Red is for Rubies

by Linda Mitchelmore

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Don’t you like what you see? I know I’m probably a stone overweight, should have exercised more after Darcy’s birth and I’m the wrong side of forty, but artists don’t have too many hang-ups about their bodies, you know.’

  ‘You look fine,’ Ralph said. He took a deep breath. Get a grip man. ‘I’ll take my shoes off first, though. Wouldn’t want to kick you accidentally or anything.’

  In lieu of response, Marianne sat up and began untying the laces of Ralph’s boat shoes. She pulled the tops of his socks down over the tops of his feet. Like a two-year-old being prepared for bed, Ralph lifted one foot then the other. When Marianne reached up and undid the button of his chinos, then the zip, he let that happen too.

  ‘It gets lonely up here,’ Marianne said. She hooked a finger into his boxer’s and pulled them down with the chinos in one deft movement.

  ‘Mmm,’ Ralph said, forcing himself to undo the buttons of his cotton shirt one at a time, rather than ripping them off which was what he felt like doing at that moment. He leaned down towards Marianne; kissing her full, soft lips again uppermost in his mind.

  ‘Photos first,’ Marianne said. She wagged a finger at him playfully.

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Three. I’ll look straight towards you first, then to the left, then to the right. I’m thinking of doing a triptych. Then I’ll turn over on my stomach. Can you do one full length, one head and shoulders?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Marianne was sounding very business-like now, the come-hither look gone from her eyes, from her body. She was merely a posing model. So Ralph could and he did, even if he was feeling more than ridiculous standing naked in a garden with a woman he hardly knew when his wife was God knew where at that moment. He’d rung earlier but that shit of a father-in-law of his had said Lydie was out. Ralph hadn’t believed a word. His guess was that Lydie was in the shower and hadn’t heard the phone and that Robert wouldn’t bother to tell her he’d rung. His mobile was in his jacket pocket – he’d hear from here if it rang. He desperately wanted to hear from Lydie and yet … Ralph pushed Lydie to the back of his mind, got on with the task in hand. It would make a great dinner party story, wouldn’t it – being asked to do a David Bailey by a sex siren? But who was he going to be able to tell?

  The sun warm on his back now, Ralph snapped and waited while the film developed.

  ‘Any good?’ Marianne asked.

  ‘More than good. Look.’

  Ralph handed the four he’d taken to Marianne who was now lying on her back, arms and hands stretched out in front of her.

  She turned to take them, grabbing Ralph’s wrist, knocking him off balance. He twisted, landing awkwardly on Marianne’s thigh.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ Marianne said.

  She hooked an arm around Ralph’s neck, pulled his head gently to rest between her breasts.

  Her breasts were warmed from the sun and smelled faintly of something floral. Tentatively Ralph licked his own lips to check his tongue was moist. Should he? Could he?

  ‘I’m yours if you want me,’ Marianne said.

  For answer Ralph traced his tongue around a nipple, then sliding on top of Marianne he placed a hand behind her head and lifted her face to his.

  ‘I don’t know how I’m going to explain away a sunburnt bum.’

  ‘Worry about that later, Ralph. Just pleasure me. Please? And I’ll do my best to pleasure you in return. Promise.’

  Through the open back door and as if from some distant shore Ralph heard the ripple sound of his mobile phone trilling away in the pocket of his jacket.

  ‘Leave it,’ Marianne said. ‘Nothing could be more important than this, could it?’

  ‘Unless it’s the amazing discovery I’ve just made.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘I’m not so saintly after all.’

  ‘Well, Hallelujah to that!’ Marianne laughed.

  As his mobile finally stopped Ralph began to pleasure Marianne all over again and he wondered if things between him and Lydie could ever be the same.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘In lieu of a ruby,’ Jonty said. ‘One day, when I’ve taken the art world by storm and my work is in top London galleries, I will buy you the real thing, but for now …’

  ‘For now, I love it. I really do. Its price to me is beyond rubies.’Lydie kissed the oval of hard, shiny ceramic. She knew red was the hardest glaze to fire and Jonty had done it perfectly. For her. She didn’t think she’d ever been happier than in that moment. Although in a few seconds’ time, when she’d told Jonty about the baby she expected to surpass that happiness. Once more she put her lips to the ceramic oval. ‘I love it. I’ll make a silver mount for it. And I will never, ever part with it. Whatever happens.’

  ‘Nothing will happen, Lyd, nothing can stop our love.’

  Drew lunged at Becca, knocking her backwards so that she hit her head against the bare bricks of the studio wall. But it failed to harm her, and the knife was still in her hand, although she’d lessened her grip, and her knuckles were not quite so bone-white shiny. She slid her back slowly down the wall, knees bent, until she was sitting, staring up at Drew.

  ‘She’s got to die!’ Becca screamed.

  ‘Not if I’ve got anything to do with it,’ Drew said, grimly.

  With one movement he stamped on Becca’s hand pinning it to the floor with a sickening crunch. Becca began to cry in childish sobs, taking little theatrical breaths in between. Drew eased the knife out from underneath Becca’s fingers with the toe of his shoe then kicked it hard out of the way. It went underneath the crate of now smashed pottery sculptures.

  ‘You’re hurting me,’ Becca whined.

  ‘No more than you’ve hurt Grace,’ Drew snapped. His patience was wearing thin now.

  He yanked Becca to her feet, pulled her arms hard behind her and clasped both her wrists in one of his hands, squeezing tight.

  ‘If you’ve killed her, I don’t know what I’ll do,’ Drew said. ‘But God help me, I’ll …’

  ‘Leave her!’ Jonty shouted at Drew. Then in a calmer voice he said to Becca, ‘Go up to the flat. Get into bed. And don’t get out again until I come. Got that? Everything’s going to be all right.’

  ‘All right?’ Drew shouted. ‘Are you as mad as her, or what?’

  ‘No. But I take full blame. I should have kept more of an eye on her.’

  Becca had been getting worse, he knew that now, but he’d failed to realise it before. Jonty turned away from Drew and gazed back at Grace lying on the floor. He checked her pulse again. Still there, but weak.

  ‘I’ve rung for the ambulance.’ He took one of Grace’s hands in his, lifted it to his lips and kissed it.

  It seemed endless waiting for the ambulance to arrive.

  Jonty sat on the floor beside Grace, still holding her hand, his fingers sliding to the inside of her wrist at regular intervals to check her pulse. Drew sat on the floor beside them, hugging his bent knees.

  ‘Where has she come from do you think?’ Drew asked, his voice a whisper in the stillness of shock.

  ‘Dartmouth. Before that I don’t know. She was front of house in a restaurant somewhere – she didn’t say where exactly. Her bloke broke her heart. Some sort of fancy chef, going to be on TV.’ Jonty spoke without his eyes ever leaving Grace’s face.

  ‘I’ve asked her for a drink a couple of times, but she let me down gently. I can see why now. Poor Grace with that much baggage.’

  ‘We’ve all got that,’ Jonty said.

  Drew gave him a sharp look.

  ‘Did you ever marry, Jonts? Or come close?’

  Now he hadn’t expected that question. But they had to fill the time somehow, didn’t they, with a still unconscious Grace lying between them?

  ‘I threw my chance away,’ Jonty said.

  There, that would do. Blokes didn’t sweat the emotional stuff, did they? He was too old to start now anyway.<
br />
  But he knew he’d spent just over thirty years trying to atone for his rejection of Lydie and their unknown baby by caring for Becca; a horribly disturbed Becca who really should have been receiving professional care for most of those wasted years. And now, when he’d almost forgiven himself he was landed with guilt of an even worse kind – an employee might die. Grace might die. The least that could happen to Jonty now would be for Health and Safety to close him down. Well let them – he didn’t know if he’d even want to carry on the business if Grace died. Oh God, if there is a God, please don’t let Grace die. Jonty smoothed her hair back from her forehead.

  ‘Well, here’s to you getting a second chance,’ Drew said. He lifted an imaginary glass high in the air. ‘It’ll be a lonely life with Becca in some sort of hospital.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jonty said. He raised an imaginary glass of his own, but without much hope.

  Trust Drew to find something good to say in any circumstance. It was how the guy was. Kind. Nice. Decent.

  ‘In the market just now I told Grace she looked lovely when she smiled. I’m glad I said that now. In case, you know …’

  ‘Let’s not even start thinking down that route, old chap,’ Jonty said.

  Jonty noticed then that the chain Grace always wore was pulling against her neck, as though whatever was on the end of it was stuck somewhere against her body. He reached out to move it.

  ‘No! Best not touch anything,’ Drew said.

  ‘No. Best not.’ He checked Grace’s pulse again.

  ‘Anyway, this is all my fault,’ Drew said. I should have tried to persuade her to go for that coffee, shopping and all. I knew we shouldn’t have come back in when the kiln was firing.’

  ‘Don’t be an idiot. It was my fault if anyone’s for not keeping a better watch on Becca.’

  ‘I can’t believe Becca’s so deranged that she didn’t know what she was doing.’

  No, and neither do I if I’m honest, Jonty thought.

  But it was, ‘We’ll have to let the shrinks have the final say on that,’ that came from his lips.

  Drew reached out a hand to touch Grace’s forehead. ‘She’s gone a bit cold, Jonts. Where the hell’s that fucking ambulance?’

  Drew pulled off his sweatshirt and draped it over Grace’s upper body. He shuffled close to her, his thigh up against her shoulder.

  ‘Bit of extra warmth,’ he said.

  ‘Perhaps the ambulance can’t find us,’ Jonty said. ‘Sat Nav’s not perfect.’

  He went to the open door of the studio and listened hard for the wailing sound of an ambulance’s siren.

  ‘No, I don’t know her date of birth. Or her full name. And I don’t know her exact address either. Sorry. I haven’t known her long.’

  ‘And how, exactly, did this accident occur?’ the very young doctor asked Jonty, not looking at him, but at a checklist of questions he wanted answering, the tone of his voice implying he didn’t really believe it was an accident; he’d heard some stories and this was the most far-fetched yet.

  ‘I told you, the ambulance crew told you. A pallet of pottery sculptures fell on her. First her shoulder which knocked her off balance and then her head.’

  Jonty folded his arms across his chest for good measure – challenge that! No need to tell them his away-with-the-fairies sister had caused the accident. She’d be unfit to plead to a charge of attempted murder. But what if Drew were to say to the police who’d arrived at the same time as the ambulance that Becca had threatened to kill Grace? It had all happened so fast then, too fast. Drew said he’d keep an eye on Becca and that, of course, Jonty should go with Grace in the ambulance. Keep your mouth shut, Drew, for God’s sake. Not that he expected Drew to land anyone in it on purpose. Didn’t he have enough to worry about with Amy? Poor sod. Jonty was feeling sick with anxiety and fear. He’d counted eleven people around the bed Grace had been placed on. All of them seemed to be talking at once, all doing something to Grace at the same time.

  ‘Grace will be okay, won’t she?’

  ‘Grace is in trauma at the moment which is absolutely the best place she could be in the circumstances. We’re working on her. The neuro-surgeon has been beeped and she’s on her way down. Does Grace have family? I’m assuming here that you are not family.’

  ‘I’ve got a number, yes, her parents’ art gallery. I can’t just ring it and say “Hi, your daughter’s in A&E with a head injury”, can I?’ Jonty didn’t know why he was on the defensive but he was.

  ‘I don’t see why not. It will speed things up, could save her life if we can know beyond doubt what her blood group is without having to wait for phlebotomy to come up with the goods. If she has any allergies at all – foodstuffs, antibiotics, anaesthetic, whatever. Just do it, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  He reached in his jacket pocket for his mobile.

  ‘Not in here, please. Outside.’

  Jonty ran for the door and open air, his fingers already scrolling his contacts for Grace’s home number.

  His fingers twitching with nerves Jonty pressed the rubber pads of his mobile. Ring, ring, ring, ring and on into infinity.

  ‘Come on!’ he yelled at the phone, holding it in front of him then clamping it back to his ear. But still the ringing tone went on before the call went to collect. There was absolutely no way he was going to leave a message. What could he say anyway that wouldn’t leave her parents frozen with shock? At least if he could speak to someone he could say that Grace was still alive, her body temperature was rising slowly. There was hope.

  Six more times Jonty tried and six more times he got the same negative response. Things might have changed back there in ‘Trauma’ and he ought to be telling them something entirely different – that Grace had regained consciousness and was fine. Or that she was dead.

  Jonty ran back into the hospital. A nurse recognised him and pulled aside a curtain to let him through.

  ‘Nothing.’ Jonty took great lungfuls of air, gasping for breath. ‘No reply.’

  The same doctor, the same been-on-duty-twenty-four-hours tone of disconnection from attendant friends and families as he focused on his patient.

  ‘Did you bring any personal belongings in the ambulance? Bag? Mobile phone?’ a nurse asked, her voice more caring, more concerned.

  Almost as she spoke another nurse handed Jonty Grace’s mobile. ‘It was in the pocket of her skirt. We’re getting Grace ready for X-ray. Quick. The sooner you can come up with something the better the chances are for Grace.’

  Jonty didn’t even bother to reply. Grace’s mobile in his hand he ran the gamut of angry patients and nurses as he headed once more for outside and fresh air. Mum’s mobile. Dad’s mobile. Granddad. Justin. Scooby. Hair. Gym.

  Justin? Well, sure as hell was hot, Jonty wasn’t going to ring him. If it hadn’t been for him Grace wouldn’t have turned up at RED looking for a job and none of this would be happening. He tried ‘Dad’s mobile’ first. It might be easier man to man. Although he couldn’t imagine why it should be – whoever he was would be Grace’s parent just as the mother was. But Jonty got the same response as the landline. Nothing. Granddad? No – he might be old or infirm or deaf or all three. Reluctantly Jonty punched in the numbers which would bring – he prayed – Grace’s mother on the line.

  But yet again there was no reply. Jonty had few options left. Scooby could simply be a favourite shop and he doubted the hairdresser or the gym would know how he might contact Grace Marshall’s parents.

  It would have to be Granddad, whatever his name might be.

  ‘Robert!’ a voice said almost immediately Jonty had pressed call.

  What did he say now? Jonty’s mouth was dry, his lips beginning to feel like cracked cardboard. His heart was hammering so fast in his chest he was starting to feel faint. Taking in a gulp of air very noisily, he said, ‘Is Mr or Mrs Marshall there, please?’

  ‘Who wants to know?’

  A very upper-class accent. Jonty felt instantly dismissed
.

  ‘A friend. A friend of Grace’s.’

  ‘If that’s you, Justin, you can bugger off. I’m …’

  ‘I’m not Justin! I’m just a friend. Grace’s boss as it happens. I’d like to speak to either her mother or her father. And now!’

  From somewhere Jonty found an authority he didn’t feel, but it seemed to have done the trick.

  ‘What’s happened? I’ll pass the message on to my daughter. She’s not been herself lately.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that. But if she is there, could I speak to her please? Now? It’s …’ Jonty was about to say urgent, but couldn’t. ‘Important.’

  ‘I said she wasn’t here and I don’t lie. But I know panic when I hear it, so if you would be so good as to let me know the reason for this rather strange call?’

  ‘Okay. This is it in a nutshell. Grace has had something fall on her head. She’s going into X-ray at this very minute. Her temperature was low but was rising as I left to make this call. Cary Hospital. You know where that is?’

  Jonty didn’t think for a minute that any of this information would mean anything at all to Robert, whoever he was.

  ‘I know. Leave this with me.’

  Jonty didn’t wait to hear any more. He had to get back inside the hospital, see how Grace was.

  Jonty didn’t run this time, although his pace couldn’t exactly have been called strolling.

  He knew he ought to ring Drew, though, and see how he was coping with Becca. If he was coping. And what the police had said.

  The same kindly nurse was waiting for him, the merest hint of a smile in her eyes.

  ‘We’ve taken this from Grace’s neck. No other jewellery.You might like to hold on to it for safe-keeping.’

  And into Jonty’s outstretched hand she placed the pendant he and Lydie had made together; Jonty firing the oval of ruby-red glazed clay and Lydie fashioning it into the silver mount.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘You’ll marry me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Ralph swallowed hard. He was a big chap but he cried easily and he felt like doing that now out of sheer happiness. Oh, he knew Lydie’s father thought less of him than he thought of a pile of dog turds but he’d show him. He’d have his own building business before long.