Goodbye Ruby Tuesday (15 page)

‘Was that a lot of hassle? To change it, I mean?’

‘Easier than you’d think,’ Chelsea rolled her eyes, ‘plus there was other stuff – that court case, lots of stuff attached to that name I’d rather not think about. If it popped up at interviews I just said I was stalked at university and I was advised to change my name for my safety.’

‘Jeez, that’s a world you’ve created with that name.’

‘It doesn’t mean you forget the old one, just means you get to put it on hold for a while.’

Evie squeezed her hand, and they stood there, looking around the space holding hands in silence. That moment was broken by Killian walking in, smelling of furniture stain. ‘Bloody busy in here this afternoon!’

Evie automatically went to apologise, watching his face for a sign of complaint, but he marched past, returning with a bottle of water from the fridge, looking at the two of them expectantly.

‘Sorry, is it too noisy?’ Evie said anxiously, trying to hold onto the quiet truce they had created in the darkness of the studio at night. Chelsea looked at her strangely, then back to Killian.

‘It’s fine,’ he said shortly, ‘really.’

Chelsea looked back and forth between Evie and Killian, who inexplicably seemed to be having a staring contest, then held out a hand, ‘I’m Chelsea, an old friend of Evie’s.’

Killian nodded, grasping her hand firmly, ‘Killian, I work in the studio over there.’ He pointed haphazardly with the water bottle.

‘Hope you’re not opposed to the changes that are going to be going on here?’ Chelsea said pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

Killian shrugged, holding up his hands, ‘I just rent a room. As long as I don’t get dragged into drama, I’m cool with it.’

Evie wanted to yell,
that’s not what you said when we got here
, but he had already disappeared back into his studio, and the faint sound of ‘Summer of Sixty-nine’ could be heard in the background.

Evie waited, knowing Chelsea was going to have something to say.

‘Who the bloody hell was that?’

‘Killian. Carpenter.’

Chelsea pinched her arm, ‘Are you sleeping with him?’

‘No!’

‘But you want to.’

Evie pressed her lips together, ‘The man is a grouchy pain in the arse, he seems to blame me for some issue he had with Ruby and he
always
seems to be covered in sawdust.’

Chelsea grinned, suddenly looking so much like the girl she used to be, the troublemaker with the peroxide streaks, and a gobby sort of charm. ‘Your usual type, then? Men with machinery?’

‘Oh fuck off,’ Evie laughed. ‘If you must know, after uni, when I ended up in Badgeley again I dated Nigel.’

‘“I want to grow up to be an accountant” Nigel?’ Chelsea gasped, ‘The boy who was wearing Argyle at age twelve? The boy you once forced to eat a twenty-pence piece because you wanted to see if he had to go to hospital? Did he grow up to be fit?’

Evie shrugged half-heartedly.

‘How did that happen?’

Evie shrugged again, ‘Boredom? It was easy and wasn’t a lot of effort? He was nice enough?’

‘Man, poor Nigel.’

Evie sighed, ‘Yep, that’s what the whole townthinks. “Poor Nigel, with that awful Rodriguez girl”; “Poor Nigel, did you know he asked her to marry him and she said no? Spiteful cow”.’

Chelsea’s eyes widened, but she let the silence sit between them as she leant against her friend, just so that their arms were touching. ‘You know what we need though, Eves. We need to get Molls and we need to go for a bloody good drink.’

‘Mollie’s not too happy with me,’ Evie sighed, ‘it’s a long story.’

Chelsea took a deep breath and shook her head, ‘Nope, don’t care. I’ve got over my shit and made an effort. I’m not taking “no” for an answer.’

‘Then you’ll have to convince Mollie.’

‘Then that’s what I’ll do,’ Chelsea said, brandishing her phone and turning to leave. She didn’t give Evie enough to time to respond, just kissed her on both cheeks and marched out the front door.

Esme and Mollie returned from their day out together a few hours later, full of laughter and excitement.

‘Look what I got, Evie!’ Esme jumped up at the kitchen counter, brandishing a plastic bag. She reached in and pulled out a black feather boa.

‘Why?’ Evie tilted her head.

‘Why not?’ Mollie replied shortly, clicking on the kettle and kicking off her shoes.

‘I thought you were going to the cinema?’

‘We did! And then Mum took me to wander round the market, which I’ve
never
done before at all, have I Auntie Evie?’

The little girl winked obviously and Evie rolled her eyes, ‘Except when we went to buy the stuff for your room, remember?’

‘Oh, right,’ Esme frowned, clearly annoyed with herself, ‘well, yeah. I’m gonna go hang up my feathers over my bed.’

The little girl stomped off, and Evie watched as Mollie seemed to exhale, moving around the kitchen and sighing.

‘So, Chelsea phoned me.’

‘Yeah, I figured,’ Evie sat at the breakfast bar, watching Mollie unnecessarily fuss with the teaspoon, getting two mugs out.

‘What did you tell her?’

‘Nothing. She said we should go for a drink together tonight, I said you were mad at me and probably wouldn’t want to.’

‘So I’m the bad guy?’ Mollie said flatly, pouring the boiling water carefully, her eyes on the task.

‘No! I’m the bad guy, Molls, okay? I am always the bad guy! I was selfish and I was stressed, and I lied to you and I lost your kid and I can’t feel worse than I do. I promise.’

Mollie was silent, pouring the milk into the mugs and stirring, three stirs clockwise, two anticlockwise. Just like she always did. She huffed and turned around, leaning her back against the bar.

‘I don’t know how to be mad at you.’ She met Evie’s eyes for the first time. ‘I’ve never been mad at you before. I’ve been mad at my mum, I’ve been mad at Ruby, at Jamie, even at Chelsea sometimes, but with you, I’ve always known you were on my side, on our side – mine and Ez’s.’

‘I am! I still am!’

‘I know. And I know you lied because you thought you could fix everything yourself, but you’ve got to start letting me be responsible too. This is my life, my kid. We’re meant to be a team. I’m tougher than I look, you know.’

‘Believe me, I know,’ Evie smiled. ‘You’re the toughest person I know, doing what you do. Staying positive in that way you do.’

Mollie laughed, shaking her head, ‘It’s all a lie, Eves. I’m scared
all the time.
I’m scared about how Esme will grow up, I’m scared of ending up back with my mum, I’m scared of
being
like my mum. I’m scared that the other kids will judge Esme for not having a dad, that one day she’s going to wake up and want to know about him and why he’s not here. And I am terrified that we’re going to look back and realise this was our one chance, and we’ll have blown it because we didn’t trust each other.’

‘Shit, Molls…’ Evie felt her throat close up, and looked up, desperately hoping she wouldn’t start crying.

Mollie thunked the mug of tea down in front of her, ‘Nope, all done now. I forgive you for not telling me stuff, and for Esme wandering off. She’s been told off too.’ Mollie’s ‘mum tone’ made Evie snort, even through the tears. She wiped her face quickly. ‘But from now on, we’re in this together. No more pushing me away, agreed?’

Evie held her pinkie finger out to her friend, who interlocked her own and shook it.

‘So, now that’s settled.’ Mollie blew on her tea, cupping the pink mug in both hands, ‘You know, I love my daughter more than life itself, but… man, that girl can talk.’

Evie snorted, ‘Well you made her, you can tell her to be quiet.’

‘And silence a child full of ideas and otherworldly wisdom? Nope, not allowed in the Good Mum handbook.’

Evie snorted, sipping at her tea and basking in the normality.

‘So… Chelsea came by today?’

‘She’s got us two grand a month in rentals to a couple of artists, for a room I didn’t even know we had,’ Evie laughed, ‘the girl is good.’

‘Well, that takes the pressure off!’ Mollie grinned, ‘Enough for us to let our hair down tonight.’

‘We’ll still have to make sure the opening is a success, to cover rent and everything, but… yeah, I suppose it does help.’ Evie shrugged, ‘So are you coming out tonight? What about Ez?’

‘I spoke to her and she has desperately requested to go and hang out with Evelyn for a few hours. I stopped by her house earlier to meet her properly and she said it’s okay.’

‘You trust her with Esme?’

Mollie nodded, ‘Ruby trusted her, you trust her; I trust her. Plus, it’s only a few hours. Can’t be worse than leaving her with my psychopath mother.’

Evie nodded, shrugging, ‘Guess not.’

A few hours later, they were marginally primped, sitting in a bar by Camden Lock.

Mollie looked beautiful, her long blonde hair falling in loose curls, a bright blue polka dot dress and fifties style make-up making her look too pure, too sweet for the slightly dingy bar they were in. Evie was in her usual state, a short black dress, dark tights and trainers. The closest she got to dressing up.

‘First night I’ve had out in years. I can’t even remember the last time I went out,’ Mollie shrugged, playing with the stirrer in her cosmopolitan.

‘I do,’ Evie grinned, ‘your birthday, a few years ago, when my mum looked after Ez and we went into London? Got depressed about spending twelve quid on a cocktail, and came back to Badgeley to drink pints in the Feathers and eat a kebab walking home.’

‘Terrifically classy birds,’ Chelsea arrived at the table, throwing down her Michael Kors handbag and giving Mollie a proper hug, squeezing her. ‘It’s so good to see you chick.’

‘You too,’ Mollie squeezed back, ‘you look fantastic!’

It was true. Chelsea had managed to change from her earlier business outfit to a similarly stunning black shift dress, with black patent heels and a huge silver necklace that coiled around like a snake.

‘You had time to go home to change?’ Evie asked, ‘Wasn’t that a pain?’

‘Kit gave me a lift home after work, and then dropped me off down here,’ Chelsea shrugged, holding up Mollie’s cosmopolitan to the barman to signal she wanted one. He nodded. Evie wasn’t sure how Chelsea had managed to perfect that skill, but it was one she definitely wanted to steal.

‘The boyfriend?’ Mollie asked.

Chelsea nodded, but didn’t offer any more information.

‘So? Tell us more! What does he do, what’s he like?’

‘More importantly, he
drove
you from Tower Bridge to Camden?’ Evie frowned. ‘Who the hell drives in London?’

Chelsea shrugged again, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

‘What?!’ Evie exclaimed, ‘Is he a leper? What’s wrong with him?’

The barman brought over the drink, something Evie hadn’t seen him do for anyone else all evening, and Chelsea handed over a shiny credit card and asked him to start a tab. Mollie and Evie looked at each other, then back at her. The barman took one look at the card and realised he was probably going to get a decent tip that evening, telling them to yell if they needed anything and disappearing back behind the bar.

‘There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s perfect. That’s what’s wrong with him,’ Chelsea sighed and took a slug of her drink, wincing at the sweetness.

‘Oh, boo hoo. How is he perfect?’

Chelsea traced a finger around the rim of her glass, her hair looking even more white in the dim lights of the bar. ‘I met him at a dinner party a few years ago, through a friend from Oxford. He’s educated, he’s driven, he’s rich, he’s gorgeous and he’s kind.’

‘…but he doesn’t make you laugh?’ Mollie offered.

‘Makes me laugh so much my face hurts some days,’ Chelsea allowed a small smile, ‘but he’s from this family that are all about tradition, and “good breeding” and all that crap.’

‘Ah.’

‘And all this Ruby stuff, well, it just sums up how little of my life before he actually knows about.’

‘You made it that way though, Chels, you wanted to leave all that behind. It’s not like you’ve lied to him.’ Evie rationalised – thinking it was probably better to buy a bottle of wine instead of working their way through a bazillion cocktails, if their evening was going to be spent worrying about things.

‘I’ve hidden massive parts of who I am. Like, he loves that I’m so passionate, so driven about my career. What do I say, “oh by the way hun, that comes from my mother thinking I’m worthless, my stepdad bringing in the bacon by selling crap ‘off the back of a lorry’ and my father spending most of his time in jail”?’

‘If he judges you on that then what you have doesn’t mean much,’ Evie said bluntly, and immediately regretted it, as a nauseous terror showed on Chelsea’s face.

‘I just don’t want him to have to choose. His parents will be horrified. They’ll make him get rid of me.’

Mollie, for once, looked cynical. Normally, she was the soothing voice of comfort in these situations, but for once she looked righteous. ‘Chels, how old is this man?’

‘Thirty.’

‘You think a thirty-year-old man is going to let his parents tell him who he can or can’t love? If he’s that weak-willed, he’s not the one for you hun.’

Chelsea shrugged.

‘So I’m guessing we’re not allowed to meet him? What about if we put on posh accents? I’ll be Clarencia Waterbottom, and Molls can be Petronella Faffabout. We’ll be socialites, having met you as children, in the south of France where all our families summered each year,’ Evie offered, grinning evilly. ‘I do a terribly good impersonation of a posh bitch, honest.’

‘Oh I have no doubt,’ Chelsea laughed. ‘But he doesn’t think I’m posh, he just doesn’t know I’m…’

‘A wonderful person?’

‘Someone who’s risen above her standing?’

‘… a chav?’ Chelsea snorted. ‘A girl from a shitty estate, who’s done shitty things. Kit grew up in a house with four bathrooms! He drives a Porsche and has a trust fund! He went to boarding school in Switzerland for fuck’s sake!’

‘So… wahey for Kit,’ Evie raised her eyebrows. ‘Sounds hellish if you ask me. What’s that got to do with you?’

‘I’ve done a good job of pretending since I got to this city. It’s the city of reinvention. You can be whoever you want to be here. So I drink the right wine, and I read the right papers, and I’m always on the ball, and I get a personal shopper when I buy my new season’s outfits, and I pretend that I don’t still automatically choose the cheapest option on the menu, because that’s who I am really. I’m the Chelsea who nicked make-up from Woolworths and punched people if they “disrespected” me, and pulled my hair back in such a tight ponytail that my hairline receded, and it’s taken ten years of facials to undo the damage of caking all that cheap foundation over my face. That’s who I am. That’s who Ruby knew, anyway.’ She drained the glass.