by Heidi Rice
He boosted her up and she managed to get her foot over the top but was then perched precariously on the gate, her legs dangling.
‘Bloody hell.’ She leaned forward, trying to steady herself, he guessed, so she didn’t tumble off headfirst. ‘It’s a long way down.’
‘Don’t look.’ He grasped her ankle, above the boot. Her short skirt had ridden up. Damn, he could see … He squinted into the darkness. Not nearly enough. ‘Bring your other leg over,’ he instructed. A nearby street light was shining on her cascade of curls like a spotlight. He’d noticed a cop when he’d headed into the park after her. And while there didn’t seem to be anyone about now, if the cop chose to do a tour of the park they’d both get busted.
‘But if I do that I’ll fall off,’ Ruby squeaked, sounding a lot less sure of herself. Clearly, she wasn’t a habitual felon.
‘I’ll catch you.’ He placed his hand as high as he could reach on her thigh, to reassure her. Mostly. The muscle bunched and quivered beneath his fingers. Ruby worked out. Either that or managing a movie theatre was more strenuous than he’d thought. Because her thigh felt toned and warm and hot as hell.
‘Really?’ She peered down at him, still holding the gate in a death grip, but the look on her face – wary but full of hope – sent a ripple of sweetness through him to go with the heat. Not cool.
‘Ruby, get down here! Now!’ he demanded, trying to concentrate on his impatience instead of that damn ripple.
The commanding tone worked because seconds later he had his arms full of warm, breathless woman. Her scent – citrus and roses – filled his nostrils as his face was covered by a cloud of hair. His hands grabbed a hold of something soft and fleshy as he staggered backwards, struggling not to drop her on her butt while her giddy shriek deafened him.
After a few major wobbles, and some hand and limb adjustments, at last they stood, safe and reasonable steady, together, a few feet from the edge of the water – her head buried against his neck, her hair making his nose itch and her arms wrapped so tightly around his shoulders she was close to strangling him.
But weirdly, he didn’t care.
‘You okay?’ he asked, enjoying the soft, pliant weight of her way too much.
She lifted her head. The shadows cast by the trees and the dying light made it impossible to see her expression, but her delighted chuckle gave him all the answer he needed. ‘Yes, thank you.’ Her peppermint-scented breath whispered across his mouth as she sighed. ‘Did you learn how to catch in Varsity crew, too?’
‘Nope,’ he said. ‘That would be shooting hoops with the college basketball player who shared my dorm room.’
Although he couldn’t see it, he could hear the smile in her voice when she replied. ‘Upper body strength and great hand-eye coordination. Who knew a university education could be so useful?’
Was she hitting on him? It sure sounded like it and it occurred to him he should put her down now. He certainly didn’t want to encourage any flirting. It also occurred to him that he really didn’t want to put her down.
He flexed his fingers on her soft flesh, inhaled the fierce, floral scent that clung to her hair one last time, then forced himself to let her go. He held on to her waist a nanosecond longer than was strictly necessary but then she stepped back. Her face caught the light of the street lamp. A wrinkle had formed between her brows, and her eyes were even wider than usual.
If she had been flirting, she already regretted it.
‘I guess we should get this over with,’ she said with a sigh, as she smoothed her little skirt down and then hauled a large plastic container out of her pack.
She sent him a weary smile and he watched the dark cloud of grief settle over her again. ‘Really, thanks for doing this with me. It means …’ The words choked off.
He sunk his hands into his pockets, uncomfortable again. Emotion really wasn’t his thing.
‘Where do you think we should do it from?’ she asked.
He turned, to examine the layout of the lake, or what they could see of it in the dark. There was a building on one side that he guessed housed some changing rooms, a wide path that circled the lake at the water’s edge and a small jetty which led out to what looked like a bathing platform. ‘You think you can make it out there in the dark?’ he asked, pointing towards the platform. ‘It’d probably be best to scatter them as far out as we can get. That way if there’s blowback, he won’t end up on the grass.’
‘Good thinking, Batman,’ she said, the plucky tone like that of a GI about to jump off a landing craft onto Omaha Beach. ‘Matty definitely would not want to end up getting stepped on by the Serpentine Ladies’ Bathing Club tomorrow morning,’ she added, marching off towards the jetty with her container.
He followed, preparing to stand back and give her space to say her final goodbye. But after she had unscrewed the lid and dropped it on the backpack, she turned towards him, the container clasped to her chest.
‘Do you know the words to “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”?’ she asked. ‘You didn’t sing along during the screening, but I just wondered if you might know the words anyway?’
‘I guess,’ he said, because didn’t everyone know the words to that song?
‘It was Matty’s favourite show tune.’ She paused and gulped in a breath. ‘He liked to hum it while he was doing difficult or scary stuff, such as The Royale’s VAT return or skydiving over the Grand Canyon. He said it made him feel brave and bold and happy no matter what. Would you …’ She sniffed. ‘Would you sing it with me while I scatter his ashes?’
‘Sure,’ he said.
She smiled at him then, the curve of her lips sad but genuine and his throat became kind of tight.
Then she began to sing.
She had a rich, melodic, pitch-perfect voice which trembled over the lush, true notes of the tune. He joined in the choruses he could remember about bluebirds and chimney tops as the grey remains of the uncle he’d never met – but now kind of wished he had – swirled into the air and spread out over the glassy surface of the lake.
The final notes of the song died as the last of the ashes sunk beneath the dark water. They stood in silence together, the intermittent swish of rain-slicked tyres and the rumbling hum of engine noise from the cars on the bridge the only sound.
He swallowed to dislodge the raw spot in his throat.
Her breath hitched, loudly. And he braced himself.
But she didn’t cry, or sob, or crumble. She simply stared at the water, drew in another sharp breath, then whispered. ‘Bye Matty, you silly old sod. I love you to bits. And I always will.’
Two seconds later, they got arrested.
PART TWO
About a Boy (2002)
Ruby Graham’s verdict: A coming-of-age movie featuring some top tips on how to survive life:
1.) If you’re an island (even Ibiza) the FOMO you feel is real
2.) If you’re just not that into your family or they you, find a new one
3.) Never enter a school talent show with a Roberta Flack song
4.) If you’re a massive wanker make sure Hugh Grant plays you in the movie, because then at least you’ll be a hot massive wanker.
Luke Devlin’s verdict: Suicide is a really crummy thing to do to your kid.
Chapter 5
Hendon Magistrates’ Court was not the most salubrious place to be spending a morning, especially if you’d had to fly all the way from New York for the privilege, Ruby thought miserably. She watched Luke Devlin arrive in the crowded ante-chamber flanked by an elegantly dressed older man wearing a gown but no wig, a younger man in a pin-striped suit busy talking on his mobile and a woman in ice-pick heels, her arms laden with file folders.
‘Looks like he’s brought the cavalry with him. Surprised he bothered to come all the way from Manhattan,’ Jacie whispered in her ear.
So was Ruby, really. She’d assumed when she’d last seen Luke Devlin getting into a taxi on Kensington High Street, after they’d been booked at the Hyde
Park police station by a particularly eager young officer of The Royal Parks Police, that she was never going to see him again.
All things considered, he’d taken the arrest surprisingly well. Or she’d assumed he had, because he’d barely spoken once the officer had apprehended them.
Devlin’s gaze landed on her from across the room and he gave a terse nod of greeting. Then he ignored her, as he listened to the man in the robes, who had to be a barrister.
‘Perhaps we should have bought a legal team, too?’ Jacie said. ‘I thought this was just a formality.’
‘What legal team?’ Ruby murmured. ‘We don’t have one and we can’t afford to get one. And it is a formality, as I’m pleading guilty and falling on the mercy of the court.’
‘You can’t go to prison can you?’ Jacie hissed.
‘No, it’s only a misdemeanour.’ Or at least she had assumed as much, not really understanding any of the charges listed on the paperwork the police officer had given her over three weeks ago. How was singing ‘Over the Rainbow’ disturbing the peace? Maybe she’d been a little off-key – but it was hard to remain on pitch when your heart was shattering into a billion pieces.
Perhaps she should have checked what permits were needed to scatter ashes, and waited to do it in the daylight. But that’s not what Matty’s will had asked her to do. And she refused to feel bad about carrying out Matty’s wishes. She didn’t even feel bad about the inappropriate shivers which had sprinted up her spine when Luke’s deep voice had joined hers, or that his hands had closed over her bum when she landed on top of him after taking a header off the gate.
Although she did feel bad about delaying Luke’s departure and then dragging him back to London and into court three weeks later. Any hope she’d had of persuading Devlin to invest in The Royale to help cover their debts was surely deeper in the duck poo than Matty’s ashes now.
When the clerk finally read out their names – a whole hour later – the inappropriate shivers had turned to guilty recriminations.
She really hoped she couldn’t be sent to jail for singing ‘Over the Rainbow’ off-key in a Royal Park. She had their gala screening of About a Boy – the next film in Matty’s Classics season – to host this weekend. And they had all been working their bums off over the last three weeks to get The Royale into profit again. She and Jacie had gone over the accounts each evening, trying to find savings that didn’t involve cutting any staff jobs and they’d discovered quite a few. But there was still more to do. She did not have time to do time.
She filed into the court beside Jacie. But Luke didn’t meet her gaze this time, and her heart plunged even further into her chest cavity.
He probably hates you now.
The overly bright fluorescent lighting and an abundance of blond wood in the décor made the courtroom look like a cross between an IKEA showroom and a Dickens novel, but nowhere near as intimidating as In the Name of the Father, which Ruby had been braced for. The three average-looking people – two men, one woman – who sat behind the high bench at the front of the court weren’t even wearing gowns or wigs.
Ruby was actually a tad disappointed. She’d been hoping for an experience to at least make this calamity worthy of a decent anecdote. But the setting and the participants – apart from her fellow defendant – looked decidedly ordinary.
She scanned the faces of the three magistrates as the usher led her past the long table where the prosecutor and the defence solicitor sat. But as she stepped into the box, her gaze snagged on the rotund elderly man in the middle of the bench.
It took a moment, but as the court proceedings began, and the clerk read out the charges, recognition finally struck.
Benjy?
Could it possibly be him? She’d only exchanged a few pleasantries with the man, and he looked much more austere in the dark blue three-piece suit, but she was positive he was one of Matty’s friends and a semi-regular at the Pensioners’ Club matinees each Wednesday run by Beryl.
A small smile lifted his hangdog face as he obviously recognized her too, but then he coughed into his hand and the smile dropped as he launched into his opening spiel.
Clearing his throat, he shuffled the papers on the bench in front of him. ‘Minor criminal damage and trespass, is it? I see you’ve pled guilty to the charge, Ms Graham. Is that correct?’
‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘I didn’t want to waste any more of everyone’s time. I am sincerely sorry.’
‘Can I ask what you were doing in the park after dark, Ms Graham?’
She nodded, feeling marginally less like Oliver Twist thanks to his avuncular Mr Micawber tone. ‘I …’ She glanced over her shoulder to find Luke sitting at the back of the room with his legal team, waiting for his turn. ‘We. Myself and Mr Devlin were scattering Matty’s – I mean Matthew Devlin’s – ashes …’ The friendly neighbourhood asteroid that had been jammed in her throat ever since Matty’s death scrapped over her throat. ‘As per his wishes. I persuaded Luke to come with me. It was all my fault, I’m willing to accept full responsibility for the—’
‘Thank you, Ms Graham.’ Judge Benjy said, lifting his hand and she faded into silence. ‘I’ll confer with my colleagues now to pass sentence,’ he added.
After a short deliberation with the other two magistrates on the bench, Judge Benjy delivered his verdict in the same warm tone she remembered from Matty’s wake, when he’d been telling a story about the time Matty had toppled backwards off The Royale’s float at Notting Hill Carnival because he’d sewn way too many diamantes into his fairy wings.
‘Given the extraneous circumstances. We think a sixty-pound fine is sufficient. You have sixty days to pay, Ms Grahame – if you have significant problems paying you can make arrangements with the courtroom clerk.’ The gavel came down on the bench, making Ruby jump.
‘Would Mr Devlin like to step into the dock?’
She was led out of the dock.
Oh, thank you, Judge Benjy.
Sixty pounds was doable. All she had to do was raid her LA trip fund and forego her bi-weekly treat of a spiced caramel latte from the local coffee shop for the foreseeable future.
She took a seat in the viewing gallery at the back of the court, assuming Luke would get a similar treatment. Like her, he entered a guilty plea via the barrister in his legal team. He was only here for a sentencing hearing, too. A sixty-pound fine would be nothing to him.
Should she offer to pay it, though? On a matter of principle? After all, he’d been there helping her. And somehow, much to her astonishment, he had made the whole experience better.
He had literally caught her when she fell off the gate. And his deep voice had added resonance and comfort to the chorus of ‘Over the Rainbow’. Her throat began to ache again. Plus, she needed to keep him as sweet as possible if she was going to have any hope at all of saving The Royale.
But as the case progressed it appeared neither Judge Benjy – nor Luke – had read the script.
‘I see Mr Devlin that your solicitor has already made two requests that you be excused from today’s sentencing hearing?’
‘Your Honour, Mr Devlin runs a multi-national construction company and lives and works in Manhattan. He has had to fly here especially for this hearing. He was only in London to attend the funeral of Mr Matthew Devlin and the reading of the will. His business responsibilities have already been severely—’
Judge Benjy held up his hand to silence the barrister. ‘So we understand. But he has pled guilty to the charge, has he not?’
‘Yes, Your Honour.’ The barrister stepped in again.
‘Did you know your uncle, Mr Devlin?’ Judge Benjy asked.
Ruby did not have a good feeling about the magistrate’s tone.
Luke’s solicitor and his barrister conferred with each other, probably not liking it, either.
‘Mr Devlin, perhaps you would like to answer the question?’ Judge Benjy said.
‘No, Your Honour, I did not know my uncle,’ Luke replied. ‘Althou
gh I don’t see how that’s relevant,’ he added. ‘Or how it’s any of the court’s business.’ The insolent tone had Judge Benjy’s brows lifting.
‘Well, now, I’ll tell you how it’s relevant,’ said Judge Benjy, all traces of Mr Micawber well and truly gone. ‘If you did not know Matty Devlin, why precisely were you breaking into The Serpentine Lido to pollute the lake with his ashes?’
Because Matty asked him to. And so did I.
The answer reverberated in Ruby’s head. But instead of giving himself a get-out clause, Luke shrugged. ‘It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.’
‘I understand you have inherited half of The Royale Cinema in West London but are considering selling your stake in it?’
Ruby’s throat closed. Who had told Benjy that?
But instead of defending himself, again Luke seemed keen to dig himself in even deeper. ‘That would be correct, because I’m sure as hell not planning to inherit its debts.’
Judge Benjy liked that answer even less, his cheeks reddening and his eyes narrowing to slits. ‘I see.’
He bent his head to have a whispered discussion with his colleagues on the bench. After an endless five minutes, he cast his gaze directly at Luke. ‘Given your vast wealth, Mr Devlin, and your somewhat cavalier approach to the laws of trespass in our Royal Parks and the legacy of the community institution you have inherited, I feel that a fine will not suffice on this occasion.’
‘But, Your Honour, Mr Devlin has entered a guilty plea and is not on trial for—’ The barrister tried to intervene but Benjy, the hanging judge, was having none of it.
‘Mr Grayling, please sit down. You can dispute the sentence at a later date, and certainly not before it has actually been bestowed,’ Benjy said, clearly enjoying his role as a hokey arbiter of justice who wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Steven Spielberg movie.
The barrister sat down.
‘Mr Devlin, I sentence you to three hundred hours of community payback at The Royale Cinema on Talbot Road, North Kensington. Given your construction skills and the cinema’s lengthy list of on-going repairs, I’m sure you can find a way to make yourself useful.’