‘No, I know you can’t,’ Sarah replied. ‘I was always jealous of ya. Ruby Murphy with her nice family, straight as a die. You had everythin’, ya still do.’ She finished, looking down at her plate, which was now empty of mashed potato, pie and green liquor. Ruby, in contrast, had hardly eaten a thing.
‘What d’you mean, Sar? We don’t ’ave nuthin’, except each other.’
‘That’s what I mean, ya silly moo. You’ve got a family, you’re loved. No one’s never loved me, no one, Rube . . . What chance did I ever ’ave in life?’
Ruby didn’t know what to say to that. Instead she took Sarah’s hand, offering the only comfort she could. She’d come hoping to clear the air between them, maybe even ask Sarah to tell people it wasn’t them that grassed, but she couldn’t add any more weight to her friend’s shoulders. She felt powerless to help her and worried that soon Mike wouldn’t be the only Riley in prison. Life was so unfair. She could already see that you had to fight for what you wanted, but some people were dealt a hand that meant no amount of fighting would ever be enough. She hoped Sarah wasn’t one of those people.
Ruby got to the office early as usual. She was often one of the first in and last to leave. She wanted to make her mark.
About an hour after she’d sat down at her desk, Ruby noticed a bit of commotion at the front of the office. She craned her neck and spotted an elegant woman in her forties strolling along with Mrs Jones, the office manager. The woman had immaculate taste, and was dressed in Chanel. Trailing behind the pair could be none other than her teenage daughter. She was a blonde, picture-perfect replica of her mother, wearing a smart dress and matching kitten heels.
‘It’s the boss’s wife,’ whispered the girl sitting next to her. ‘Better look sharp.’
Ruby tried not to stare and turned her attention back to her screen, but a few moments later the trio stopped at her desk.
‘And this is our newest addition. Ruby has been a godsend. Never had a girl take to the work the way she has. Won’t be long till she’s managing her own accounts,’ Mrs Jones said.
Ruby was struck speechless by the high praise, but before she could muster a response Mrs Jones had moved on.
The girl lingered behind the others and smiled at Ruby.
‘Hello, I’m Felicity. I can see you’re going to be running this place soon,’ she said, conspiratorially winking at Ruby as if they’d known each other for ages.
‘Thanks. I just want to do well,’ Ruby spluttered. She was feeling rather in awe of Felicity, with her public school vowels and her swish clothes.
‘It seems you’re well on your way already. We should go for a drink one night—’
‘Felicity, do keep up,’ called her mother.
‘See you.’ The girl winked again and sashayed off.
Ruby looked after her. Whatever that girl had, she wanted; that confidence, that natural ease, all of it. Felicity swung her designer bag around, looking a bit bored and grinning over at Ruby as if they were already best friends.
One day I’ll be like her, Ruby vowed to herself, feeling like a small chink in that world had opened up to her. It was the beginning of something, she could sense it.
‘They think they’re the bees knees, lording it over us. And look at those shoes, and that handbag. They’re probably worth more than you or I earn in a year.’ Mrs Jones had sidled up to Ruby, having seen Felicity and her mother out.
‘I think it’s lovely they’ve got nice things. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get on.’
There was something in Ruby’s voice, some edge of steel, that the office manager picked up on immediately. She gave Ruby an almost curious glance before walking over to a neighbouring desk, immediately spotting a mistake and haranguing the poor girl as she typed. Ruby put her head down, pretending to work, but she knew that she wanted to be like them, to have what they had, to be someone who walked into a room and made people look, just like the boss’s wife and daughter did. The realisation crystallised in Ruby’s mind, whirring away as she painstakingly copied the work she’d been set. This was a new world for Ruby. She had been more used to avoiding her brother’s toe-rag friends, or hanging out with her own friends, who were all mixed up with dodgy men and dodgy business. These new people seemed breathtakingly sophisticated and glamorous. Ruby even went out each Friday evening with the girls from work, staying in the West End and going clubbing, though she refused to drink alcohol, preferring a clear head and slipping off early to get home to her family. The values instilled in her from childhood held strong.
Come that Friday, she looked for Felicity to see if they really would go for a drink, but she hadn’t yet reappeared. So Ruby headed to drinks with the girls, imagining what it would be like to slip her feet into Italian heels, or feel the reassuringly expensive weight of a Gucci bag on her arm.
CHAPTER 7
It was Ruby’s first Friday night in for ages. She’d decided to give the girls’ night out a miss that week. She was flicking through Cosmopolitan, which one of the girls from the office had lent her, when there was a loud knock at the door.
‘Expectin’ someone?’ Cathy called from upstairs where she was folding sheets.
Louie shrugged, looking over at his daughter, sitting in the cramped lounge. ‘Don’t think so?’ Ruby said, getting up and opening the front door.
Why was it always her that seemed to end up being face-to-face with Bobby’s cocky pal Freddie? Instantly, she
