Goodbye Ruby Tuesday

by A. L. Michael

  ‘Thanks Molls,’ she said softly, ‘I thought you were going to hate me.’

  ‘We’ve been through too much for that crap,’ her friend said, and Evie heard a muffled little voice saying something. ‘Yes, I know I shouldn’t say that word, thank you very much. Who’s the parent here? Right.’ She heard Mollie turn back to the receiver, ‘So… I know you probably don’t want Chelsea coming round tonight but–’

  ‘No! I think she should, definitely. I think we should all be together.’

  ‘Oh good, because I just forced Esme round Sainsbury’s and bought stuff to cook, so otherwise we’d have way too much food.’

  ‘We’ll have way too much food anyway, you don’t do anything by half,’ Evie said fondly, wiping her eyes. ‘I really am sorry Mollie.’

  Mollie sighed down the receiver, ‘I know what Bill can do to your sanity. And I hate the idea that he even spoke to my daughter, that he knows where we are and what we’re up to. But you might want to apologise to a certain little person when we get back, because she can hold a grudge.’

  ‘Oh boy do I know it,’ Evie smiled.

  ‘She’s just desperate to give you a lecture on acting like a grown-up in public, and the importance of the timeout,’ Mollie laughed. ‘We’ll be back soon, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ Evie smiled tearfully, ‘bye.’

  She took a deep breath, turning around to see Killian looking at her, a soft smile on his face.

  ‘Feeling better?’ he asked, standing up to put the empty mugs of tea on the side.

  ‘You know something? I am. I really am.’ She paused before walking across the room, lifting herself onto her tiptoes and kissing his cheek. ‘Thank you.’

  He smiled at her, running a hand down her arm. ‘I have an idea of how you can show your gratitude.’ He took her hand, leading her towards her bedroom.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Evie tensed, pulling back, but he rolled his eyes.

  ‘Not like that, woman, jeez.’ He swayed her arm back and forth, ‘Weren’t we just having a conversation about trust?’

  She allowed herself to awkwardly be led into her bedroom, and Killian sat on her bed, patting the space next to him. She walked slowly and perched next to him, feeling a tingle of anticipation.

  ‘So…?’ Evie waited, looking at him.

  Killian looked at her for a moment, considering, and then started unlacing his boots.

  ‘Um, what are you doing?’

  ‘Well, I’m preparing to tell you a story, and I think we should lie down on your bed.’

  ‘Definitely the weirdest way anyone’s tried to have sex with me.’

  He pushed her, ‘Shut up and lie down.’ Surprisingly, she did what she was told, and they shuffled back on the bed until she was lying against him, curled up against his chest, his lips against her forehead.

  She rolled her eyes, knowing he couldn’t see her. ‘So what exactly was this bedtime story you wanted to tell me? I’ll stop commenting on how weird this is, seeing as you aren’t explaining yourself.’

  He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her so that she couldn’t pull back. The move would have annoyed her usually. Evie had never really liked being touchy-feely. Nigel was always trying to hold her hand or put an arm around her in public and it had made her feel suffocated. This should have been the same, but it wasn’t. Killian seemed to know her, know how she felt and what she needed. Maybe even better than she did, which was a terrifying idea.

  ‘Well, once upon a time, a guy got screwed over by his wife, and lost his daughter, and became a drunk, angry mess…’ Killian’s voice was soft and full of humour, but she still placed her hand on his arm anyway, holding him back. ‘And after he had absolutely hit rock bottom, almost lost his business and his home, a fairy appeared. She fed him, gave him a place to stay and a purpose. But more important than that, she gave him the most important piece of advice he’d ever get.’

  He paused, and Evie wriggled a little with impatience, ‘No need for a dramatic pause here – tell me!’

  ‘She said you have to use your gifts. And when you create something for you, you stop being angry and sad. She said creating was the opposite of hating. So the guy went back to work, but instead of making the modern crap he’d been making before, that was easy to produce and copy, he started making stuff for himself. Stuff that he could be proud of. And somewhere, during the cutting and sanding and building and noise, he started to feel better…’

  Evie nodded against his chest.

  ‘And then he met this angry, angry girl, who had this big dream… but she was doing it for everyone else. To provide a home for her friend and her kid, to honour a memory, to prove everyone wrong. Somewhere along the way, that angry girl revealed herself to be sweet and kind and selfless. And that was the last piece of the puzzle for the sad man. He was happy again, and his new job was to make the angry girl happy too.’

  She stilled in his arms, her heart beating madly.

  ‘Too much, right?’ he breathed against her.

  She shook her head, ‘Just not sure the guy can make her happy until she can make herself happy first.’

  He chuckled, ‘Anyone ever tell you you’re ridiculously stubborn?’

  ‘Only every day.’

  They lay there in silence for a time, until their breathing was in sync, and Evie was sure she was on the edge of sleep. She fought against it.

  ‘So I have to make art.’

  Killian shrugged against her, ‘You have to make whatever makes you feel something.’

  ‘Thanks for that Yoda.’ She nudged him, ‘Well, that was definitely the slickest way into my bed.’

  ‘I thought you said it was my bed?’

  ‘I’m not a fan of sharing,’ She wriggled back to look at him.

  ‘I’ve noticed.’

  They just looked at each other, his soft blue eyes staring at her, and he had that strange little smile on his face. It made her blush, but she stared back obstinately.

  ‘Now what?’ Evie asked, almost embarrassed.

  ‘Well, I’m exhausted, so I think I’m going to nap. Night.’ He squeezed her and closed his eyes.

  ‘You can’t just–’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Well what if I want to–’

  ‘Nope. Stay here. Relax. It’s nice.’

  Evie huffed, but still, it was pretty early, and she did feel exhausted. Closing her eyes for a few moments couldn’t hurt.

  ‘You should come to dinner tonight,’ she said thoughtlessly, becoming drowsy as his breathing evened out.

  ‘Okay.’

  She snuggled into his chest, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  ***

  ‘Just bring him Chels, for god’s sake.’ Evie was on the phone, pacing outside her own door, not wanting to wake Killian.

  ‘He might be busy! It’s late notice, you know!’ Chelsea had her arguing voice on, but Evie wasn’t scared.

  ‘I know you eat project managers for breakfast or whatever, but don’t try that bullshit on me. You haven’t told him yet?’

  Chelsea huffed, and Evie could imagine her striding back and forth in her designer shoes, click-clacking importantly in a glass office. ‘It’s not like I’ve lied. I can’t come out with one thing. It’s a bunch of little stuff.’

  ‘We’re not going to out you, okay? Bring him. I promise not to talk about poor people things,’ Evie sang with a grin in her voice. ‘Although he’s seen that shitty tattoo you got when you were seventeen so I can’t imagine he thinks you’re a bloody duchess.’

  ‘Maybe I had that removed,’ Chelsea said snootily.

  ‘Aw really? No more Eeyore? That’s sad. I used to like how his tail moved when you wiggled your arse.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ Chelsea snorted.

  ‘Not very ladylike Chels!’

  ‘Oh for god’s sake, fine! I’ll bring Kit to dinner! But just…’

  ‘Remember that he’s like a lord or something, and we’re lowly peasants?’ Evie supplied, ‘No problem,
got it.’

  ‘It’s not like that!’

  ‘Of course,’ Evie rolled her eyes, ‘I’ll be sure to cook with truffle oil.’

  ‘Don’t forget to garnish with caviar. We’ll be there at seven.’ Chelsea hung up, and Evie was unhealthily pleased at irritating her friend. Winning an argument with Chelsea was rare, so she must really care about reconnecting with them.

  Evie walked into the kitchen to find Mollie pan-frying something that smelled delicious. She was humming along to the tinny radio, dancing a little, a smile on her face.

  ‘This smells amazing,’ Evie snuck a carrot stick into her mouth, and put her arms around Mollie’s waist, giving her a quick squeeze.

  ‘I’m enjoying myself. I’ve made way too much though, you were right.’

  ‘We’ve now got two extra guests,’ Evie said with a grin, ‘Chelsea’s boyfriend is joining us. I twisted her arm.’

  ‘You’re a miracle worker. Who’s the other person?’

  A slight cough came from the doorway, where Killian waved, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘I’m going to go buy some wine for dinner. Any preferences?’

  ‘Nope!’ Mollie grinned, ‘See you at seven!’

  She waited until she heard the door close, and then turned back to Evie with a wide smile and raised eyebrow. ‘Was he in your bedroom?’

  ‘It’s not like that. He witnessed my meltdown earlier, and was nice to me. I was pretty shitty to him, to be honest.’ Evie ran a hand through her hair, getting her fingers stuck in the knots, ‘Speaking of people I’ve been shitty to, where’s Ez? I need to apologise.’

  ‘In her den.’

  ‘Is she upset?’ Evie bit her lip, hoping Mollie wasn’t angry with her. She’d been acting as the ‘cool auntie’ for so many years now, and had never screwed up as much as she had in the last few months.

  ‘She’s worried about you,’ Mollie touched her arm, ‘go talk to her. We’ll talk later too.’

  Evie nodded, walking through to the den.

  ‘Knock knock.’

  Esme sat in her window seat, scribbling furiously. She looked up at Evie and smiled, but it wasn’t all there. She looked cautious, unsure of how Evie was going to react. Even that broke her heart just a little. It was the same look Ez used to wear around Mollie’s mum, like she wasn’t sure which version of her she was going to get.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  Esme nodded, and she went over to perch by her window seat. ‘I’m sorry about today Ez, I panicked, and I was horrible and scary. I didn’t mean to say those things to you. I was just scared because that man had known where you were, and was able to talk to you.’

  ‘That man is your daddy,’ Esme said slowly, ‘and you’re scared of him.’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ Evie replied, maintaining eye contact with the girl.

  ‘Didn’t your mum protect you from your dad?’ she asked, her little hand placed on Evie’s knee.

  Evie shook her head, ‘My mum loved my dad more than she loved me.’

  The minute she said it, she realised it was true, and it hurt, but it felt like something had been unlocked. As if some of that resentment had drained away.

  ‘That’s not nice,’ Esme patted her hand, and she smiled at the little girl, looking so serious behind her thick black glasses. ‘But at least you got to know your daddy a bit, so you know he’s a bad person.’

  ‘Sometimes people aren’t good for you Ez, and it’s better not to know them,’ Evie sighed, cuddling her close. The little girl extracted herself and looked at her godmother seriously.

  ‘Is that why I don’t get to see my dad either? Is he bad like yours?’

  ‘No, honey! Your dad was a nice guy, from what I remember,’ Evie said, trying to think of the last time the little girl had ever even asked about her father. They’d known she would, at some point, but she’d been happy with them. She’d known how loved she was. Evie desperately hoped she hadn’t ruined that.

  ‘So he just didn’t want me.’

  Evie knelt in front of her goddaughter and held her hands, waiting until she met her eyes to talk to her. ‘No one who has ever known you could not want you. Your mum and dad were really young when you were born, and your dad’s parents sent him away.’

  ‘But he didn’t come back.’

  ‘We don’t know sweetie, maybe he tried.’ Evie took a deep breath, trying to hold off on screaming for Mollie to get in here and deal with this, ‘Why all the questions all of a sudden?’

  Esme shrugged, ‘I just thought if your dad was horrible, and suddenly was here, the same thing might happen to me. Maybe my dad’s here too, because London is such a big place. But maybe he’s not horrible like yours.’

  Poor Ez, London was the home for all the deadbeat dads in the world in her mind, and there had been a tiny glimmer of hope that she might get a fairytale nuclear family. Something about that made Evie ache. No matter how much she was loved, how much family she had, maybe Esme would always want a dad. That thought hurt.

  ‘Well, maybe we can all have a chat about it tomorrow, with your mum? But for now, I think I really need your artistic advice on how to make the table look pretty for when our guests come for dinner. Do you think you could help me? You know how rubbish I am.’

  Esme looked at her with a well-executed raised eyebrow, but she stood up and patted her auntie’s knee. ‘Yes, but I’m sure you’ll get better with practice. Let’s go.’

  ***

  ‘This is delicious Mollie, where did you learn to cook?’ Kit Harrison was not what the girls were expecting. A six-foot blond god, with a perfect white smile and the natural, easy nature of someone who doesn’t take things too seriously. He’d come in, kissed them on both cheeks, brought flowers and (probably expensive) wine, and a big box of sweets for Esme, who adored him instantly. He was, quintessentially, just a really nice guy. A nice guy who owned his own home, a sports car and pretended being a lawyer wasn’t impressive.

  ‘Just playing around at home, really,’ Mollie shrugged, a pink blush accentuated by the wine making her look even more beautiful. ‘I took a few evening courses over the years, but I’d love to do one of those cookery holidays.’

  ‘I did a pastry course in Italy one year.’ Kit nodded, ‘Great fun but I was absolutely crap at it! Mainly just drank wine and chatted up women.’

  ‘Oh really?’ Chelsea raised an eyebrow and he flung an arm around her.

  ‘That was before you changed my world, my darling.’

  Chelsea was trying to remain her cool, aloof self, but it was easy to see how much she’d softened. How she snuggled into his arm around the back of her chair, and looked at him like he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Which may have been true. Evie’s stomach ached at the hopeful look on Chelsea’s face, how much she adored him. How she seemed to be so anxious about where the conversation might go, that something might be revealed and disrupt her life.

  ‘What about you, Killian? Do you cook?’ Kit turned to try and invite him into the conversation.

  ‘You’re showing me up, mate. I’m terrible. But I am excellent at choosing the right components for a meal deal. All about balancing the flavours, you know?’ He laughed, turning to Evie, ‘You really should think about getting an upgrade.’

  Evie shrugged, ‘I just depend on Mollie to cook so I’m not much better.’

  The evening had wound on, Esme being tucked into bed after much argument, and Evie clearing the plates. Killian opened another bottle of wine, apologising for how terrible it must be in comparison to Kit’s offering. Kit tilted his head, wondering if it was a dig or not.

  ‘I know less about wine than I do about food,’ Killian shrugged and Chelsea brandished a box of pink champagne truffles a client had given her.

  ‘This is a life I could get used to,’ Evie laughed, peering into the chocolate box and smiling as her glass was topped up.

  ‘Well, she’s finally in bed, although she’s fighting sleep,’ Mollie said walking back into the room. ‘Appare
ntly her Auntie Chelsea is soooo sophisticated and pretty, and she wanted to stay up.’

  ‘Smart kid,’ Kit kissed Chelsea’s cheek. ‘The most sophisticated lady I know.’

  ‘Not the smartest?’ Chelsea raised an eyebrow, ‘Cause the style is made by Selfridges shoppers, the brain’s all me, baby.’

  Evie watched as the smallest sliver of her old friend seemed to re-emerge, and watched to see Kit’s response. He still seemed to look at her like she was the best thing he’d ever seen. Sure, the guy had money, but why did Chelsea have to hide her old life from this guy? He seemed to have survived private school, Oxford and a London law firm with a sense of humour and no sense of entitlement. Why did Chelsea have to be scared?

  ‘You know, I have no doubt you’re the smartest woman I know. The smartest person I know, in fact.’ He grinned, ‘So how is the gallery set-up going? Chels said you were doing it in memory of an old friend?’ Kit asked, turning his attention back to them.

  Evie looked at Chelsea meaningfully, and she nodded in return. ‘Ruby, yeah. We knew her when we were teenagers, and then she went off and became a star. She remembered how each of us was into the arts, and wanted to help us create something.’

  ‘What did you do Chels?’ Kit asked, ‘No offence darling, but I’ve heard you at karaoke after a few too many martinis.’

  ‘And she can only draw stickmen,’ Mollie supplied mischievously, and Chelsea stuck her tongue out.

  ‘I was a dancer, actually…’ she turned towards Kit ‘… I was a ballet dancer when I was a teen, but I gave it up at uni. It was a big fish, small pond thing.’

  ‘I bet you’re still wonderful,’ Evie said, placing a cafetiere of coffee on the table. ‘I was so jealous of Chelsea. She could just move. It didn’t matter if it was jazz, tap, urban dance, anything. She could just… it was like her body was expressing emotion.’

  ‘Yeah, exhaustion and irritation,’ Chelsea rolled her eyes.

  ‘Miss Bennett was so sad when you dropped dance.’

  ‘Somehow it didn’t quite sit with the super big brain thing I was going for,’ Chelsea sighed, ‘and when I got to Oxford, well, I just wasn’t as good as everyone else, and I got busy with studying.’