might feel this was unfair, as she had committed no crime, the law did not allow the wife or family of a criminal to benefit from a crime.
‘How can he have done this to me?’ Cynthia wailed. ‘I may as well put my head in the gas oven and die, for there is nothing left for me in this world.’
‘But you knew it was going to happen, Mrs Wood,’ Miss Parsons said, rather sharply. She didn’t hold with hysterics. ‘And they could easily have humiliated you by sending bailiffs round here and ejecting you on to the street before you had a chance to sort out what you need. At least this way you can leave in a dignified manner.’
‘But my wedding presents, my beautiful bureaux and the Persian carpets,’ Cynthia hissed at the housekeeper, her eyes blazing. ‘You don’t know what it is to own such things, so how can you know how I feel?’
‘In my opinion the most valuable thing in this entire house is Verity,’ Miss Parsons retorted. ‘You still have her, despite the deplorable way Mr Wood treated her. Be thankful for that, can’t you?’
It was a revelation to Verity to hear such a thing said of her. And indeed to find Miss Parsons brave enough to challenge her mistress.
But her mother didn’t ever appreciate any kind of criticism, and especially not from someone she considered to be beneath her.
‘Don’t you dare speak to me in that manner!’ she raged.
‘And I won’t tolerate you speaking to me like that either,’ Miss Parsons snapped back instantly. ‘I haven’t been paid since your husband disappeared, if you remember. I could have left then too, but I stayed because I felt you needed me.’
Verity held her breath, willing her mother to apologize to the housekeeper, because if she walked out now they wouldn’t be able to cope.
There was complete silence for what seemed like minutes, the two older women staring at one another. Then finally, her mother spoke.
‘I’m sorry. I’m all at sixes and sevens just now. I am relieved you didn’t go.’
Verity exhaled gratefully.
By the second post a letter came from Aunt Hazel. Mother chose not to share her aunt’s feelings with Verity, all shesaid was that they could go to Lewisham and therefore she intended to get a man to deliver the trunk of treasures there immediately.
Verity felt she’d had more than enough of her mother for one day, and had been stuck indoors for far too long. So without asking permission she picked up a cardigan and slipped out, intending to go to Camden Town to see if she could find someone who would tell her where Ruby was.
She found the Red Lion very quickly, but as she knew nothing about public houses she hadn’t realized they closed in the afternoon.
Reluctant to go home empty-handed, she walked down an alley nearby and, as she hoped, she found herself at the backyard of the public house. A plump woman with straggly brown hair was putting bottles in wooden crates.
‘You want sommat?’ she called out when she saw Verity lurking by the gate.
‘Yes, I was wondering if you knew a girl called Ruby Taylor? She told me she collected glasses here. We are friends.’
‘Yes, she did help here,’ the woman said, straightening up from filling the crates and coming over to Verity. ‘But she’s not here now.’
‘Oh dear,’ Verity sighed. ‘Has she gone to prison?’
To her surprise the woman laughed.
‘They don’t send young girls to prison, ducks, not these days. But she ’as bin sent away, and it’s the best thing that could’ve ’appened to ’er.’
‘Oh no, poor Ruby! But what do you mean it was the best thing?’
The older woman leaned back against the wall and reached into her apron pocket for some cigarettes. She lit one and inhaled deeply before replying.
‘Wiv ’er ma she never stood a chance,’ she said. ‘But a couple of years in the country wiv good people will do her a power of good. You ain’t the girl she met up with in ’Ampstead?’
‘Yes, I am,’ Verity agreed, delighted
‘How can he have done this to me?’ Cynthia wailed. ‘I may as well put my head in the gas oven and die, for there is nothing left for me in this world.’
‘But you knew it was going to happen, Mrs Wood,’ Miss Parsons said, rather sharply. She didn’t hold with hysterics. ‘And they could easily have humiliated you by sending bailiffs round here and ejecting you on to the street before you had a chance to sort out what you need. At least this way you can leave in a dignified manner.’
‘But my wedding presents, my beautiful bureaux and the Persian carpets,’ Cynthia hissed at the housekeeper, her eyes blazing. ‘You don’t know what it is to own such things, so how can you know how I feel?’
‘In my opinion the most valuable thing in this entire house is Verity,’ Miss Parsons retorted. ‘You still have her, despite the deplorable way Mr Wood treated her. Be thankful for that, can’t you?’
It was a revelation to Verity to hear such a thing said of her. And indeed to find Miss Parsons brave enough to challenge her mistress.
But her mother didn’t ever appreciate any kind of criticism, and especially not from someone she considered to be beneath her.
‘Don’t you dare speak to me in that manner!’ she raged.
‘And I won’t tolerate you speaking to me like that either,’ Miss Parsons snapped back instantly. ‘I haven’t been paid since your husband disappeared, if you remember. I could have left then too, but I stayed because I felt you needed me.’
Verity held her breath, willing her mother to apologize to the housekeeper, because if she walked out now they wouldn’t be able to cope.
There was complete silence for what seemed like minutes, the two older women staring at one another. Then finally, her mother spoke.
‘I’m sorry. I’m all at sixes and sevens just now. I am relieved you didn’t go.’
Verity exhaled gratefully.
By the second post a letter came from Aunt Hazel. Mother chose not to share her aunt’s feelings with Verity, all shesaid was that they could go to Lewisham and therefore she intended to get a man to deliver the trunk of treasures there immediately.
Verity felt she’d had more than enough of her mother for one day, and had been stuck indoors for far too long. So without asking permission she picked up a cardigan and slipped out, intending to go to Camden Town to see if she could find someone who would tell her where Ruby was.
She found the Red Lion very quickly, but as she knew nothing about public houses she hadn’t realized they closed in the afternoon.
Reluctant to go home empty-handed, she walked down an alley nearby and, as she hoped, she found herself at the backyard of the public house. A plump woman with straggly brown hair was putting bottles in wooden crates.
‘You want sommat?’ she called out when she saw Verity lurking by the gate.
‘Yes, I was wondering if you knew a girl called Ruby Taylor? She told me she collected glasses here. We are friends.’
‘Yes, she did help here,’ the woman said, straightening up from filling the crates and coming over to Verity. ‘But she’s not here now.’
‘Oh dear,’ Verity sighed. ‘Has she gone to prison?’
To her surprise the woman laughed.
‘They don’t send young girls to prison, ducks, not these days. But she ’as bin sent away, and it’s the best thing that could’ve ’appened to ’er.’
‘Oh no, poor Ruby! But what do you mean it was the best thing?’
The older woman leaned back against the wall and reached into her apron pocket for some cigarettes. She lit one and inhaled deeply before replying.
‘Wiv ’er ma she never stood a chance,’ she said. ‘But a couple of years in the country wiv good people will do her a power of good. You ain’t the girl she met up with in ’Ampstead?’
‘Yes, I am,’ Verity agreed, delighted
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