Ruby knew the pain this would cause her proud mum, and rushed over, pulling Cathy into her arms, trying to impart some comfort. The worst thing was, her mum was right. They had no money. Dad would have to have the basics, and plenty of people round their way would gossip about it for years to come. The Murphy family was already shunned, making up with Sarah hadn’t put an end to the rumours. Gossip seemed more powerful than truth.
‘There, there,’ she said as if she was comforting little George. ‘There, there, Mum, it’ll be OK. You just get yourself back to bed. You look like you need a sleep. You ’ave to keep your strength up for the baby. Bobby and I’ll take care of this.’
Cathy nodded. Ruby gestured to Bobby to make a cuppa, saying she’d help their mum upstairs.
Later, once Cathy had drifted into a restless sleep, Ruby sat with Bobby at the table, both cradling lukewarm cups of tea. They were silent for a long time. What was there to say? How would they afford the cost of their dad’s funeral when they ran into hundreds or even thousands of pounds?
‘There’s no way we can pay for a proper send-off, no way in heaven . . .’ His voice was bleak.
‘I don’t know how we’re goin’ to put food on the table, how we’re goin’ to take care of George. It’s simple, Bobby, we can’t pay for Dad’s funeral, and that’s that.’ Ruby’s voice was flat. ‘Things ’ave to change, Bobby. Mum was right. Dad worked his whole life at the scrapyard and for what? A pauper’s funeral and a family strugglin’ to keep the wolf from the door. Somethin’ has to change.’
Ruby stood at the crematorium, a black veil over her face. There were a few mourners, some of the lads Louie had worked with had done the decent thing and shown up, but few others had come. The only friend of Ruby’s that had bothered to show up was Sarah, and even then the rest of Sarah’s family had refused to come.
Ruby felt a hard stone in her stomach, a feeling that she didn’t belong here any more, even though she was a born and bred East Ender. She was grateful for the solid shape of Bobby standing next to her, awkward in his black suit, sniffing as he shed tears for the father they adored.
None of it seemed real. She was numb with grief. Louie had been so young, barely forty-two years old, and with a new baby that would never know him. Ruby tried to breathe, to stop the oceanic emotions that swelled and rose within her. She saw Cathy almost stumble as she turned to walk away, and was instantly by her side, catching her arm and helping to balance her.
‘It’s all right, Mum, I’ve got you,’ Ruby murmured. ‘It’s all right . . .’
Cathy looked through the veil and into her daughter’s eyes, which were red from crying, and she just shook her head. Nothing was ‘all right’. Everything was wrong. How would they cope without the man who’d loved them and protected them from the harsh realities of life? How could they go on living in a community that wouldn’t forgive them for a crime they hadn’t committed?
It seemed unfathomable that Louie was gone. Ruby remembered everything that day; how Louie had bounced her on his knee as a child, playing horses, how he had sat patiently with her as she learned her numbers and spellings. She recalled how protective he was when she was a teenager, shooing away the local fellas as if they were a swarm of annoying flies. In her mind’s eye she saw him giving one local lad a right earful because he’d whistled at Ruby as she walked past. He’d hated any disrespect shown towards her, and demanded she was treated like a young lady. Ruby always knew how fortunate she’d been, growing up under his loving care. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye, none of them were.
‘I’m OK now, Rube. I’ll be OK, I just lost my balance a bit.’ Cathy reassured Ruby as she steadied herself, her face was deathly white and her dress hung off her thin frame, despite the fact she’d had a baby only two weeks ago.
Would she ever recover from her beloved Louie’s death? The pair had been like sweethearts up to the day of his death. They’d met in the tobacconist where she’d worked. Louie fell in love with her at first sight, or so the story went. He’d come out of the shop that day and told his dad, Jim, that he’d met the girl he was going to marry. The rest was history – and now, far too soon, the story had ended, and Cathy was left to bring up George without his father.
Ruby remembered how Grandad Jim had insisted she wear an emerald green dress to match her eyes at his funeral all those years ago. Jim had been a careful man. He’d planned his death for years, putting aside a little money each month so there was enough for a modest burial and new black suits for everyone – except his favourite grandchild – who had been resplendent in shimmering green. He and Louie had been working full-time so there’d been enough money to go around and a few pounds each week grew steadily into a reasonably-sized pot. It had been just like him; such a thoughtful, caring man. He didn’t want anyone to worry about finding money at such a sad time and he’d spared his son and grandchildren that.
This time it had been different because there’d never been those few coins to spare each week and no one thought they’d need the money so soon.
CHAPTER 11
The funeral over, it was
