Goodbye Ruby Tuesday

‘When it comes to noise, if we… when we have events on… well, it won’t work to have drilling or banging or whatever it is you do.’

Killian’s lips quirked, and he learned on the doorframe. ‘Well, in that case, I’ll give you a list of my working hours and you can work around me.’

‘Um… excuse me?’ Esme put up her hand like she was in class, and stepped forward.

‘Yes?’ Killian answered, bemused.

‘I think you may need to look up compromise in the dictionary, because that’s not what it means.’

The carpenter’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked at Evie, ‘Is she being funny?’

‘She’s ten,’ she rolled her eyes ‘her sense of sarcasm hasn’t been cultivated yet.’

‘She’s just pedantic, honest,’ Mollie supplied helplessly, putting her hands on Esme’s shoulders, as if she was afraid Killian was about to launch himself at her daughter.

‘I was using the word compromise ironically,’ he said stiffly, directing his answer to Esme.

‘Nope, that’s not what that means either.’ The ten-year-old crossed her arms after adjusting her glasses. ‘I think you’re just being grumpy so you can be grumpy. And that’s no fun at all.’

‘Kid’s got a point, Grumpy Pants. What did we ever do to you?’ Evie countered, arms crossed to match her goddaughter.

‘I don’t want things changing. I’ve got a good place to work and I intend to keep it. Evelyn’s a good woman, and I don’t want this place getting screwed, and her along with it, just because some dead diva with an attitude problem said her friends could use the space.’

Screw anger management. Evie felt her jaw drop this time. Usually in these situations she’d see red, and she had to admit there was a little ruby fuzz clouding the edge of her vision, but that may have been a blood vessel popping from the shock. Dead diva! What a bastard.

Evie breathed deeply, in through the nose, out through the mouth, listening for the rasp of air at the back of her throat. She clenched her eyes shut and imagined those words soaring away on a breeze.

‘What’s she doing?’ The arsehole’s voice permeated her calm.

‘Auntie Evie has rage blackouts. She’s working through them though, right Mum?’

Mollie grinned at Killian, eyes narrowing, ‘Right, baby.’

Killian threw up his hands, cried ‘Bloody lunatics!’ and stormed off, slamming his door behind him. Evie opened one eye to make sure he was gone.

‘You have to do that every time he says anything mean to you!’ Mollie laughed, clutching her stomach.

‘Which I imagine, from that charming interaction, is going to be a lot.’ Evie grinned, ‘What an arse!’

‘You might want to change your inflection – that sounded like a compliment,’ Mollie smirked.

‘That was a horrible thing that man said about Aunt Ruby,’ Esme said sternly, looking at the closed door with a furrowed brow ‘do you think he was in love with her?’

Mollie and Evie blinked and looked at each other, shocked at the little girl’s perceptive skills, but also scared about what that might mean. And just how possible it was.

‘Why would you say that, baby?’ Mollie asked, stroking a hand over Esme’s silky hair.

‘Boys are mean when they love you. That’s what the girls at school say. And all those movies.’ Esme shrugged, sighing at the terrible facts of life. Mollie looked horrified, and Evie made a face, ‘Hun, if someone’s horrible to you, it’s because they’re horrible. They can’t use love as an excuse. Maybe that man did love Aunt Ruby, but when you really love someone, you’re not horrible to them, okay?’

Esme shrugged, ‘Sure.’

‘I wish parenting would come with a bloody handbook about how to undo the sh–’ Mollie swerved, ‘silly things society teaches kids.’

‘Hey, we’ve fallen for it too.’ Evie shrugged, looking up at the narrow staircase, ‘So we’ve already met the troll under the bridge – how bad can it be?’

Two flights of winding, cramped stairs that seemed to get more uneven as you walked up, the threadbare carpet coming unstuck beneath their feet, and they were in the flat.

Apart from a faintly musty smell, it had a lot going for it. Light streamed through large bay windows, and there were skylights to enhance the effect. Whilst furniture was sparse, it was good quality. A solid coffee table and creamy sofa that Esme immediately sunk into. The kitchen had a breakfast bar, and each bedroom had beds with solid wooden bed frames. The bigger room had a four-poster bed with gauzy blue fabric floating from each corner, and Evie watched as Esme’s eyes widened with glee. The second room was even more sparse – a low bed set in a frame, close to the floor, that seemed to be made of pallets, sanded down until they seemed solid. Evie imagined the room with hanging canopies, and tea lights on the pallet edges, fairy lights beneath them. She could make this place magical.

‘So, what do we think? Can we make this home?’ she asked Esme and Mollie.

‘What do you think, Ez?’ Mollie directed the question at her daughter, anxious and unsure.

Esme beamed, ‘As long as we get the magical princess bed, this is going to be wonderful.’

***

The rest of the day passed quickly enough, lugging their furniture up the narrow staircase, unpacking and rearranging. Evie was shocked to find how few possessions she actually had. But there was her duvet cover on the bed, material draped from the huge bay window and, in the corner, a little table set up as her work station – her toolbox painted with purple glitter nail polish. It looked like a sixteen-year-old girl lived here; but she grinned, because that meant a trip to Camden Market for more pretty things. Esme would love it.

They found a stash of takeaway menus in the drawer and ordered pizza. Mollie had phoned Chelsea to invite her, but it went straight to voicemail. Evie stopped herself from commenting, just barely. It was starting to feel very much like Chelsea didn’t have time for them or Ruby. But that wasn’t much of a surprise, seeing as they hadn’t tried to get in contact with her for years. Maybe her life was exactly how she liked it.

Evie pounded down the stairs to get the pizza, and as she returned she paused outside Killian’s door, preparing herself for the treacherous climb up the stairs. Through the door she could hear the faint strum of Metallica. What was that guy’s problem? Usually people got to know her before she pissed them off. Like when a guy chases you for three years, knows you’re a selfish bitch, and then gets upset when you don’t want to marry him. That was usually how she upset people. Well, how she upset Nigel. Continuously. For many, many years. In general, she knew she was an ‘acquired taste’; she could be aggressively passionate about things, a little too focused, a little too desperate to get things done. She was not everybody’s cup of tea, she knew that. But damn, it wasn’t nice when someone disliked you for no reason. But maybe Killian was just a grouchy arsehole. Or maybe, it was about Ruby. Esme’s comment circled her brain – would Ruby have fallen for Killian? The connections listed by the tabloids usually included boyband members and reality TV celebrities. Could she have loved a carpenter from North London? Probably not. For Ruby, love was a stepping stone, not a place you stayed. But a man loving Ruby, and her enjoying the attention until she found something better? Well, that was Ruby all over.

Maybe she should be nice to Killian, maybe he was grieving and confused too. Or maybe, just maybe, he was an arsehole, and she had enough problems to deal with. She had to build this place in a couple of months, before Mollie could realise there was not quite as much money or time as she’d thought.

As she thundered up the stairs with the Veggie Supreme Esme had insisted on (she could now be a vegetarian as she was out of her grandma’s turkey twizzler clutches), Evie realised that everything she had ever wanted was completely possible. And as they sat on the floor of their new flat, making plans and laughing, Evie imagined Ruby with them, believing anything was possible.

Chapter Four (#ulink_7f170a4a-3c74-5500-b52a-1d904e411726)

‘Don’t get used to it, and don’t tell your mum,’ Evie grinned at her goddaughter as she handed her cold pizza for breakfast. Esme shrugged and raised an eyebrow, taking a delicate bite as if to check there were no consequences. She chewed and nodded.

‘Once, when Mum had an audition in London, Nanny gave me Pop-Tarts for dinner and told me not to tell.’

‘That sounds great,’ Evie shrugged, ‘I’d love to have Pop-Tarts for dinner, but when you’re an adult you start to feel guilty about that kind of stuff.’

‘The worst one was definitely the tin of sweetcorn and half a Mars bar,’ Esme rolled her eyes. ‘I’d said to Nanny a Mars bar wasn’t nutritious so she gave me a tin of sweetcorn and told me to stop being such a belladonna.’

‘Prima donna,’ Evie corrected with a frown. ‘Why didn’t you tell your mum?’

‘Because she’d stop going to auditions and then we’d never leave Nanny’s.’ Esme looked uncomfortable for a brief moment, but took off her glasses to clean them on the bottom of her t-shirt, ‘Doesn’t matter anyway, we’re here now.’

Evie wasn’t really sure how to handle this information, and decided the best course of action was to make Esme love her new home. She’d known living with Linda had never been the best of times; the woman had always been a pushy, loud drunk. But she’d managed to raise Mollie, who was sweet and kind and loving. Whatever she’d done, Evie had assumed Esme felt loved at home. But maybe they’d all been waiting for an escape. Ruby included. She’d got her escape, and then she’d passed it on to them. And Evie wasn’t going to waste it.

‘Well, seeing as your mum’s got her first shift at the new branch, I think you and I should properly look at this place and see what it needs to make it a home. What do you think?’

An hour or so passed with them walking around, Esme intent with her little notebook and pen, scribbling down every idea. A patchwork bedspread, a beanbag, plates with sunflowers on them. Anything they could think of to make it ‘theirs’. Things they didn’t even know existed.

They walked into Mollie and Esme’s room, looking at the tatty brown wardrobe up against the wall in disappointment.