Goodbye Ruby Tuesday (23 page)

She was right then, and she was still right. Bill Davis had waltzed into her life whenever he wanted, destroying things that got in his way, taking advantage of her mother, using her whenever he wanted a warm bed and someone to look at him with loving eyes.
Her mum.
Of course, that had to be how he knew where she was, who she was with. What she was doing.

Part of her wanted to call up her mother. Scream and shout and ask why, just this once, couldn’t she put her daughter above her love for Bill? Why she couldn’t realise that her Evie needed to be protected from him, that he could take it all away from her? Somehow, in Maria Rodriguez’s mind, they would all be a happy family if she just closed her eyes tightly enough. And Evie had never been strong enough to prise open her eyelids and make her watch the massacre of her reality.

This had to stop. Evie stood up, clenching her fist around the tiny bits of paper, noting the twitching of the net curtains in the windows behind her. Another bad girl, sitting on someone else’s front garden wall, Evie smirked to herself at the irony of it all. Here she was, the good one for once, walking off to avoid confrontation. Sitting quietly to reflect. And some poor old bastard in his house probably thought she was casing the place.

She started to walk into Camden Market, taking slow steps that felt more solid with every movement, weaving in and out of the people with purpose, feeling the heartbeat of the city with the stamping and twisting bodies that moved around. Everyone had somewhere to be, somewhere to go. She took part in the dance, side-stepping, sliding, avoiding contact with every other human, as if they were contagious, the bumping of shoulders in the afternoon sunlight met with apologetic mumbles.

Evie traced the route Killian had taken her on, following the snaking road around to Primrose Hill. She walked into the park purposefully, digging her heels in as her stride lengthened, leaning into the hill. Every available space seemed to be full of bodies. Lying out on blankets, snoozing in the shade. Girls in bikinis, women with their tops rolled up. Men using their t-shirts as pillows, peering about beneath sunglasses, as if they won’t be seen leering.

Evie didn’t care, walking up, and up, and up until she could see the skyline of London littered with cranes – odd, spindly metal structures against a blue, cloudless sky. She waited for a breeze, eyes closed as it picked up, and flung the bits of the note into the air.

Something was released with the motion, and she breathed out, relieved for a few seconds… until the angry splutterings of Londoners surrounded her.

‘Oi! What you doing!’

‘She just threw paper on me!’

‘That better not be somebody’s fucking ashes, or I am gonna lose my shit!’

Evie shrugged, grinning to herself, and disappeared down the hill again.

***

‘What’s he doing here?’

Evie’s eyes flicked to the living room, where Bill was sitting in ‘his’ chair, feet up on the coffee table, getting mud over the floor her mother scrubbed on her hands and knees most days.

‘He’s here to see us! I’m making paella!’ Her mother clapped her hands, her black hair falling out of its tie and springing out, giving further movement to her action.

‘No, Maria, I don’t want that,’ Bill shouted from the chair, the TV blaring, ‘none of that Spanish shit, I want fish and chips.’

‘Uh… I don’t have anything to make that–’

‘Well send Evie to the shop then,’ Bill looked up slowly, meeting his daughter’s eyes squarely. ‘You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you?’

The silence seemed to suffocate them, like a heavy blanket falling over the situation.

Evie stared at him with pure hatred, and then looked back to her mother, whose eyes were pleading with her.

‘Go on, my darling,’ She rustled a five-pound note from her pocket.

‘Why can’t he pay for it?’ Evie said loudly, daring him to answer, but her mother pinched her arm, frowning.

‘Stop it! Do you want him to go away again?’ her mother hissed.

‘Yes. Of course I do. And you should too!’ Evie screeched, horrified as her exasperation turned to tears. ‘I’ll go get the food.’

She turned, looking at her mother sternly. The little Spanish woman had always seemed so tough, the minute her dad was gone. She went to marches to save the NHS, put the men in their place at the care home she worked in, stood up for her colleagues when the manager took his frustrations about targets out on them. But not once had she stood up to Bill.

‘Hey, Evie,’ Bill called from the living room, actually standing up to walk over to her, fixing her with his dark eyes and grinning. Her mother always said that smile was playful, but to Evie it felt menacing as hell. ‘Make sure you knock when you come back in, all right? You never know, me and your mum might be feeling a bit… amorous, right babe?’

Evie didn’t even need to see her mother’s tight smile, she just turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her, not coming back that night at all.

***

She’d taken the opportunity to hand out some extra flyers to the local businesses, inviting them along to the opening. Dev – the young boy at the corner shop who usually made frantic, excitable conversation about Ruby Tuesday and rock stars when she was buying milk or ice lollies – was keen to come along. His mother rang up the items every day, eyeing Evie like she was a siren, a bad influence on teenage boys in love with rock’n’roll. But they put the flyer up anyway.

By the time she walked back to pick up Esme, the afternoon had cooled off a little and she arrived holding onto three lemonade lollies, smiling as Evelyn opened the door.

‘You seem a lot happier.’ Evelyn revealed dimples in her soft cheeks as she took the ice lolly, ‘Why thank you. Come in?’

‘Nope, me and Miss Ez have got some cooking to help with. An old friend is visiting tonight for dinner. If she doesn’t cancel on us. We promised Mollie we’d help, didn’t we Ez?’

Esme frowned from the top step, holding five books piled up, balancing them under her chin to support them.

‘Hmm,’ Esme said, ‘I guess.’

‘You guess?’ Evie laughed, ‘Come on, I’ve got an ice lolly melting into my hand with your name on it. We’ve got big important things to do, missy! The opening is in two days!’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know,’ Esme sighed, kneeling on the bottom step of the staircase to slide the books into her blue, spotted backpack. She slid it over her shoulders, looking suddenly smaller, and reached up on tiptoes to hug Evelyn, closing her eyes. ‘Thank you.’

‘You are very welcome, I’ll see you at the opening!’ She tapped the bottom of the little girl’s chin, smiling widely, ‘Now I’d grab that lolly before you have to drink it with a straw!’

Esme shrugged as she reached out her hand for the ice lolly, and Evie followed her down the road, wondering why the little girl seemed so bereft.

‘Sorry you had to leave Evelyn’s,’ Evie offered, catching up with her as they walked in the direction of home.

‘It’s fine,’ Esme said lightly, looking straight ahead.

‘What’s up Ez?’

The little girl stopped, sighing, and turned to her godmother. ‘I’ve got to tell you something, but I think you’re going to get mad.’

‘Mad at you?’ Evie frowned, ‘Did you break something at Evelyn’s, because I’m sure we can just–’

‘No. Not mad at me. Just mad.’

Esme’s words hung in the air, seeming to take on a heaviness.

‘I can’t promise anything Ez, but you know I love you. If you need to tell me something, just tell me.’

‘A man came to Evelyn’s house,’ Esme started, biting her lip. ‘He asked for me.’

‘For you?’ Evie felt her brow crease. What man would be looking for Esme? Had Jamie suddenly reappeared? Even that didn’t make sense.

‘He said he needed to speak to me, and Evelyn brought me to the door, and he said he had a message for you.’

‘Did Evelyn ask who this man was?’ Evie suddenly regretted letting her stay with the older lady, how much did they know about her really?

‘He said he was your daddy. And he told me to tell you that he was really looking forward to seeing you at the opening, and that you should buy a newspaper tomorrow morning, because there was going to be a feature on the gallery.’ Esme’s lips were trembling, watching for Evie’s reaction.

‘Why didn’t Evelyn send him away?’ She could feel her heart racing, feel her breathing start to become sharp and tight. He’d gotten to Esme. He knew where they were, he was watching where they went, he knew that they’d dropped off Esme. This was awful.

‘He seemed… nice. I knew he wasn’t because of things you and Mum have said, but to anyone else, he seemed like a nice dad, happy about the opening.’

Evie scrunched her face up, getting a headache almost immediately, ‘Okay. Okay. We’re going home now.’

She grabbed Esme’s hand and started walking briskly down the road, mind racing. It was a threat, all of it was a threat. And he’d passed it through a child to make her know just how easily he could get to them. ‘I’ve got to speak to Evelyn, that’s not acceptable…’

‘You’re hurting me!’ Esme pulled her hand away, huffing, ‘You need a timeout!’

Evie could feel her own hands shaking, ‘What if he’d tried to take you, Ez? What if he wanted to hurt you, or us? He’s going to destroy this place, and I’ve put all my savings in, and if this isn’t a success we’re going to have to go home. You’ll be back with your nanny, do you want that?’

Esme’s eyes filled with tears as she watched her godmother ranting. Her lower lip wobbled, and her cheeks turned patchy and red. She took a deep breath, stamped her foot and readjusted her backpack. Then she turned her back on Evie, and started walking home. Evie could do nothing but follow in silence.

***

Evie watched as Esme stamped up the stairs in silence, pausing just once to look over her shoulder and throw her a glare, her eyes red and puffy. Evie wanted to run after her, to cuddle her and tell her everything was fine, but she couldn’t, she couldn’t do anything but stand there and vibrate with the panic of what her father could do to this dream they had built.

Mollie would be mad at her. She knew the minute she walked up those stairs she’d be greeted with a stony face, and the simple question, not even voiced:
why have you made my daughter cry? What have you done now?

Evie pulled out her phone desperately, typing in the number for her mum’s house. She felt herself get more frustrated as she heard the phone ring and ring, eventually reaching voicemail, and feeling herself let every bit of anger and irritation out as soon as she heard the beep.

‘Why? Why did you have to tell him what we were doing and where I was? Now he’s come to fuck it up, and take it all away from me! One day, you’re going to realise what a fucking horrible human being that man is, but I’m not going to be there to see it.’

Pressing the ‘end call’ button was not quite as comforting as slamming the phone down, but she threw the mobile across the room anyway. Evie stomped through to the kitchen, finding herself a glass and pouring a plentiful helping of whisky. She didn’t know what else to do. Tomorrow’s newspaper article would be worse, Chelsea would pull out in case it destroyed the new life she’d built, people wouldn’t come to the opening, and within weeks they’d be back home in Badgeley, as if it had never happened. Except Mollie would hate her. And Evie wouldn’t be able live with her mother again, not after this.

She turned, leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping at the whisky and feeling it burn as it went down her throat, closing her eyes and pressing the cold glass to her lips, humming. She needed an answer, she needed a way out, but there wasn’t one. Bill didn’t make a play unless it was foolproof. The man was a snake, and he didn’t care about anything enough to have a weak spot.

‘What was all the shouting?’ Killian’s voice was warm, and full of concern, and she knew, the minute that she opened her eyes, that she was going to fuck this up. She paused, trying to breathe, trying to remember any of those techniques they taught her in the anger management classes. But this wasn’t anger – it was panic, pure panic.

‘Nothing,’ Evie opened her eyes and looked at him blankly, watching as his light eyes stared back at her, doubting her.

‘Why lie without even trying to sound convincing?’

He looked painfully gorgeous, his jeans sitting low on his hips, wearing a worn grey tank top, his stubble even more pronounced. He stood squarely, daring her to answer, thumbs in his pockets. He’d come for an argument and she was in the right frame of mind to give him it.

‘Because I was hoping you’d get the hint that I do not want to talk.’ She chucked back the whisky and poured herself another.

‘And maybe you need to talk if you’re chucking back booze at one in the afternoon like that.’ His face didn’t change, stony and solemn.

‘Look, just because we went out and drank some Old Fashioneds whilst looking at a giraffe does not mean you know shit about my life, okay? I am trying to deal with stuff, and keep everyone safe and happy, and you are not helping.’

‘I’m trying to!’ Killian yelled, slamming his hand on the side, ‘You won’t let me! We’re spending time together, getting on, and then suddenly – you’re not here any more.’

Evie screwed her face up, rolling her eyes, ‘Oh I’m sorry if me having a life is making you “wonder where this is all going”,’ she snorted. ‘What are you, a girl from a nineties romcom?’

Killian shook his head, like he couldn’t believe her, ‘I’m not into wasting my time, Evie. I didn’t sign up for drama and bullshit. Talk to me when you’ve grown up.’

He walked from the room, and she could see the stiffness in his arms, the tension in his neck. Seconds later, she heard the door slam and felt a dull satisfaction that she’d pissed him off. The best way to relieve anxiety was to take it out on someone else. No doubt she’d feel crappy about it later, but for today, she was pretty sure the only way to dissipate that sick knot in her stomach was to make other people feel like shit, and drink extensively, until this horrible day was over, and she could wake up tomorrow and see that newspaper article.