Dreams of a fresh start at the academy had been shattered a couple of weeks into the first term. Once again, everyone thought she was a loser. Then there were the anonymous text messages.
Everyone let her down.
Except Harry.
He knew exactly what it was like to be picked on. People called him a black rat. The bullies couldn’t hurt them any more though – together they were far stronger than apart. So, her parents’ idea of separating them was an impossibility. Ruby would rather die than let Harry go.
The pair of them had vowed not to take anything lying down any more. They had been belittled and beaten for the last time. That was why she had punched Jayne, who had started the bitchy comments at this school, and was almost certainly behind the text messages, too.
* * *
As Ruby explained all of this to Harry, he rubbed her shoulders, helping her to keep the shivering at bay. They sat on a bench in Greenwich Park, facing the famous observatory. Ignoring the cold and fine rain penetrating their bones.
‘You’re still getting texts, then? All the time?’ he asked.
Ruby nodded miserably.
‘I’m so sick of that cow, Jayne, pushing me around, telling me I stink, or that the world would be a better place if I didn’t exist. I know she’s the one behind the horrible anonymous messages. She’s been smirking in my face for too long.
‘I thought smacking her one would have stopped her, but it’s just carried on. It was great watching her nose split, feeling it crack under my knuckles and watching the blood. If I had my way, she’d bleed a lot more. I’d like to stick her like the fat pig she is.’
Harry snorted with laughter, pulling her closer. ‘That’s my girl. And if that hasn’t stopped her, we’ll have to step things up somehow. Time to hit back at them arseholes who are picking on us.’
‘Yeah, and I won’t be fighting fire with fire. I’ll use napalm.’
‘We’ll go nuclear.’
She looked at him and her heart expanded with the love she felt for him. ‘And what about my parents?’
‘Like we’re going to take any notice of them or anyone. They can’t stop us from seeing each other. No one can.’
Thirty-Six
The notepad was full of random words jotted down. Dominique’s talk with Fiona had really helped, clearing the tension headache that had plagued her since she woke in the early hours. ‘Fiona the Miracle Worker’ was her new title in Dominique’s eyes. Still, if she let her guard down, there was a chance bad thoughts would come whirling back, like a tornado, to sweep away her well-being once again. The best way of avoiding that? Keeping busy, of course. Dominique had started a list.
She found herself staring at the words in desperation, trying to create some sense of order.
Cranberry sauce.
Stuffing.
Sprouts.
Was it all a bit old hat? Was turkey for Christmas dinner naff? She blamed Instagram. Everyone felt the need to outperform one another. It used to be with snaps of ever more glorious dishes in ever more expensive restaurants, and now it was ‘look at me’ food cooked at home. Bloody Nigella and other celebrity chefs were to blame, too. Looking all sexy and coquettish while cooking, when Dominique went red-faced and frizzy-haired, and usually needed several glasses of wine to really get into it when she was cooking for guests. If anyone whipped their phone out to take a snap she felt a burst of anxiety, in case the lighting didn’t do it justice or the sauce didn’t have a high enough shine. Couldn’t people just eat the meal and not look at their phone for a few hours?
Oh, yes, because that was absolutely what she should be worrying about while her family fell apart, she reminded herself viciously. Maybe Benjamin had a point. Maybe she did neglect her family, casually putting herself first. She was often guilty of not listening to Mouse – perhaps that was why Mouse was the way she was. Perhaps Dom should be trying to bring her out of herself more; turn her into Amber rather than her nickname. What did it say about her daughter that everyone knew her as Mouse?
As for Ruby, Dom had given up trying to coax her eldest to talk to her. They had been quite close once, but since she hit puberty that had all changed. It was only to be expected, she supposed, so she tried not to be too hurt by it or kick up too much of a fuss. But she knew so little about Ruby’s life now: her likes and dislikes, her friends, how she spent her time.
Perhaps she should suggest a last-minute, pre-Christmas shopping and bonding session. The decorations had done nothing to inject the family home with festive spirit, but perhaps cold, hard cash could.
* * *
The sound of the front door opening and closing dragged Dominique away from thoughts of buying filial affection. From where Dom was standing in the kitchen she could see straight along the hallway to the front door. Talk of the devil and she appeared, slouching along as though she didn’t have a care in the world. Ruby caught her mum’s eye, and didn’t even have the good grace to look abashed as she started towards the stairs.
‘Just a minute, young lady. I’d like a word, please.’
Ruby’s blue eyes harpooned Dominique with derision from their kohl cages. As Dom clicked across the parquet towards her, Ruby crossed her arms, leaning back as if to get a better view. Her mum took a breath in an attempt not to get riled.
‘I assume you’ve been with Harry, despite our asking you not to see him.’
‘Ten out of ten, Sherlock.’
‘I’m talking to you in a civil manner, Ruby. Could you please do me the same courtesy?’
She received a tut and impressive eye-roll as an answer.
‘Fine. Look, either I tell your father about your little stunt today, and you get grounded for all eternity, or… Ah-ah, hear me out before you start shouting “it’s not fair”… or you and I reach a compromise.’
The black-rimmed eyes narrowed. Suspicious but curious. Dominique ploughed on, mildly encouraged.
‘How about you and Harry stop seeing each other over Christmas and January? At the start of February, if your behaviour has improved – and that includes no sneaking out – then you can see him again. If you love him as much as you say you do, it will be tough but worth it.’
She felt pleased with herself. And impressed that Ruby had done as requested and managed to button it long enough to hear her out. That was a good sign. A very good sign.
‘Finished?’ her daughter checked.
Dominique smiled. ‘Yes – what do you think?’
‘You’ve got to be bloody kidding me. You think you can con me into giving my boyfriend up? It’ll be like improving my grades all over again: I’ll deliver my part of the deal and then you and Dad will move the goalposts.’
‘That’s… no. Don’t talk to me like that.’
‘Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.’
‘The world doesn’t orbit around you, Ruby.’
‘Oh, I’m well aware of that, thanks, Mother. No point coming crying to anyone, because no one gives a toss.’
‘Is that what you really think?’
‘It’s easy to ignore trouble when you’re living in a bubble, Mother. You never come out of your bubble. Because you don’t want to deal with reality. You’re too weak.’
Dominique blinked furiously as Ruby stomped up the stairs. The bedroom door slamming shut made the whole house shake, and the first tear spill down the shocked mum’s cheek.
Thirty-Seven
Ben was not a happy bunny after the shoot. Not only had he failed to hit a single clay pigeon, he had been taken to one side and given a lecture by the club about how he needed to take better care of his gun to avoid a danger of jamming and misfiring. He had felt like a naughty schoolboy. Vladimir had pretended not to notice, but his moustache had twitched as though hiding a smile.
Then Vladimir had announced he had decided to take his business elsewhere. Which left Benjamin officially up a very smelly creek with no paddle in sight. He pulled off his coat, feeling claustrophobic and sweaty.
What was he going to do? He needed the stupid fat bastard to give him money. Without that, his plan wasn’t going to work.
He couldn’t cover his tracks for much longer.
Time was running out. Benjamin felt like he was sinking into quicksand, helpless. It was pressing on his chest and he couldn’t break free.
He was losing it.
He couldn’t give up now, though. Muhammad Ali had always advised people to make their days count. His dad had thrown that quote at him a lot, and a shared love of the charismatic world heavyweight champion had been the only thing they had shared. Benjamin thought of it and knew he must make every single day he had left count to the max. He needed to get control again. He could do this – as long as he held his nerve. His hand reached automatically for the packet in his pocket, and he popped a couple of antacids as he came to a decision.
He’d go see Kendra; shag her brains out. That would make him feel like a man again. Then he’d see a new way forward with his problems.
When he had met Kendra, four years earlier, chatting her up had been a spur of the moment decision. Dominique hadn’t been able to come with him to the awards ceremony because the babysitter had called in sick with a vomiting bug at the last possible minute. They had tried all of their friends, but no one was able to drop everything and be there with only an hour’s notice. Benjamin had been pretty annoyed, because the award had been a big deal, and Jazmine had been away on holiday. He had felt quite lonely as he stood there with the stupid prize, no one to share his moment of glory with.
As soon as Kendra had asked to see his trophy, he hadn’t been able to resist flirting, but felt certain she wouldn’t respond. She was so young and fresh-faced. It had been more about testing his luck than actually thinking anything would happen. One thing had led to another though. At each stage of flirtation he hadn’t felt guilty because he knew it wouldn’t go any further; any minute she would knock him back and make it clear she was simply passing time until someone her own age came on her radar.
But that hadn’t happened. They had shared a taxi. He had made a move, expecting a slap. The second their lips touched, he knew he had to have her. Simple as that.
What a buzz. Men half his age would love to be with Kendra, and he’d stolen her away from them all.
He hadn’t thought further than wondering how long he could get away with it. He did feel bad about Dominique, but it was only sex. There was no betrayal of the heart, and that’s what mattered.
Buying an apartment in Charlton and putting his mistress into it had been a smart investment on his part. Charlton was cut off from Blackheath by a ravine of concrete and carbon monoxide better known as the A120, creating two very different London villages. On one side was verdant Blackheath, where he lived, with its wide-open spaces, stratospheric house prices and trendy, middle-class buzz. On the other side was Charlton – with considerably cheaper house prices and more down-to-earth residents, who probably wouldn’t hold their hands up in horror if a shop ran out of hummus.
Having Kendra in the flat meant he had someone he could trust looking after the place. Plus, she was pathetically grateful to him, thinking he was paying her rent – she didn’t have a clue the place belonged to him. Technically, he should have rented it out to make some money, but playing sugar daddy had been an irresistible lure.
After four years together, he was fond of the kid. She was a sweet-hearted young woman, and being with her was a welcome escape from his life. She made him feel youthful himself – a sensation that had him more addicted than any junkie to heroin. After a disastrous day like today, he needed a hit urgently.
He sped to the flat, pressed impatiently on the buzzer, and leaned into the intercom when she answered.
‘Hello, my gorgeous girl. Let me up, I’m freezing my nuts off down here. And I want you to warm them up,’ he quipped.
A squeal of delight. The buzz of the door being remotely unlocked. He bounded up the two flights of stairs, three-quarter-length coat flying out behind him like a hero’s cape. That made him feel good. By the time he rapped smartly on flat four, he had a genuine grin of anticipation on his face.
The door flew open, there was a blonde blur, and a shriek in his ear as Kendra threw herself into his arms, then covered him with kisses. This was what he loved about her; she was always as grateful as a puppy to see him.
He wrapped his arms around her slender waist and kissed her desperately, as though trying to suck the life force out of her so he could once again be her age.
He was tempted to get her to put the corset on for him, but he didn’t have time. He tore at her clothes, pushing her back onto the sofa. Her grey eyes smouldered as she reached up and pulled him on top of her. She was as greedy as he was.
Yeah, he was still the man. Balls deep in a gorgeous young woman with soft puppy flesh. How many men his age fantasised about shagging someone her age – and how many could actually do it?
* * *
Afterwards, she seemed a bit weird, though. Like she was working up to saying something. She looked pale, too. He kissed her, about to ask her if something was wrong. She got there first.
‘So, everything okay? Anything interesting happened over the weekend? What have the kids been up to?’ she gabbled.
He tensed. Could she tell something was wrong? He’d been feeling kind of all right again and now she’d gone and ruined it. He glanced at his watch, and not so he could revel in the expense of it.
‘Just the usual. Nothing interesting. Anyway, I better get going.’
‘Oh, right… See you tomorrow?’
‘Maybe. We’ll see.’
A swift peck on the cheek and he was out of there, closing the door on her kicked puppy expression.
Thirty-Eight
Ruby pulled the duvet over her head, balled her body up tight as a fist. Screw everyone. Screw everything. She didn’t care.
Sometimes, when she shouted at her parents, she absolutely didn’t really feel the complete opposite, and want a hug more than anything else in the world. Definitely not. Of course she wasn’t rejecting love rather than risking being rejected herself. That would be ridiculous.
She wiped a tear from her face and told herself once again that she absolutely did not care. She would fight fire with war. She was tougher and stronger than her bullies, and in her boyfriend she had the only ally she would ever need.
But her lying heart pounded. Traitorous tears leaked from the sides of her eyes. Her mobile buzzed again, and she gave an involuntary shiver. It was ten p.m., but the hounding was oblivious to the time of day or night.
Punching Jayne had made things ten times worse. The texts and social media abuse had become a storm over the last few days.
Ruby’s trembling hand reached from beneath the Hades of her duvet, and wrapped reluctantly around her mobile. Once unlocked, the light from the phone was bright as a torch in the darkness of her hiding place. It made her think momentarily of Mouse, of when they had shared a room, and her heart gave a funny stutter of affection: little weirdo. Just as well they didn’t share a room now, though. Ruby barely slept. When she did, she had nightmares: the fear of being beaten up again; the misery of her everyday life and her isolation from the rest of the world chasing her even in her dreams.
She should delete this new text. Not bother reading it. Reading it was stupid.
But she needed to know what was being said about her, what people were thinking. She had to attempt to understand. Why didn’t people like her? She had tried and tried. There was nothing more she could have done and yet every single advance had been rejected and mocked.
Almost of its own volition, her thumb pressed on the message icon.
‘Why are you still here? Do the world a favour and disappear.’
Ruby let the anger burn away her tears.
‘What do you want of me?’ she tapped out furiously. ‘Would it finally make you happy if I killed myself?’
Her whole body seemed to pound with her pulse as she waited fo
r a reply. Minutes passed. Perhaps replying, confronting Jayne or whoever it was with words instead of fists, had done the trick. Scared her off. Made her realise things had gone too far.
Ruby unclenched her toes, allowed herself to relax, just the tiniest bit.
A vibration. The phone lit up. Ruby reached out a finger, let it hover for a heartbeat, then opened up the message.
A single word blazed up at her.
‘Yes.’
Pushing the phone away as if it were on fire, she curled in on herself again. Bit on her fist to muffle her terrified yelps. Her bullies wanted her dead.
Outside, she heard her father’s car pull up. Listened to the sounds of him coming inside then going into his study, which was immediately below her room. She threw the duvet back, wanting to run to him and feel protected like she had when she was little. When he had taught her to play rugby. She had loved that, had only stopped because the girls at school had found out about it.
They made all kinds of comments about her being butch, accusing her of being a lesbian. The girls had hidden themselves from her in mock horror when in the changing rooms getting ready for PE, sneering and sniggering that she was leering at them because she fancied them, when in reality she hadn’t even dared cast a glance their way. So what if she had been a lesbian, anyway, it was nothing to be ashamed of. The comments were pathetic, but it had been enough for her to stop the rugby sessions with her dad in the park. When she had lost those, she felt as though part of her had been lost with it. She had only been eleven at the time, but she had somehow known even then that she would never get back her childhood happiness.
Her Last Secret: A gripping psychological thriller Page 13