‘I see.’
‘Besides, I want this child.’ Ruby put an arm defensively across her belly. ‘I thought that there was a chance you would be tired of your man, and you would go back with me, take my place for a year, until I’ve weaned the baby, then we could travel together like we used to. The troupe can manage a child with a few adjustments.’
The suggestion came in a half-baked rush. It was a dream– impractical and overly optimistic, like Ruby herself often was. There was just enough narcissism in Ruby for her to entertain the idea that the world would organise itself around her.
‘Ruby—’
Ruby wiped her eyes, then used the back of a spoon to check her looks were not spoiled by swelling lids. ‘I know, I know, it’s not going to work. I had to try. And the girl Mr Thomas has hired in your place? She’s terrible! We all know it. And she’s a bitch. She was the one who told him about my, you know, predicament…’
‘It was going to be obvious before long.’
‘But I would’ve been able to choose a better time, make plans, instead he gave me an ultimatum– and I don’t appreciate those.’
Dora could well imagine how that went. Mr Thomas would have been furious that he looked set to lose the second girl from his once winning combination of Dora and Ruby, having to bring on less popular understudies. ‘He likely regrets now not giving you more time to decide.’
‘Well, he can go hang for all I care. My concern is for this baby and me, not bloodyMidsummer Night’s Dreamin Newcastle.’ She said the last in a sonorous tone meant to ape Mr Thomas’s Welsh accent.
‘Ruby, why are you here, really?’
Ruby shrugged, though her eyes said she was at the end of her tether. ‘God knows. Why should you help me when you’re set fair for life?’
‘Don’t be like that. You couldn’t expect me to come back, not for this reason. It would never work. A child doesn’t belong on the road with the actors– the life is too harsh. You remember what winter is like, don’t you?’
Ruby crumbled up her crust. ‘But it’s summer now.’
She always had been a grasshopper to the ants of the troupe.
‘This isn’t something you can avoid.’
‘I know– and I bloody hate and love this… this inconvenience. I bet she’s going to be the most beautiful baby ever.’
‘Then what are you going to do?’
There came a knock at the door. For a retired cottage in the Lakes, Jacob’s cottage was annoyingly popular. Dora wiped her hands on her apron and went to answer.
‘Keep that question in mind. I’ve got to get the door.’
A man and a woman stood on the step– well dressed, of the educated classes. Neither looked in immediate need of medical assistance.
‘May I help you?’
‘Is your master in?’ asked the woman. Diminutive, with greying hair tucked under a cap, she looked to be in her forties, but her motions were active and quick, like a wren nipping along a stone wall and between the twisted ivy. Her vowels had a northern inflection though with none of the dialect heard from the Cumberland lower classes.
‘He’s not my… Dr Sandys is not at home. Family emergency. Who should I tell him called?’
Consternation dampened the sparkle in the woman’s eye. The man beside her also appeared distressed by the news. He revolved his straw boater in his hands, doing great damage to the brim.
‘Will he be gone long?’ the lady asked. ‘We do so need him.’
‘I’m not certain, Mrs…?’
‘Miss Dorothy Wordsworth. And this is Mr Barton. We are friends of the doctor. Mr Barton has a summer home on Windermere.’
Dora opened the door a little wider. ‘Oh, Miss Wordsworth, of course! Dr Sandys has spoken very highly of you and your brother. Please, come in and rest for a moment. It is a fair walk from Grasmere.’
The lady bit her lip, amused. ‘A fair walk? Indeed, it is beautiful but no great distance if you are a walker like me.’
‘Perhaps you would like to leave him a note? I can send it on to where he is staying.’ Dora was excited to see the sister of the local poet, a woman of learning according to Jacob’s tales about her. Dorothy featured in several of her brother’s poems as an inspiration and muse.
