by S M Mala
‘Ruby, Ruby, Ruby,’ he sighed to himself, grinning.
‘Am I interrupting anything?’ he heard someone ask and immediately fell off his chair, realising Commissioner Helen Trott was standing in his office, laughing at him.
She was in full uniform, obviously going to some official function. He jumped to his feet and smiled.
‘I was just thinking,’ Scottie replied, quickly putting on his jacket and standing up straight.
‘We know you like to dress casual so flinging on your leathers doesn’t really help,’ she said, smiling brightly and running her fingers through her neatly cut, short blonde hair. ‘You looked miles away.’
He examined her slim physique.
She was an attractive woman in her late fifties and he knew she fancied him but played it down. He had been known to heavily flirt with her on an odd evening out.
But this was his tactic to keep her sweet so he’d get his promotion.
‘You know how it is. What brings you to this neck of the woods?’
‘I wanted to see how it was going. It’s quite a lot to take in, this place, Scotland Yard,’ she said gently, stepping forward. ‘Another ten weeks and we can make the announcement official. Are you ready for that?’
‘Certainly am. I even got a new razor to celebrate.’
‘The whole idea is to show that we are modernising the force so you don’t need to make any major alterations. A shave might be a good idea for when we have the press conference to show off your handsome face.’
‘I look forward to it,’ he said brightly, internally dreading the moment and trying to hide his dismay at her compliment.
‘Better go. Let’s catch up soon over a drink?’ she asked and he nodded, knowing to refuse could upset her and, ultimately, his launch into the hierarchy.
Plus she had a reputation for picking certain types of men. It had been known she’d taken a few lovers but he was steering well clear of that. Helen Trott had managed to chew and spit out the ones who started to displease her. All of them had, in some way or another, been extracted out of the force.
As she walked out, he checked his appointments on the phone and then noticed he was due to take the kids round to his parents on Saturday.
His heart sunk knowing he couldn’t see Ruby that weekend.
He called her.
‘Hello,’ she answered. ‘I was thinking about you.’
‘When are we going to meet? When are you free?’
‘Listen, between the pair of us we have more baggage than terminal five can handle,’ Ruby laughed out loudly. ‘You’ve got your kids this weekend and Theo’s staying with me. We could meet for lunch next week but we’ll have to wait for the following weekend, unless you’ve got one of the kids.’
‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘I really want to see you again.’
‘And I want to see you.’
‘Ruby, Ruby, Ruby.’
Katya was stuck to her phone while sat at the dining table after lunch while Riley happily chatted to his grandfather, who kept patting his blonde afro, annoying the boy.
‘Leave him alone, dad,’ Scottie warned as his father laughed.
He flashed a glance towards his teenage daughter, who had hardly said five words since they arrived at his parent’s house. It reminded him of when he was forced to see his Nana Gwen at the same age.
‘Jack will you stop teasing Riley. My grandson has beautiful hair, you both have,’ Jean smiled proudly.
Scottie looked at his daughter’s straight ginger locks. Katya was still ignoring them.
‘Only you could have kids with such distinctive hair colouring,’ mumbled his father trying to tickle Riley.
‘No grandpa, I don’t like it,’ moaned the little boy, pulling a scary face to frighten him off, which only made him look adorable making his grandfather laugh.
‘Go on, you can all leave the table while I clear up,’ Jean sighed.
Scottie watched his father try and tickle Riley again, who just turned around and karate chopped the old man.
Taking a deep breath, Scottie looked at his two kids and smiled.
Katya was pale skinned with freckles. She took after her mother’s father with the colouring. Riley was mixed black and white, about the same shade of Ruby, with a shock of blonde hair.
‘She’s not said two words,’ his father mumbled, looking across at Katya who was now sitting outside in the garden. ‘Do you think she understands common people or should we be going to elocution lessons and speaking like the royals?’
‘Dad,’ said Scottie in a warning tone. ‘Miriam wants her daughter to be brought up properly. It’s not the kid’s fault if her mother is from that sort of background.’
‘More like a stuck up so and so. Private school and all that nonsense,’ Jack sighed, shaking his head from side to side. ‘Luckily you earn enough to pay for some of it. It’s not right if one kid gets something and the other doesn’t. You even helped Charlie with his university fees.’
Scottie knew not to bring it up.
His parents thought it was unfair their grandchildren were being treated differently, especially Riley, who he knew they had a soft spot for.
At the end of the day, the kids lived with their mothers and he had little or no say in their day to day upbringing. As long as they were happy, that’s all he cared about. And the mother’s got their childcare allowance, then they were happy too.
‘Riley won’t lose out. I’ll put the money I give towards Katya into a savings fund for university or whatever he wants to do,’ he replied quietly and checked his phone to see if there were any messages from Ruby.
There was nothing.
Standing up slowly, he let out a disgruntled sigh and caught his father looking at him.
‘Woman problem? I thought you were going to keep away from the opposite sex until you reached sixty and became Commissioner?’ his father chuckled. ‘Is it harder than you thought?’
He didn’t reply. Scottie knew he’d only blurt out something and then that would cause another commotion. His father wanted him to do well in his career.
‘Come on Riley, let’s have a kick about,’ Scottie said, needing some fresh air.
As the three boys played in the garden, his father and Riley constantly cheating, he noticed Diane walk in with her very tall husband Larry. He was from Nigeria and they’d been together for thirty five years.
Scottie knew they’d faced a lot of opposition to the love match but managed to face the bile that came their way. It made them stronger. The only thing was they couldn’t have a child of their own, so adopted Petra, making the perfect family unit.
But Diane thought Scottie joining the police force was a wrong move, given the institutionalised racism, hence her need to disguise what he did for a living. She’d softened up on him since he met Riley’s mother, Lorraine.
‘Scottie!’ shouted out Diane, heading directly to Riley and giving him a big hug. ‘My, oh my, haven’t you grown?’
‘Yes Auntie Diane,’ smiled Riley sweetly, kicking a ball that went straight into his grandpa’s nuts.
‘Bang on target! You know Great Nana Gwen is here. Go and kiss her,’ said Diane, walking up to Scottie and giving him a hug and a kiss. He noticed his father was telling Riley not to bother to speak to his great grandmother, while trying to recover from the sharp shock to his groin. ‘Hello there, how are you?’
‘Fine,’ he said cheerfully and watched Nana Gwen scowl when she looked out into the garden. ‘I see she’s in a good mood.’
‘Go and say ‘hello’,’ Diane laughed. ‘You know she loves to chat with you.’
‘Do I have to?’
‘I’ll join in with the footie and you can face the wrath of your Nana.’
Within seconds of walking back into the house, Nana Gwen had spotted him and pulled a face.
‘So you’ve decided to turn up. We are honoured,’ she said quietly, while shoving a piece of lemon drizzle cake into her mouth.
‘Hello Nana,’ he replied and kis
sed her on the cheek.
He examined the petite old lady who looked all sweet and cuddly.
That was a cover. She had the sharpest razor like tongue and her general behaviour was questionable.
Today she was wearing a grey hoodie, red t-shirt with ‘Bimbo’ blazoned across the chest along with khaki cargo trousers finished off by a pair of white Adidas trainers.
It was her idea of being fashionable.
Scottie knew she dressed that way to annoy her friends and relatives.
And Diane didn’t help matters by going out and buying her the gear.
‘Jonathan,’ she said, without a hint of smile, in her slightly posh accent that still took him by surprise.
Nana Gwen would be the first to tell everyone she married for love, and beneath her, when she met her late husband, Percival. He was working class but made good through a textile company. She’d often laugh about how his family treated her like royalty because of her background and, of course, Nana Gwen would lap it all up.
Now she was just glaring at Scottie.
‘You missed my birthday and it’s not every day you turn eighty one. I’ll be dead next year so what will you do then?’ she huffed.
‘Bring a bottle of port to your grave?’ he replied deadpan. ‘You’ll never kick the bucket. You’re that stubborn. You wouldn’t let the grim reaper come near you.’
‘And grim it will be for him if he doesn’t let me reach my one hundredth birthday so I can get a telegram. Probably be some message on 3D by then, from whatever skanks are on the throne.’
‘Mother!’ Jean said loudly, who seemed to spend most of her life mortally embarrassed by her own flesh and blood. ‘Don’t disrespect the royal family!’
Scottie tried not to smile at his grandmother trying to wind up his mum.
‘Scottie,’ Larry said, walking into the living room with a large glass of milk. ‘How are you?’
‘Great!’
Scottie came up to his shoulder and always felt a little short next to his cousin’s husband.
‘Petra was pleased you left the party early. Said she couldn’t face you cautioning another one of her suitors,’ said Larry, bending down to whisper. ‘Personally, some of these boys you can’t tell if they’re male or if they know what a bath is. I don’t mind if you arrest them.’
‘She needs to sow her wild oats,’ Nana Gwen said loudly.
Scottie noticed his mother roll her eyes.
‘I want her to keep her oats safe for the time being and only at the breakfast table,’ Larry replied seriously, walking out to join the others playing football.
‘Not like you Jonathan, who can’t help but sew his oats at the drop of a hat, aye?’ teased his grandmother. ‘Got some new skirt lined up then? It’s been months.’
‘Leave Jonathan alone,’ his mother said gently. ‘He’s concentrating on his career not women.’
‘No one wants to go out with a copper,’ sighed his grandmother, breaking out into a smile. ‘All corrupt, isn’t that so Scottie?’
‘Call him Jonathan,’ hissed Jean. ‘That’s his name.’
‘Alright love, keep your hair on,’ the old lady laughed. ‘When are you getting this promotion I’ve heard so much about? Waiting for some old bastard to kick the bucket?’
‘Really!’ said Jean walking out of the living room, shaking her head in disgust.
‘Nana, stop being a bad old lady,’ Scottie laughed, leaning over and giving her a kiss. ‘Jesus, what’s that smell?’
‘Paco Rabanne. Some bloke died in the home so I took it. Smells good!’
‘You smell like a middle aged man,’ he laughed, glancing out at Diane.
He was itching to talk to her about Ruby.
‘What are you up to?’ Nana Gwen asked, eyeing him suspiciously. ‘I can see you’re ticking something over. Anything on your mind? What this about people knocking off Samaritans? Have you read the papers? It’s brilliant isn’t it! Bloody do gooders getting involved in other people’s business.’
‘Not like you, who never sticks their nose in when it’s not wanted?’ he smirked. ‘And don’t forget Diane is a Samaritan. I’ve met some of her colleagues and they seem okay.’
A flash of Ruby naked on his bed came into his head. He was riding her slowly as she kissed his face then when she came, Scottie remembered the twisting of his gut and groin due to the sound she made.
‘Why’ve you gone red?’ his grandmother asked, snapping him out of his dirty thoughts. ‘Like you had a hot flush. Are you going through the menopause?’
‘Got to speak to my cousin,’ he said, turning around and walking back towards the garden, not wanting to get pulled into one of Nana Gwen’s warped conversations.
‘Have you got a new woman?’ she said loudly behind him. ‘You can’t fool me Scottie, I can see right through you.’
He ignored her comment but knew she had the habit of reading him like a book.
Diane was laughing hard about her inability to kick a ball. The others just looked at her as if she was mad.
‘Can’t you just kick it?’ asked Larry, shaking his head as his wife roared with laughter.
‘It’s just so funny!’
‘Can I have a word?’ Scottie asked, pulling her to the side and seating her on one of the benches, noticing the look of relief from the other three. ‘Thanks for letting me speak to that woman again. What was her name? Ruby or something? The pub she recommended was excellent.’
‘I’m pleased she could help,’ she said grinning, trying to catch her breath from her laughing fit. ‘Poor Ruby doesn’t go out that much, not since she split from her husband.’
‘Oh really?’ he said, knowing Diane liked to have a good chinwag. ‘I sort of figured out she was single. So how long have you known her?’
‘Five years.’
‘Five years!’ he blurted out loudly. Diane gave him a quizzical look. ‘How comes I never met her before?’
‘You don’t like my sock and sandal wearing friends from the Samaritans,’ she sniffed. ‘And when she was with Hugh that was another lifestyle.’
‘You met her husband?’
‘Why the interest?’ Diane asked sharply then whispered. ‘Don’t think I didn’t notice you drooling over her at my party. She’s very fragile and I don’t want her to get hurt.’
‘I was only asking,’ he said innocently. ‘Ruby seemed really nice.’
‘Oh you remember her name now?’ she said, smirking. ‘And that little episode calling me up and asking for her number so you could go to a pub she recommended? What was that about?’
As always, his cousin was way ahead of the game.
‘You should have become the policeman, not me,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘She’s really not your type,’ sighed Diane, grabbing his hand in her chubby one. ‘And I know you’re not hers.’
‘What makes you say that?’ Scottie asked, trying not to get pissed off, knowing that wasn’t true.
‘Firstly, you’re a policeman and not like any other normal bobby. You do all that stuff they have on television with clues, so that makes you, how shall I put it, more of an old boar than a piglet,’ she whispered. ‘And Ruby’s had a run in with the police.’
‘Really?’
Scottie had searched and found nothing about her, not even a parking fine.
He was tempted to take her finger prints and DNA, given his forthcoming new position, but thought that was just a little extreme.
‘Yes really,’ Diane said, trying not to laugh. ‘Ruby ran into the police when she caught her husband in her marital bed, porking one. Excuse my piggy references. And if you ever meet her again and tell her you’re a policeman, I can guarantee she wouldn’t find your sausage so interesting. Do you want her to see your chipolata?’
He didn’t know what to say.
Her husband had cheated on her with a police officer.
‘I could ask her out and see what she says?’ he innocently replied, realising he couldn’t
tell her just yet what he did for a living.
‘Your bacon will be grilled mate if you do, believe me.’
Seventeen
‘I can give you a number for a place that can help,’ Ruby said gently down the phone, knowing she was being listened to by Mick, who was constantly scowling at her while rubbing his beer gut. His shorn hair and styling gave him the outward appearance of a skinhead but that was his fashion, so he said. ‘I know it’s a terrible thing to deal with but I’ll get back to you.’
‘I don’t want to lose my home,’ the old man said, sounding distraught. ‘It’s all I’ve got and they say I’ve got to go.’
‘Floyd, let me take your details and we’ll sort it, okay?’
She looked up and caught Mick’s eye again. He didn’t look too disapproving.
What she really wanted to tell the caller was more in line with the truth.
You don’t pay your rent, you will get evicted. Saying you gambled the money away on the horses doesn’t really warrant sympathy.
But her lips were sealed, once again.
‘Nice one,’ said Mick when she hung up and logged the details.
‘Personally speaking, he’s an idiot to think that the council will let him off. He gets the rent into his bank account and then what does he do? Goes to the bookies. He’s only calling because he’s no good at picking the right horse. And this isn’t the first time he’s done this,’ she huffed.
‘We listen, not give advice,’ he said firmly. ‘Though you seem to think you know it all. I’ve read your column. You give the worst advice ever. Bad advice to be honest.’
‘We should be helping not just agreeing with them just in case they decide to take matters into their own hands or is that suicide?’ Ruby whispered, trying not to get annoyed about his comment on her problem page. ‘I’m not allowed to say that, am I?’
‘I don’t know why you bother to work here,’ sniffed Mick, flashing a dirty look. ‘It’s not as if you don’t make money out of writing your, so called, problem page.’
She knew to keep her mouth shut when faced with someone who, blatantly, disapproved of what she did for a living. Ruby had her own theory that Mick was jealous. He’d have preferred to get paid to do it than to work down ‘Greggs’ on the High Street.