BooksBarbecue
Back The Dazzle of the Light Save as PDF
Chapters (55)
  1. Praise for Georgina Clarke
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. Historical Note
  52. Acknowledgements
  53. Also by Georgina Clarke
  54. About the Author
  55. Copyright

‘Don’t be foolish.’ He smiles, stroking her face. ‘She wrote about you, yes? In the Kensington Gazette? The Jewel of the Borough, she called you – a rather admiring piece, on the whole, if I recall, but I still can’t help thinking that she was right. As Ralph says, you are a jewel indeed. My diamond girl. I’m finding it almost painful, you know, to see you leave with him –’

Ruby pulls away from him. ‘What are you talking about? Harriet Littlemore wrote that piece about me? With all the tricks of the Forties, and what I did, and everything? She’s a reporter? She wrote it?’

‘Well, of course she did. I assumed that was the reason you knew her. That’s why Annie Richmond threw you out of the Forties, isn’t it? For telling a newspaper reporter their secrets.’

Ruby puts a hand to her face, remembering how Annie had broken her cheek. How she had been humiliated in the Crown, in front of everyone. Harriet Littlemore had written about her. Harriet had found information from somewhere and made it look as though she, Ruby Mills, had betrayed the Forties. She had been ignored, spat at, shunned by everyone in Southwark for weeks. And she had ended up working for Peter Lazenby – hardly better than Daisy Gould on her mattress – because there was no one else offering her work and she had been running out of cash.

‘What’s the matter?’ Peter sees her expression.

‘I never knew… I didn’t speak to her about the Forties… I didn’t know it was her that wrote it…’

Ralph appears in the doorway. ‘Ready?’ He smiles. He wants to take her home. He’s read about her, and now he wants her: the Jewel of the Borough. ‘Everything alright?’ he asks, seeing her face.

Harriet Littlemore had not followed her for nothing. She had wanted more information. She had not sat in the café mooning over her in awe and adoration. She had been scrutinising her – oblivious of the damage she had already caused. Offering cake, sharing stories about her own life, hoping to draw more from Ruby, more secrets. And she, like a fool, had prattled on about films and movie stars. She had trusted that Harriet’s enquiries had been entirely innocent, or else motivated by some sort of affection.

How could she have been so stupid as to pity the woman?

‘Perfectly alright,’ she says to Ralph, shaking her shoulders and lifting her chin, trying to smile. ‘Let’s go.’

39

39

Wednesday morning