Gucci Gucci Coo (23 page)

“Don’t worry,” she soothed, “fear and guilt can do strange things to the brain.”

“I guess.”

Just then there was a sudden, shrill noise. Ruby let out a short but piercing shriek. “Omigod, what was that?”

Sam started laughing again. “Hey, Ruby, take it easy. It’s just my phone…So you weren’t scared, eh?” He reached into his pocket for the phone.

“OK, well I might have been. Just a bit.”

She prayed that it wasn’t an emergency call from the labor ward. No sooner had he pressed “connect” than his face fell in that all-too-familiar way. As she began getting dressed, she watched him stride over to the other side of the room. “OK, do what you have to do…let me know.” She couldn’t hear what he said next but she was sure she heard the word
police
. Clearly, it wasn’t the labor ward calling.

“God, what’s happened?”

He seemed to hesitate, almost as if he wasn’t sure what he was about to say next. He was clearly distressed. He ran his hand over the top of his head. “It’s…erm. It’s Buddy. He’s had a stroke.”

“Omigod. Is he OK?”

“They don’t know. The hospital’s still doing tests. Irene’s going to phone me later when they know more.”

“So how were the police involved?”

“Police? What do you mean? I didn’t mention the police.”

“Really? But I’m sure you did.”

“Oh…yeah. Sorry. I remember. Buddy collapsed in the street. The police called the ambulance.”

They went back to his flat and had an early night. Sam was restless beside her. She cuddled him, stroked his head and did her best to comfort him. Several times she asked if he wanted her to make him a hot drink, but he said he was OK. Then about seven, the phone rang next to the bed. His arm shot out to grab it. He mouthed to her that it was Irene. “OK, I think I’d better come. There’s a flight that leaves Heathrow at ten.”

“Buddy’s really bad, then?” Ruby said after he’d come off the phone.

“Yes. It’s not looking good. I’m sorry, Ruby, but I’ve got to go to him.”

“Of course you have. I know how close you are to him. Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t think so.” He was staring up at the ceiling. Even in the half-light she could see the distress on his face. She asked how Irene was bearing up. “She’s doing OK, but she wants me to be there to make sure he gets the best treatment.”

“Makes sense.”

He rolled over and began stroking her hair. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you, too.” She knew he probably wouldn’t be gone for very long, but she couldn’t stop her eyes filling with tears.

“And remember,” he went on, “that whatever happens, I will always love you.” With that he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

Her brow wrinkled. “How do you mean ‘whatever happens’?” But the shower was already running and he couldn’t hear her. She shrugged and assumed—not that it made sense—that he’d been referring to the possibility of Buddy dying.

It was touch and go for a few days, but finally his doctors said that Buddy was out of the woods. Sam phoned to say he wanted to stay in New York for a couple of weeks to monitor his progress and keep Irene company. “St. Luke’s has been very understanding about me taking time off.” He paused. “Look, I’m really sorry about breaking my promise to you.”

“What promise?”

“I said I’d do some digging at the hospital about the surrogacy thing.”

“Sam, please don’t even think about it. You have far more important things on your mind. Stay in New York as long as you like. Irene’s probably still in shock and I’m sure she could do with you being around. By the way, is she there? I’d really like to speak to her and pass on my best to Buddy.”

“Actually she’s just gone back to the hospital to see Buddy, but I’ll tell her you called.” His voice sounded tense, she thought. She asked him if he was all right.

“I’m fine. It’s all been a traumatic few days, that’s all. I haven’t had much sleep.”

While he was away, Ruby wrestled with her thoughts about Hannah’s story. Reluctant as she was to admit it, since her conversation with Sam, she was starting to have second thoughts. Suddenly she wasn’t sure what to believe. Sam was clearly the voice of reason and common sense. And yet, and yet. Hannah seemed so convincing. She came across as somebody who was worn out—but she didn’t seem like a delusional nutcase. Not that Ruby had met enough delusional nutcases to know what one might sound like.

“The thing is,” Ruby said to Fi the night she phoned to tell her that Buddy was on the mend, “I keep coming back to the issue of the bodysuit. It’s not as if I put the idea into Hannah’s head. She brought it up before I’d even mentioned it.”

Fi said she got the point. “On the other hand, you have to admit her story does sound pretty preposterous.” It was clear to Ruby that Fi was more convinced by Sam’s argument than by hers, but didn’t want to upset her by saying so.

E
VERY FEW DAYS
, Hannah would pop into the shop for a chat. Now that her mum had gone back to Leeds, she would come in with all three children. Her identical twins, Ellie and Ruth, were reassuringly robust little souls with permanently smiling moon faces. They charged around the shop on their chubby legs, stopping occasionally to climb in the prams and cribs or throw soft toys around. Hannah was forever apologizing on their behalf, but Ruby and Chanel kept telling her that they were quite used to two-year-olds causing mayhem about the place.

The two women also took turns visiting Hannah. Ruby had been expecting to find her living in some graffiti-covered housing project with used condoms and syringes in the lift.

Although Hannah’s flat was public housing, it was brand-new. It was airy and bright and outside there were trees and grass and a children’s play area. Each time Ruby went she was amazed at how tidy Hannah managed to keep the place. Hannah laughed and said it was so small that she had no option.

Whenever they saw her she seemed to be worried about the twins’ boisterous behavior. She was convinced they were more unruly than other toddlers and that it was all her fault because she was exhausted and not giving them enough attention. Ruby put her in touch with Fi, who reassured her about the terrible twos and told her all about Ben depositing turds behind the sofa and under the kitchen table. When Fi suggested Hannah might like to come along to her postnatal support group, she jumped at the invitation.

Hannah’s feelings about Alfie were still ambivalent, though. Whenever she came to the shop she was always more than happy for Chanel to take him. Chanel made an enormous fuss of him. She would kiss and cuddle him, give him his bottle, change him. She was clearly getting attached to the little mite. When he laughed—apparently for the first time—it was because Chanel had been blowing raspberries on his tummy.

Now that Sam was in New York and couldn’t do any investigating into the surrogacy issue, Ruby had been thinking about what she could do on her own. One night while she was lying awake because her mind refused to switch off, she found herself thinking back to her first conversation with Jill McNulty. She remembered Jill’s overreaction when she made a joke about celebrities leaving St. Luke’s looking so thin. Her jumpiness had been out of all proportion. At the time, Ruby had put it down to her living in fear of losing her job if she was caught gossiping. Maybe there was more to it. Was it possible she knew what was happening at St. Luke’s?

The following day, Ruby told Hannah about her conversation with Jill. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she knew something, but I can’t see much point in confronting her. She’s not going to say anything. She’s clearly petrified of getting the sack.”

A light seemed to go on in Hannah’s head. “I think I may have met this Jill. Forties. Blonde. Smartly dressed.”

“That’s her.”

“It was just after I had Alfie. She came into my room. We had a brief conversation about my payment and she asked me to sign something. Then she left. I never saw her again.”

“So she is involved,” Ruby said. “I bet you anything she keeps records of all the payments to surrogates. She’s the obsessively tidy type that would. I wonder if there’s some way of finding out.”

“But you’ve said yourself she’s not going to say anything. What are you thinking?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

W
HEN
R
UBY WENT
round to Fi’s and told her she was planning to sneak into Jill McNulty’s office one lunch hour and have a hunt through her files, Fi practically had a fit.

“You’re mad. If you got caught, this woman would have every right to call the police. This is pure recklessness. Don’t do it. This isn’t your fight.”

“But somebody has to get involved. If I don’t, nobody else will.”

“But you don’t even know if Hannah’s story is true.”

“It is. I just know it is.”

“So how are you going to get into this McNulty woman’s office?”

“I’ll have a key. Despite all the security and ID cards at the hospital, the office keys are kept on hooks in the cleaners’ cubbyhole. I remember passing it and seeing them hanging there.”

“But even if by some miracle you don’t get caught and you manage to find the names of the people involved in the surrogacy scam, they will deny everything. If it gets into the newspapers, you will be made to look ridiculous. Have you thought about the shop and the repercussions this could have on the business?”

“Of course I have. I’ve also been thinking about how it could affect Sam. I love it that you worry about me, but these celebrities and the doctors who pander to their vanity must be exposed. Look how you’ve been affected by seeing all these pictures of skinny Hollywood women leaving St. Luke’s. These celebrity mothers are making ordinary women feel like failures because they don’t look stick thin and toned immediately after giving birth. You know that a new mother—particularly a breast-feeding mother—needs all her strength. God knows how many of them are starving themselves, just to get their figures back. Somebody has to put a stop to it. Why shouldn’t it be me?”

Fi sat thinking. Ruby could see she was coming round. “OK, but why not break in after work? Surely that would be safer.”

Ruby explained that her talks always finished around lunchtime. “I couldn’t hang around the hospital without people noticing and asking me what I was doing.”

“You seem to have it all worked out,” Fi said, allowing her face to break into a smile. She stood up and put her arms round her friend. “You are very, very brave, Ruby Silverman. Insane, but brave, and I’m extremely proud of you.”

Chapter 16

The day after her discussion with Fi, Ruby gave her second talk at St. Luke’s. Even more women turned up this time. Clearly word had got around.

Afterward, pleased with how the session had gone, Ruby locked up. Then, heart racing, loins fully girded, she headed down the corridor toward the cleaners’ cubbyhole. As usual the door was open and the office keys were on their hooks for all to see. “Anybody in here?” Ruby said tentatively. No answer. She slipped inside, navigating her way around various buckets and mops. Her nose registered the strong smell of disinfectant. She scanned the row of hooks. The one to Jill’s office was at the end. A tag hung from it marked with her name. Congratulating herself on how easy this sleuthing lark really was, she turned to leave. As she did so, her elbow made contact with a mop, causing it to fall onto a metal bucket with what sounded to her like an almighty crash. Ruby’s heart almost stopped. She put her head round the door to see if anybody had noticed the disturbance. To her huge relief, the corridor was empty. Trembling, she let out a long, slow breath and made her way toward Jill’s office.

Even though it was lunchtime, there was no guarantee that Jill would be away from her desk. Ruby would knock first. Only if there was no reply would she let herself in. If Jill was there, Ruby had a story prepared. She would say that one of the windows in the room where she gave her talks was refusing to open, and could Jill ask one of the hospital handymen to take a look at it.

She gave two gentle knocks.

“Come in.” It was Jill. Ruby’s heart sank. She opened the door. Jill was sitting behind her immaculately tidy desk wearing a charcoal-gray jacket and crisp white blouse. She looked up at Ruby and smiled.

“Hello, Ruby. Come on in. What can I do for you?” Jill motioned her to take a seat. As usual, Ruby noticed her perfectly painted pale pink nails.

Ruby sat down and delivered her spiel about the window.

“No problem,” Jill said. “I’ll make sure it gets done. Now is there anything else you need, because after today I’m on leave for a week. I’m going walking in the south of France with my chap. I can’t wait to get away.”

“So your office will be empty?” Ruby blurted.

“Y…es. That’s what usually happens when people go away.”

Ruby had to think on her feet. “No, erm…I er…I er…What I meant to say was, will there be anybody filling in for you?”

“No. Nobody. I’m sorry about that. If you need anything urgent you can always speak to the chief administrator’s secretary.”

“That’s good to know. Thank you.”

She insisted on writing down the secretary’s extension and e-mail. “Now, if she’s not around, the receptionists at outpatients will always be able to find somebody to help you in an emergency.”

“Thanks. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Look, what about if I leave you my mobile number, so you can always reach me.”

Ruby said she wouldn’t dream of disturbing her while she was on holiday.

“Of course, I’ve got to pack up all my files and papers before I go,” Jill went on. “My office is being redecorated while I’m away. My stuff ’s being put into storage.”

“What? All of it?” Ruby was cursing the fates that had built her up and then a moment later let her down so cruelly.

“Yes.” Jill was looking quizzically at Ruby. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking how inconvenient it is for you, having to pack it all up.”

“It is a bit,” Jill said, “but these things are sent to try us. I’m sure I’ll manage.”

Ruby stood up to go.

“Oh, by the way,” Jill said, “I hear the gorgeous Dr. Epstien is staying on.”

Ruby colored up. “Yes, he’s been offered a permanent post. So, you know about us?”

“Everybody does,” she said with a conspiratorial giggle. “The nurses and midwives are madly jealous, of course. They’re all a bit in love with him.”

Ruby wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this. “Right, well, have a great holiday,” she said. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

Ruby closed the door behind her and trudged down the corridor. Jill’s files were going to be moved and she had no idea where. The only way to get access to them was to wait until she got back from holiday. Great. Just great.

She opened the door to the cleaner’s cubbyhole and replaced the office key as easily as she had removed it.

R
UBY DEALT WITH
her frustration—not to mention the fact that she was missing Sam hugely, even though he was phoning and e-mailing—by throwing herself into getting Guatemalan week up and running.

She had fancy invitations printed, inviting her regular customers, including dozens of celebs, to the launch on the second Saturday in December. In the meantime, boxes continued to arrive from Guatemala. They were full of baby clothes, exquisite handmade toys, crib mobiles and nursery knickknacks. Added to this were Christmas cards and decorations.

One evening after work—a few days before the launch—she drove over to see her mother. Phil was in Munich meeting a client. He was staying overnight and Ruby had offered to come for dinner and keep Ronnie company. Ronnie was making her English curry, which was beyond sublime even if it wasn’t quite authentically, or even vaguely, Indian. It consisted of chicken fried with onions and mixed with curry powder, hot mango chutney, raisins, apples and bananas. When Ruby was a child and her mother didn’t have much by way of housekeeping money, she cooked it all the time. Ruby had never lost the taste for it.

“Oh, by the way,” Ruby said as they walked down the hall toward the kitchen, “I’ve brought the nursing bras you ordered. They’re two sizes up from what you’re wearing now, but I thought it made sense because you’re bound to get bigger when your milk comes in.”

Ronnie took one look at the flesh-colored, double-D-cup nursing bras and grimaced. “Ooh—sex-ee. Are these meant to be for breasts or udders?” she said.

Ruby laughed. “If you really want something to turn Dad on, come and see my new range of breast pumps. Now, they really are for udders. The last time I saw Fi hooked up to one, she was threatening to change her name to Daisy.” Ronnie chuckled and said she couldn’t wait.

Ronnie poured Ruby a glass of wine. She stuck to sparkling water, which she said was the only thing that eased her almost permanent heartburn. As ever, the curry was divine.

At one point, Ruby asked what was happening with Aunty Sylvia and Nigel. Ronnie said Aunty Sylvia had had a monumental row with Nigel about the big knickers she found in his drawer and now they weren’t speaking. “But you know what Sylvia’s like. She can never keep up the silent act for long. I’ll keep you posted.” Ronnie took a sip of water. “You seem preoccupied,” she said. “It must be hard with Sam away?”

“It is. I’m really missing him.”

“But it’s not just Sam, is it?” Ronnie frowned. “There’s something else troubling you.”

By way of reply, Ruby said: “Your obstetrician at St. Luke’s—this woman…”

“Dr. Beech?”

“Yes. You really like her, right?”

“She’s wonderful. I couldn’t ask for a better doctor.”

“So, you think she’s completely straight.”

“What, as opposed to gay?”

“No,” Ruby giggled, “as opposed to crooked.”

“Dr. Beech, crooked? The idea is absurd. What are you suggesting?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Ruby, this is me you’re talking to. What’s going on?”

“It’s a long story.”

She patted her bump. “Me and Sigmund aren’t going anywhere.”

“Sigmund—that’s a therapy joke, right?”

“No, actually we thought Sigmund Silverman had a bit of a ring to it.” Ronnie started laughing. “Yes, of course it’s a joke. Now, tell me what’s been going on.”

Ruby went back to the beginning when Claudia came into the shop to buy a swimsuit. She then recounted the entire surrogacy saga. Ronnie got so excited that she had to have a glass of wine. Every so often she would interrupt with a “No!” or an “Omigod! You couldn’t make it up.” Finally she sat back shaking her head. “Do you realize these ridiculous women have set the feminist movement back fifty years? It’s appalling. Utterly, utterly appalling.”

“I’m wondering if you should switch hospitals again. I don’t like the idea of you being at St. Luke’s with all this going on.”

Ronnie became thoughtful. “I can’t see much point in changing hospitals. It’s late in my pregnancy and I’d trust Dr. Beech with my life. I’d bet everything I own that she’s not involved in this thing.”

“But I’m sure you could easily find a doctor at the Portland who would take you on—even at this late stage.”

“No, I’m comfortable with Dr. Beech. I’ll stay where I am.” She paused. “But, sweetie, you must not get involved trying to expose people. Have you thought how it could backfire if you got caught?”

She gave her mother the same speech that she had given Fi, but whereas in the end Fi had sort of given her blessing to Ruby turning detective, her mother couldn’t. “You’re my daughter. I’m scared. I mean, suppose it were to get nasty, I mean really nasty?”

“You mean violent?”

“Maybe not actual violence, but I could see you being threatened. You can never underestimate what people are capable of when there’s money involved—particularly big money.”

“Oh, come on, Mum, I think you’re being a bit melodramatic.”

No sooner had the word left her mouth than Ronnie clamped her hand to her bump and winced in pain.

“Mum, you OK?”

“I’m not sure.” Ronnie sat up again and let out a breath. Whatever it was appeared to have passed.

“You don’t think you could be going into labor, do you?”

“But Sigmund’s not due for another six weeks.”

“I know, but he might be early.”

Ruby went to fetch her mother a glass of water. Five minutes passed and the pain came again, causing Ronnie to double up. Three minutes later, there was another one.

“Ruby, I think perhaps we need to go to St. Luke’s.” Ronnie asked her if she would mind going upstairs and throwing a nightdress and a few toiletries into an overnight bag, just in case. “Ooh, and don’t forget my perineal massage oil. And the whale music CD is on the dressing table.”

On the way, Ronnie started to panic about the baby arriving when she was only thirty-four weeks pregnant.

“Mum, it will be fine. Babies survive at twenty-six weeks these days. I promise you, this is not going to be a problem.”

But Ronnie wasn’t convinced. “I wish your dad were here.” She kept trying to get Phil on his mobile, but it was going to voice mail.

At the hospital, Ronnie was greeted by a bustling Jamaican midwife who radiated calm. She could see that Ronnie was anxious, so she sat on the bed, holding her hand and telling her everything was going to be fine, that she was in good hands and had no reason to be frightened. She was everything you would expect from a midwife at St. Luke’s. Nevertheless, Ruby couldn’t help looking at her—as she’d looked at all the other nurses and doctors she and Ronnie had passed since they arrived—and wondering if she was involved in the surrogacy affair.

“You cervix naht even dilated, my darlin’, and I’m getting a good strong heartbeat.” The midwife carefully rearranged the bedclothes. In her opinion, Ronnie had simply been having Braxton-Hicks practice contractions, but she wanted to get the duty doctor to examine her, just to make sure. “And if she say everything OK—we get you a nice cup of tea.” With that she bustled out of the room. If this woman was involved in anything corrupt, Ruby would eat her one and only and extremely precious Philip Treacy hat.

It turned out that the doctor on duty was Dr. Jane Anderson, the motherly woman gynecologist Ruby usually saw when she had her checkups at St. Luke’s. She had clearly got over her virus. “Dr. Jane’s great. You’ll really like her,” Ruby said to Ronnie.

She arrived a few minutes later. As usual her appearance was comfortingly messy. Her hair looked like it had been styled by Bob Geldof. Her clothes—a scarlet fleece over a brown pleated skirt—looked as if they had been pulled out of a drawer during a power outage. Her face lit up when she saw Ruby. “The moment I saw the name Silverman I wondered if Ronnie could be any relation to you.”

“She’s my mum.” Ruby grinned.

“Goodness. Surely not,” Dr. Jane said, sitting down on Ronnie’s bed. “You don’t look nearly old enough.” Ronnie was visibly relaxing. She laughed and explained that she had been a teenage mum. It turned out that Dr. Jane was one of ten children and that her mother had given birth to her first at sixteen. Soon the two women were chatting away as if they’d known each other for ages.

Dr. Jane confirmed the midwife’s diagnosis.

“You mean these really are nothing more than practice contractions?” Ronnie said. “But I don’t remember them being this painful with Ruby.”

Dr. Jane patted Ronnie’s hand and smiled. “How long ago did you have Ruby?”

“OK, I admit it was thirty-two years ago.”

“Enough said,” Doctor Jane chuckled. “The pains were probably just as strong then, but you don’t remember.”

Because the pains were continuing and Ronnie still seemed anxious, Dr. Jane decided to keep her overnight for observation.

After Dr. Jane left, Ronnie turned to Ruby. “You go home and get some rest,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”