Goodbye Ruby Tuesday (8 page)

***

‘Here,’ Ruby threw her a chocolate bar, a Wispa Gold, her favourite. Evie frowned at her.

‘What’s this for?’

‘I saw you beat the shit out of your locker this morning,’ Ruby shrugged, walking in step, ‘you going to the art rooms?’

Evie’s lips were a thin line, ‘It’s too wet to go out onto the field and scream.’

‘Can I tag along?’

‘Depends if you’re going to try and make me talk about my feelings and shit, because as much as that quack of a guidance counsellor – who, by the way, hasn’t even got a counselling degree, she’s just too emotionally damaged to bother working anywhere else, so got a job here as soon as she finished school –’ Evie took a breath, feeling the anger build up again. ‘… As much as she says I need to go to another workshop on anger management, I kind of think that’s bullshit.’

‘Total bullshit,’ Ruby nodded and Evie looked at her witheringly. ‘What?’

‘Stop agreeing with me just to show you’re on my side.’

Ruby held up her hands as if she was being held at gun point, ‘I am on your side. I also think that woman hasn’t got a clue. And I think anger’s useful.’

They pushed through the doors to the art room, letting them swing heavily behind them. Evie sat on the same stool as she had that first day she’d met Ruby, and Ruby sat on the windowsill – long legs hanging, the holes showing on her black dolly shoes, getting out a bottle of nail polish to dab on the ladder on her tights. She only had bright pink.

Evie was quiet, drawing frantically, and they sat like that for ten minutes. Ruby was silent as she tried to fix her tights, and then started blotting nail polish on a piece of paper, attempting to make a pattern. She knew Evie didn’t like to talk at times like this. Eventually she heard the rustle of a gold chocolate wrapper, and when she looked up Evie was delicately nibbling at the end of the chocolate bar, looking at her.

‘Sorry I’m such a bitch.’

‘Good thing you’re an artist – no one puts up with bullshit like this from accountants or people who work at Burger King.’ Ruby grinned, ‘Give me some of that?’

Evie broke off a chunk and chucked it at her.

‘So… your dad’s back?’

Evie stilled, then took a deep breath and exhaled. ‘Yup.’

‘And?’

‘And… that man really pisses me off.’

‘Shocking that the guidance counsellor hasn’t made the connection. It’s pretty damn obvious.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Evie snorted, ‘who doesn’t love a good cliché? She mumbled some bullshit about attachment theory and Freud and then asked me if I ever felt confused about my sexuality.’

Ruby made a ‘that was a mistake’ face, ‘Oh boy. And what did you say?’

‘I said I was confused about whether her degree was one of those images that already comes as a background to a frame in IKEA, and maybe she should think about actually cracking open a psychology book before slamming me with her mumbo jumbo.’

‘Detention?’

‘Nope,’ she grinned, ‘that’s the beauty of it. Anything said in there is “an authentic expression of my feelings”… can’t get in trouble for being authentic.’

‘Hmm, think I’m going to use that next time I want to slap Nicki Bridwell in the face.’

Evie tilted her head and Ruby shrugged. ‘Started going off about kids in care, and how we’re all fucked up.’

‘Want me to slam her head into a locker?’

‘Nah,’ Ruby twitched her nose, ‘I’m not that bothered about it. I think I might just tempt her boyfriend into leaving her and then let them sit in the wreckage of it all.’

‘You never do things the simple way, do you? It’s never just telling people how you feel.’

Ruby smiled, ‘Now where would be the fun in that?’

***

The next afternoon they were summoned to the Glass residence. Well, that’s how it felt. In reality, Evelyn Glass, their new landlady, wanted to invite them to afternoon tea to celebrate their arrival in London.

Evie was nervous for some reason, dawdling as she walked with Esme ten minutes down the road, hands swinging back and forth as the houses seemed to get bigger and more grand. Esme’s eyes got wider as she took in stained glass windows, huge metal gates fencing off properties bigger than she’d ever seen before. She gripped Evie’s hand tighter.

‘So why is this lady asking us to her house?’ Esme frowned, looking at the houses with suspicion.

‘Well, we’re her new tenants, perhaps she wants to get to know us?’ Evie offered, realising that, yeah, she thought it was strange too.

‘Did she know Ruby?’

‘I think so, I don’t know how well, but she seemed to know her well enough when we spoke on the phone.’ Evie shrugged, ‘I looked her up, she used to be quite famous back in the day. A model, artist, photographer. I think Ruby was a fan of hers.’ The memories were hazy, but Ruby had always been on the hunt for role models, beautiful women who’d conquered the arts and created lots of drama and sparkle. She was almost sure there had been an Evelyn mentioned, a joke about her name being meant for glory. Or maybe she was making things up.

They stood before a huge white house with a shiny black door, and Evie lifted Esme up to use the silver lion’s head knocker. Within minutes, there was a soft padding, and the door opened.

‘Darlings!’ A voice trilled, and they stared. Evelyn Glass looked every bit the artistic darling she must have been back in the day. She had on smart black trousers and a Japanese style cherry blossom blouse, with a dramatic pink pashmina flung over her shoulder. She was barefoot, and Evie found it endearing. She spoke like someone who had always been listened to, and she was more sure than ever that Ruby had been a fan. Evelyn smiled, her bright blue eyes almost alarming in contrast with her cropped white hair.

She beckoned them in, ‘Come in, come in! It’s so good to see you both! You must be Esme!’ She stooped over slightly and held out both hands to the little girl, which Esme took suspiciously.

‘I’ve believe you are a fan of reading,’ Evelyn raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response.

Esme frowned, ‘How do you know that?’

‘Your backpack is open darling, and there seem to be a lot of books in there.’

Esme nodded shyly, her magpie gaze distracted by the woman’s twinkling pink crystal earrings.

‘I only mention it because I thought you might like to see the library upstairs, after some cake of course.’

Evie laughed at Esme’s face, her lips making an ‘o’ before stumbling out the words ‘The… there’s a
library
in your
house
?’

‘I know, it’s
mad
, isn’t it?’ the older lady laughed, and for a second Evie imagined what Ruby might have been like if she’d lived to be an old, funny lady. Perhaps they could have been old funny ladies together. The sadness fluttered briefly, then was gone.

‘Come on through and tell me all about your wonderful plans for that dingy old studio!’ Evelyn was saying, moving through the house. The walls were covered in artwork from around the world, bright colours and jagged lines, and they followed in silence, taking it all in.

Evelyn served tea in the conservatory, where they sat at a fairly modest round table, with wildflowers in jars all around the room, looking out on a wild, overgrown garden. She served tea infused with cinnamon, and chocolate cake with a thick dark ganache. Esme had it all over her face within minutes, and Evelyn grinned at her.

‘So… is the studio okay?’ Evelyn snuck a little more cake onto Esme’s plate, ‘I haven’t been down there in years, I’ve just left Killian to look after it all. I’m sure he’s done a good job though.’

‘Are you?’ Evie raised an eyebrow, licking chocolate sauce from her thumb.

Evelyn chuckled, ‘Finding him a bit abrupt, are we?’

‘He’s quite a rude man.’ Esme said, frowning at her cake, then looking at Evie, ‘Is it okay to say that?’

‘Yes, because it’s true,’ Evie laughed ‘he doesn’t seem happy we’re there at all.’

Evelyn laughed, shaking her head, ‘He is a bit of a grouchy old man, but he’s a big old softie once you get to know him. He’s lovely, honestly. Always comes round, offering to fix bits and pieces for me.’

‘Well it’s good to know he’s capable of being nice, at least,’ Evie said.

‘I’m sure you’re capable of giving as good as you get, according to Ruby,’ Evelyn pursed her lips, and Esme giggled. Evie revelled in that for a moment – Ruby had talked about them.

‘She told you about me?’

Evelyn laughed, ‘Of course, she spoke about all of you. She said you were a fantastic artist, full of fire, and your friend who was the beautiful but shy actress, and the excellent dancer. I’m afraid she didn’t seem to know about you, Esme.’

‘We fell out of touch over the years. Ruby was pretty good at a disappearing act,’ Evie shrugged.

‘Yes, she was… complex.’

‘The newspapers said she was having a breakdown,’ Evie said quietly, ‘do you think that was true?’

Evelyn looked at her squarely, ‘People love a broken woman, especially a talented, beautiful, broken woman. The most famous women in history had tumultuous, dramatic lives. You think people ever want to know about the beautiful woman who marries the handsome man and lives happily?’

‘In fairytales that happens!’ Esme piped up, and Evie handed her a napkin to wipe her face.

‘In fairytales you have to overcome adversity, my love, you have to rise from humble beginnings.’

‘Ruby did.’

Evie wanted to tell her about Ruby’s start, about the care homes, and then living with her foster mother, and how much she’d felt like an outsider. How the careers advisors had told Ruby that girls from the estate shouldn’t dream so big. That singing wasn’t a career. And she’d proven them wrong.

Evelyn looked at her, lips twitching like she wanted to say more, ‘Shall I show you the library then, darling?’ She held out her hand to Esme, who took it instantly.

Evie watched as they climbed the winding staircase up to the landing, passing a few different rooms until they stopped at the far end of the corridor. The older woman paused, hand on the doorknob, building the tension as she asked Esme ‘Are you ready?’

Esme nodded grimly, her lips set in a thin line as she simply stared at the closed door.

The room was wonderful. Floor to ceiling windows with huge maroon draped curtains that fell heavily onto the dark wood. Bookshelves were on almost every wall, reaching the ceiling, and Esme gasped and ran over to the portable ladder that slid across the shelves.

‘Wow, you weren’t kidding,’ Evie looked up in awe.

Evelyn raised a perfectly drawn-on eyebrow, ‘I never joke about books, wine or men, darling.’

‘Good to know.’ She suppressed a smile, and watched as Esme skipped about before flinging herself onto one of the array of chairs arranged in a circle in the centre of the room. Evie loved how mismatched it was – a turquoise loveseat, a dark, worn Chesterfield, and a ludicrously high-backed throne. The coffee table was set low, and there were cushions on the floor around it. There were wine glass rim marks on the coffee table, which Evie found strangely endearing.

‘I used to entertain in here,’ Evelyn smiled, looking around at the walls, conjuring memories. ‘It’s always everyone’s favourite room. We used to sit around, listening to records, talking art and politics. Drinking too much. It was a wonderful time.’

‘Was that when you were a model?’ Evie asked tentatively. If Wikipedia and a couple of biographies were anything to go by, Evelyn Glass been the muse/lover of many an up-and-coming London artist. It all sounded terribly important and romantic back then. What she really wanted to ask was if Ruby had been around during some of these parties.

‘Yes, offering up a pretty face in return for being remembered eternally,’ Evelyn rolled her eyes and turned to Esme. ‘Esme, what do you want to be when you grow up?’

‘A marine biologist,’ she said without pause, and then opened one of the musty books and sniffed, ‘oooor a librarian, with a weekend job as an ice cream taster.’

The adults laughed, ‘You’ve really thought this through, Ez!’

Esme widened her eyes, ‘It’s a real job! I asked!’

‘Wouldn’t you ever get sick of ice cream?’ Evelyn asked the little girl.

‘Do you ever get sick of books?’ she replied, and turned back to the shelves.

Evie shared a look with the woman, snorting quietly. ‘Don’t worry, you get used to being chastised by a ten–year-old… eventually.’

‘It’s refreshing… I think.’

Evie perched on the Chesterfield, tilting her head, ‘Did you not like being a model? It sounded like you were the toast of the town back then. Parties and galas and exhibitions…’

Evelyn smiled softly, ‘Oh yes, the men loved me, wanted to take me away from it all. The older women wanted to protect me, the younger ones were desperately waiting for me to age so I’d no longer be a problem… I just wanted to make art. I started out as a photographer, you know. But the only things anyone was interested in were my self-portraits.’ Evelyn rolled her eyes, ‘And then it was all Warhol and pop art and Carnaby Street… it was a wonderful time, of course, but… well, I often wished I’d made something beautiful, instead of just being beautiful for a brief time.’

‘You’re still very beautiful!’ Esme said from across the room, not even looking up.

‘You’re very kind,’ Evelyn replied, amused.

‘She also only speaks the truth. It’s a terribly dangerous habit I’m trying to curb.’

Evelyn looked at the little girl, head buried in her book. ‘I just wanted to create something
real
, something that was mine. I seemed to just belong to other people for so long. Married the wrong people.’ She sighed and looked out of the window, ‘I wasn’t terribly good at life, I have to admit.’

Evie looked around at the room, ‘You said your husband built this room for you.’

‘Reggie,’ Evelyn’s face lit up, ‘my darling, darling Reggie. He was a comedy writer, family had money, and I… well, I just loved him. He never saw me as the others did. In fact, I was hanging around on a set and moaning to him because I was convinced I’d started getting wrinkles. He told me he’d been waiting for a sign that I was only human, and asked me to marry him.’