Ruby McBride (3 page)

‘
Want, want, want. That’s your trouble, miss. Allus asking fer summat. Where is the little blighter? Is that him, dangling over the edge of that dry dock? Heaven help me if it is, I’ll wring his bleedin’ neck with me own fair hands.’

For one split second Ruby thought Mam was about to launch herself through the mass of people and off the end of the quay to do just that, but suddenly a shout went up and, as one, the crowd surged to its feet and began cheering and waving flags, scarves and hats with abandon.

The Queen and her entourage had finally appeared on the scene and there was no hope now of mother and son being reunited until the opening ceremony was finished and the crush had abated.

It was all over. Queen Victoria had made her little trip in the Admiralty yacht the
Enchantress,
sailing a short distance down the Ship Canal from Trafford Wharf to Mode Wheel Locks. The three McBrides had caught an enticing glimpse of the royal party as they’d clattered past afterwards at a brisk pace in a stream of carriages. Now they’d disappeared completely, presumably with other duties to perform before departing from Manchester Exchange Station at about eight o’clock. The huge crowds were starting to disperse. All day they had waited and within minutes the excitement seemed to be over.

But at least Molly had recovered her recalcitrant son. She held him now in a vice-like grip and even while showing him the full measure of her fury with a stream of verbal invective, was happily stroking his hair and checking ever limb for fractures and bruises. Satisfied that he was in no way harmed by his adventure, she gave his bottom a little smack, just to show how frightened she’d been.

Billy opened his mouth as wide as it would go and wailed at the top of his voice, though he could hardly feel the smack through the thick fabric of his trousers. A trail of snot spurted from his nose and, unable to bear the sight of her miserable son for a second longer on this gloriously special day, Molly pulled out a clean bit of rag from her pocket and scrubbed his face till it shone as red and bright as a polished apple. Then she enveloped him in a suffocating hug and swore she would never let him out of her sight again.

Later, this was a promise Ruby would ever remember. For now, she could only laugh at the antics of her mischievous brother, her own eves like stars as she kept repeating, ‘Eeh, weren’t that grand? Did you see the Queen? And the Prince and Princess? Oh, weren’t it grand?’

‘They went too fast to see them properly,’ Pearl complained.
 

‘They can’t hang about for one little girl when they’ve a whole city to visit,’ her mother told her, softening the words with a smile. ‘Come on, time to go.’ For a moment Molly McBride did lose her sparkle and stood absolutely still, gazing down at her three children. looking for all the world as if she were about to burst into tears. for no reason that Ruby could see for hadn’t it been a smashing day. The best she could ever remember. But then, following another fit of coughing, Mam blew her nose and fixed a bright smile on her face.

‘Are we going home for the cocoa and bun-loaf now, Mam?’ Ruby wanted to know.

But Mam only said, ‘Best foot forward. We’re off somewhere very special, though it’s a bit of a route march.’

And so indeed it proved. They walked for what seemed like miles, not back to their own buildings but past Buille Hill Park, out towards Brindleheath and into the countryside beyond. Several times one or other of the three children would stop to wail or whine, to complain of a stitch in their side or to enquire about where, exactly, they were going.

‘Aren’t we going home yet, Mam?’

‘When do we get us cocoa?’

‘Has our Pearl pinched it all for her dips?’ This was a favourite treat for them all, a mix of cocoa and sugar in a twist of paper to take to school, but Pearl had a knack of helping herself to the cocoa tin when she’d a mind. But then Pearl was good at making sure she didn’t miss out on whatever was going. On this occasion she vehemently denied doing any such thing. Molly said nothing, allowing them to rest for short periods and then urging them on again, giving no answers to their many questions.

They finally came to a stop when they reached twin gate posts set into a high wall. Beyond, Ruby could see the grey stone walls of a large house. ‘Where’s this, Mam? Where have you fetched us?’

When no reply came, Ruby glanced up at her mother and her heart gave a little thump of fear to see Mam’s pale face awash with tears. What was wrong? Why was Mam crying? She usually only cried when they talked of the useless men in her life. Ruby couldn’t ever remember seeing her shed a tear for any other reason, particularly not when they were out enjoying themselves. The skin on her mother’s face had gone a sickly grey-green colour and Ruby began to feel truly frightened. Something must be dreadfully wrong. Was she ill? Had her cough grown worse, just in the course of one day, and Ruby hadn’t noticed?

Molly McBride pushed open the big wrought-iron gates and ushered her three children through. The drive was long and straight and by the time they reached the end the last of the light had faded and dusk had fallen. She ordered Pearl and Billy to sit on the step in front of the massive front door, then taking Ruby’s hand led her a short distance away.

‘I want you to be a brave girl and listen to what yer mam has to tell yer. It’s very important, so don’t say a word, just listen carefully.’

Ruby was so terrified by what her mother might be about to say that she couldn’t possibly have found her voice, even if a gun had been held to her head.

Mam’s face was now on a level with Ruby’s own as she hunkered down before her. ‘I’ve got to go in the sanatorium, for me cough. You understand, love? And I’ll not get out next week, nor next month. It’s going to be a long job, months at best, so I must ask you to look after our Pearl and Billy for me. Can you do that?’

Ruby, mesmerised by the tears welling up in her mother’s eyes and yet not spilling over, could only nod.

‘I’ve fetched you here to this lovely house, to be looked after proper. You’ll be safe in this good, clean place, with fresh air and. . .’ She gave a little sob, as if the effort of holding back her tears was almost too much for her. ‘I want you to promise me to be a good girl, to eat up everything they put before you. . .’

But she could go no further. Her words became lost on a choking gasp of anguish and mother and daughter fell into each other’s arms, clinging together in a tight embrace as if nothing and no one could ever tear them apart. So terrible a sight did they make that Pearl and Billy sat like stone, too horrified to move or even shed a tear themselves. Paralysed with fear, they sat and watched the awful spectacle before them as if witnessing the end of the world, which in a way they were, their world anyway.

With a superhuman effort Molly McBride regained control of her emotions, smothered each of her children in a flurry of kisses and hugged them to within an inch of their lives.

‘When you sees me again, I’ll be a different woman. Fit and well and . . .’ Emotion overwhelmed her and, turning, she walked quickly away. Only Ruby could tell, by the way her mam’s shoulders were shaking, that she was still crying.

It was then that the big oak doors opened.

Chapter Three

R
uby stood shivering in flannel petticoat and knickers. She could hear Pearl’s loud, hiccupping sobs as she pulled on long black woollen stockings, though even her sister’s complaints had been silenced by the uncompromisingly stern expression on the woman’s face. She was so tall that Ruby had to tilt back her head in order to see it properly, scarcely visible beneath the wide folds of black and white fabric which comprised the nun’s head-dress. Her long, flowing black skirts were protected by a large apron, and around her neck hung a silver cross. Ruby thought this quite beautiful and, as her mam had been at pains to teach her good manners, she smiled politely at the nun and asked if she might please have her best frock back.

‘Indeed, you may not. And you’ll address me as Sister Joseph, if you please.’

Ruby thought it rather silly for a woman to be given a man’s name, but decided it would be rude to say so. Instead, she watched with sinking heart as their precious sailor frocks were taken, folded and shut away in a drawer. She felt instinctively that would be the last they would ever see of them and felt a raw grief, not so much for the loss of these garments as for the effort her mother had put into them, into ensuring that her little girls were dressed in their best when she delivered them to Ignatius House. Now, all of those dreams had come to nothing. The McBride children had been stripped of their identities and given new ones, the kind which made them
look exactly the same as everyone else. Even at ten years of age, Ruby understood this stark truth. The nun’s next words confirmed her worst suspicions.

‘Your number will be 451, and your sister’s will be 452. See you don’t forget them.’

Ruby gulped on the hard lump that came into her throat. ‘What about our Billy?’

‘He will be 453, of course,’ she was tartly informed.

‘I mean, where is he? Where have you taken him?’

The night before, as soon as they’d arrived, the three children had been bathed in something which had made their skin and hair smell funny. Too much hair was, apparently, disapproved of and so Pearl’s and Ruby’s long curls were cut sensibly short while Billy’s head had been shaved completely as he was found to have nits. After a supper of bread and dripping, they’d each been presented with a bag in which they were to keep a comb, a toothbrush, tablet of soap and a face flannel. They were then put to sleep in cold narrow beds in a room as small as a jail cell with the stern reprimand that they’d arrived far too late for them to join the other children in their dormitories, which seemed like yet another black mark against them.

When the nun had gone, leaving them alone in the dark, Pearl had crept out of her bed to come and curl up beside Ruby. Even so the pair wept together at the dreadfulness of their situation. Where was Mam? When would they see her again? Would she ever get well? And what would happen to them if she didn’t? They didn’t care to think too much about this awful possibility so Ruby cuddled Pearl close while she told her one of mam’s stories.

Billy was denied the comfort of a cuddle as he hadn’t been allowed to sleep with them and it had broken Ruby’s heart to listen to his wailing cries as he’d been half dragged, half carried away down the long echoing corridor.

This morning, before they were allowed anywhere near the other children, they’d been brought here, to this tiny changing room, where they’d been stripped of their precious belongings and presented with new clothes: a strange assortment of undergarments, a dark green dress and a cotton pinafore, all marked with their individual identity number in black thread.

Sour-faced Sister Joseph cast a critical glance over them, sniffed with an air of disapproval and instructed them to fasten their pinafores in a neat and tidy fashion. And make sure you keep them clean. We don’t want any slovenly behaviour here.’

Ruby was delighted to be reunited with Billy at breakfast. He bounced up into her arms then whispered that he’d wet his bed and that the lady had removed it and given him a straw pallet instead. ‘She telled me she’d give me a cold bath if I did it again, to cure me, but I don’t like cold baths, our Ruby.’ The shame and fear the little boy felt was plainly visible in his wide and terrified gaze.

‘’Course you don’t, love.’ Over my dead body, Ruby thought, on a surge of protective rebellion. She kissed him, smoothed the tears from his wet cheeks as Mam would have done. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure it won’t come to that. They won’t expect no different till you settle in.’

The three were seated together at the end of a table that ran the length of the room which seemed to be packed with children, all of them entirely silent, save for when they chanted grace in a singsong chorus. Each of the McBride children was presented with a plate, a spoon and a tin mug before being served with a portion of thin porridge. When a kindly nun came to pour warm milk on their porridge, she whispered that talking at the table was not permitted. Billy, however, was bursting with questions which he desperately needed answering.

‘I want to know where me mam is. When is she coming to fetch me? Where’s me mam?’ His high-pitched, protesting voice rang out in the silence of the dining room and dozens of pairs of shocked eyes turned in his direction. Ruby was horrified, and embarrassed on her brother’s behalf. Utterly oblivious, he asked the question again. ‘Where is she, our Ruby? I want me mam.’

Even strict Sister Joseph failed to silence him. He kept on asking the same question every few minutes. Ruby did her best to hush him, and to console and comfort the little boy, without giving him any explanation. But then how could Billy, at four, understand that his mother was very ill indeed, and couldn’t take care of her own children any longer?