Ruby, Ruby, Ruby,
Ruby, has to be you, must get away, house is like prison. Eight mouths to feed and Constance looking at
me like that all the time. Too much
pressure. Never bargained for it. Family was wealthy, until Black Thursday
1929. Wasn’t fair, wasn’t supposed to
live like this, to work for a living.
Ruby my
salvation, going to get away, make an honest woman of her, can’t be fun for her
being twenty one and pregnant ... just need the money. All favours are called in, borrowed from
everyone and somehow it’s all disappeared (again). Someone always wants feeding or shoes or
clothes ... and people are asking for their money back. THERE IS NO MONEY! OK, been fluttering on the horses and playing
a few games of poker, but Constance should really stop looking at me like that,
really should. Trying to win cash back
and next bet is always the one that’s going to come through ...
Looking at register
at work, enough in there, enough to go, take Ruby north to Robin Hoods Bay,
marry her and escape, really escape. Get
away from Constance’s sad eyes, from the screaming brats I’ve fathered. Will make a new start – with Ruby and her
sleek dark hair and porcelain skin ... can
go tonight, make a run for it.
Well, ran for
it and married her, love of my life, my Ruby, my beautiful girl. Caught me, didn’t they? Constance’s brothers. Found us, came with Police, real prison now
for theft and bigamy. Constance said she’d
take in Ruby if her parents wouldn’t, but parents did, so won’t see her again. What a saint Constance is, standing by me no
matter what, offering to look after my girl.
Someone will bail them out of my debts if her brothers haven’t already.
After
prison, must go home to brats and Constance’s unending, undeserved support and
love. To gambling, to debts and sudden
house moves, to affairs and guilt and arguments, that will all creep up in a
summer’s day heart attack.
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