Goodbye Ruby Tuesday

by A. L. Michael

  ‘Hi,’ she croaked, ‘where are you going?’

  ‘Evelyn’s,’ he shrugged, ‘where are you off to?’

  ‘Scouting out some crap for an art project,’ she said wearily, reaching for a bottle of water.

  ‘You sound so enthusiastic about it,’ his chuckle was deep and warm. ‘You walking my way?’

  Evie shrugged and nodded, shuffling on alongside him.

  ‘I think we’ve switched personas,’ Killian said seriously, ‘suddenly I’m cheery and optimistic and you’re the sullen one.’

  She paused, briefly pulling down her sunglasses to look at him severely, ‘I have never been a cheery optimistic. And I’m hungover, not sullen.’

  He laughed at how serious she looked, ‘Sorry, but comparatively, with all your hope and “we’re going to create an amazing art gallery” stuff when you arrived. Yep. Definitely an optimist!’

  ‘Urgh, I’m not. I’m determined,’ she groaned. ‘Scrappy, maybe. Bossy, most certainly.’

  ‘Whatever you say, sunshine,’ he held his hands up, and she shrugged. ‘Mollie and Esme not joining you?’

  ‘Mollie has gone back to bed, I think she’s taking Ez out to some summer fair in Hyde Park later.’

  ‘Huh,’ Killian said, ‘so I’ll have the place to myself today.’

  ‘Yes, you can make stuff in peace, without little feet running up and down and drunken women wandering in late at night.’

  Killian snorted, ‘I’ve adapted. Didn’t think it was possible at my age but it’s quite nice for the place to be busy.’

  They walked quietly together for a while, Evie too hungover to even be awkward or embarrassed around him any more, which was working in her favour. She didn’t know how much time had passed, just focusing on pounding along, one foot in front of the other, when she suddenly realised it had been an eternity since they had spoken to each other.

  ‘Sorry… for being quiet.’

  ‘I’m enjoying it, it’s unusual,’ he smirked, and nudged her arm as they walked. She inhaled sharply.

  ‘So, you enjoyed your night?’

  Evie sighed a little, tilting her head back and forth to try and prepare herself for real conversation.

  ‘It was good. My friend Chelsea, who you met. She’d been distant since we got here, so it was nice to go out with her.’

  ‘Apparently so. Is her head hurting as much as yours?’

  Evie growled, ‘No, the bitch was up at yoga at five a.m. or something ridiculous, and now she’s at work.’

  ‘Superhuman.’

  ‘Super irritating,’ she sighed. ‘But that’s Chels, overachiever till the end.’ Regardless of where she started, Evie thought to herself with some pride. ‘So… you normally go hang with Evelyn during the week?’

  ‘I make a point to stop by,’ he shrugged, then whispered, ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of a loner…’

  ‘You? No!’ Evie rolled her eyes, and tried for a cheeky smile.

  He snorted and continued walking, stopped in front of Evelyn’s house. ‘Well, enjoy your day of foraging.’

  ‘And enjoy your day of charming older ladies and working quietly,’ she laughed, adjusting her sunglasses, ‘I bet you’ll miss us.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he nodded thoughtfully, ‘maybe I will. So, maybe we should go for dinner.’

  Evie started, glad she had the sunglasses on, ‘What?’

  ‘Dinner? Evening meal, often accompanied by conversation,’ he shrugged, hands in his pockets, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

  ‘Cheers, smart-ass. Why on earth would you want to have dinner with me?’

  ‘Dunno,’ he shrugged, ‘have dinner and find out.’

  Evie blinked, tilting her head to the side. ‘You are a strange, strange man. And I’m hungover, maybe I’m not interpreting this properly. You don’t like me. We just started interacting without wanting to throttle each other.’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ he grinned, bouncing on his heels.

  ‘You’re enjoying this.’

  ‘Seeing you squirm? Just a little.’

  Evie shook her head, ‘So what would we do on this date?’

  ‘Get dressed up, eat some great food, talk about stuff other than your dead friend and work?’

  Evie looked at him, ‘So you’ll be wearing something other than your jeans and dust-covered t-shirt ensemble.’

  He twitched his mouth, deep in thought, ‘I’m pretty sure I have a pair of chinos I wore in the nineties in my cupboard somewhere.’

  ‘Ah, back when I was a baby?’ She laughed.

  ‘Fuck off, you’re not that much younger than me.’ He nudged her, and the brief contact made something in her stomach flutter.

  ‘In spirit though…’ she did a dramatic twirl on the pavement ‘… in spirit I am still nineteen.’

  ‘You want to tell your hangover that? Because it’s all downhill from here.’ Killian looked beautiful when he laughed. His skin glowed in the sunshine, and he looked strong and solid, so unlike the skinny hipster artists she’d dated, or the angry punk boys before that. Even Nigel, who had been homely, comforting with his soft smile and broad frame, none of them had ever looked like they were strong enough to handle her. Killian looked… well, he looked like someone who wouldn’t put up with any of her bullshit. Which was strangely attractive.

  ‘I dunno, I heard a woman in her thirties is in her sexual prime,’ she shrugged casually, watching with amusement as his face froze. ‘Can’t be all bad.’

  ‘I suppose that’s a fair trade for the hangovers,’ he said faintly.

  Evelyn came to the door, waving at them both, ‘Hello darlings!’

  They grinned back stiffly, waving their arms.

  ‘I better go,’ Killian nodded towards the door, ‘was that a yes to dinner?’

  Evie tilted her head, trying to figure out what his angle was.

  ‘Saturday night?’ he wiggled his eyebrows, ‘I’ll pick you in my motorised scooter, don’t forget your Zimmer frame.’ He turned and walked up the stairs to the front door.

  Evie shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked at him, ‘Hey, I haven’t said yes!’

  ‘So say yes!’ he called back down to her, smiling.

  ‘You can’t see because of the sunglasses, but I’m rolling my eyes at you!’ she called back.

  ‘I have absolutely no doubt!’ He grinned knowingly, greeted Evelyn at the top of the stairs, and disappeared, leaving Evie staring at him in disbelief.

  Evie had a fair bit of luck at the scrapyard, charity shops and even walking along the roads where people left out boxes of junk to be taken. Her backpack was full, which, considering she didn’t really know what she was looking for, was an achievement. She was in full magpie mode, anything glittering, sparkling or red, it went into the bag. She was quite excited to sit down and get going on her project. But of course, the hangover hit again around three p.m., and so the rest of the day was spent curled up on the sofa watching Disney movies, drinking milky tea and napping intermittently.

  That evening, Evie sat down at the desk in her room, fuelled by coffee and excitement, waiting for Esme and Mollie to return. She started designing a poster for their opening exhibition. Needing inspiration, she looked through Ruby’s pictures – the ones taken at gigs, festivals and plastered on the front pages of glossy magazines by the paparazzi. Then she went back through her own photos, the ones in boxes she’d brought with her, all taken on film, actually printed, in that fuzzy, furry way that pictures looked before digital. They looked young, was her first thought, before she shook it away. Obviously we looked young. We were young. There they were, in those awful school uniforms with the green and purple checked skirts, and the dark purple jumpers. She looked like the angry girl she was, with thick purple streaks in her black curly hair, done with cheap dye she’d found in the corner shop and bought on a whim. Her eyes were lined with thick black kohl, and she had an unflattering maroon lipstick on that clashed horribly with her olive skin. She wa
s pouting at the camera like the person holding it was an idiot. Mollie looked like an awkward teenage – as Esme would no doubt look in six years – except Mollie hadn’t had her daughter’s confidence. Mollie’s long blonde hair sat neatly over her shoulder, her back ramrod straight. She was smiling, but her head was tilted down. Evie recalled it wasn’t actually her nervousness, but the fact she’d had an unholy crater of a spot on her chin that day, and was angling to hide it from the camera. Chelsea was loud and ridiculous, leaning forward, her arms outstretched, pierced tongue out. Her blonde hair (also from a box from the same corner shop) was slicked back with gel, so tight you could see the spotty skin around her hairline. She had huge hoop earrings the size of plates, and as she held her head up defiantly, you could see a dramatic change in colour along her jawline, where the foundation she was wearing suddenly stopped. And in the middle was Ruby, much the same as she had always been, and who she’d become. She faced the camera head-on, somehow in the background, further away than the rest of the girls, all jostling for attention, and yet… that haughty look she threw the camera, the hint of a smile around her mouth as if she knew something you didn’t. Well, that was Ruby. It was understated, but alluring. Even at sixteen. Her cat-eye liquid liner was perfect, and her red hair fell smoothly, luscious, but not as huge as it became later, as she curled it and worked in the volume, covered it with sparkly headdresses or flower headbands. No, Ruby just sat there in the middle, wordlessly telling the world that they’d better remember her name, because she was going to be important. God, what the paparazzi would pay for a photo like this, Evie thought wryly, fingers tracing their young faces. Ruby before she became Ruby Tuesday. She propped the photo up on the wall above her desk, and started sketching out ideas. She seemed to be drawing for ages, her hand cramping up, but there was the prototype.

  The Ruby Rooms

  Welcomes you to our first exhibition –

  Love, Age and Death: The Beginning.

  Because that’s what it was, really. Beyond it all, here was their new beginning. And Evie intended to take hold of it with both hands.

  ***

  ‘So, we all sorted for this weekend?’ Ruby checked her lipstick in her compact mirror and turned to the girls.

  ‘I don’t know Rubes, it sounds a bit sketch,’ Evie shrugged, torn about the idea of lying to her mother. Sure, the odd white lie about getting into fights or extra homework instead of the art classes was for the greater good. But this would be an actual lie.

  ‘It’s typical parent swap hijinks, it’s practically on the Disney channel,’ Ruby rolled her eyes and snapped the mirror shut, turning to face them. ‘Each parent thinks we’re at the other’s for a sleepover, and meanwhile, we head into London to the gig, get the last train back, change back into the clothes we stashed at the station, and go have breakfast in town where everyone can see us. Simple.’

  ‘And getting down there? Terry and his goons in the van?’ Mollie wore her disbelief across her forehead.

  ‘It’s a free ride!’ Ruby shrugged, ‘What’s the big deal?’

  ‘Um, Terry starts his day with a can of Carling, he’s old and gross and hangs out with teenagers…’ Mollie ticked off her fingers.

  ‘And last time I saw him I punched him for grabbing my arse,’ Evie shrugged, ‘just sayin’.’

  Chelsea sighed like the whole thing was too boring for words, ‘Look, the girls are right about Creepy Terry. Let’s just get the train down to London. We were gonna get the train back anyway.’

  Ruby squared her shoulders and stood up, ‘Yeah, and who’s gonna get us the booze when we get there? Terry, creepy or not, likes me and promised me a bottle of Bacardi.’

  ‘Yeah, and what did you have to promise him in return?’

  Ruby grinned and fluttered her eyelashes, ‘That’s the beauty of it. I never promised anything. Just suggested that we’d all be terribly grateful.’

  A look passed between Chelsea, Evie and Mollie. One of unease and awkwardness. It was time to vote, three to one, and Ruby never took being the odd one out well. Especially when it always seemed like she was the one who made things happen, that before her they were these boring girls who had no idea how to dream at all.

  ‘Three against one, Rubes,’ Chelsea shrugged, ‘I can get us the booze to get down there. We don’t wanna drive with Terry. I’d like to arrive unmolested, cheers.’

  They watched as Ruby raised an eyebrow – it was a toss-up between whether she’d lose her shit, or shrug and tell them she wasn’t bothered. Instead she just shrugged, ‘I guess I’ll meet you guys there then.’

  ‘You’re going to travel alone with that old perv?’ Mollie exclaimed, and Evie automatically held an arm out, as if she thought Mollie would launch herself at Ruby to protect her from the absent Terry. Or worse, agree to go with her out of loyalty.

  Ruby shrugged, ‘Free drink, free lift. And I can handle myself. See you girls there.’

  She walked out of the room like it was a catwalk, head held high. Of course, when Evie thought about it years later, she realised Ruby didn’t have the money for the train, or the booze, and she was good at getting what she wanted from people without letting them realise she needed anything at all.

  ***

  Esme and Mollie arrived home around six p.m., after a full day of events. Mollie looked exhausted, holding a pink unicorn and bag of candy floss whilst Esme bounced around the room.

  ‘Go get changed, Ez, your leggings are all messy.’

  Esme hopped off, and then they heard a squeal. ‘Mum! Evie!’

  They exchanged a look and ran into the room, ducking under the little door into the room. Esme was hopping up and down, clapping her hands and pointing at the window. ‘Look!’

  There was a window seat built beneath the window. It was made of whitewashed wood, with space beneath for books to be placed. On top there were two purple cushions with silver stars, which could be placed so Esme could lean against either wall, if she felt like it.

  ‘Thank you, thank you!’ Esme launched herself at Evie, who held her hands up like she was being attacked.

  ‘Hun, it wasn’t me!’

  ‘But we were out and you were here all day. Who else would come up here?’ Esme frowned, looking at the window seat suspiciously.

  ‘And who else knew about Esme’s obsession with having a window seat, it was just us,’ Mollie added, ‘I don’t think we told Chelsea?’

  ‘Maybe it’s my fairy godmother,’ Esme shrugged, perching on the seat daintily, swinging her legs back and forth.

  Evie blinked, thinking back to her earlier conversation and the carpenter who was so happy to have a day to himself in an empty studio.

  ‘I think it might actually be a fairy godfather,’ Evie said quietly, shrugging and going to bed, unsure of whether she needed to shout at the man about boundaries, or kiss him for making a little girl very happy. One option brought sweeter dreams than the other.

  Chapter Ten

  Something had been ignited in The Ruby Rooms. Maybe it was Chelsea’s involvement, Esme’s enthusiasm… or Killian’s presence, always hovering around the edges, smiling at her. Evie wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, she’d take it. Jack and Petunia had moved into their new workspace, and the dust was being shaken up everywhere. It was like the studio was yawning and coming to life, after years of staying quiet to avoid scandal. But it was imbued with Ruby’s spirit now, and Ruby always ran headfirst into scandal, welcoming it with her arms open wide.

  ‘Jeez, busy in here this morning,’ Kilian commented when he emerged from his workshop to find Evie balancing on a ladder, replacing all the lightbulbs with energy saving ones. In the kitchen, Esme and Mollie were dancing around whilst they made lemon drizzle cake, the sound of Chuck Berry making Jack nod his head and wiggle a little as he went to refill his coffee cup for the third time that morning. Evie was pretty sure he was more concerned with how the lemon cake was coming along than his need to re-caffeinate.

  ‘All systems are go,�
� Evie said, ‘the Grand Opening is in a few weeks, and there’s no time to waste!’ She pointed over her shoulder, still frowning at the stubborn lightbulb. Killian looked where she was pointing, to find a huge whiteboard leant up against the wall, covered in marker pen. The Ruby Rooms To Do List was along the top, and the columns of writing had started to run into each other, there were so many things on the list. It gave him a headache just looking at it.

  ‘You’re never going to get all that done!’

  Evie pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow, still focusing on twisting the stiff lightbulb. After an awkward squeak, it twisted out. ‘You don’t know me very well. Or Chelsea for that matter. So you can be forgiven for your cynicism.’ She put in the new bulb and wobbled down the ladder, Killian putting his foot on the bottom step to hold it steady. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘So everything’s under control?’ He held out a hand to help her down, and she smiled, hopping down and dusting herself off, ignoring any contact. The man still made her shiver, and she hadn’t said anything about Esme’s window seat. He just kept grinning at her like he expected her to say something. She refused to give in.

  ‘Mollie’s working on the catering, Chelsea’s sorting marketing. Jack and Petunia are inviting some artist friends to exhibit work. Evelyn’s giving invites to her contacts.’ She shrugged, looking back at the board, ‘This place needs a lick of paint, and then me and Ez are going to go flyering around the local area once the official ones are delivered from the printers. Sorted.’

  ‘I could help,’ Killian said suddenly, ‘if you needed furniture, I mean. Chairs? They’re not art, obviously, but they’re handmade and sort of… pretty? That, or I make a pretty mean homebrew if your guests don’t need their tastebuds.’