watched her husband as he dressed. He’d got fatter since they’d married. The handsome young lad she had fallen so wildly in love with seemed to be vanishing daily. But she was filled with yearning.

“Ralph, can you stay a bit longer? I get so lonesome when you’re not here.”

“Do you? You have the babies, how can you be lonesome?” His tone was mocking. “Don’t tell me you don’t love those little ones. I thought they were your heart’s delight.”

“They are, of course they are, but sometimes I am so tired and I have just fallen asleep when one or the other wakes up. And then I could scream, Ralph. I feel so bad about that but I can’t help myself. I do love them so much but I think if I could just have a rest, I’d feel better. That’s not wicked, is it? If you could only mind them for me for just a few hours, sometimes. Please, Ralph. They’re your children too.”

“Are they? I hope so.”

He was standing in front of the washstand fastening his silk cravat. He watched her in the mirror. “Oh don’t fret so, Kate. You know I’m just trying to get some extra money for us. That’s why I work so much.”

“That’s a new tie, isn’t it? We could buy two buckets of coal for what you spent on that.”

She’d never challenged him before, and they were both momentarily surprised at her outburst. Ralph picked up a jar of pomade and applied a good helping to his hair. “It is new to me but not new bought. You know how important it is that I look up to scratch. He gave it to me.”

He had no need to say who “he” referred to. His employer was a real go-getter, as Ralph described him. Kate was growing to hate this man she’d never met because of the unpredictable and, to her mind, often unjustified demands he put on Ralph’s time. Ralph was vague about his duties, which he said varied but were generally in the realm of helping customers. He was just as vague about his weekly wage. Unfortunately, his job as night watchman at the Brewery was also unpredictable, sometimes he was called in and sometimes he wasn’t. And he’d made her swear not to reveal to anybody that he was employed there. He was embarrassed at having to do such a menial job, a far cry from the glamour of the office and the swell clients. He only did it so he could provide for his family, he said, but Kate, in her rare honest moments, had to admit she seldom saw the extra money.

Kate placed Jacob back in his cradle. James snuffled but then relapsed into sleep as well and she put him in the other end.

“Can you come back to bed now, Ralph?”

“Don’t be silly, Kate. I’m dressed. It’s too late.” He came over to the bed and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Look, I promise I’ll bring home some coal or at least the money to buy some.”

“When will you be home?”

“Late, I’m afraid. We have an important client coming in from Hamilton and I have to be on my toes. I’ll be needed.” He took a dollar out of his pocket and put it on the dresser. “Here. Get Ben to fetch more coal for you.”

Kate got out of bed. “He’ll be going to school in a minute. You’d better ask him now.”

“All right, I will. Bye, Kate, no need to fret. Things are looking up for us.”

She didn’t trust herself to answer.

Ralph went into the hall just as Ben was coming down the stairs.

“Morning to you, lad. Off to school, are you?”

The boy nodded. He was muffled in a long ratty-looking scarf but he had no gloves or hat and bare leg was visible between the top of his boots and his too-short trousers.

“Tell you what. I’m going in that direction. I’ll walk a ways with you.”

Ralph led the way outside, pulling his soft lamb’s wool muffler around his chin. His gloves were fur-lined pig skin. They walked on for a bit, then Ralph said, “Where’s your sister? I haven’t seen her recently. Not ill, is she?”

“She’s staying with Martha.”

“And where would that be?”

“I don’t know, sir. She’s never told us.”

A gust of cold wind made Ralph jam his astrakhan hat more tightly on his head. Ben tried to wrap the thin muffler around his face. Ralph tapped him on the shoulder.

“If you don’t mind me saying, young fellow, you could do with some warm clothes.”

Ben didn’t answer.

“Tell you what,” continued Ralph. “How would you like a job? No, I’m speaking God’s truth. Why don’t you come along with me? It don’t matter if you’re a bit late for school. We’ll think up a good excuse.”

The boy looked at him doubtfully.

“What sort of job?”

Ralph beamed down at him. “Well, I work for this real toff, you see. It’s very well-paid work.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a sort of jack of all trades. Somebody needs meeting at the train station, I’m there. Need a good-looking sort of fellow, I’m your man. Very varied kind of job. But you know he’s so busy these days that he said to me the other day, he said, ‘Ralph, I could do with a bit of extra help. Do you know of any lad might be willing to run errands a few times a week?’ So I thought to myself, ‘By Jove, I do know a lad who might be willing to make himself a bit of dash.’ And you’re the lad I have in mind, Ben.”

Another pause. They were almost at the corner of Sydenham and Sackville, where the boy had to turn for school.

“Is it against the law what he wants me to do?”

Ralph clapped him on the shoulder and burst out laughing. “What a bright lad you are, Ben, I knew it. No flies on you. But no, of course, it ain’t against the law. I wouldn’t ask you to do anything that’d get you into trouble. But I wager this job would bring you enough for a hat and some gloves. And if you do it properly and prove you are a reliable lad, there might be more work and you can get some socks and new boots. Those you’ve got on wouldn’t look good on a stiff.”

At the corner where he would normally turn to go to school, Ben halted.

“All right,” he said.

“That’s my lad,” said Ralph and he rubbed the boy’s shorn head. “It’s a bit of a walk but it’ll do us good. Get some colour into those pale cheeks of yours.” He took Ben’s arm. “Heigh ho, now let’s think of what we will tell your teacher.”

CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR

N
ight and morning hadn’t quite changed places, the station lamps were fully lit, and Murdoch experienced his usual tug of pleasure at the sight. From the beginning, when he was merely a constable, he had loved the job despite the dull hours of walking the beat. He liked being in a world that was both outside of society and paradoxically at its very heart. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else. This was why he could understand Seymour’s being so disturbed by the malicious anonymous letters. He and the sergeant shared the same loyalty to their work and colleagues. And he was about to put that loyalty into operation.

This early in the day, the main hall of the station was empty of any miscreants shifting their rear ends on the polished bench. The stove was hot, and the smell of burning coal mingled with the lingering sour odours of fear and poverty. Fresh sawdust on the floor was needed by the look of it. The duty sergeant, Gardiner, was sitting behind the high charge desk, writing in the day book.

“Hello, Will. Don’t tell me you’ve been ill too. We didn’t see you yesterday.”

“I’ve been working, sergeant, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried. It’s just that we’re short-handed with Seymour off sick. I wondered if it was something catching that was going around.”

“Could be. You’d better wear your flannels.”

Murdoch hung up his hat and coat and strolled over to the desk where Callahan was pecking at the typewriter. He slapped him on the back.

“Come on, Liam. You can’t have lost your skill overnight. Or did you get a mote in your eye?”

Callahan’s fair skin flushed making his freckles vanish. “No, I was just being careful.”

“Good idea. But probably unnecessary considering how well you performed in the competition.”

Gardiner, who loved a good gossip, overheard as he was meant to.

“What competition you talking about? Shiniest boots?”

“Our young constable here is an expert typewriter. You got a fourth place, didn’t you, Liam?”

Callahan nodded. Gardiner laughed. “I can see why he’s keeping his light under a bushel. You know how things are in here. He’d never get out from that desk if the inspector thinks he’s a prize.”

“That is for certain. He likes his trophies,” said Murdoch. “But I didn’t know you were hungering to be out on the beat, Liam.”

Callahan flashed his boyish smile. “It’s more interesting than sitting here all day.”

“Tell him the truth, Will. In winter, you get frostbite and in summer you bake like bread in an oven but you don’t smell as good. Why he’d want to leave this cushy job, I can’t fathom.”

Murdoch spoke to the sergeant. “Too bad there’s no position open. Especially now that the city council has turned down the chief’s request for more money.” He grinned down at Callahan. “Sorry, lad. Typewriting it is. No advancement for you. Maybe you could train as a Bertillon clerk.”

“No, thank you, sir. I’m quite happy doing what I’m doing.”

“Are you then? I’m glad to hear it.” Murdoch reached in his pocket for his notebook. “Speaking of Bertillon, I’d like you to telephone headquarters for me. I’ve got some measurements on somebody I’d like them to check. We’ve even got a name, so that should make their job easier.”

The Bertillon system the police force used was notoriously difficult to learn and required a skilful and trained clerk.

At that moment, an elderly woman came into the hall. She was neatly dressed in a black bonnet, a brown fur caperine, and black serge skirt. A widow for some years by the look of her. She sent directly to the sergeant.

“I have lost my purse, it may have been stolen from my pocket.”

Gardiner tut-tutted sympathetically. “Let me get the details down, ma’am. We’ll get it back for you.”

Murdoch tore the page of notes from his notebook and gave it to Callahan. “Tell them it’s urgent, will you.” He glanced over his shoulder at Gardiner, who was studiously writing down what the woman was telling him.