‘Perhaps if I showed you … I’m loath to add to Ms Davison’s humiliation, but I think it’s the only way you’ll understand.’ He reached behind him to his desk, picked up a tablet and poked around on it for a few seconds. Ruby and I sat in heavy silence as he swiped and prodded. ‘Ah, OK, here it is.’ He passed me the device. On the screen was a photo of a young, buxom woman wearing a scant pink bikini. A crudely drawn arrow ran from her breasts to the word ‘saggy’ and another from her bum to the word ‘flat’. I knew I was opening and closing my mouth like a deranged goldfish but I had no words.
‘We think it’s best if Ruby takes the rest of today and tomorrow off. We’ll have a discussion before she returns.’
‘Yes, of course.’ I stood up. ‘I’m sorry. So very sorry.’ I left without checking that Ruby was behind me.
As I passed reception, the woman at reception stood and called out, ‘Excuse me!’ She added more gently, ‘We need your pass.’ I ripped it from my lapel and threw it down on the desk. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘it’s for security reasons.’
‘Because you do such a good job of protecting children,’ I spat. She maintained her smile but blinked several times.
‘Come on, Mum,’ Ruby whispered. I let her pull me into the car park but shook myself free as soon as we were outside. I looked at the sky for inspiration; it was an edgeless field of blue.
‘How could you be so disrespectful?’ I asked. I had viewed my teachers as deities. The thought of handing in homework late would have been enough to send me head-first into a shame spiral. One, Miss Gibbs, had been so kind and so reassuring that I had asked to stay with her for the summer. I had interpreted the encouraging comments at the end of my rambling essays, and the lengthy chats that she would let run well into break time, as far more than they were. At the end of my first year of high school, I gave her a silver chain on which dangled a trinket in the shape of a stack of books. It took all my birthday and Christmas money to buy. On the card I presented with it, I wrote how grateful I was for her lessons and offered my services to her for the holidays – cleaning up, helping with marking, walking her little dog Oscar, of whom I had heard so much over the year. She returned the chain. She told me that my success in English was gift enough for her. She asked me a lot of questions about my mum, about when we got up and what we ate. I left her classroom, my belly heavy with a feeling I didn’t recognize. I dropped the chain down a drain outside the technology block and said little more than ‘here’ to Miss Gibbs again.
‘It was a joke,’ said Ruby with a sniff. We caught the train home in silence. Every time I attempted to speak, the words ‘Why would you do this to me?’ bubbled up in my throat. I can’t bear those parents who see their children as an extension of themselves and push them to be what they could never be, but at that moment, I felt more than ever that the dark-haired child beside me was representative of who I was. And that meant part of who I was wasn’t good at all.
As my key was in the door, Ruby touched my back. I hesitated but did not look at her.
‘Can we not tell Dad,’ she said. I withdrew my key and turned to her.
‘How can we not tell him? Don’t you think he’ll notice when you’re hanging round the house all day?’
‘Can we just tell him something else?’
‘Like what?’ I folded my arms. ‘You’re the one who’s full of bright ideas.’
‘I’m really sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why I did it. I wanted Dom to like me. It was so stupid. I like Ms Davison. She’s really nice and funny. He promised he wouldn’t show anyone. Honestly, she was never meant to find out.’
‘Do you think that makes it OK?’
‘No … I just. I thought she put it up there in the first place and … Dad won’t get it. He’ll freak out.’ I let us in without giving her a response. We filed into the living room, where Dylan was watching unattractive people screaming at each other on the TV.
‘What are my beautiful girls doing home so early?’ he said.
‘Ruby got sent home,’ I said. ‘She’s not going in tomorrow either.’ His expression lurched from contentment to agitation. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, bracing himself for whatever was to come. Ruby shuffled towards me. I felt her arm resting against mine and weakened. In retrospect, it was pitiful how eager I was to share something with her again.
‘Too many lates. This new head is taking attendance very seriously.’
‘Wow,’ said Dylan. His face scrunched in contemplation. For a second I thought he was going to call me out on the lie. ‘That’s tough. I’m sorry, darling, I probably had something to do with that.’ Ruby exhaled audibly.
‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a project to do.’ She ran upstairs without so much as a glance at me.
‘Come give me a cuddle,’ said Dylan, holding his arm out. I sat on his lap. Lies upon lies. It was becoming so easy.
26
‘HOW WAS SAINT Mary?’
‘Sainte-Marine, and it was divine,’ said Nush with a sigh. ‘Just what I needed. I went with Cal and Eleanor – they’re such a riot.’ Nush often did this thing where she spoke about people as if I should know who they were. At first, I thought perhaps they were people of significance – she is well connected – but it turned out she had a strange, childlike habit of assuming others possessed the same knowledge she did.
‘We’ll have two champagnes, please,’ said Nush to a passing waiter. ‘We should start as we mean to go on.’ She smiled at me. Her teeth looked impossibly white next to her even more tanned skin.
‘Not if we actually want to get any work done.’
‘It will unlock our creativity.’ Nush examined her face in the back of a spoon. Clearly finding her reflection to her satisfaction, she blew herself a kiss before replacing the cutlery on the table.
‘For you, maybe. In my experience it does the opposite.’
‘You’re so right,’ said Nush, nodding solemnly. ‘I’m not supposed to drink anyway. My sponsor says it might lower my ability to resist the rest of the stuff.’ She waved a hand about in front of her, suggesting that ‘the rest of the stuff’ was everyday trivialities that everyone deals with. ‘I’m going to stick to day drinking; you don’t often get offered blow at breakfast.’ She giggled. My face felt itchy.
‘You had a cocaine problem?’ Nush pursed her ample lips as she considered this for a few seconds.
‘Mostly – and a bit of smack. It got me into quite a lot of trouble.’ She smiled as she looked into the distance, as if recounting youthful high jinks. ‘Yeah, it started small – a weekend thing, a holiday thing, a mid-week pick-up – but it got out of hand. I owed a lot of money to some not very nice people. My dad cut me off. I ended up dancing for a spell.’ I felt incredibly sad – you could give your child everything and it still might not be enough. ‘That’s how I met Frank actually.’ The waiter brought the drinks and I decided to risk the damage to my creativity.
‘Sorry? You met Frank when you were stripping?’
‘Yeah. I mean, not actually at the club. He wasn’t a client. His friend owned the place. I met him at a drinks thing and he got me to change my whole outlook.’
‘He does that,’ I murmured.
‘He’s pretty special. Have you met his wife?’
‘No.’ I meant, ‘No, don’t tell me.’ I didn’t want the hazy shape I had of her to become solid.
‘She’s amazing. She totally took me under her wing. You know, if my husband brought home some strung-out stripper, I’d be livid.’ So would I. Anyone would be, but maybe with Frank you would hide that because he makes everything seem OK.
‘That was kind of her,’ I said.
‘They’re great. He’s like my uncle. He’s better than my uncle because my uncle is into some pretty shady shit. And now he’s brought me to you!’ She opened her hands, ready to receive me as the gift that I was.
‘Yes, he did. So, let’s get on, shall we? What’s on the agenda?’
; ‘I thought we’d go over the details, and then after breakfast I’ll take you to visit one of my artists. Ooh, artists! It sounds so official!’ She clapped her hands, finished her drink in two gulps, and called out to the waiter to order another.
We arrived at a studio on a back street in Hoxton more than a little tipsy. There was no buzzer, so Nush beat at the heavy wooden door with her fist. ‘Charlie!’ she shouted. ‘Charlie darling, we’re here.’ Eventually, the door creaked open and a short, anaemic-looking man with thick-rimmed glasses and a serious expression opened the door.
‘Yeah, Nush,’ he said. More of an observation than a greeting.
‘Hi, darling. This is my marketing manager, Alison.’ Charlie nodded and walked back into the darkness. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. The space was largely empty. A few tables of odds and ends were scattered about, and a sink with a makeshift tea station sat in the corner.
‘Want a coffee?’ said Charlie. It didn’t feel like a genuine offer and I refused.
‘Got anything stronger?’ asked Nush.
‘I might have some scotch,’ he said in the same flat tone. He went to the sink and crouched down to rifle through the cupboard underneath. I walked up to one of the tables; it held a stack of books, a few empty beer cans and dozens of crumpled bus tickets. I picked up one of the books. It was called Cowboy Dreams and the image on the front made explicit what the cowboys were dreaming about.
‘Don’t touch the art!’ came a shout from behind me. I looked for the owner of the voice before realizing that it belonged to Charlie. I was both flustered and impressed. I dropped the book on the table and held my hands up. He scurried over, his sandals making frantic shuffling sounds on the dusty floor. He pushed me aside to replace the book where it had been, stepping back to survey it before making a small adjustment.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—’ Charlie glowered at me. I dropped my hands and swallowed my words.
‘Isn’t it fabulous,’ said Nush. She sauntered over and placed herself between Charlie and me. ‘Why don’t you give us a tour?’ Charlie stepped in front of me. He was not much taller and probably lighter, but he squared up as if preparing for an attack.
‘I’d love to understand the work,’ I said softly, lowering my head. Seemingly pleased that I had offered him the appropriate amount of deference, he cleared his throat and began.
‘This is Route Twenty-Five Library,’ he said of the books and detritus. ‘The objects were all found on the twenty-five bus route. It’s an evolving piece.’ I nodded. Nush tipped her head to the side.
‘It’s so evocative,’ she purred. He led us to a second table. There was some make-up, a few cigarettes, a set of keys and a pair of knickers that were definitely not new.
‘This one I call Fallen Angels. I ask women in clubs to give me something.’ I looked at Charlie again. His shirt was stained with ketchup or blood, and his fingertips were yellowed. I was impressed that he had been able to play to his strengths – he’d turned being a creep in a club into art. ‘This is what I’m currently working on,’ he said. His voice rose an octave as his excitement grew. We followed him to one of the far corners of the room. Alone on a table was a hi-top trainer, lying on its side.
‘Oooh,’ said Nush solemnly. I tried to meet her eye but she was staring at the footwear with what appeared to be great reverence.
‘Is that shit?’ I said – out loud, I realized too late. Nush and Charlie both stared at me, their faces veiled in shock.
‘I mean, on the shoe. Is that shit.’ Nush looked aghast. Charlie leaned in and examined the ‘piece’.
‘I don’t know. The not knowing is part of it.’ I took a step back.
‘And people pay for this?’ Charlie’s head whipped round to look at me. ‘And people are buying?’ I said, using all the muscles in my face to smile.
‘I have a few investors,’ Charlie said coyly. His shirt, grubby as it was, looked to be of good quality, and renting a space of this size in London wouldn’t be cheap. The realization that I had gone about everything in completely the wrong way hit me like a bucket of gunge in a cheap kids’ game-show. I’d been trying to work hard and play the game of life by the rules, and here was this little punk building a career out of shit.
‘You’re a rule breaker,’ I said to Charlie. He gave me a ‘you got me’ smile. His teeth suggested he also bypassed the rule of six-monthly dentist visits. ‘We need to make the attendees of the event feel the same.’
Nush looked perturbed. ‘It’s all got to be above board. Dad would kill me. I mean, he might actually kill me. We can have a little sniff at the after-party but everything else has to be completely kosher.’ It was my turn to look perturbed. Nush looked confused, or more confused than usual. ‘What?’ she said.
‘Everything, and I mean everything,’ I looked pointedly at Nush, ‘will be legal. I mean, we make the event seem like it’s underground. As if they’re breaking the rules by attending. We’ll keep the location under wraps until the last minute; the copy will allude to nefarious goings-on. We’ll make it feel naughty – doesn’t everyone want to be naughty?’
‘Yes!’ shouted Nush. ‘I could get some of my old friends from the club to come and dance.’ She was practically panting with excitement.
‘That’s not a bad idea.’ I got out my phone and made some notes.
‘Charlie, rather than revealing whole pieces in the marketing, we could select individual objects.’
‘I feel that,’ said Charlie.
‘This is going to be sick!’ cried Nush. ‘Dig out that scotch.’ Charlie sloped back towards the sink.
‘Sick is good, right?’ Nush laughed and nodded. ‘Do we still do high fives?’
‘No, babe.’
I stopped by home on the way back to the office. I could hear music from the living room and assumed Dylan had left the television on. It’s astonishing how quickly someone else’s action, or more often inaction, can slice through a positive mood. I went to turn it off, at the same time considering whether it was too patronizing to leave a note about it. I was so distracted by the thought that when I saw Ruby sprawled on the couch, I greeted her casually. It took another step for a sense of unease to set in; another to add bewilderment to the mix; by the third my head was empty of anything but outrage.
‘Are you taking the—’ I stopped, exhaled, and rolled my shoulders backwards to try and relieve some tension. ‘Are you kidding me?’ Ruby didn’t move from her position stretched across the length of the sofa. She had dragged her hair into a haphazard ponytail and was still wearing her emoji-print pyjamas, but I noticed that both her finger- and toenails had been painted a fresh shade of electric blue.
‘You can say “piss”, you know. I’ve heard the word before.’ I crouched down, balancing on the balls of my feet and resting my bum on my heels. Instantly, my knees began to throb, but I stuck it out in order to meet her at her level. I did the same when she was a toddler, falling to my knees so that we could be at eye level when I chastised her, showing her respect in the hope that it would be repaid.
‘Good to know,’ I said. ‘Here’s some other words you may have heard before – grounded, indefinitely.’ Ruby rolled over so she was face down on the sofa cushions. She started to speak, and although I couldn’t make out the words the indignant tone was clear.
‘I can’t hear what you’re saying.’ Ruby turned her head to the side but away from me.
‘What am I supposed to do all day?’
‘Read, study, think about what you’ve done,’ I said rapidly. She plunged her face back into the cushions. I stood up and my knees popped loudly.
I rang Carter as I made myself coffee. He was agreeable when I told him I was working from home. He didn’t actually say as much, but didn’t express displeasure, which was as close as it gets with him. His lunch suggestion had failed to materialize. I’d been having far fewer interactions with him and I liked it that way. Nush’s money kept him at bay. I parked myself in the k
itchen with my laptop and my thoughts.
Dylan seemed troubled to find me there when he came home. After greeting me, he hovered seemingly aimlessly in the kitchen. I wondered, not for the first time, what he did all day. How exactly he filled the hours and still managed to leave so much for me to do. Finally he said, ‘You don’t have to be here, I’ve only got a couple of lessons.’ I wondered what I was getting in the way of him doing.
‘I found her laid up on the sofa having quite the holiday when I came in.’ He chuckled. It was the stifled laugh every parent gives when their child is behaving badly but they can’t help but find it endearing. ‘It’s not funny!’ I slammed my laptop closed. ‘She needs to think about what she’s done.’ Dylan pulled an exaggerated expression of shock before breaking into an easy smile. It was broad enough that I could see the gap on the right side near the back. I remember clocking it when we first met. I made a note of the space each time we saw each other, not wanting to ask him about it and make him uncomfortable. The night he asked me to move in with him, instead of saying yes, I said, ‘What happened to your tooth?’ We were in bed. He held me closer. I was anxious that it was because he was about to disclose a violent past.
‘Rhubarb and custard,’ he replied. ‘The sweets. Those hard ones?’ I stroked his head.
‘I know the ones,’ I said.
‘So, you wanna live with this toothless codger?’
‘Yes,’ I said, because it was true.
Dylan sat next to me at the table. He leaned towards me and lowered his voice. ‘Do you not think it’s a bit extreme? I mean, I don’t think I got to school on time ever. I didn’t do too badly.’ That smile again. I had forgotten we were talking about two different things – he was reacting to his daughter having a few tardies and I was responding to the possibility she was amoral.
‘She has to learn to respect rules. It might not seem like a big deal, but it’s important to the school, and she has to know that she can’t just do what she wants when she wants.’ Dylan considered this for a moment.
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