The Truth about Ruby Valentine

by Alison Bond

  Even though it was impossible – he was too far away – Ruby thought she saw herself in the depths of his eyes. She felt something monumental inside her shift violently as she visualized her life’s path crossing with his. The feeling was so intense that she was about to mention it to Ella when she stopped herself, worried that she would sound stupid. Love at first sight was a myth, everyone knew that, something that only soppy teenagers and romance novelists believed in. But that was exactly what it felt like. She was overcome with an almost irresistible desire to throw herself at his feet and promise him anything he wanted.

  Dante nodded at them almost imperceptibly and went back to his conversation, thrusting his strong hands deep into the pockets of his long black overcoat. The moment was gone, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. There was the beginning of a beard on his unshaven chin, giving him a look that was at once slightly grubby and undeniably sexy.

  ‘He’s from Rome originally,’ said Ella. ‘Isn’t he heavenly?’

  ‘Heavenly,’ echoed Ruby. Heat swelled somewhere in the pit of her stomach and scorched a blush on to her cheeks.

  ‘Hands off, he’s taken,’ said Ella. ‘He’s mine.’ She saw the way that Ruby was looking at him and a sharp warning tone entered her voice.

  Ruby continued to sneak glances in Dante’s direction. His generous mouth was set in a firm line and his hands twitched in his pockets, as if he was forcing himself not to make gestures to defend some hotly contested point. He could not control his thick eyebrows though and they danced to add emphasis to his every word. Whatever he was discussing over there was obviously not to his liking. As Ruby watched, Dante spat on the ground in disgust, turned on the heel of his shiny black shoes and walked away from his shocked companion. He actually spat on the ground! Ruby was impressed.

  ‘He’s your boyfriend?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, technically no, but he’s so modern. Boyfriend, lover, they’re all just labels.’ Ella frowned slightly, betraying her true feelings. ‘I’m working on it.’

  Within seconds Dante was upon them, grabbing Ella at the nape of her neck and kissing her full on the mouth. He was angry, and controlled fury rose off him like steam.

  ‘That dumb shit over there,’ he said, ‘says they’ve closed down the Berkeley.’

  ‘Again?’ said Ella, closing her arm around his waist like a harness.

  Dante nodded. ‘Apparently the police raided it last night and some bitch had brought her two-year-old twins because she was fried on heroin. Silly little fuck-up, she didn’t know where she was.’

  Ruby stood quietly waiting to be introduced, but Dante and Ella were kissing again. His hand was casually caressing her breast through her thin top and Ella gave a groan of pleasure. Ruby was startled and tried to cover this up by turning to the man on her left, but he was watching Dante’s hand with lascivious concentration.

  Eventually Ella broke away, her red lipstick smudged and her eyes glittering with satisfaction. ‘Dante, this is my new friend Ruby. You said we should all be spreading the word.’

  Dante’s brown eyes locked with Ruby’s pale ones. She felt violated by the depth of his stare. Up close, his eyes looked cruel. She looked down almost immediately and to her great shame the blush returned along with the now burning heat in her belly, spilling south.

  ‘And where did you find her?’ he enquired sarcastically. ‘The Catholic school?’

  Still staring at Ruby, he took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, tapped out two and lit them both, passing one to her. She shook her head but Dante nodded firmly and Ruby found herself smoking. It tasted disgusting but she supposed that she could get used to it. She coughed a little but not enough to embarrass herself. And all this time Dante was looking at her with the intense scrutiny of an artist appraising his finished canvas.

  ‘Take off your stockings,’ he said suddenly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard me, take them off. We have to let you loose.’

  She stared at him, incredulous, but he nodded to her and, as she had with the cigarette, she found herself compelled to obey and kicked off her shoes. She passed her cigarette to Ella and wordlessly started to unhook her stockings. A murmur started around them and people turned to see what was happening. Dante smoked, blowing out elegant blue plumes, and watched.

  Ruby lifted her left foot on to a chair and slowly started to unroll one stocking down her long slim leg. Her pleated skirt was riding high, almost to her hips, unfurling like the petals of wild daisy. The sexual tension in the room grew palpable as she revealed inch upon inch of creamy Welsh thigh. She switched legs and her audience caught a glimpse in between them as she raised her right foot. She heard Dante’s snatched intake of breath and it made her quiver with pleasure and pride.

  All eyes were on her now, on this strangely erotic scene orchestrated by their beloved star director. Ruby felt impossibly aroused. Every inch of her body was on fire and the graze of her own hands on her thighs made her breath quicken. When she had finished she stood before him, barefoot. ‘There now,’ he said. ‘Don’t you feel liberated?’

  Ludicrously, she felt there should be applause. But there was nothing, just an indiscernible pause before conversations continued.

  But Dante’s eyes remained on her. Even when he was talking to Ella.

  Later, Ruby and Ella went to a nightclub on Wardour Street, The Flamingo. Dante stayed behind at the theatre. ‘He’s so passionate about his work,’ Ella said, but Ruby could tell she was disappointed.

  The Flamingo was a seedy basement with a flaking black ceiling and it didn’t feel like anything special until the band came on stage. Then the place erupted, and it was so hot and Ruby danced so energetically that she was glad she had lost her stockings somewhere along the way.

  Ella leaned over to scream in her ear. ‘Is it okay for me to stay at yours tonight? You’d be doing me a real favour.’

  ‘Of course,’ yelled Ruby. ‘It’ll be nice to have some company.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Ella. She pressed a small blue pill into Ruby’s hand. ‘Present for ya.’

  And just like that they were friends.

  In her dimly lit room, Ella snoring softly on the floor beside her, Ruby sat on her bed and hugged her knees to her chest. She had finally found what she was looking for. The people she had met today possessed enough energy to light up the whole of the West End. She shivered with delight as she remembered the thrill of undressing for Dante. It had felt daring and absurdly empowering. A combination of drugs and adrenalin made her feel more alert than she had in months, perhaps in her whole life. Ella was right, there was absolutely no reason to be afraid of drugs; how could something that made you feel like this, made you feel alive in a world that had abundant possibilities, be bad?

  The mirror over her washstand reflected a new smile. The smile of a wiser woman, not an innocent. She dipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out the note that Dante had slipped into her hand before they left. It had his telephone number and a pencil sketch of a woman with raven locks, a thick fringe and wideset almond eyes.

  5

  It was always a likely possibility that Ruby would fall in love with Dante Valentine. He arrived in her life just as she was searching for excitement and he personified the thrill that she craved. Dante was forbidden.

  Ella was crazy about him and talked about him constantly. From the very beginning he was a big part of her and Ruby’s friendship so what happened later almost felt inevitable. Because it was indisputably more convenient for the salon, Ella moved most of her possessions into Ruby’s small flat, helped out with the rent and stayed there on nights when Dante let her down. Most nights. From Ruby’s point of view Dante and Ella looked fragile. They argued constantly, and big evenings out, of which there were many, invariably ended in floods of tears from Ella’s side of the bed while she berated his lack of respect for her.

  ‘I used to think,’ she said, ‘that he flirted with other women to make me jealous. I told him that
I didn’t like it and do you know what he said?’

  ‘What?’ said Ruby, eating up the girl talk with enthusiasm.

  ‘He looked at me like I was crazy, like the idea of making me jealous had never even crossed his mind. He said he’d never thought about it like that. God, Ruby, he doesn’t even care enough about me to piss me off.’

  Ruby protested weakly but secretly she agreed. Ella harboured unrealistic hopes that she would tame Dante and eventually they would be together properly, maybe even marry. Ella declared herself a radical free thinker, thoroughly anti-establishment, but Ruby could see that Ella wanted a white wedding just as much as the girls back home. And Ruby knew that Dante would never marry Ella as surely as she knew that when Dante brushed his hand against her arse it was never an accident.

  ‘Do you think he loves me?’ asked Ella.

  ‘Of course,’ said Ruby.

  ‘Honestly? Do you really think so?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ruby lied.

  Ruby was very fond of Ella. It was her friendship that had opened the door to a new and more exciting life. A life where Friday night could begin at a café sipping bitter coffee and meeting interesting people, and continue with frenetic dancing in the front row of the Roundhouse, scuffing up the dirt floor while listening to a fêted rock-and-roll band, before the wind-down over more coffee at a different café. Without Ella Ruby might be considering accepting the constant offers of dinner from a deathly dull colleague whose conversation skills were second worst only to his dress sense. And, of course, Ella had introduced her to Dante.

  Dante treated Ruby like a pet project and she basked in his attention. Under his tutelage she cultivated a favourite play, a favourite poem and an opinion on just about everything. She was for women’s rights, against the bomb, she loved Henry Miller and The Who, and when she disagreed with someone she would say so. In this scene it was okay, encouraged even, to say the first thing that came into your head without worrying that it was wrong or stupid. People were not easily offended. She felt loved and that made her feel brave. She started to think that maybe she could lay claim to a man like Dante, not Dante exactly because he was Ella’s, but someone like him. Someone exciting. She didn’t set out to steal Ella’s boyfriend. But then boyfriend was just a label, so it might not count.

  Because of her sexy face and her eye-catching figure people sometimes asked her if she was a model. An actress? She would reply that she didn’t know yet, and this answer always amused people to the point where they started asking who Dante’s new discovery with the sing-song voice was, this alluring Welsh girl with a deadly combination of innocence and glamour. And was she seeing anyone?

  But Dante had a thing for her, that much was obvious to all of them, except maybe Ella. His seduction of Ruby was practised. At first it was always the three of them, Dante and his two girls, Ella and Ruby. Then, when he was assured of Ruby’s trust, he started to pay her special, individual attention away from Ella’s proprietary friendship: a few bottles of wine in a Soho jazz club, a supper or two in the cosy enclave of a basement café in Chelsea, all the while telling Ruby how uniquely beautiful she was, inside and out.

  Ruby didn’t buy it for a second. She had been chatted up plenty of times in her life and knew that men will say the most flattering things in pursuit of sex. When the compliments came laced with a gentle Italian accent they were easier to swallow, but she didn’t get carried away. She didn’t want to be too easy, as she sensed that Dante was enjoying the chase as much as she was enjoying being hunted. So she relaxed into his compliments as she would into a warm bubble bath. She knew she was pretty, she knew she was spirited, but really – a jewel beyond compare, uncut but dazzling within? He talked about her potential and confirmed what Ruby had always known. There was something different about her, something special.

  She never deluded herself. He wasn’t in love with her, not yet. She knew that he had used these lines on a hundred women before her. She wasn’t stupid, she was just another conquest to him. But over time her loyalty to Ella didn’t seem such an obstacle.

  One night she left Ella close to tears so that she could be with Dante.

  ‘You seem nervous,’ he said over their usual table, tucked away at the back of a restaurant for lovers.

  ‘I lied to Ella tonight,’ she said. ‘I told her I hadn’t heard from you.’

  ‘And you feel bad about that?’

  ‘She’s my friend.’

  ‘Then why did you lie to her?’

  She had no answer. He was very good at twisting her words, misdirecting her until she had clean forgotten what it was that she felt bad about.

  What are we doing here?’ said Ruby. ‘You and me?’

  Where I come from they call it romance. You intrigue me. I want to know the real you, the one that you hide so well. I see glimpses of her and she’s breathtaking.’

  Dante was trying hard. His objective was blatant, and Ruby couldn’t pretend any longer. She was quite sure that sooner or later she would allow him to succeed. He had taught her so much already but there was always more to learn.

  A few days after that, they went to the cinema to watch an afternoon screening of La Dolce Vita. Dante was appalled that Ruby had never seen the film and insisted on rectifying this shocking gap in her education. He didn’t let her concentrate though, and whispered dirty thoughts into her ear from time to time. By the end of the film his hand was up inside her skirt, his fingers gently massaging the warm skin at the top of her stockings.

  For the last twenty minutes Ruby didn’t follow the film at all. She had never felt so wanton and there was a burning sensation between her legs that was turning her to pulp. As the credits rolled Dante took her hand and placed it on his lap so that she would know that he was as excited as she was.

  ‘Come with me,’ said Dante. ‘Please?’

  She nodded, breathless, hoping that her legs would hold up as they stood to leave. This was it. That was the night La Dolce Vita became Ruby’s favourite film of all time.

  From the cinema they went straight to the Regent Palace Hotel. Dante dragged her across the marbled entrance hall so fast that her heels skidded on the shiny surface. She hadn’t questioned why they would go to a hotel rather than take a taxi to his flat; the hotel was nearer, she understood.

  The old man on the front desk looked bored, as if he’d seen it so many times before. A pair of young lovers, dressed outrageously, full of high spirits and maybe on drugs, unable to keep their hands off each other long enough to take the key to an overpriced room. These kids today… things were changing so fast.

  Ruby was unbelievably excited. Her insides felt warm and sparkling like the buzz from a gin and tonic, and joy kept a bubble of laughter at the top of her throat. Her pale eyes glistened. There was no going back. For a fraction of a second she thought of Ella and how upset her friend would be to know that they were here. But Dante slept with other women all the time, everybody knew that, Ella railed against it enough, so Ruby was able to cast the sense of betrayal straight out of her mind. It wasn’t as if Ella was his girlfriend; Dante didn’t believe in labels and neither did she. Ruby was therefore totally innocent of any wrongdoing. She was pleased to be able to rationalize all this, because there was absolutely no way that she was going to change her mind.

  Ruby always got what she wanted and she wanted Dante. Right now she wanted him with a senseless abandon that took her breath away.

  Are you ready?’ he said as he pushed open the door to their room.

  Are you?’ she countered.

  ‘I’ve been ready since the first time I saw you,’ he said.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Ruby. ‘You don’t have to do that any more. The smooth talk. I’m in.’

  ‘Smooth?’

  ‘I’ve heard it all before.’

  He slammed the door behind them, grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her up against the wall, his mouth so close to hers that she could taste him. He searched her face and for once she held his intense ga
ze, her eyes baring her soul. He ran one hand leisurely down over her body, trailing his fingertips across her throat, past her breast and over the curve of her hip with agonizing slowness. Then in one swift motion he lifted her into his arms. She wrapped her legs around him and pressed herself into him. When he kissed her and she felt those lips and the graze of his rough chin after all those months of waiting, she felt so dizzy that she thought she might pass out. But then she let herself go with the incredible feeling and discovered a whole new level of consciousness.

  The first time Ruby slept with Dante Valentine she was convinced that she could exist quite happily in bed with him for the rest of her life. She was quite logical about it and saw it as a genuine possibility. Why not? She couldn’t imagine ever needing anything else again. She had no need for food or water when she had Dante’s lips on her body and the taste of his skin under her mouth. Her family, her beliefs, her past all drifted into the dark recesses of her mind so that there was more space upfront for this man, for this incredible feeling.

  Ruby was not a virgin – she had taken care of that swiftly and unimaginatively a few days after her eighteenth birthday – but the awkward fumbles of a Welsh boy who couldn’t believe his luck were a world away from the passionate dedication Dante brought to the bed.

  They stayed in the hotel room for two whole days and nights. Ruby learned how to do things that she would never have imagined in her wildest fantasies. As a result her fantasies became wilder still and Dante encouraged her to explore every one of them.

  ‘One day,’ he said, ‘when you trust me more, you will let me photograph you, perhaps even film you.’

  She smiled, not really caring either way. If he got a camera out right now she’d probably be happy to pose, on her knees, upside down, inside out, whichever way he wanted her.

  ‘You have such a singular beauty,’ he said. ‘On camera you would look even more like a goddess than you do right at this moment. Your body, it’s sensational.’