Ruby Tuesday

by Debbie Chase

  “Yes, Mr. Blake.”

  “Very good.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Do you think he will come?”

  Just when I’d given up all hope, a large dark shape appeared in the doorway, and the bar fell silent. He ran lightly down the entrance steps, the neck of his guitar firmly clasped in his clenched hand. He wore jeans and a red T-shirt, this time the words T-Rex picked out in black lettering on the front. The brightness of the red looked good against his tanned skin and black hair and beard. At this moment, he reminded me of those great front men Michael Hutchence, Freddie Mercury, or Jim Morrison. He went immediately to the microphone, and without further ado, played straight into the opening bars of “Ruby Tuesday.” The crowd went wild.

  Chapter Five

  For two days, it had rained…thank God for my trusty rain slicker. Sheets and sheets of silver rain that drummed against the windows of the La Petite Amelia and soaked into the beautiful gardens, into the emerald green lawn and the rich flowery borders. Not the icy cold rain that soaked into your bones, the spoiler of holidays, but warm, gentle rain that allowed you to walk the sands or paddle in the glassy shallows, where tiny silver fish darted amongst your toes, or sit beneath an umbrella eating fresh salty cockles and sipping red wine.

  After the two rainy days, the deluge stopped, and the sun appeared shining bright yellow, the sky blue and cloudless. Seagulls flew lazily over gently rolling waves and, taking a towel and all the other necessary things for an afternoon at the beach, I made my way down to the warm sands, where wearily I laid down and closed my eyes. The beach was almost deserted today, only the lapping of the waves and the faint cawing of the gulls breaking the silence. Really, I was supposed to have moved on from La Petite Amelia after a week or two but, because I was so happy there and in such close proximity to the lovely beaches, shops, and bars, I kept extending my stay. I didn’t know what it would take to make me leave this place, but it would have to be something big! And okay, my job in a few weeks’ time, of course.

  The beeping of my phone brought me out of my almost comatose state and peering intently at the screen, I saw that it was a message from Blake. Yes, you read that perfectly well, a message from Blake. We had exchanged phone numbers more than a week ago on the night he caused hysterical mayhem with his guitar playing in the little micro pub La Bar—another reason to stay at La Petite Amelia?

  Hey Ruby Tuesday, where are you?

  I texted back straight away. Recovering from last night on the tiny beach near my B&B. Where are you?

  Another beep. Don’t move. I’m on my way.

  I felt a sudden panic and sat up abruptly, gazing down at my slim tanned body clad in a new pink bikini, the low rise bottoms and bra top edged with silver sparkles, bought only the day before in a very exclusive boutique in St. Malo. Blake had been there too and had assured me that it was a bikini not only fit for a queen but a great fit for Ruby Tuesday. Taking a quick look in a tiny hand mirror that I’d stuffed into my bag, I decided I looked okay, even though the sun had brought out freckles that coated my nose like sugar frosting on a cake. I’d tied my thick hair up on top of my head with a large pink comb, giving it the appearance of the crown of a pineapple. “Oh well, whatever….”

  “Wow, you look great! What did I tell you about that bikini? I knew you’d look great in it. You’ve got a fabulous figure.”

  Raising a hand and shielding my eyes against the sun, I saw that Blake had suddenly materialized in front of me. He looked cool as usual, wearing denim shorts and yet another band T-shirt, a green one. Queen was printed across the front in white letters, together with the band logo and an image of Freddie Mercury when he sported his long flowing locks.

  I smiled. “Thank you. Yeah, I’m glad I bought it now. God, Blake, how many band T-shirts do you have?”

  “Enough for every great band that ever existed,” he told me as he unrolled his towel and plonked himself down, giving me a sidelong glance. “And that’s a lot.”

  He began to recite them all slowly and carefully, to which I said, “Yeah, okay, okay….”

  Grinning, he leaned over and lingeringly kissing my shoulder, saying, “Mm, you taste salty, Ruby Tuesday.”

  I batted him away, saying, “Oh Blake,” but he held on tight and said into my neck, so muffled I could barely hear, “Have you enjoyed the past week?”

  “Of course I have. Why?” I was very conscious of the shushing of the waves onto the shore and the crying of the gulls as I waited for his reply.

  He pulled back slightly and gazed at me, into my eyes, the green of his boring into the blue of mine. Cupping my face between his hands, he said, “What will happen when you go back home? Will you take up with James?”

  I frowned and pulled back a little, saying, “I’ve no idea what will happen when I go back home. Nothing has gone on between me and James, probably nothing ever will. I’m just enjoying myself here with you.”

  “A holiday romance?” he asked.

  I laughed and, trying to be oh so worldly-wise and in control, said flippantly, “Yes, a holiday romance.”

  He laughed too and pulled me tightly into his arms again and placed his lips on mine, not for the first time by any means. We’d shared our first kiss after his first performance at La Bar and had been inseparable ever since. He’d been pleased to see me, he said, and had hoped we’d meet again, although never explaining why he had walked away and left me in the first place. I was sceptical at first, believing he would have done absolutely nothing to find me, suspecting even that he already had a girlfriend. He was a good looking eligible man—in fact, too good-looking, suave, and sophisticated to bother with me. And who had he been speaking to on his mobile when we left the ferry? It had to be a woman, surely.

  I hadn’t asked him outright, but after all, he knew everything about me, about James, and about the couple of school girl romances I’d had which had come to nothing, so surely he would tell me if there was a woman in his life. Wouldn’t he? The only thing he’d told me was that he’d had a girlfriend a few years ago called Janice, but they’d split when she moved away with her parents to Greece. He’d had the opportunity to go with the family but had decided to stay where he was, in London, because musically that’s where it was at—as he said.

  He told me that he had set up a band called The London Boys, but when they had no luck in getting a recording contract to keep body and soul together, he managed to get a job writing advertising copy in a fairly well-established firm in the city while still trying to make it in music. He also said he’d been writing his own songs so he wouldn’t have to play covers. “Although,” he said with a grin, “Some of the covers I played went down very well!” Now that he had gained such popularity in La Bar, I thought it had reignited his interest in fame and fortune, and he’d been thinking of searching for like-minded people so he could form another band. Oh God, if only I could sing, or at least play an instrument! I could be Ruby Tuesday, a modern-day Debbie Harry.

  I decided to push all my worries about Blake having another girlfriend into the back of my mind and just get on with enjoying every minute I spent with him. After all, he was with me right here and right now. I know I said earlier that I shouldn’t be getting involved with anybody, that I was going to keep away from all men, but I just couldn’t help myself. He was good company, funny, and entertaining, with lots of stories to tell. He serenaded me with his singing and guitar playing, and above all, kissed me as though he really meant it, with real passion and feeling. But sometimes, unfortunately, he acted quite remote and stand-offish, as if he were somewhere else entirely. A strange combination. What was happening to me? Was I falling in love? And was Blake too? I couldn’t tell.

  The time sped away, and before I realized it, two weeks had flown by, and then another week, and then another. By this time, I was being hounded with text messages from Rose, tearfully demanding to know why I hadn’t
returned, saying that the holidays were almost over and we hadn’t had time together. Maliciously, she told me that James had been seen around in Emsworth with a girl who was on holiday with Vanessa, that they spent all their time together and, yes, that girl could have been me.

  All this left me cold. I didn’t care that James had been seen with another girl. I remember only a few short weeks ago being worried that I might want to text him while I was away, but even though I’d put his number into my phone, I’d never had the urge to do that. And as much as I cared for Rose, I didn’t want to go for days out with her all the time. I wanted to be with Blake. At the moment, we were spending all our time together, so much so that it was increasingly difficult to part at the end of an evening, and I’d lost count of the times I’d contemplated sneaking him into my room at La Petite Amelia. Only my great regard for Amelia and Georges prevented me from doing that. Thinking about it all now, if it hadn’t been for the tearful phone call from Rose as I neared my fourth week away, I wonder if I would ever have plucked up the courage to go home at all.~*~

  I was miserable this time as I sat in the same small busy café on the ferry, sipping at a barely warm hot chocolate and once again watching the glassy green waves heaving outside the little window. On the way over to France, I’d been excited and buoyed up, looking forward to my impending adventure. Now I was just down, depressed even, and worried about what would happen next. I couldn’t eat this time—I could just about handle the hot chocolate. I had no appetite, not since leaving Blake and not after fully taking stock of the news that Rose had told me on the phone. Unbelievable news, news that I couldn’t make heads or tails of—news I’d told Blake about in a shocked voice brimmed with tears that spurted from my swollen eyes and dripped down my flushed cheeks. I hated being like this in front of Blake, but I couldn’t help myself. Along with the hated rain slicker, it was definitely not my best look.

  He’d comforted me as well as he could, telling me that things would make more sense when I got back and could speak properly to Mum because the news had more bearing on Mum—not Dad or Rose, but Mum. Rose’s voice had come clear as a bell through my mobile. I’d pressed it hard to my waiting ear, preparing myself for more ranting about why I still wasn’t home. We were in La Bar surrounded by the usual expectant audience waiting for Blake to do his nightly performance, sitting close together, holding hands, his thumb idly massaging the palm of my hand. It was amazing, but we couldn’t keep our hands from each other.

  “Ruby, you’ve got to come home. Our brother turned up at the house yesterday right out of the blue—it’s pandemonium here. Mum’s crying and Dad’s distraught. If you can spare the time for us, please come, Ruby.”

  “Our brother? But Rose, we haven’t got a brother.” I said this while thinking, ‘If you can spare the time for us’? What did she mean by that?

  “Oh yes, we have, Ruby. Big family secret. Will you come home?”

  “Yes,” I said immediately. “Of course I will.”

  Rose had already told me that Dad would pick me up from the ferry port, and I expected her to be there too, but there was just Dad waiting for me, his face expectant, searching the crowds and then lighting up as he saw me and took me into his arms. Despite the fact that I was with Dad and would soon see Mum and Rose, I felt suddenly down and forlorn, and the fact that my holiday really had ended began to sink in. I just hoped deep in my heart that the relationship I had with Blake wasn’t at an end too. And to make matters even worse, the sun had slipped away behind black-edged clouds, and a drizzly rain began to fall.

  “Oh, Ruby, it’s good to see you. Sorry you’ve had to cut your holiday short.”

  I studied him closely. He looked just the same—fit, tanned, handsome even. From what I’d heard, he had most of his female patients in a tizzy. Yeah, same old Dad.

  “No, Dad, don’t say that. I should have been back ages ago.”

  “Why?” he asked, gently pushing me away from him, arms outstretched, his hands on my shoulders. “You’re of age. As long as you’re back to take up your job in two weeks’ time, then that’s fine.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, Dad. I’m sorry I sneaked off the way I did, but—”

  “It’s okay, Ruby,” he replied, grinning a little. “I would think that sometimes being a twin is hard going?”

  “Yes. It’s great, but yes, sometimes it’s stifling.”

  Throwing my rucksack into the trunk, we got in the car. The doors shut with a thunk, and after a minute or two of silence, just the sound of the rain pattering against the roof, Dad said, “I’m sure you know what this is all about. I know Rose has told you something. Your brother—well, your stepbrother, um, Michael—turned up out of the blue. He’s been searching for your mum for a couple of years, apparently.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Will I be able to meet him?”

  “Yeah, of course, you can. He’s staying at the Coal Exchange at the moment. He’s got a really nice room there—obviously because there’s no space in the house, no spare room.”

  “Rose said you were distraught, Dad. I don’t understand. When did Mum have him? Is he yours too?”

  “I was upset at first, Ruby, until I talked properly to your mum. Before I knew the circumstances. No, he’s not mine. I…. Well, Ruby, I knew nothing about him—your mum chose not to tell me. Before we knew each other properly, your mum went missing for a while, during the six weeks school holidays—unknown to me. And don’t forget I was very young too, only sixteen. Your mum was pregnant and had gone to have the baby. When he was born, they took him away from her—she only had a glimpse. She was heartbroken. She did tell me, though, that she made the decision to have the baby adopted. She said that Nan and Grandad thought it would be for the best.”

  “Did Mum have a change of heart when she saw him?”

  Dad nodded, a tight smile on his face, his eyes a piercing steely blue. “But it was too late then. Arrangements had been made. He was adopted by a couple from Swansea in Wales, and that’s where he’s lived the whole time.” He looked at me and smiled. “He has a bit of an accent. Anyway, a couple of years ago, his adopted mum died. His adopted dad had died a few years before that, so he felt free to go ahead and search for his birth mum. And the rest is history.”

  “Does he know who his dad is?” I asked carefully.

  “I know nothing about that,” replied Dad. “Mum will know, obviously, but I don’t know whether she’ll tell you. I haven’t asked her. But it was a long time ago….” He let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, so I knew I would have to take this up with Mum if I wanted any answers there. I felt a sudden tremor from my pocket and realized my phone had beeped with a text message. Giving Dad an apologetic glance, I took a brief look and, with a lifting of my spirits, saw that it was from Blake, asking if I was okay.

  “Holiday romance?” asked Dad, giving me the eye.

  “You don’t miss a trick, do you, Dad?” I teased.

  “Come on,” he said as he turned on the engine, bringing the car to life. I watched the windscreen wipers cut a smooth arc across the rain-smeared window. “Let’s go home and see Mum.”

  I nodded and put my mobile back into my bag. I would text Blake later.

  Dad shook his head slowly. “And as much as Rose is getting pretty smitten with her new brother, she’s crazy to see you, Ruby.”

  I smiled and said, “Yeah, it’ll be good to see her too.”

  Chapter Six

  September and the start of a new school term. I was at work on the reception desk, which was crazy busy with parents of new students ringing to make sure their little darlings were doing okay. I’d been looking out for the new ones, all those little fish swimming against the tide in such a big pond. It was a big, daunting step up from a primary to a senior school, so I could understand the parent’s worries. No doubt I would be the same one day—if I was ever lucky enough to have kids, that is.


  Giving a big sigh, I thought how work had always kept me busy and focused, but today it just didn’t seem to be working. Also, it didn’t help that outside, the sun was shining, and thoughts of St. Malo kept flitting through my mind. However hard I tried, I just couldn’t make them go away. I could smell the salty tang of the sea and heard the cawing of the gulls—because, of course, French seagulls were completely different from the ones in Emsworth, right? I couldn’t help thinking about the view of the beautiful garden from my room at La Petite Amelia, and the little sandy inlets where I used to swim, and far out at sea, little fishing boats bobbing on the waves. But most of all, of course, I thought of Blake.

  Yes, I thought of Blake. I thought of his lovely green eyes as they looked into mine, imagined the touch of his fingers stroking my skin, the taste of his lips on mine. And I heard his voice, either speaking with his silly French accent or singing, serenading me with his guitar. We’d been in touch, texted a lot and spoken a couple of times, and he’d made heartfelt promises that we would see each other again soon. That when he could, he would leave St. Malo and come to Emsworth to see me. I was hopeful on that score, but I’d had worries since I came back home, mainly with Rose. And of course, there was Michael to get used to. And Mum. Something was different. Something had changed. Very subtly, but it was there all the same. Waiting in the wings, like a drama to be played out.

  Rose had started her new job in the library, and I glimpsed her flitting backwards and forwards, smart in the uniform of black trousers and a short-sleeved blue and white blouse, carrying piles of books or official looking forms, sometimes accompanying students from the library to classrooms and vice versa. I heard her voice, sometimes raised sternly, sometimes with a girlish giggle, but always—what’s the expression?—kind but firm. She looked relaxed yet purposeful as if she was enjoying herself. In between phone calls, I tried to catch her eye, to smile and nod, to let her know that everything was okay, that I supported her in the job and was happy, but she wouldn’t look at me. The averted gaze seemed to say, “Ruby, I’m far too busy in my important new job to bother with you.” She was ignoring me. I had to come to terms with it. My twin, my other half, the other side of my face, my Rose, was ignoring me.