Goodbye Ruby Tuesday (16 page)

‘Ruby knew the girl who decided she was going to Oxford, no matter where she was from. The girl who walked into that interview like she knew what she was worth, pointed out the flaws in their positive action policy and told them they needed her. Who got the grades, the extracurricular activities, the internships and every other fucking thing you needed. That’s who we knew. The fact that you’ve moved onto expensive champagne instead of Lambrini doesn’t really bother us. In fact, if you’re buying I’m quite partial to it myself.’ Evie slung an arm around Chelsea, ‘It just matters that you’re here, Chels. And I bet that’s how Kit feels too. It just matters that you’re there.’

Things had changed with Chelsea, before London, before Oxford. One day, something had happened, something she had never told them about, something only Ruby knew. The next day Chelsea walked in to school, signed up for every extracurricular option and asked the school advisor what she’d need to get into Oxford University. She laughed in her face, but Chelsea had a face like stone. Evie had the feeling she’d rather not know what had made Chelsea need to leave, made her realise she was suddenly worth so much more than Badgeley, and that a bad history and a shitty start wasn’t going to stop her.

‘You’re scared he’s going to want to know why, aren’t you?’ she said simply, ‘Why you changed it all.’

‘It was always more than just Badgeley,’ Chelsea said, biting her lip and looking up. ‘There are things, things even you guys don’t really know properly, things that make me complicated. Guys like Kit, they could have any of those Made in Chelsea bimbos with a fortune and a future. Can you imagine what happens if we get married? Am I meant to drag along my benefits scamming mum, my three siblings, my dodgy dealing stepdad… and let his family see where I’m from, who I am?’ Chelsea laughed, chucking down the last of her drink, ‘I don’t think so.’

‘What are his family like?’

‘No idea, I’ve avoided meeting them,’ she grimaced. ‘Luckily we’re both workaholics so that floats.’

‘And what does he think your parents do?’

‘He thinks my dad owns a shipping company and my mum is a lady of leisure. Whenever he suggests we go and see them I say they’re on holiday in France.’

‘Fucking hell, Chels, the whole point of a convincing lie is to make it an interpretation of the truth.’ Evie shook her head, ‘You’ve painted a picture now, one that doesn’t match up at all.’

‘Unless I’m living one of those wacky movies where I pay someone to pretend to be my parents,’ Chelsea said lightly, gesturing to the bartender for another bottle of prosecco.

‘He’s gonna find out sometime Chels, you may as well be the one to tell him,’ Mollie placed her hand on top of her friend’s, squeezing gently. ‘Better to come out with it now, if this is the person you want to spend your life with. Betrayal gets worse the longer it goes on.’

‘Is that why it’s been easier to ignore us?’ Evie said simply, meeting Chelsea’s eyes, ‘Because we’re a connection to that world? We’re putting you at risk of being found out?’

Chelsea shrugged, ‘Maybe it’s nice to have people around me who think it’s okay that I Google the wine list before I go to a restaurant so I sound like I know what I’m talking about, that I have to stop myself from ordering the cheapest thing on the menu and that some days, when he does something nice for me, I’m disgusted by how much it costs, and how little it means to him.’

The girls sat silently.

‘I’m a fucking fraud,’ Chelsea laughed, ‘so let’s drink and forget about it.’

It seemed that the conversation portion of the evening was over, the bottle of prosecco arrived (followed by another, and another) and the evening stopped being about talking. It stopped being about who they were and who they’d become, and what had happened in those ten years that had passed. It was about three young women dancing to the music, gripping onto each other tightly as they laughed, only worrying about the here and now.

***

‘Oi, bitch! Who the fuck you think you are, coming up in here like the Queen of fucking Sheba?’

Evie cringed as she heard Chelsea’s voice ring out across the playground. And of course, there was Chelsea, hand on hip, hair pulled up in a side ponytail, her lank blonde hair swinging as she jutted her chin. Her fingers pointed at Leah Wilson, who turned, her own kohl rimmed eyes looking as if they were about to pop out of her head.

‘You better not be talking to me.’

Chelsea smirked, swiping away a piece of hair that hung down and got caught on her bubblegum lip gloss. ‘Fuck yeah I’m talking to you. I hear you’ve been trying to stick your slutty tongue down my boyfriend’s throat.’

‘Your boyfriend?’ Leah raised her heavily plucked eyebrows, ‘That wasn’t what he told me. Told me you were nothing important.’

Chelsea pulsed a little on her feet, but Evie knew she was better than that. However emotional Chelsea was, however much of a troublemaker, she never lost sight of the plan. Evie would launch herself at the girl, seeing red before she knew what hit her. But Chelsea knew she could do whatever she liked as long as she didn’t pull the first punch.

‘That’s funny, that’s what he said about you once he’d finished washing the smell of your skanky perfume off him and came back grovelling.’ Chelsea grinned, ‘That said, we’ve all been slumming, haven’t we?’

Her cheeky wink seemed to be in slow motion, and suddenly Leah threw herself at Chelsea, letting out a squawk of swear words and mini-screams. Sure that everyone had seen someone else start it, Chelsea got into it, hair pulling, throwing a few good punches and sticking her nails into Leah’s neck.

Evie considered pulling them apart, but if she got involved in another fight she’d be chucked out, no doubt. And she didn’t doubt Chelsea’s ability to school a bitch. It was hardly the first time – although she was usually more about manipulation and planning than out-and-out fighting – but she’d been let down by yet another bastard boyfriend. Chelsea was queen of the school, except when it came to trusting those same boys who told the same lies. She’d chucked him of course, beaten the crap out of him and spread sufficient rumours about having enough STDs to make his dick fall off, but still… somehow it was easier to take it out on another girl who thought she deserved to take what was yours.

Of course, when the girls got dragged into the head teacher’s office once again to discuss the importance of “using our words”, they had no doubt that Chelsea Donolly was no better than Leah Wilson. They were both angry little girls from the estate who had the propensity to be bitches. Mr Lanyard, the head teacher, had more than once been heard bellowing that they were wasting the tax payers’ money even bothering to try and teach some of the ‘little bastards’, because the boys would end up in the army, and the girls would get knocked up and just on the estate raising kids as horrible as them. And as outraged as Evie was upon hearing this rumour, she almost couldn’t blame him. It seemed like there was no other choice but to repeat history. It would be a few months until Chelsea proved her wrong.

***

When they arrived home that night, it wasn’t as late as they had thought. They’d started drinking earlier than they expected, and as Chelsea so sweetly pointed out, they were old now. Mollie and Evie made the walk back, linking arms and giggling like they were kids again. When they reached Evelyn’s house, Mollie took a deep breath and very politely asked if Esme was ready to come home. Whilst her hair was tousled and her cheeks were red, she went back into ‘mum mode’ very easily. Esme took her place between the two of them, allowing them to swing her along between them whilst talking ten to the dozen about the different books she’d looked at and the lavender cake that Evelyn made. They laughed and sang on the way back to the studio, and Evie felt her heart lighten, grinning at Mollie as Esme squeezed her hand. She was part of this little family, she wasn’t on the outside. Everything felt possible.

They let themselves in downstairs, creeping quietly in and up the stairs. Evie listened for the sound of music coming from Killian’s door, noticing the light coming from underneath.

‘I’ll be up in a minute,’ she whispered to Mollie, ‘I’ve left some things down here.’

She gestured around the room but Mollie just tilted her head and smiled, before shrugging and hurrying Esme up to bed.

Evie tiptoed across the room, listening closely to the door for a hint of music, her ear against the grain, but there was nothing.

‘The batteries died,’ an amused voice came from behind her. Killian was in the main area, clutching a glass of what looked like whisky. His lips twitched up, and she noticed his eyes were red, like he’d been working away on a project with no concept of time passing. His hair was peppered with sawdust, and as he lifted the glass to his lips, Evie noticed how delicate his hands were, his nails bitten down to the quick, the tips square and flat.

‘What would you have been playing?’

He bit his lip and considered it, ‘Something soulful, maybe? I always play sad music at night. The day it’s all rock’n’roll, but the night feels different here. In there, I mean,’ he nodded towards his workshop.

‘Like you don’t want to disturb whatever magic it’s got going on,’ Evie nodded, curling a strand of hair around her finger, and then noticing her own actions with irritation.
What are you, fourteen?

His mouth twitched again, ‘Something like that. Although it would be nicer if I was certain the magic in the room was mine.’

‘Well, of course it is. Where else would it come from?’

‘The magic of London, of course! It’s seeping in from the drainage systems!’ Killian wiggled his eyebrows in a ridiculous way that made him look a lot less intimidating.

‘Whatever’s in the drains, I’m pretty sure it’s not magic,’ Evie snorted, lowering herself into the chaise longue, clutching her sketchbook to her chest.

Killian just smiled and shrugged, letting the silence settle around them. He swirled the whisky in his glass, looking at the floor. Evie stared at his boots, scuffed and covered in dust.

‘So… I was actually looking for you. To, uh, apologise,’ she said quickly, looking resolutely at his left earlobe, instead of meeting his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, for going off on you about Mollie. You were only trying to help.’

Killian sighed deeply, ‘It’s fine. I shouldn’t have said anything. You were right. It’s not my business.’

Evie nodded, like that was that, ‘Well, okay, so we’ve reached a truce then?’

‘Well, you gave me cake. I have to be nice now. Those are the rules, aren’t they?’ He smiled, showing off perfect white teeth and dimples in his stubbled cheeks.

‘According to a certain ten-year-old, cake can solve any problem,’ Evie smiled softly, leaning back and lifting up her knees to her chest. Killian hovered, his hand resting on the armchair opposite her, almost as if he was waiting to be invited to sit.

‘I think I agree with her,’ he smiled, and as much as Evie was enjoying the simplicity of this conversation about nothing, there were questions that were eating her up.

‘Can I ask you something?’

He shrugged in response, his stance relaxed. He thought she was going to ask him what his favourite flavour of cake was, or something else pointless and friendly, tiptoeing across the fragile ground of their new truce. But that was not Evie’s way.

‘When we first got here, and you weren’t… well you weren’t exactly welcoming us with open arms, I thought it was because you hated me, you hated what we stood for and what we were going to do here…’

Killian frowned, ‘Where’s the question, Evie?’

‘Did you hate us… or did you hate Ruby?’

Killian looked like he had been deflated, ageing suddenly in minutes. He looked at the floor, tapped his heel twice and sighed. ‘Have a drink with me?’ He tilted his own glass in offering, holding it up.

Evie nodded, and he disappeared into the kitchen, returning with two old-fashioned tumblers, overly full of whisky. Evie wasn’t a fan, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment.

‘Cheers,’ Killian exhaled, tapping his glass against hers, as he perched awkwardly on the arm of the chair, twisting to look at her.

‘Cheers,’ she sipped delicately, wincing a little. ‘So…’

‘Ruby was…’ he sighed, shaking his head, ‘Ruby was chaos. Pure, unadulterated chaos. Evelyn loved her, wanted to fix her. But some people don’t want to be fixed.’

He shrugged, and Evie nodded, taking a sip of the whisky and feeling it burn pleasantly as it slipped down her throat.

‘Ruby loved the idea of brokenness, she thought that was what made people great. Made them interesting or beautiful. She would never have wanted to be fixed.’ Evie twitched her mouth into a half smile, ‘She thought it was a waste of time, being “whole”.’

Killian nodded, his foot tapping on the floor, ‘I guess Evelyn told you my whole sad story?’

Evie shook her head and he raised his eyebrows.

‘I wasn’t in a good place when Evelyn rented this space to me. I’d lost a lot. Ruby’s kind of chaos was just the thing I needed to implode. And for a while, I thought I wanted to.’

Evie winced a little, even thinking about it.

‘Ruby was a woman who played games with people,’ Killian said ‘men especially.’

‘You fell for her,’ she said resolutely. It was always the same. You couldn’t help but love her. Couldn’t help but want to save her.

‘No, actually,’ Killian rubbed the back of his neck, ‘we became friends. I came down here one night when she was meant to be recording, and she was writing a letter. She told me about her life, about her friends and how much she missed you. I told her things about my life, things that no one else knew properly. For a while, one of the biggest rock stars in the country was my confidante.’ He laughed wearily, ‘How weird is that, right?’

Evie smiled, knowing how it would end. How it always ended.

‘Something happened and she pushed the boundary, didn’t she?’

‘Yes.’

They sat in silence for a moment, taking in the warmth from the room, dully lit as they sipped at their drinks. She looked at him, tried to see a man who had been lied to, who had rebuilt his life, who had known her friend. But all she saw was dimpled cheeks and a dark stare from light eyes.