She realized now it had been Mrs Walton revealing the plans she’d made to pass over her dress shop that had first seeded the idea in her mind, and although that was impossible, as she would never countenance returning to Sunderland, it didn’t mean she couldn’t do something herself. She had been promoted to assistant laundress at the workhouse after twelve months when the current one had left her job in a huff after falling foul of Matron Henderson, and this had meant a substantial rise in her pay packet. She now had a healthy little nest egg in her savings account, and she added to this week by week with unfailing determination. Her hours were long but the work was not physically arduous and the workhouse inmates who helped in the laundry did any unpleasant jobs, like sorting and counting the linen for the wash, some of which came down from the infirm wards stinking with filth. The worst part of her duties, as far as Ruby was concerned, were the Saturdays when it was her turn to supervise the afternoon visiting in the workhouse hall. In much the same way as criminals in prison, the workhouse inmates were allowed no private visitors, and the officer on duty was forced to witness the misery and heartache that ensued. Elderly parents visiting a grown handicapped daughter they could no longer care for; married couples who lived in separate wards after a lifetime together now unable to kiss or touch each other; young unmarried pregnant girls begging to be taken home – the list was endless. Ruby felt that all the grief and sorrow in the world was contained each week within the workhouse hall and it affected her deeply.

She often had the desire after one of these sessions to pick up her skirts and run back to Sunderland to see her mam and da, but she never did. There was no point, after all. She had written to her mother several times but without giving her address, and she knew from Mrs Walton with whom she regularly corresponded that Olive and Adam had a daughter. No doubt they were now all playing happy families and her presence would not be welcome at best and an acute embarrassment at worst. It was better she stayed away, she would tell herself, the bitterness that always accompanied such thoughts hardening her heart. But try as she might, she couldn’t shut memories of her old life away completely, which was why she filled every waking moment.