had played with the pink doll all Boxing Day, then abandoned it for something else. The dolls had been put in a cupboard and Cecilia couldn’t remember having seen them again.
The same thing had happened on numerous other occasions, but none stuck in her mind quite so clearly as the case of the two dolls. Emily wanted things to the exclusion of everything else, but once she got them, used them, played with them for a while, she lost all interest.
Reverend Mother had no idea what time it was when she eventually fell into a restless sleep. She woke with a start when Sister Angela knocked on the door at five o’clock, interrupting a vivid dream. The dolls, she’d been dreaming about the dolls, the blue one and the pink one. Emily had thrown them away in the little woods not far from where they lived and Cecilia had gone to rescue them. She’d found them face down at the foot of a tree amid a pile of rotting leaves and when she turned them over both dolls had the thin, pale face of Ruby O’Hagan.
The nun got out of bed, knelt on the hard stone floor, and began to pray.
Chapter 3
Ruby always woke up long before Emily. She would sit up straight away, stretch her arms, and look to see if the sun was shining through the yellow curtains. Whether it was or not, she would leap out of bed, get washed – she actually had her own little sink in the corner – and put on one of the frocks Emily had bought for her in Liverpool or Southport.
Of these places, Ruby preferred Liverpool. She liked the big, crowded shops, the bustle and noise. She loved the tramcars – there seemed to be hundreds and hundreds of them trundling along the metal lines making a terrible din and throwing off showers of sparks. She envied the occupants of these wonderful vehicles and longed to ride in one – Emily went everywhere by car. Liverpool buildings were magnificent: the Corn Exchange, the Customs House, the Town Hall, and her favourite, St George’s Hall which, according to Emily, was famous throughout the world for its elegant design.
Emily preferred Southport, which Ruby thought all right, quite pretty, but very limited, and a bit too posh. She couldn’t take to posh people, which Emily said was due to the way she’d been brought up.
‘What do you mean?’ Ruby demanded.
‘The convent made sure you didn’t have ideas above your station,’ Emily explained. ‘The girls weren’t encouraged to have ambitions beyond becoming head cook ormarrying the butler. You can’t take to posh people, as you call them, because they make you feel inferior.’
‘No, they don’t,’ Ruby argued. ‘I just don’t like the way they look down their noses at people who aren’t as posh as themselves. I had no intention of being a cook, or marrying a butler come to that.’
Emily had merely shrugged, which Ruby took to mean her argument was inescapable. She considered herself as good as anyone in the world.
One morning, when Ruby had been living in Kirkby for just over three months, she woke to find the August sunshine dancing through the window of her room, turning it into a grotto of golden light. She scrambled out of bed, drew back the curtains, and surveyed the back garden, which consisted of a vast square lawn surrounded by neat flower borders, an orchard, a tennis court, and a vegetable patch tucked away at the bottom. Everywhere was surrounded by birch trees with silver leaves which she’d been told would turn gold in the autumn. There wasn’t another house in sight, the nearest was over a mile away.
What would she do today?
A few weeks ago, Emily had suggested she might like to go to school in September. At some schools, girls could stay until they were sixteen or even eighteen. Ruby had made a face and said she’d learnt enough, thanks all the same. Emily said she could do whatever she liked, it was up to her.
Emily didn’t mind if she did, or didn’t do, all sorts of things. She could stay up as late as she liked, read all night if she
The same thing had happened on numerous other occasions, but none stuck in her mind quite so clearly as the case of the two dolls. Emily wanted things to the exclusion of everything else, but once she got them, used them, played with them for a while, she lost all interest.
Reverend Mother had no idea what time it was when she eventually fell into a restless sleep. She woke with a start when Sister Angela knocked on the door at five o’clock, interrupting a vivid dream. The dolls, she’d been dreaming about the dolls, the blue one and the pink one. Emily had thrown them away in the little woods not far from where they lived and Cecilia had gone to rescue them. She’d found them face down at the foot of a tree amid a pile of rotting leaves and when she turned them over both dolls had the thin, pale face of Ruby O’Hagan.
The nun got out of bed, knelt on the hard stone floor, and began to pray.
Chapter 3
Ruby always woke up long before Emily. She would sit up straight away, stretch her arms, and look to see if the sun was shining through the yellow curtains. Whether it was or not, she would leap out of bed, get washed – she actually had her own little sink in the corner – and put on one of the frocks Emily had bought for her in Liverpool or Southport.
Of these places, Ruby preferred Liverpool. She liked the big, crowded shops, the bustle and noise. She loved the tramcars – there seemed to be hundreds and hundreds of them trundling along the metal lines making a terrible din and throwing off showers of sparks. She envied the occupants of these wonderful vehicles and longed to ride in one – Emily went everywhere by car. Liverpool buildings were magnificent: the Corn Exchange, the Customs House, the Town Hall, and her favourite, St George’s Hall which, according to Emily, was famous throughout the world for its elegant design.
Emily preferred Southport, which Ruby thought all right, quite pretty, but very limited, and a bit too posh. She couldn’t take to posh people, which Emily said was due to the way she’d been brought up.
‘What do you mean?’ Ruby demanded.
‘The convent made sure you didn’t have ideas above your station,’ Emily explained. ‘The girls weren’t encouraged to have ambitions beyond becoming head cook ormarrying the butler. You can’t take to posh people, as you call them, because they make you feel inferior.’
‘No, they don’t,’ Ruby argued. ‘I just don’t like the way they look down their noses at people who aren’t as posh as themselves. I had no intention of being a cook, or marrying a butler come to that.’
Emily had merely shrugged, which Ruby took to mean her argument was inescapable. She considered herself as good as anyone in the world.
One morning, when Ruby had been living in Kirkby for just over three months, she woke to find the August sunshine dancing through the window of her room, turning it into a grotto of golden light. She scrambled out of bed, drew back the curtains, and surveyed the back garden, which consisted of a vast square lawn surrounded by neat flower borders, an orchard, a tennis court, and a vegetable patch tucked away at the bottom. Everywhere was surrounded by birch trees with silver leaves which she’d been told would turn gold in the autumn. There wasn’t another house in sight, the nearest was over a mile away.
What would she do today?
A few weeks ago, Emily had suggested she might like to go to school in September. At some schools, girls could stay until they were sixteen or even eighteen. Ruby had made a face and said she’d learnt enough, thanks all the same. Emily said she could do whatever she liked, it was up to her.
Emily didn’t mind if she did, or didn’t do, all sorts of things. She could stay up as late as she liked, read all night if she
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