by Andy Tilley
Men don’t see women as loose when they nail them on the first night. They see it as confirmation of their own irresistibility. Unless the girls banging someone else. Then they’re a slut )))))
I haven’t had time to fully consider how this revelation sits with my frame of reference when Jonathon follows it up on a more serious note.
BTW no word from Ruby. Can we meet?
It has been a long time. Three days now since she disappeared for her weekend binge but I guess her absence from work on Monday was a big alarm bell because if there is one thing Ruby is not, it’s unreliable. I agree to meet him in the café opposite the office block at lunch, which is less than an hour’s invoicing away. In the mean time I need to get the answer for Cristian squared away. I could talk to Gillian about it but I know how judgmental she can be. In spite of the fact that she is only a couple of years older than me she has a completely alien view about how young women should behave. I think this is something that her rather up himself husband has drilled into her because according to the information available in the village, she used to be a bit of a tear away. Now it’s all ‘baby this’ and ‘baby that’ and ‘what the hell does she think she looks like in a mini skirt’. Anyway, she’s busy filing and (rather hypocritically) flirting with the boss to try and get a half day release to take the kid to a pantomime. Talking of pantomimes, that’s what my love life is in danger of becoming if I don’t get this sorted. ‘Oh no she won’t, Oh yes she will!’ the crowd roars as Cristian sneaks up behind me, his evil landlord cloak drawn across his face. Come on Rose! Make the decision and send the bloody text! Right, settle down now because this has to be simple. If Jonathon is correct, and I suspect he is, then Cristian isn’t going to judge me if I decide to stay over tonight. And I have to admit, he is irresistible, a nine out of ten on that score so ultimately he has to take responsibility doesn’t he? Especially so as he’s mentioned more than once that people always end up seeing things his way. The only other thing left to consider is how I’ll feel in the morning. Now then, let’s imagine, someone is marking me out of ten on the slut scale. I am pretty confident that I’d only get a frigid two, maybe creep up to a ‘naughty but nice’ four, depending on how much wine I’ve drunk. Sod it, decision made.
Send the driver home. If that’s okay with you. X x
‘Sleep with him’.
Gillian hears my stress relieving mouth and steps away from the boss proclaiming far too loudly that she didn’t. Well well well Mrs Holier than though! Seems that we all have a quandary to deal with! My enjoyment of her discomfort doesn’t last though.
Great I’ll get Sally to make up a spare room. See you at seven x x
Very tricky indeed Mr Chevalier, and Jonathon agrees when I read him the text.
‘So how are you going to play it then?’
I feel guilty about making him help me sort my problem out first. Jonathon’s obviously worried a hell of a lot more than I had anticipated about Ruby. I can see it in impatient lips that tremble ever so slightly as they sip at chocolate laced foam.
‘Oh I don’t know, just play it by ear I guess. Anyway, what are we going to do about Ruby? You not heard from her I take it.’
He hasn’t and the poor thing is now becoming close to losing it. Boy, will I give her a piece of my mind when I see her! Okay, ignoring me for two or three days is fine but her younger brother who idolizes her? That simply isn’t fair. Reaching out across the table I clasp his hand in between mine and rub it vigorously.
‘Hey now don’t you worry, she’ll be fine. You know what she’s like don’t you? Ruby doesn’t care about anyone but herself and that…’
Pete. Pete has just walked into the café.
‘Pete! Over here!’
What she sees in this shambling, drug dealing tramp I will never understand but whenever I have challenged her Ruby always insists that Pete is her soul mate. Who am I to argue? To be honest, until Cristian, I did envy her this relationship, jealous that she had found someone who she considered to have a soul worthy of worship and I hadn’t.
‘So where’ve you hidden her then?’
A strange combination of nonchalant shrug and nervous flick of greasy fringe tells me two things; the lad is stoned and doesn’t know where he is, never mind Ruby.
‘But she was with you last weekend right?’
‘Yeah, oh yeah. Hi Rose, Jonno. Yeah she was with me this weekend. Camped out at Hartford Heights. Had a blast.’
This was going to be like getting blood from a stoner.
‘And?’
‘Yeah, this weekend was a blast Rosie, a real blast.’
Giggle one more time pal and I’ll blast your head off!
‘Yes, we get it Pete. It was a blast. But where is Ruby now?’
‘Dunno. She did one Saturday afternoon.’
‘But you just said….’
One thing I have learnt in Pete’s company over the past three years is that you can’t rush someone who is so chilled out on skunk that they aren’t even phased by losing their girlfriend. Taking a deep breath I start again.
‘So you were camping out with Ruby on Friday night and Saturday morning and then you split up on Saturday afternoon. Now concentrate Pete, where did she go then?’
‘Hey don’t be tryin’ to bring me down Rose, she’s a big girl. One minute she was there, the next she ain’t.. Her call’
‘Okay, okay, sorry Pete. But she didn’t mention anything about where she was going?’
‘Nope. Like I say, one minute she was there and…’
‘Where Pete? Exactly where was she?’
‘In the tent. I told you, we were camping, up at Hartfo…’
‘Hartford Heights, yes Pete, I’ve got that. And she was in the tent on Saturday afternoon and…?’
Disgustingly he bends closer in towards me; invades my space with his big greasy wobbly head, eye lids barely open. I would like to think that his arrogant, slowly stated answer to my question is nothing more than a front to cover his embarrassment at being dumped, but it isn’t. He truly is despicable.
‘And I went to get some wood for the fire and when I came back she wasn’t there. She’s a big girl Rosie. One minute she was there, the next she ain’t.. Her call.’
He straightens again and I can’t be bothered to interrogate him further. The man’s a loser, literally so having just lost my best friend somewhere up in the woods.
‘Hey listen, you couldn’t lend me a tenner ‘til Friday could you?’
’Piss of Pete. I have to go and find my friend.’
I haven’t fully calmed myself even by the time Jonathon and I arrive outside the police station. I need a minute or so more to get my thoughts together. I need to be taken seriously on the other side of that little blue door where everything is examined and cross examined. I have to present my concerns in a rational manner and avoid seeming sensationalist. Thinking about how believable I have to be, it’s probably best if I leave a very emotional Jonathon in the car. Turning toward him I rub his hair to grab his attention.
‘Hey now come on you. She’s fine. I know it. I’m only going to let the police know because, well because it’s best too, that’s all. It doesn’t mean that she’s in trouble. In fact it’ll probably be me who gets into trouble for wasting police time!’
My smile is pathetic and betrays my total lack of conviction in what I am saying. Ruby is in trouble, no doubt about it in my mind, and the sooner the police get themselves up on Hartford Heights to check the caves and crags there then the more chance they will have of finding her; painfully sober now and badly injured by a spaced out fall into something or other.
Chapter 7
Tonight is a big night. So huge in fact that there isn’t room for both it and concern for Ruby so thoughts about my missing friend are pushed slightly to one side. To be honest, unburdening myself of responsibility at the police station probably helped me to do this. The constable had been extremely sympathetic and he had promised me faithfully that he
would send a car round to pick Pete up first thing in the morning so that he could be taken to show them where exactly they pitched tent. Good luck trying to get him to remember that! Well, I can do no more, nothing that will help anyway, so I don’t feel bad at all about clearing my head a little to make room for Cristian and the daunting task before me; dazzling his friends whilst dancing around the big issue (that being which room I will sleep in) long enough so that Cristian is forced to make a decision.
Concerning his friends, they seem a nice bunch. I was a little worried that they would turn out to be business partners or associates and that this may be more of a show and tell than a welcome to the inner circle but thankfully it isn’t. June and David are genuine friends, introduced to Cristian during the first week of his relocation to the Isle of White. Childhood sweet hearts these two may have been, but they’ve also been married for the last four years and it is so reassuring for me to see how happy and in love they are. Chatting away and smiling in the presence of proof that this can actually work (that my future with Cristian isn’t therefore just some wishful theory of mine) swells my confidence and as the introductions continue I can feel myself drawing closer and closer to my very own childhood love. Samantha (or Sam as she likes to be called) and her husband Richard are equally as sweet to me. Apparently Sam had met Cristian during a family holiday on the island. He had been throwing pebbles at the sea and she, only ten years old, had brazenly asked him if he would teach her how to throw properly, like a boy. Sam laughs as she tells the story of how her first wayward attempt almost hit Aunt May and her face lights up the room so completely that I don’t want it to go out. And I was right about Aunt May being a guest. She and John are a generation apart from the rest of us but none the less involved. I get the impression too that Cristian has told his Aunt perhaps more than he has me about his intentions (although I do hope not about tonight!) because almost every time I catch her eye I find her looking in my direction, warmly though and it doesn’t make me feel at all uncomfortable. On the contrary, her pleasant interest in how I am fitting in is reassuring and I’m sure that she would help out if I began to struggle. As ever with me, every silver cloud has a lead lining and on this occasion it’s the face that’s formed by the cloud that’s creeping me out because I can see little difference, other than the passing of time, between Aunt May and the photo of her sister, Dawn. It’s spooky, really spooky and I wonder how Cristian is feeling, having someone who looks so much like his mother back in Hartford Manor. I mean, I hardly knew the woman but it’s hard for me to shake an image of Aunt May clutching two tiny crosses ready to strike so god knows how he is feeling. I squeeze his hand and he leans down to hear me whisper how happy I am. A kiss follows, our first one in public, and Sam marks the occasion by raising her champers high and toasting us.
‘To Cristian and Rose. Thanks for inviting us to your fantastic home.’
Cristian and Rose eh, that’s what they all just shouted into the air. And my, how fantastic it sounds even if frankly, a little hard to believe. But this huge hug, this handsome man who is telling me how happy I make him too, these things are real and I can’t help myself from belonging here with him, in this home with these family and friends. I know I’ve fallen too fast but then how can I be expected to stop myself if my feet haven’t touched the ground for days? And what’s more, why the hell should I.
‘Time for the grand tour yet Cristian? I’m dying to see what you’ve done to the place.’
‘Absolutely Uncle John, I thought you’d never ask Bring your glasses everybody and I’ll bring the bottle. This could take a while!’
Myself and Cristian lead the party which is no less chatty as it troops around the ground floor, only interrupting what seems to be a continuous giggle to express oooh’s and aaaar’s as each door is entered. Uncle John seems to be the one with the sharpest wit and his continuous tease of the man he calls son is warm and full of pride. Apparently it had been his idea that Christian should renovate and relocate to his family home. I am so glad he did! The kitchen is next, my favorite room downstairs, and it seems like Cristian is holding back a little as we approach, as if he is keen for me to enter first. I tug him gently to ask him to catch up but he refuses.
‘This is a woman’s place so it’s only right that Rose should invite us into her domain eh lads?’
Cheers from the fella’s and groans from the ladies but to me the joke doesn’t seem at all out of place as I step into this magnificent Georgian kitchen, back into a time when women really would have held sway here. As people disperse to fill the space, open draws and cupboards (why, I have no idea) I make my way down to the far end of a timber topped central isle and stand in front of the huge agar stove there, one of its doors open slightly and already stacked full of wood ready for breakfast should James decide to cook au natural instead of using the more modern equipment which has been inoffensively incorporated into an arrangement of larders, sinks and wine racks set against the left hand wall. There are heavy oak beams holding the ceiling along the entire length of the room and either side of the stone chimney behind me these are fitted with wrought iron hooks. To my right, heavy pots and pans are hanging and to the left there are three pheasant, one rabbit and a shank of venison butchered from the animal that Cristian killed last weekend. Suddenly I feel the urge to speak, to say something that marks the moment and lets people know that I am here and that this is indeed my place. Need something funny though, and as this is to be my first joke tonight, it will have to be a good one.
‘Not hanging my squirrel up here then Cristian?’
Shit. Is that funny or sick? It sounded edgy and funny in my head but not so now. Maybe no-one heard me and that’s why there isn’t any laughter. Then it hits me; this is a punch line with no actual joke! I mean, nobody except Cristian knows about the squirrel. As far as they’re concerned it might as well be some smutty little euphemism (like beaver) or I might even have had a pet squirrel. Wait a minute, was that a snigger I just heard, over by the double fridge? Ah yes, Aunt May to the rescue, closely followed by Cristian and now John.
‘Oh you poor thing! Cristian told me about that on the phone. You really should tell the story Rose.’
So I do. This time though I go back to the beginning, to the gates that I crashed into and how I felt obliged to apologize to thin air. I tell people how scared I was of the woods, about the scratching noise and what I imagined it to be. They heap sympathy on me, connect with me and I love it, soak up every drop. Even if I do say so myself, this time the climax is funnier than ever; my animated dying squirrel antics over exaggerated, fueled as they are by champagne and appreciative chortles. The round of applause at the end is probably a little over the top though. After all people, a squirrel did actually die here!
‘Top up before we go upstairs anyone?’
Cristian fills glasses and everyone regroups around the breakfast bar. As we set off again I suddenly realize that I’ve never actually been up this staircase. The thought almost paralyzes me. What if someone asks me something? Asks me where the bathroom is for example? They’ll know immediately, realise that this isn’t the done deal that they were led to believe and that until the deal is done then maybe they shouldn’t be so accepting of me. We’re already on the top landing and turning left. I link Cristian tighter to get closer to him so that I can use him as a shield should someone need my advice. He would have to take the question wouldn’t he? That’s the correct etiquette isn’t it? I mean, there’s no way I would be expected to answer for him.