Ruby's Palace

by KERRY BARNES

  Like a coiled spring, she leapt from her bed and onto the thick pink carpet.

  Sam had the table laid and it looked like Christmas with wine glasses and the best china square plates. He placed the pie in the middle of the large ebony wood table and the vegetables in smaller dishes.

  Sam nodded for Ruby to sit down. They dished the food up but the tension persisted.

  Ruby decided to keep quiet and hope the whole incident would be washed over, so she’d get to wear her new Gucci watch.

  *

  They ate in silence, with Sam looking over at his only daughter, who had changed so much in the last few months, and then at his son, who hadn’t changed at all. More concerned now than disappointed with her behaviour, he wondered how he should deal with it.

  The knife and fork came crashing down, making both of his kids jump.

  “Tell me, Ruby, be fucking honest with me, what is going on? Why are you being so rebellious right now?” His voice rose to the point of shouting. With his elbows on the table, he clasped his hands together and waited for a response. She just shrugged her shoulders.

  “Answer me, Ruby. I want a good explanation. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Ruby, furious, felt the anger welling up again. This was something she struggled to control these days. Deep in her heart she guessed that maybe the cannabis was part of it. The school lectured on the paranoia and mood swings which were an effect of smoking drugs.

  “All right then, if you must know, I’ve had enough of being a Vincent!” She, too, slammed her cutlery.

  “What the fuck are you on about now?” Sam tried to stay calm; lately, Ruby had a knack of winding him up.

  She looked at Jack to help her but he was as dumbfounded as his father.

  “Look at me! I’m surrounded by boys; the boxing club, uncles, a brother, but there’s no girls in my life!” Ruby wasn't being sweet. Her face tightened with rage, making her appear ugly.

  “Well, madam, ain’t you fucking lucky? Most young ladies would love to have all you’ve got; a big family that damn well care, even though they are men.”

  Ruby didn’t leave the table. She sighed and gave her father a filthy glare.

  “Ruby, I don’t buy your pathetic excuse for your shitty behaviour. You’d better give me a proper reason, ‘cos this is how this family works. You have a problem, then tell me about it, and I’ll do me best to help ya. Come out with cock and bull, and I will get pissed off. So, shall we start again?” he shouted.

  “I want me mum!”

  Sam’s eyes widened and glanced Jack’s way. Jack shook his head in disbelief.

  He took a while to get his thoughts together. “You can’t, Ruby, I can’t put you through that.”

  Ruby jumped up from the table, red-faced. “I fucking hate you! You sent my mum away and you all pretend she was scum! Well, fuck all of you! I’m gonna find her meself and you can’t stop me!”

  Sam wanted to slap her, but he had already done that once today and it hadn’t made him feel any better then. Like Sam’s younger brother Fred, Ruby’s movements were quick, along with her temper. Her face, once so full of charm and sweetness, had changed. She looked spiteful and hateful, pursing her plump lips and narrowing her big, blue eyes. It wasn’t a Vincent look but it was certainly her mother’s expression. Sam bashed the table so hard the china jangled and Jack nearly left his own skin. Ruby stormed out of the room, stamping her feet as she headed back to her room.

  *

  Jack cleared away the plates and started cleaning the kitchen. He was in the middle in this family. He felt sorry for Ruby, but he also loved his dad, and could tell his father was protecting her. She was so strong-willed, believing, come what may, she would find Jesse. One thing was for sure, she’d be on her own. Jack shuddered at the thought of meeting her again. The memories of his mother were not exaggerated, nor were they illusions, but scarily vivid. The scar on the top of his leg gave him a permanent reminder.

  He had only been four years old and Ruby three. It had been raining continually outside, and so they were playing hide and seek. With no toys or board games, they had to amuse themselves. The small run-down flat contained little furniture, and few places to hide, but they made the best of it. Jesse had dossed in her bed most of the day; this was a usual occurrence because she often entertained friends through the night, drinking and smoking. Jack didn’t understand it all at four-years-old but now, at sixteen, he knew why his mother lived the way she did. It was the drugs and her so-called scag-head mates.

  They were hungry that morning, more so than usual, because Jesse hadn’t fed them the night before. Ruby tried to take her mind off her hunger pains by singing ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’ as she ran around the flat. Jesse was hungover and the child’s voice echoed around her head and each exaggerated lisp fuelled her annoyance. “Ruby, get in ‘ere, you fucking little prat!” she croaked harshly, and Ruby stopped dead in her tracks. She hated her mother shouting.

  Jesse shrieked again. “Ruby, I said get ‘ere!”

  Jack ran to Ruby’s side and together they walked into their mother’s room.

  He scanned the room and saw his mother, half-naked, in the middle of the bed. There was sick on the floor. The rancid odour of the vomit, mixed with the smell from the overflowing ashtrays, made Jack gag. Their mother propped herself up. Ruby shook as Jesse curled her finger. “Get here, you little bitch!” she spat.

  Jack hated his mother’s spiteful expression; her hair was stuck up in all directions, her teeth were coated in a yellow film and her eyes looked a devilish red. Ruby stood rooted to the spot, fearing she would get hit, or worse.

  “Sorry, Mummy, we will be quiet, I promise,” said Jack in Ruby’s defence. He was desperate for her not to set about his little sister.

  Ruby stared at the floor, trying not to cry or wet herself.

  Jesse slid her legs around and sat upright on the edge of her bed. She looked like a skeleton. Her sunken eyes made her mouth appear big. Jack smelt her sour breath from twenty inches away. He gazed at her feet, with the black, overgrown toenails, and then at her unshaven legs. Jesse reached forward with her long, thin arm and snatched Ruby. Then, with the other hand, she slapped her across the mouth. It was a hard slap, which would cause a grown woman to yell.

  “Now then, what have I fucking told you? Keep your noise down. I’m trying to sleep!” She fell back on the bed.

  Ruby, too afraid to cry loudly, held her throbbing mouth with her two little hands. Jack gave his mother an evil stare, wishing her dead. In that moment he knew that he hated her, and his blood ran cold when he thought of how Jesse systematically hurt Ruby.

  He walked Ruby to the living room, with his arm around her shoulders, whispering that one day their daddy would come to get them.

  Her tears fell with no sound, just silent sobbing. Unable to console her, Jack went in search of food. In the kitchen was a fridge full of mould because the door wouldn’t shut tightly. He found nothing there to eat, only sour milk. All the lower cupboards, with no doors, were bare. Jack climbed onto the work surface to have a look in the top cupboard and, as he opened the cabinet door, he couldn’t believe what he saw. There were cakes – about ten. He looked around, to check if his mother was there, but no, so he grabbed two and shut the door. He scrambled off the side and into the living room where Ruby sat, with her nightdress pulled over her knees, sucking her thumb. He showed her the cakes and she smiled. They hid behind the settee and ate them, hoping that their mother wouldn’t find out what they were doing.

  “I like these cakes,” whispered Ruby as she tried to cram another piece between her swollen lips.

  “Um, me too,” said Jack.

  They scoffed them fast, leaving no crumbs. Jack was still hungry, and thought about going back to the cupboard. He figured his mum wouldn’t remember how many she had baked, so he climbed on the side again. As he went to open the cabinet door he swooned, but he held on until the dizziness passed. There seemed to be so many cakes. He
grabbed as many as he could carry and rushed back to Ruby, who was hiding behind the sofa. She was smiling. They sat and ate more. “Mummy can make nice cakes,” said Ruby. Jack nodded. He had never felt so ravenous. When they had finished the last morsel, Jack looked up at the opened cupboard door, but he couldn’t seem to find the energy to get up to close it. He felt sleepy and dreamy.

  Ruby lay on the floor but a wet patch appeared on her turquoise nightdress. She had wet herself. When he tried to wake her she didn’t move. It was then he noticed her body twitching and that there was puke at the sides of her mouth. He couldn’t understand why she couldn’t open her eyes. In a dazed state, he attempted to pick her up but she was too heavy. He moved her onto her side and the vomit came out. His mum would be mad. Ruby always got a smack if she wet herself. Afraid that Jesse might hurt her again, he knew he must do something as Ruby was ill. The room spun and his sister’s face turned a deathly grey.

  “Mum!” he screamed – no answer. He waited.

  “Mummy!” he cried louder.

  “What now?” she shouted back.

  Jack was unable to put his words together. His mind was jumbled. He shouted, “Mum! Help!”

  Jesse was livid; she needed more sleep. The anger made her leap from her bed like a woman possessed. She grabbed a stiletto shoe and marched into the living room, where the children lay slumped behind the sofa, out of sight.

  Her aggression gained momentum, thinking they were playing a game. She stormed into the kitchen to discover no kids, the cupboard door wide open and the cakes gone – just an empty, crumb-filled plate.

  “Where are you? Get here right now!” Jesse hollered at the top of her voice.

  Jack tried to get to his feet but they felt like mashed potato.

  Jesse saw Jack behind the couch and, with her arm pulled back clutching the stiletto, she plunged the heel of the shoe into Jack’s leg.

  In a fit of rage, she pulled him from the floor and threw him onto the sofa, slapping him hard across the cheek. There was no expression on her face – just a cold and spiteful bottom jaw protruding, which caused her lips to tighten. He sensed the pain and saw the anger in his mother’s eyes, but felt it was happening to someone else. She shouted in his face but he couldn’t make out the jumbled words. The deep gash in his leg bled heavily, but in his confused state of mind he wasn’t sure if it was real or not.

  Jesse fled the room and Jack tried hard to focus. He still felt dizzy and sick but his little sister lay by the side of the sofa, looking as if she was dying. His fear so great, he crawled off the couch and sat by her side. Tears trickled down his throbbing cheeks as he touched her cold, clammy forehead.

  “Ruby, wake up,” he whispered, staring at her limp body.

  It seemed as if he had sat there for hours, with his sister’s head on his lap, still confused and worried for her. He could see better now and he looked down at his leg and saw the blood still oozing from the deep hole. Ruby was sick again and Jack wiped the hair away from her face. Although his mind was in complete turmoil, he knew he had to overcome his own suffering to protect her. She was all he had and he loved her. He whispered in her ear, pleading with her not to die.

  A commotion outside startled him but through the muffled sound he recognised Gloria’s voice. She was a Jamaican woman who lived in the end flat. As she appeared through the door she seemed huge. A big woman anyway, Jack saw her as enormous and yet, at this moment, he was so relieved by the sight of her.

  Gloria’s husband and older sons often sat with Jesse in the evening and smoked but Gloria always stayed in her own flat, keeping herself to herself.

  She had met them a year before when she’d dropped a plastic bag and her fruit had rolled down the hill. The two children had chased the runaway apples and proudly handed them back to her. A pitiful sight they were; skinny, half-dressed and certainly too young to be outside unaccompanied. So, every chance Gloria got, she gave them a treat such as a doughnut or sausage rolls. Watching them tuck into a small helping of food made her heart ache and often, on the bitter cold days, she invited them in to warm themselves up.

  They loved to go to Gloria’s flat. It was cosy with carpets, cushions on the sofa and flowered curtains at the windows. They laughed at her deep, Jamaican accent and took comfort in her hugs. They only ever had cuddles from their father on a prison visit.

  “Where are they?” Gloria’s voice was deep. Jesse pointed to the sofa as if she had disclosed a rat’s nest.

  Jack saw Gloria’s huge caramel arms reach forward, grab him from the floor, and cradle him. The warm, sweet breath on his face soothed him. She placed him on the sofa. Then she bent down and picked up Ruby, laying her next to him. She knelt down beside the couch and shouted orders at the people in the doorway.

  “Jesse, get some blankets!” She glared at their mother, but she just looked unperturbed.

  “Joseph, fetch water!” Joseph was her eldest son. He often hung around the flat, smoking and drinking. But right now, he didn’t seem his usual self; his eyes were large and frightened.

  Jesse left the room. She returned with a smelly cover, which most reasonable people would have thrown out. She was still undressed, in just a stained nightdress, with her breasts practically hanging out. Gloria looked at the faded, old rag which Jesse had tried to pass off as a blanket. She sucked her teeth in a typical Jamaican gesture of disdain.

  “Joseph, get me some blankets from me bed and leave the water there,” ordered Gloria, with her thick Caribbean accent. Joseph had put the cup with no handle on the floor. Again, Gloria tutted. She lifted Jack’s head and made him drink. “Come on now, me precious child, sip a little for Aunty Gloria.” Her voice was like a song. Each word had a gentle harmony. Next, she tried to sit Ruby up. She was gradually coming around – to the relief of Jack, who had thought she was dying.

  She covered them in the blanket which Joseph presented, and encouraged them to drink more.

  Gloria had trained as a nurse back in Jamaica. She checked the children over, including their pulse. Luckily, they would be okay.

  As she tucked them in the blanket, she saw the blood and quickly she searched for a cut. There, like a black hole, she found the wound at the top of Jack’s leg.

  “Oh my God! How did this happen?” Her voice had notched up a few decibels.

  Jesse shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know. I guess he fell onto something when he climbed up to steal me dope cakes.”

  Gloria jumped up and walked towards Jesse, who was backing away.

  “All right, Glor, it wasn’t me, I didn’t fucking do it.”

  “You don't deserve these little children. If I see you harm them again, I’ll call the police meself and don’t think, me girl, I won’t!”

  Gloria returned to Ruby and Jack, kissing their foreheads. She scooped them in her arms and walked out of the flat, followed by Jesse, who was in a panic. If she called the police or social services then her weekly money would be gone. Those kids were her earner.

  “Where are you taking me babies? I can look after them here!” cried Jesse.

  Gloria pushed past Jesse and carried on walking with Joseph and her husband, Daniel. They knew, only too well, that when Gloria was on a mission you didn’t get in her way. Joseph opened the front door and she stepped sideways into the hallway, still clutching both children. She took them to her bedroom and laid them on her bed. There were no complaints. Jack felt safe with Gloria and he smiled at her, although tears streamed down his white cheeks.

  “There you go, me little ray of sunshine. Aunty Gloria’s going to make you feel better.” The pain was excruciating, because Jack was slowly coming around from the effects of cannabis, making it all the more real. Gloria reached for the phone beside her bed and called her best friend, Massie, a nurse at the Hackney and Homerton.

  “Massie, I need a favour.” Never before had she asked for help but, in her younger days, she was everyone’s angel and Massie owed her a few good deeds.

  “I need you
to have a look at a little boy. He has a nasty cut on his leg and he is hurting bad.”

  Massie was leaving work just as Gloria had called.

  “Does it need stitching?” replied another Jamaican accent down the phone.

  Gloria looked at Jack, hoping he couldn’t hear.

  “Yes, it does, and some antibiotics. Massie, he is only four or five years old, and he is in a lot of pain.”

  “I’m on me way, so just keep the child warm and put a clean cloth over the wound.”

  “Thank you, Massie.”

  Jack was in shock. The cannabis cakes had had a serious effect on him and his blood pressure had dropped. The sight of all the blood and the gaping hole in his leg was too much for him to handle. He passed out. Gloria pulled him onto her lap and rocked him. Jesse stood in the doorway and stared. There was fear and panic written on her face. Gloria misjudged the look, assuming it was compassion for her children. Jesse had to keep the children with her. If the Vincents were ever to get wind of this then her weekly poke would be history.

  Gloria’s face softened. “Now, don’t you worry, me friend is on her way, and she will get the babies well.”

  Jesse burst into tears and Daniel put his arm around her shoulder.

  She fooled everyone with her crocodile tears. Inside, she was angry with the kids. They had eaten the cakes she had saved for the weekend, and now they were making a big fuss, leaving her looking the bad guy.

  When Massie arrived, still in her nurse’s uniform, Daniel showed her to the bedroom. Massie looked so much like Gloria they could almost have been sisters. But Massie had braids and wore purple lipstick, whereas Gloria had short hair and didn’t wear makeup. Difficult to tell their age; they could have been thirty or fifty.

  She marched past Jesse and practically pushed her out of the way.

  Ruby sat up and the colour returned to her cheeks. Massie concentrated on Jack, who was pale and semi-conscious.

  She realised, straight away, his condition was more than a cut.