Ruby Tuesday

by Debbie Chase

  And then Dad, his voice hopeful, said, “Um, anybody want coffee? Tea?” And when there was no reply, just more heartfelt sobbing, he said, “I’m going to put the kettle on anyway.”

  I dashed up the stairs out of the way just as the sitting-room door opened, and Dad blundered into the kitchen to make the tea. I heard the hiss of the kettle and the chink of mugs and spoons. Rose was in the bedroom, curled up on her bed reading when I crept in and, with a sigh, lowered my rucksack to the floor.

  “Oh my God, Ruby!” She jumped up and enveloped me in a hug and then, pulling back slightly, looked me full in the face and said, “It’s really good to see you, but you’re back early.” I nodded. “It didn’t go well?” she asked. I shook my head as, slowly, she led me to the bed. “Sit down and tell me.”

  “He’s married, Rose. He was cheating on his wife the whole time we saw each other last summer.”

  “Oh, Ruby. I could kill him for that. Well….” She spread out her hands, palms upwards. “Welcome back to the drama downstairs. Just what you need, eh?”

  I grinned. “I know. I came straight up here, even sneaked past Dad in the kitchen. I so did not want to get involved.”

  “Yeah, as soon as I heard Nan and Grandad arrive, I made myself scarce. I had a feeling what it would be about. I don’t know how they found out, though.”

  “Well, I can see Mum being upset, but the decision to put Michael up for adoption was made by all three of them—well, four really, including Mum’s boyfriend, Nick. What do you think, Rose?”

  “It’s a tough one. But don’t forget how young Mum was at the time and how she’d have been influenced by Nan and Grandad.”

  I nodded, realizing how true that was.

  A car screeched to a halt outside, the thunk of heavy doors opening and closing and then footsteps on the path. Curious, I moved over to the window and, twitching the curtain, peered out. “Oh no, this is really bad timing.”

  “What?” Rose came to stand beside me and looked from the window too, her face close to mine, two identical faces side by side, which would, I thought, look pretty funny if anybody was watching.

  “It’s Michael, carrying a bundle that’s wriggling about very much like a two year old child.”

  “Leah!” said Rose, her mouth gaping open in surprise.

  I shook my head in both excitement and disbelief. A slice of pink face set with two glistening dark eyes peeked from Michael’s arms and seemed to stare straight up at us, “Yes, it sure is. Now the proverbial will hit the fan!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Now then,” I said, looking around me at the semi-circle of tiny upturned faces. “Today, we’re going to be reading this book.” I held it up and pointed at the cover. “Would anybody like to tell me what the book is called?” Several hands waved in the air, and I pointed one out, “Okay, Thomas.”

  “Um…Mr. Stink, Miss.”

  “Yes, that’s right. This is a book called Mr. Stink by a writer called David Walliams, and this will be our book to read for the whole of this week. Okay?”

  “Yes, Miss.” The sea of tiny heads nodded, and one bright spark, Robbie Eastwood, a cheerful grin splitting his face, two fingers pinching his nose, said, “Pooh, Miss, I don’t want to read about a man who stinks!”

  There was a lot of high-pitched giggling. “Okay, calm down now. Come on, Emma, Rosie.” And then, turning my attention to Robbie, I said, “I promise, Robbie, you won’t be able to smell the man we’re reading about. Now come on, heads down.”

  Gazing around at the small group of children eagerly reading the book to be discussed this week, some laboriously following the words with an outstretched finger, a dart of happiness shot through me at the fact that I was now the library assistant for the school. It was my job, nobody else’s. Not Rose, not Angie in Attendance, or anybody else that had applied for the job, but mine! The tarot reader had been right on that score. I was aware of my manager, Katie, bustling around, tidying shelves, picking up books and putting them back in place, answering the phone when it rang shrilly from the front desk and talking to teachers as they popped in to make inquiries.

  The book club had been assigned to me. I was in sole charge of picking one book a week to be read and discussed by a group of children from each school year, and so far, fingers crossed, it was proving really useful. The children seemed to be enjoying their reading more than ever, and they loved the debates we had when we’d finished each book when we discussed the book in-depth and decided whether or not it was an okay book, a well good book, or an awesome book!

  As much as I was enjoying my job, though, I’d been pretty down since I’d gotten back from St. Malo and after I’d tracked down Blake. I kept going over everything that had happened. Seeing, again and again, Blake’s wife, Viv, standing there, so beautiful, her long blonde hair cascading on her shoulders, her red lip-sticked mouth turned up in a sneer, laughing at me for being just another of Blake’s conquests. Just another of the stupid girls he’d taken in and serenaded with his rock star looks, charm, and voice. I felt stupid and foolish so, even though nobody knew anything about it apart from Rose and Mum and Dad, I’d laid low for a while, only going out to go to work and for the occasional walk. I still hadn’t gone on a night out with the gang, although there wasn’t really a gang anymore, just a foursome of Rose and Steve and Craig and Vanessa.

  Nobody mentioned James and the overwhelming feeling that he’d found somebody else raced around and around in my mind until it drove me crazy. I assumed he’d found a nice girl who wouldn’t mess him around. He didn’t want a flighty girl called Ruby Tuesday, who had suddenly left him in the lurch to go to St. Malo in pursuit of a rock star. Oh no, he wanted somebody better than that. Somebody more dependable, somebody he could count on. After all, who’s to say she wouldn’t do it again in the future? Who’s to say she wouldn’t go off in search of greener pastures if they ever married and had children?

  For some strange reason, I hadn’t dared to contact him. How could I? I knew he’d said that he understood my need to go to France to find out what my feelings were for Blake, that we couldn’t see each other until I knew, but how could I now get in touch and say, “Oh hi, James. Things didn’t work out with Blake, so can we carry on from where we left off, please?”

  Every time I went for a walk, I hoped and prayed I would bump into him. I kept my eyes peeled in Warblington Cemetery, hoping he’d be kneeling at his dad’s grave replacing the old crumbly flowers for new, or walking the seashore to the Royal Oak, where we’d had a drink together on that cold, snowy day that seemed such a long time ago now. But it didn’t seem to matter where I went. He was never there. No James on Emsworth High Street going in and out of the shops or the pubs, or sitting on the harbor wall, legs swinging, enjoying the approaching spring sunshine. No James wandering the beach at Langstone or hunched over on the rippled sand digging for cockles and winkles. No James anywhere, and my heart ached to see him again.

  Even texting seemed intrusive, and something that I just couldn’t bring myself to do, although my eyes were constantly drawn to my phone, hoping a message from him would appear. It reminded me of waiting for contact from Blake, and because that had driven me totally mad, I didn’t want to repeat that. Did I? The only thing I could do was speak to Rose, ask if she’d seen him and if he’d asked about me. On thinking about it, though, I was sure she would have told me if he had.

  Although nowadays Rose was very elusive, preferring to spend her free time with Steve rather than me. A far cry from when I was away in France, and she cried on the phone because I wasn’t there to spend the holidays with her. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t complaining. This was how it should be. Everybody should have their own space. Yeah, even twin sisters.

  As luck would have it, thinking about Rose must have conjured her up from nowhere, as on my walk home from school that very afternoon, I bumped into her coming out from work at her
new job at Butcher & Steele. It was a balmy day for the end of February, and the sun glowed very yellow from a blue sky, just a few black-edged clouds floating around threatening rain for later. Rose looked good wearing a black suit with a red blouse tucked into the skirt, and she’d tied up her hair showing little red earrings that dangled from her ears and sparkled prettily as she moved. She wore red lipstick too and looked smart and business-like, carrying a black briefcase, quite at odds with me and my walking boots and rucksack.

  When I asked if she had time for a talk, she suggested we go to Café Mocha for a coffee and, albeit slightly hesitantly, as that was where I’d seen James for the last time before I went to St. Malo, I walked with her down the High Street and into the café, the door opening with a loud ching as it had before. There was an older lady on the counter this time, wearing a smart pink overall, who made friendly conversation with us as she took our order, oohing and aahing at the fact that we were twins and telling us that her grandmother had been a twin, and she’d always been fascinated by the subject. The aroma of strong hot coffee beans mixed with countless fried breakfasts and well-done toast hovered in the air.

  The café was busy, with most of the tables full, but we managed to find one by the large window, still foggy with condensation, that looked out onto all the comings and goings on the High Street. People, as they always did, stared at us as we sat down and gave grins and slight nods of their heads, to which we nodded back.

  Rose added milk and sugar to her coffee and took a sip, leaving a very faint lipstick mark on the mug, which straight away she wiped off with her thumb. “What’s up, Ruby?” she asked. “Are you okay? You’ve seemed so down since you got back from France.” She gabbled on. “Oh, don’t worry, I can understand why. I could kill that Blake for what he’s done to you!”

  I smiled a bit and said, “Yeah, it was a disappointment, but…. Well, really, if I hadn’t seen him on the telly that night at the Coal Exchange, I probably wouldn’t have pursued it. But….” I drank deeply. “That’s not to say it didn’t bother me, though.”

  She nodded and took another sip of coffee and said, “It spoiled everything for you and James too.”

  “Well, that’s what I was going to ask you about. Rose, have you seen James? Have you spoken to him? Does Steve know anything?”

  She shrugged and said, “Why don’t you ring him or text? Or call in to see him.”

  “I can’t.” I shook my head, my heart beating fast.

  “Why not? He might be waiting for you. He’ll want to know what decision you’ve made, won’t he?”

  “I’m not sure. He told me that he understood why I was going and that I needed to find out why Blake had stopped getting in touch, but he didn’t tell me to contact him when I got back.”

  “Do you really need to be told everything, Ruby?” she said irritably. “If it was me, I’d have gone to see him by now—or texted, or done something!”

  We grinned at each other, and I said, “We do everything so differently.”

  “Yeah—and we’re twins!” said Rose.

  “Hmm. Being twins doesn’t mean we’re the same person.” There was a short silence before I told her quietly, “I’m afraid he’s met somebody else.” I brought my mug to my lips, both hands wrapped around it—for warmth, I suppose. I felt cold and shaky inside.

  The door chinged open, making us jump, and a young woman came in, awkwardly trying to maneuver a stroller through the door, followed by two very young gabbling children who ran about between the tables as if they’d been let out of jail that very day. Rose and I exchanged a glance, and I knew that the children had reminded her of our half-niece, Leah, just as they had me.

  “Don’t be daft, Ruby. James loves you. He’s not going to find anybody else he cares that deeply about in the space of a couple of weeks, is he? Really, you don’t seem to know much about relationships.”

  “Oh, and you do?” I shot back.

  “Well, yes,” she said coyly. She had to speak louder over the noise of the two children pounding about with their sturdy shoes on the wooden floor. “Steve and I have been talking about getting engaged.” She looked down at the table and then flicked her eyes back to me. “But you’ve got to work on them, Ruby—men have to be worked on!”

  “Wow, engagement. That’s great, Rose!” I put my hand over hers where it lay on the table between us. “But working on someone? No, that’s not my style. If somebody really wants you, they shouldn’t have to be worked on!”

  “Well, you need to do something, or you’ll lose him.” She stood up and, smoothing her skirt down and picking up her briefcase, said, “Look, sorry Ruby, but I’ve got to go. I’m going straight to Steve’s for tea. I’ll see you later tonight when I get home.” She put some money on the table, saying the coffees were her treat.

  I nodded when something that Rose had said finally worked its way into my brain and, as she began to walk towards the door, I said, “Rose, how do you know that James loves me?”

  She shook her head, wrinkling her nose as if she didn’t understand what I was going on about, and said, “Of course he does. It’s written all over his face. But surely you know that? Go get him, Ruby!”

  ~*~

  With the lady on the counter’s voice telling the two small children to “Settle down, please,” echoing in my head, I left the café just after Rose had gone. In fact, I could just about see the tail end of her in her black suit, happily swinging her briefcase as she walked jauntily down the cobbled street towards the harbor and to Steve’s house. James lived not too far away from Steve and, before I knew what I was doing, instead of turning back away from the High Street towards home, I was following Rose, deciding in that split second that I would go and see James, and put an end to this worry and indecision once and for all.

  He lived with his mum and sister in a semi just off Slipper Road, a lovely house surrounded by a large mature garden planted with lots of leafy trees and flowery borders. His dad had held a managerial position in Sonic, where James worked, which must have accounted for the big beautiful house they lived in. Nervously I walked up the driveway, noticing that there was no car parked outside, so they might not be in, but the garage door was closed, so perhaps the car was in there, nicely shut up for the evening. It had been a long time now since James’s dad had passed away, but it must have been tough for Jacky, his mum, especially having to care for two school-age children on her own when he’d died.

  Taking a deep breath, I knocked timidly on the door, with no idea what to expect. I hadn’t seen James’s mum for ages. A pretty young girl with long wavy dark hair opened the door and peered out at me. She was dressed in a short denim skirt with thick black tights, and a T-shirt with a picture of Lady Gaga on the front, along with the words Born this Way. She looked so much like a female version of James that I did a double-take. This must be Lara, his sister.

  “Hi, um, is James in?”

  “Oh, hi. It’s Ruby, isn’t it? Or is it Rose?” She looked confused.

  I smiled. “It’s Ruby.” I pointed to my nose. “I’m the one with the mole. I just want a quick word with him if that’s okay?”

  “He’s not here,” she told me. “He—”

  A voice echoed from inside. “Who is it, Lara?”

  “It’s Ruby,” she shouted back, and there was a bit of a kerfuffle as James’s mum appeared in the doorway, a curious look on her face. She was a lot younger than my mum and looked pretty hip wearing black leggings and denim shorts. She, too, had long dark hair and very dark eyes, and pale milky skin. Freckles ran wildly across her nose.

  “Well, hello there. Come in, come in, Ruby. It’s so good to see you again.”

  “Hi. I hope you don’t mind me calling in. I—”

  “No, not at all, not at all.”

  I followed her through a cozy kitchen that I noticed had one of those really cool looking Aga cookers and into th
e sitting room, where she invited me to sit on a really comfortable looking squashy leather settee. Awkwardly I sat down, putting my rucksack at my feet. She sat opposite, perched on the edge of a leather chair, as Lara hovered in the doorway, asking if I wanted tea or coffee or a cold drink. Juice or milk?

  “No, no, thank you, it’s fine. I’ve just had a coffee with my sister in Café Mocha. I just wanted a word with James.”

  I glanced around the beautiful room, at its cream-colored walls hung with interesting black and white pictures, one of which was set in London and featured a bright red bus smack in the middle of all the dark color. Another was of my hero, the man with the mole, Roger Moore himself, holding a cigarette and drinking what I assumed was a martini, the glass slap bang in front of his face. Wow! James’s Mum was really cool!

  “Oh, I do like that place. We go there sometimes, don’t we, Lara?” said James’s mum, looking at her daughter where she still stood by the door. “And with your sister? You’re like two peas in a pod, you two. I often see you out and about in Emsworth and was so pleased when James said he’d been seeing you.”

  There was a short silence before Lara, coming to sit beside me, said, “James isn’t here.”

  “No,” said his mum. “He’s working away for a couple of weeks, although it might be extended, in Southampton—at the other branch of Sonic. He’s doing really well there. But of course, you must know that, Ruby.”

  “No, I don’t actually,” I told her. And I don’t know why—maybe it was his mum, Jacky’s, friendliness and kind worried expression, or just the build-up of so much tension after the drama with Blake and the upset of still not seeing James—but I put my head in my hands and, not for the first time recently, burst into a bout of noisy sobbing.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Michael was visiting again with Leah—it was his mid-week visiting night. I could hear her excited giggling and talking as I was getting changed in my bedroom. Rose wasn’t back from Steve’s yet, so there’d be just me, Mum, Dad, Michael, and Leah for tea, and, from the aroma weaving its way around the kitchen, chicken casserole was on the menu again. My mind wandered fleetingly to the first time Michael had turned up with her, the day when Nan and Grandad were already here, and Nan was having a meltdown about not being told about Michael having found Mum. It was the first weekend of access for him, and, as he said later, to find Nan and Grandad here as well was what you might call a bit of a shock.