Goodbye Ruby Tuesday

by A. L. Michael

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, have the habits of a lifetime suddenly changed? Is he suddenly faithful and caring and wants to stay here forever?’ she spat out, watching as her mother’s face closed down, a sudden emotionless wall.

  ‘He’s here. I’m happy he’s here. Let me be happy.’

  Evie shook her head, ‘I’m going to the pub for a few hours.’ She pulled on her jacket and paused by the door, looking at her mother, ‘You know what I called that painting? Doormat.’

  She walked out of the house and as she walked along the road she searched her phone for the number of the person who had wanted to buy it a few nights ago. There was no point being precious, work was made to be sold. The woman was happy she’d agreed to sell and they arranged a drop-off time.

  Evie smiled to herself, nursing a pint of Guinness in the pub, watching as all around her the people took part in the same rituals they always had. The same four old boys who always haunted the fruit machines with their pints of cider. The teenagers trying to blend in, laughing too loudly and looking around to see if they’d been noticed. The girls on a piss-up, looking for the next stand-in daddy.

  She’d escaped, and she’d stay escaped. She’d made money from her work. She was a real artist now. Even the idea of having to face Bill when she got in could not put her down. That painting would pay her rent, keep her in London a month longer, keep her learning and improving. She finished her drink slowly, safe in the knowledge that she was better than Badgeley.

  She slipped her key in the lock quietly, thinking she could slip into her room without being seen. She walked through the living room and noticed the painting wasn’t there.

  ‘Your dad took it,’ her mother said, her lips trembling even as she tried to put a brave face on. ‘He just thought you were so talented…’

  ‘That what, he’s going to put it up in his office? The man does fuck-all Mum! He’s taken it to sell it, hasn’t he?’ Evie roared, looking at her mother in disbelief. ‘Why didn’t you stop him?’

  ‘He’s your father! He said he knew someone who’d love it, who would pay well for it. You should be pleased he’s so committed to your career.’

  Evie widened her eyes so hard she felt like she couldn’t even see straight. Her mother was standing her ground, proud and defensive. Because, of course, Bill could do no wrong.

  ‘You know, sometimes, it’s like you’re a fucking alien, you know that?’

  Evie took her bags and got the train that night, waiting for four hours in the train station just so she didn’t have to be at home. Her mother texted her the next morning, proudly announcing that Bill had got ninety quid for the painting, and he’d given her forty pounds to pass on. Evie knew she’d never even be able to track down who Bill had sold it to. She threw her phone against the wall, hearing the sickening crunch as the screen cracked. And then she picked up her brush, and began again.

  She awoke out of her creative trance about an hour later, feeling so much better. That lump in her chest had dislodged, and she felt like she could do things again. She stood back and looked at the twisting reds and purples on the canvas, like confusion personified. As long as it was out in the world, it wasn’t inside her.

  Perhaps she needed to be honest with Mollie about their timeframe. Or maybe she needed to talk to Evelyn and see what their options were. Because they did have options. Sunlight streamed through the window, and everything seemed much easier somehow. She’d make lunch, and listen to Esme’s list, and everything would be better.

  Evie knocked gently on Esme’s little door, listening closely for a ‘go away’ or anything else. She didn’t hear anything.

  ‘Ez? I’m sorry about everything hun, come out and we’ll look over your plans over some lunch,’ Evie said cajolingly, ‘I’ll even make jacket potato and baked beans? With extra cheese?’

  Still no reply. What was the etiquette here? Did she respect the child’s privacy and leave her be? Maybe she was sleeping. Or did she barge in to make herself understood because she was the adult? God, all of this was difficult.

  ‘Ez?’ She opened the door slowly, peering around at the empty room. Esme wasn’t there.

  Evie frowned, then padded along to the empty bathroom, and looked in the empty kitchen. She thundered down the stairs to the gallery, thinking that perhaps the little girl would be sitting in the conservatory, reading in the sun, or making lists on the chaise longue, looking at the books. But the gallery was empty, and she felt panic rise in her chest once again, looking around the empty room with wide eyes, not sure what to do.

  She heard the rhythms of AC/DC coming from Killian’s workshop, and ran to the door, banging on it forcefully with her fist. Five times, six times, seven times…

  ‘What the hell?’ He was wearing a paper mask over his nose and mouth, and the smell of vanish was intense. He stepped out and closed the door behind him, pulling the mask off. He ran a hand through his dark hair and looked at her serious face, ‘Look, I’m sorry if I was harsh before, but–’

  ‘Esme’s missing. Is she in there with you?’

  Killian’s eyes widened, ‘No. No, I wouldn’t let anyone in there, the fumes are too intense. When did you last see her?’

  ‘When you last did. She went to her room after I told her she had to stay upstairs and wasn’t allowed to help. I was working in my room, I don’t know how long it’s been, but she’s gone!’ Evie felt her voice break, and she clasped her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh god, what am I going to tell Mollie? I don’t even know where she’d go…’

  Killian nodded, his eyes serious, and then walked into his studio and closed the door behind him. Evie looked at the closed door in shock, ‘Well, I don’t know what I was expecting. Ignoring me is better than an “I told you so” I guess.’ She put a hand over her mouth to clamp down on the sob that was erupting, and stood there, shaking, unsure of what to do next. Call the police? Call Mollie? Go roaming the streets?

  She heard the music switch off in the workshop, and Killian reappeared holding his phone, shoving his wallet into his back pocket. ‘Come on.’

  He marched over to the front door of the gallery and held it open for her.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m helping you find her…’ he rolled his eyes, exasperated ‘… come on.’

  ‘Where has she been since you got here?’ he asked, carefully looking around the front of the building, as if Esme was a small cat who might have got stuck in a fence.

  ‘Nowhere! She doesn’t know this area at all!’ Evie gasped, feeling herself becoming more and more hysterical.

  Killian looked at her, his hand briefly touching her arm as he looked into her eyes, ‘Evie, you’ve got to calm down, okay? She has been places. Didn’t you say you went to Evelyn’s the other day?’

  Evie took a deep breath and nodded, ‘Right, yes. We’ve been to visit Evelyn, and we went to the market the other day. Otherwise, that’s it.’

  ‘All right,’ Killian grabbed his phone and made a call. ‘Evelyn, it’s Killian. Is Esme with you? The little girl who visited with Evie?’ He shook his head at Evie, ‘She’s gone wandering, we thought she might have come to you. Okay, thanks.’

  He slipped the phone back into his pocket, ‘She said she’s going to have a look around the streets near her house, in case Esme tried to get there but got lost. Let’s walk down to the market. Which way did you walk together when you first went?’

  Evie pointed, and they started trudging down the street, keeping their eyes peeled. She didn’t even notice the silence, her mind racing with every possibility. You heard about abductions every day in London, a little girl with blonde hair going missing? It would destroy Mollie. It would destroy her. She’d already put them at risk, and now this. This was all her fault. She clenched her fists to stop them shaking.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Killian said, coughing, and she felt his eyes on her as she focused on putting one foot in front of the other. ‘This is all my fault.’

  She turned to him, frowning, ‘Ho
w could this be your fault? I’m the one who’s irresponsible and should never have been left in charge of a child. You were right, I don’t know kids, and I don’t know London. Mollie and Ez are like my family, and I tricked them, and dragged them here, and now–’ she pressed her hand to her mouth, feeling herself gasp as she burst into tears.

  ‘How did you drag them here? It looks like they made a choice. They seem excited to be here,’ Killian’s eyes were tracing the streets, flicking back and forth for signs of the little girl.

  ‘They think we have six months left on the lease, but we don’t.’ Evie exhaled, relieved to tell someone, even him. ‘We have under two months to set this place up and make enough money to survive, and I knew that before we came, but I wanted to come. I lied and thought I could fix it before they found out. If I wasn’t so focused on that, I wouldn’t have lost Esme! I was so selfish that I put them at risk.’

  Killian frowned, ‘You’re being melodramatic. Lots of people don’t make it in London. What’s the worst that could happen?’

  ‘I get a child’s hopes up about starting a new life and then she has to go back to live with her bitter, alcoholic grandmother whilst her mother works all hours to get them their own flat, because she just used up all her savings on her friend’s pipe dream?’ Evie felt her breathing constrict again.

  ‘Damn, you’re right, you are a horrible person,’ Killian said, and she turned to him in shock. He shook his head, ‘Sorry, not the right time for a joke. Look, let’s focus on finding Esme now. There’s time enough to worry about everything else.’

  ‘Time is exactly what I don’t have,’ Evie breathed out shakily, but turned her attention back to the streets. ‘I just… I need to grow up and not be so irresponsible.’

  Killian looked at her in surprise, his head tilted, ‘God, you’re nothing like Ruby, are you?’

  She just stared at him, and the moment passed.

  ‘You’re not irresponsible,’ Killian said awkwardly, patting her shoulder as they stood in the street and he looked around, desperately hoping that she would stop crying. ‘You acted like a parent – you told her she couldn’t do something, and she reacted like a kid and ignored you. You can’t help that.’

  ‘But… we don’t treat Ez like a kid! She’s more than a kid. Our deal was we respect each other and talk to each other. I broke that deal, so she did what she wanted.’ Evie shook her head, wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. People all around them were walking quickly, marching towards the station or queueing for the bus. The market was huge, how were they ever going to find her?

  ‘Come on, let’s keep going,’ Killian nudged her, ‘if we’re lucky, she’ll be on a main street, looking at one of the stalls.’

  ‘You said it’s already been an hour…’

  ‘She’s only got little legs though, she might be slower at walking. We should be able to catch up.’

  Evie nodded, lengthening her stride, dodging in and out of tourists and locals, who were meandering along with no idea that she had lost a child on the streets of London. Evie felt irritation and anger taking over, replacing the fear. It was the only way to survive. They reached the high street, and she turned to Killian.

  ‘Do you think we should walk down the whole high street, checking the shops, or go to the places I know she liked last time?’ she asked him, desperately wanting him to tell her what to do, and hating herself for it.

  Killian grinned at her, looking behind her to the high street and pointing, ‘I don’t think we need to, look.’

  She followed his gaze down the high street, to where she saw a tiny person with blonde fluffy hair carrying a Moroccan style footstool against her chest, stumbling as she tried to look over it to see where she was going.

  Evie ran to her, ‘Ez! My god! Are you okay?’ She threw her arms around the little girl, and her treasure, sobbing against her.

  ‘I’m okay, I was just trying to be helpful. We need more seats downstairs in the gallery. I wanted to show you I could be useful.’ Esme said pointedly, raising her eyebrows at her godmother.

  Evie pulled back and widened her eyes, ‘Come on, you know that no matter how big a butthead I’m being, you’re not allowed to wander off. Especially to a massive market in London without telling anyone!’

  Esme did look slightly chastened, nodding as she looked at the floor, ‘Okay. Sorry. But look!’ She brandished the footstool, ‘I got a really good deal!’

  Evie looked at the beautiful purple footstool, with the seat embroidered with gold and pink thread, edged with little gold coins. ‘It’s beautiful, Ez, really good choice, but…’

  ‘But I was very naughty, will never go off again without telling you, and you’re not gonna tell Mum because you really respect me as a human and not just as a little kid?’ Esme looked up, smiling hopefully at her godmother.

  ‘God, she’s good,’ Killian laughed, drawing Esme’s attention.

  ‘Why are you here?’ she frowned.

  ‘Killian very kindly agreed to help look for you when I turned into a panicking, crying mess,’ Evie said pointedly, raising her eyebrows.

  Esme patted Evie’s shoulder sympathetically, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just tired of people treating me like a kid.’

  ‘You are a kid,’ Killian snorted.

  Esme frowned at him, looking up in irritation, ‘Not your monkeys!’

  Killian tilted his head at Evie, waiting for an explanation.

  ‘That old saying? Not my circus, not my monkeys? I think Esme is pointing out that you don’t get to decide how people treat her.’ Evie sighed, ‘But I’m very tired of being scared and worried and arguing, so how about we go home now?’

  Killian held out a hand to Esme, ‘Would you like some help carrying that?’

  Esme looked at him with suspicion, and he held up his hands.

  ‘It’s not because I think you’re incapable, it’s because you’ve been carrying it for quite a while, and I’m trying to be nice.’

  ‘Ooh,’ Esme looked at Evie, ‘that’s new. Okay. Thanks.’

  Killian huffed a little, then took the stool, leading the way back to the gallery, so that the girls could talk.

  ‘Why’s he being nice?’ Esme whispered, way too loudly, taking Evie’s hand.

  ‘Because I was a wreck. I was crying and panicked. Ez, I just had to imagine telling your mum that you’d disappeared and we would never see you again. It can be dangerous in a big city!’

  ‘Okay. Sorry.’ Esme shrugged, ‘But now maybe he’ll stay nice?’

  ‘Weirder things have happened,’ Evie sighed, squeezing the little girl’s hand, ‘and I’m too tired to worry about them. Let’s go home and eat pizza, shall we?’

  ***

  Evie was back for the summer. Nothing had changed in Badgeley, and all she had was the hope that one of the hundreds of internships she’d applied for in London would get back to her. She could travel in and out during the day. She had gone in to see the local pub landlord, Jason, and lined up a couple of trial shifts as a barmaid. Chelsea’s stepdad had put in a good word for her when he’d seen her around town with her CV. He wasn’t a bad old fella, for a gangster.

  On her first shift she’d faced the usual barrage of bullshit from the football crowd – grabby hands and hollering. She was pretty sure she’d broken one of the bastards’ fingers, but Jason shrugged and told her to do what she needed to do, as long as he didn’t get sued.

  ‘Evie Rodriguez, how the mighty have fallen,’ a male voice called down the bar, but when she looked up, it was only Nigel and he was smiling.

  ‘All right? Still on the Guinness and black?’ she gestured. Nigel was the first boy she’d kissed, and he had always been there, hovering in the background. He still wore the same sad patterned t-shirts and his skin hadn’t cleared up, despite leaving puberty behind years before.

  ‘Nah, I’ve been informed that’s a drink for little bitches. Just a regular one’s fine.’

  ‘Did I say that to yo
u?’

  ‘Yep, last day of school,’ he laughed at her, ‘you said “Well Nige, it’s been great but I’m off to London to make art and change the world, so I need to let you know to stop drinking Guinness and black, ‘cause it’s for little bitches, okay?”’

  ‘I did not!’

  ‘I might be paraphrasing,’ he grinned, leaning forward on his elbows.

  ‘You might be the only person in this pub who knows what that word means,’ she snorted, handing over his drink.

  ‘You’re a bit of a snob, you know,’ he said lightly, ‘just because some of us stayed here doesn’t mean we’re worthless. I mean, look at Mollie.’

  She looked at him, ‘Mollie’s in Bristol.’

  ‘Why the fuck would she be in Bristol?’

  ‘Because she’s studying drama at the theatre school there,’ Evie frowned, ‘do you mean she’s back for the summer?’

  ‘Have you actually spoken to her since you left?’ Nigel frowned at her.

  ‘Yeah, texts and stuff. She always seems busy and never really replies… I didn’t want to bother her,’ Evie shrugged.

  Nigel rolled his eyes, ‘She’s at her mum’s. Go see her.’

  The next morning Evie woke up with a dull feeling in her stomach and walked across the estate. Mollie had been lying to her? Did she not get into theatre school? But she’d seen the letter. All those unanswered texts and simple answers to things. She trudged across and rapped on the door firmly. She knocked over and over until she finally realised no one was going to answer.

  ‘Hi,’ a voice came from behind her, and she turned to see Mollie, white knuckled hands grasping a pram, in which sat a sleeping, blonde haired toddler.

  ‘Holy shit.’

  Mollie rolled her eyes. ‘You’d better come in then,’ she sighed, nudging her out of the way to move the pram and open the door. The toddler slept throughout the kettle being boiled, Evie twisting her fingers as she sat in the living room that looked so much like her own. Except there were boxes of toys, a drying rack with tiny outfits and a box of nappies in the corner.