Ruby

by Heather Burnside

  The man stared back at her in alarm. ‘No! Please no,’ he uttered, his expression no longer animated but frozen like a startled rabbit.

  Ruby responded by pulling the knife away and slashing it down his arm, leaving a gaping wound. The man screamed in agony and quickly covered the gash with his other hand. But before he had chance to do anything else, Ruby held the knife to his throat again, so close that he was forced to raise his chin and look straight into her angry eyes.

  ‘Sky!’ he yelled. ‘Sky!’

  ‘It’s a bit too fuckin’ late for the safe word!’ she hissed. ‘This has got fuck all to do with what you paid for. I told you from the start that I give the orders. You NEVER touch Mistress Ruby. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ the man mumbled, hardly able to move his mouth as the knife was so tight against his throat.

  ‘Let this be a warning,’ she continued. ‘Never, ever step out of line again! I want you off my fuckin’ premises. And don’t bother coming back. And if I EVER hear of you stepping out of line with a woman again then I’ll hunt you down like the fuckin’ animal you are, and I’ll finish the job off.’

  The man didn’t say anything; he just stared at her, his pleading eyes wide open with fear, till Ruby pulled the knife away.

  ‘Now go and get dressed then fuck off!’ she said, and she watched, relieved as the man picked up his clothes and began to dress.

  *

  In working as a dominatrix Ruby had found her ideal role in life as she had a profound distrust of men. Previously, in her work as a prostitute, Ruby had put up with the depraved and perverted clients by telling herself that it was just a means to an end. They might have thought they were using her but she knew she was the one in control. Men were just there to provide her with money.

  But being a dominatrix suited her far better. She didn’t have to sleep with the clients, who were mainly satisfied just to be punished or belittled. There were occasional times when a customer stepped out of line, like today, but those times were rare. Most customers knew what was expected of them. Not only that, but they knew of Ruby’s fearsome reputation.

  Ruby waited while the man got dressed then led him out of the flat. Once he had left her premises, she returned to the dungeon and got the room ready for her next client. Then she tidied herself up and checked her appearance in the mirror. By this time her cheek was smarting and as she caught her reflection, she noticed marks where the whip had lashed her. She put her hand up to her face and as she brought it away, she saw the glistening vermillion streaks of blood on her fingertips.

  The breath caught in her throat as she examined her face in detail in the mirror. But it was only a tiny gash and she let out a sigh, relieved that it was unlikely to scar. Nevertheless, the sight of blood on her face unsettled her and reminded her why she had such an intense aversion to the opposite sex.

  18

  May 2007

  A few days later the landlord paid them a visit. Ruby had just seen her last client of the day and was in the bedroom changing out of her rubber catsuit when she heard Tiffany answer the front door followed by the sound of the landlord’s voice. Then their voices carried past the bedroom door and Ruby knew Tiffany had let him in.

  She quickly finished getting dressed in her jeans and t-shirt then dashed through to the lounge to join them.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, switching down the music till the sound of the Sugababes hummed softly in the background.

  ‘As I’ve just been telling your friend, here,’ he began, ‘we’ve had a complaint from one of your neighbours who is concerned about the number of strange men you keep bringing into the flat.’

  Ruby immediately got on the offensive. ‘Her across the way d’you mean?’ Then, without waiting for the landlord to reply, she continued. ‘Jesus Christ! What is her problem? Yes, we do have men coming to the flat, but they’re friends and relatives, and they’re not strange to us.’

  ‘Really? Well, she mentioned the clothing you were wearing when you let a man inside the flat. She seemed to think there was something a bit suspicious about it. Rubber, she said.’

  Ruby forced a fake laugh, but inside she was praying that the landlord didn’t ask to take a look around the flat. The S&M gear would be a real giveaway. ‘It was a catsuit, actually. We were going to a fancy-dress party and my friend had come to pick us up.’

  The landlord didn’t look convinced but Ruby could tell that he couldn’t think of anything else to say other than accusing her outright of being on the game. It was obvious from the embarrassed way he was squirming that he wasn’t about to do that. Then she noticed Tiffany looking desperately at the clock, her features strained. Ruby remembered that Tiffany had a client due. Shit! She had to get rid of the landlord before he arrived. So she continued on the attack, acting wounded by the perceived insult.

  ‘So, you can tell Mrs Busy Body that she’s barking up the wrong tree! And now, if you don’t mind, Mr Walker, we’re busy.’

  The landlord looked round as though searching for words he couldn’t find. Then, when he still couldn’t think of anything more to say, he made towards the door, led by Ruby. But he left her with a few parting words.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry if I might have got it wrong, but if I have any further complaints then I will have to take things further.’

  Ruby could tell by his tone of voice that he wasn’t convinced by her story about the fancy-dress party. Nevertheless, she was relieved to see him walk down the hall and head for the stairs. She was thankful for that. It had been a close shave.

  When she got back inside the flat Tiffany was fretting. ‘Shit, Ruby, what are we gonna do? Now that old cow over the way knows what we’re up to she’ll be watching us every minute. It’s only a matter of time before she complains to him again.’

  ‘Bitch!’ Ruby cursed. ‘Why can’t people learn to mind their own fuckin’ business? It’s not as if we’re doing her any harm.’

  ‘I know, but you know what people are like. What are we gonna do?’ Tiffany repeated. ‘If she complains again, we could be out on our arses with nowhere to live and back to working the streets. And how the fuck will we get another place? No one wants to rent their property to a couple of prostitutes.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Ruby. ‘I think I’ve got a plan that should get us out of the shit. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while and, after what’s happened, I think it’s the right time.’

  19

  September 1993

  It was Trina’s first day at secondary school and over a year and a half since her attack at the hands of Kyle Gallagher and his friends. By now her scar had faded into a pale thin brown line. It was no longer repulsive to look at but, nevertheless, it set her apart from the other students, as did her good looks, tall, athletic physique and forceful personality.

  During their first games lesson, Nicole Pugh made herself known to Trina. By now, the other students were finding out about Trina’s tough girl reputation. While she was getting changed for games, Trina could see Nicole standing with a group of friends and sizing her up. Trina was still in her underwear, making her feel vulnerable, when Nicole approached with two of her friends following behind.

  ‘How did you get that scar?’ she asked.

  ‘Fighting,’ Trina replied, flippantly. Then she added, ‘with boys,’ and stood staring at Nicole, waiting for her response.

  For seconds they stood facing each other, their eyes locked in a death stare. It was Nicole who broke away first and walked back to where she had been standing. Her two friends shot Trina a contemptuous glare before they took off after her. Trina knew she had a problem. She had already heard of Nicole’s reputation. Many of the other girls were frightened of her and kept their distance when she was around. Others sucked up to her, wary of getting on her bad side.

  They were put on opposite teams for a practice game of netball and Nicole flashed her a sly grin as they took their places. Trina wasn’t surprised when Nicole managed t
o wrangle it so that they were paired against each other; Trina in goal attack and Nicole as a defender.

  While they waited for play to start, Nicole glared at Trina but, to Trina’s delight, she had to look up as Trina was much taller than her. Trina smirked at her and Nicole returned a look of hatred. For the first half of the game, Nicole marked her closely but Trina still managed to score two goals, her tall frame giving her an advantage.

  It was during the start of the second half that Trina and Nicole jumped for the ball at the same time. They collided and Nicole knocked Trina off balance. The ball flew from Trina’s hands. Nicole quickly reached for it but the teacher called a foul before she had chance and gave possession back to Trina’s team who yelled with joy when Trina scored a goal off the back of it.

  Nicole glared at Trina and hissed under her breath. ‘I didn’t foul; you did, and you’re gonna pay for that, bitch!’

  ‘Come on, girls, carry on with the game please,’ shouted the teacher.

  They resumed play and for the rest of the second half Trina managed to avoid any more encounters with Nicole, but she knew it wasn’t over. Nicole waited until the teachers had left them in the changing rooms before she made her move, stepping right up to Trina.

  ‘You pushed into me, you bitch!’ she said.

  ‘No I didn’t. It was you that pushed into me. That’s why the teacher called a foul. Bitch!’ Trina replied.

  ‘Who are you fuckin’ calling a bitch?’ shouted Nicole, giving Trina a sharp slap on her face.

  But Trina was ready and she launched herself at Nicole, overpowering her with a series of swift punches. Nicole staggered backwards, looking around for her friends who stayed out of the way, nervous of getting involved. Trina grinned on seeing Nicole’s look of despair then carried on raining punches down on her.

  It was the games teacher who came to Nicole’s rescue, rushing over in alarm as soon as she walked through the door and saw what was taking place. She pushed between the girls, holding them apart while she hollered at them to break it up.

  ‘Right, I want your names,’ she said. When she had taken a note of them, she said, ‘What a despicable way to carry on in your first week of secondary school! You can report to the head’s office after school and tell him I sent you. And I suggest you get yourself cleaned up,’ she said to Nicole whose nose was pumping blood.

  Trina spotted a slight tremble of Nicole’s lip and she could feel an inner glow of satisfaction. She had put Nicole Pugh in her place and everybody would now know that she wasn’t to be messed with. She didn’t care what punishment she got. It was more important that she had beaten her rival.

  For the rest of that day Trina basked in the glory of having beaten Nicole Pugh in a fight. Unknown to her, many of the school tough nuts had been waiting to see which girl came out on top in their year, and they were excited to see a winner. Others clamoured to win Trina’s favour, chatting to her as they made their way to classes.

  When Trina arrived at the head teacher’s office after school, Nicole was already standing outside waiting. Trina had seen Nicole as she walked up the corridor and had expected a hostile reception. But Nicole surprised her by flashing a grin as soon as she arrived.

  ‘He knows I’m here,’ she said. ‘You’re best knocking on the door and letting him know you’re here as well. He said he’ll deal with us once you arrive.’

  Trina shrugged and knocked on the door. A female member of staff answered it and looked at her contemptuously. Then she told her to wait till the head was ready for them before shutting the door again.

  Nicole giggled. ‘She looked at me like that too.’

  Trina couldn’t help but smile back. ‘You scared?’ she asked.

  ‘Nah, they can’t do much, can they? They’re not allowed to give us the strap anymore. Are you?’

  ‘Nah,’ said Trina. ‘Teachers don’t scare me.’

  ‘You’re a good fighter,’ said Nicole.

  ‘Thanks,’ Trina replied.

  ‘You’re good at netball too.’

  ‘I used to play it at primary school. I was the best runner in our year too.’

  ‘Wow! Cool,’ said Nicole. She then shifted awkwardly from foot to foot before asking. ‘Who do you hang around with?’

  ‘No one really. Just different girls in our class.’

  ‘Do you wanna hang around with me and my mates?’

  Trina grinned. ‘Yeah,’ she said, overjoyed.

  It was the seal of approval she had been looking for. She was now a member of the coolest group of girls in her year, which would make her popular. Trina wasn’t interested in being a good pupil. She had never been academically gifted anyway. For her, school was more about having a good time, and that meant hanging about with the right crowd.

  Within the first week of secondary school Trina had already found her place. Nicole was just the sort of wanton girl that Trina’s mother would have warned her against but that didn’t bother Trina. She was determined to fit in and have fun no matter what the cost.

  20

  August 1994

  ‘Trina, would you bring the washing in from outside please?’ asked Daisy.

  ‘Why?’

  Daisy looked at her daughter, astonished, and Trina knew she was finding it difficult to cope with the way she had changed since starting secondary school almost a year ago. ‘Don’t ask why, child. Just do as you’re told!’ she said.

  ‘But why should I? Why can’t they do it?’ asked Trina, nodding in the direction of her brothers, Ellis and Jarell, who were toy fighting on the living room floor.

  ‘Because I asked you,’ said Daisy. ‘And will you stop that fighting!’ she said to her sons before turning her attention back to Trina, adding, ‘Anyway they’re too young.’

  ‘No they’re not! Ellis is nine now. I helped you when I was nine,’ said Trina.

  ‘Do I have to ask you again? Why does everything have to be an argument with you? You never used to be like this,’ said Daisy. ‘You’re a girl. You should be helping around the house.’

  Trina had been on the brink of helping, her shame at letting her mother down battling with her bid to be her own person. Ever since she had become friends with Nicole, she had been testing the boundaries. Nicole was always telling her what a mug she was for helping her mother when her brothers got away with it, as well as offering advice and criticism on other aspects of her life.

  Why couldn’t she stop out late at night? Why didn’t she get more pocket money from her mother? Why didn’t she ask her mother to buy her some new, more fashionable clothes?

  It had made Trina think about things. Previously she’d been willing to help her mother around the house and to fit in with whatever else her mother wanted her to do. It was automatic, something she’d always done. But the more she found out about her friend’s lives, the more she was starting to rebel. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her mother; she had a deep love for her, but when it came to respecting her it was another matter.

  As soon as she said the words, ‘you’re a girl’ it was like igniting a flame of fury within Trina and she immediately made her mind up. There was no way she was going to help her mother with the housework on the basis that she was a girl. Unlike her mother, she didn’t think that women had to fit into a specified role. She resented men and the hold they had had over the family throughout her life, and she wanted to break away from the path her mother had set.

  ‘That’s rubbish!’ she yelled. ‘We’re not living in the dark ages now, y’know. Ellis and Jarell should help too.’

  ‘How dare you defy me, child!’ her mother yelled back. ‘And don’t speak to me in that tone of voice. Are you going to help out or do I have to punish you?’

  ‘What are you gonna do?’ asked Trina, mockingly.

  ‘Right, that’s it. Go to your room and don’t come back out till I tell you. You can go without your tea too.’

  ‘For God’s sake! I’m not a little kid, y’know, I’m twelve,’ said Trina, stompin
g up the stairs.

  ‘Well start acting like it then,’ her mother shouted after her.

  Trina stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her. It took her a while to calm down and, while she did, she kept thinking about the injustice of it all. Her friend, Nicole, was right; her brothers should help out more. Why did she always have to do everything her mam said just because she was the oldest and a girl? It was like being an unpaid skivvy and, when all was said and done, they were her mother’s kids, not hers, so why should she have to help look after them?

  She also began to ponder on all the other injustices in her life and became trapped in a cycle of negativity. Why did her friends always have more fashionable clothes than her? Why did she always have to tell them her mam couldn’t afford for her to go to the cinema with them? And why did she always have to be in as early as her brothers?

  Since she had started secondary school Trina was becoming more and more rebellious, not only in the home but at school too. She wasn’t interested in study, only in enjoying herself and being popular. And if being popular meant getting into trouble then that was what she would do.

  Once she had exhausted all negative thoughts and calmed down, Trina became bored. She had been looking forward to meeting Nicole and some of the other girls later. Nicole was great fun to be with and Trina enjoyed getting up to mischief with her and having a laugh. But if her mother insisted on making her stay in her room then she’d miss out on meeting her friends.

  Trina wandered over to her bedroom window and looked out at the tiny patch of garden, which her mother kept neat. She saw the washing still lined up meticulously on the line and for a moment she regretted not helping. It wouldn’t have taken her two minutes. But no, why should she? Most of the clothes didn’t belong to her anyway.