by Alison Bond
If this was the family scene, then she was glad she had missed it. Old grudges and public arguments about money. Octavia sloshed at one end of the table, oblivious to her guests, Max morose next to her, with Vincent bending his ear. She could hear Vincent saying, ‘And will the whole tribute be televised or just the highlights? Will my poem get air time, do you think?’
James Jarvis turned away from her and awkwardly tried to talk to Vincent’s children, treating the twelve-year-old as though he was six and the six-year-old as though she was twelve. On the other side of the table Sofia and Tomas were deep in their own private conversation, though was it just her or did Tomas look ever-so-slightly bored?
These were Ruby’s nearest and dearest? It didn’t make sense. A star like Ruby should have had a hundred sparkling friends.
James was talking to her again. ‘Personally I’ve always known that she is – was – a bit… you know, ill. Mentally’
Kelly was shocked. A surge of protectiveness rose within her. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Ruby. Crazy. Loco.’ He put his finger to his head and made a sound like a cuckoo. ‘Well, come on, honey, the little lady just went and swallowed half of Abbott Laboratories, you’re going to try and tell me that was the act of a sound mind?’
She found his flippant tone oddly insulting. ‘I don’t know, but I don’t think we should be talking about her that way. Not today, okay?’
James shrugged and gestured for someone to come and fill his wine glass.
There was a general lull in the conversation and Kelly was glad of a few minutes’ silence. Then Sofia’s cellphone started vibrating on the table, rattling the silverware and skipping towards the crystal. She plucked it up and checked the caller ID. ‘It’s my agent,’ she said to the table at large, and ignoring her mother’s disapproving look she took the call.
Small talk resumed as everyone tried to take no notice of Sofia on the phone. She was growing increasingly agitated. ‘There must be something you can do,’ she said. Eventually she snapped the phone shut and her face was clouded with distress.
‘Are you okay?’ asked Kelly, as nobody else seemed to care.
Sofia looked shocked by the question, as if expressions of concern were not common around this particular dining table. ‘Some stupid old photographs’, she said. ‘Which I thought had disappeared.’ This last was directed at Max, who looked up sharply. ‘That’s right, Max’, she said. ‘The ones from the Mondrian.’
‘Is this a joke?’ said Octavia.
‘I wish,’ said Sofia blackly. She turned back to Kelly. ‘A while ago – Jesus, almost a year – I was seeing this guy and we couldn’t wait for our car to come around, so we, you know, took care of each other in the Mondrian cloakroom.’
Kelly didn’t know how to respond. The closest she and Jez ever got to sex in public places was the occasional snog in the park.
Sofia continued, ‘How was I supposed to know they’d have security cameras? I mean, when you’re living in the moment, who thinks about shit like that?’ She looked up at Tomas seductively and licked her finger. Kelly took a moment to review her family tree in her mind. Weren’t those two related? Ugh.
‘Max?’ said Octavia. ‘I thought this had been taken care of?’
‘It was,’ he said. ‘But Ruby was my bargaining position. I told them if they ran the story I’d restrict their access to her.’
‘So?’ said Sofia.
Max looked across wearily. ‘Ruby’s dead.’
‘Well, that’s just fucking brilliant. Her timing sucks. Now what am I supposed to do?’
Nobody offered her any answers. ‘Max?’ prompted Octavia.
‘You may be able to negotiate with them.’
‘Can’t you do that for her?’ said Octavia. ‘I’d consider it a personal favour if you did.’
Max was good and trapped. ‘Sure.’
‘I wouldn’t mind,’ said Sofia. ‘But that relationship is so over. The guy’s like a total loser.’
So if you were in love with him, thought Kelly, you’d be fine with it?
The evening, which wasn’t exactly sparkling to begin with, went as flat as stale champagne. For a while Octavia tried once more to save it but it was finished, everyone could tell.
Kelly didn’t want to be the first to say goodbye, it seemed so rude, but she was desperate to escape. Her first sophisticated dinner party and all she wanted to do was get away She’d thought it would be a night of fine wine and cultured conversation, a chance to get to know her new family in plush surroundings and get a taste of what Hollywood life was really like behind closed doors. If this was the reality of Beverly Hills society then she really hadn’t missed out on much. She thought of nights back home when friends came round and ate with her and Sean around their solid kitchen table, lending a hand with the preparation and then lingering around the table for hours afterwards, replete and reluctant to move. Maybe Ruby had done her a favour by leaving her there.
She tried talking to Vincent. She started by saying that she was sorry for his loss and she was certain she saw brief confusion float across his perpetually smiling face. She didn’t think Vincent was callous, just, well, dumb was the word that sprang to mind, and she realized that his smile was less an expression of happiness, more a stupor of indifference. She asked how he was, again meaning under the circumstances, and Vincent said that he was down to the final three for the co-lead in a network pilot.
‘That’s nice,’ said Kelly and turned away. She had no idea how to talk to him. It was possible he hadn’t even grasped that they were related, either that or he didn’t care. Kelly said a mental goodbye to her fantasy older brother, who would teach her to fish and beat up boys who made unwelcome advances.
A voice at her shoulder saved her. ‘Kelly?’ It was Tomas. He was leaving, much to Sofia’s distress. ‘I hope I see you again,’ he said.
Kelly looked around the table at these strangers. ‘Could you give me a ride home?’ she said. It wasn’t like her to be so pushy, but an escape route was an opportunity not to be missed.
As she removed herself from the table, James Jarvis stopped her by grabbing her arm. ‘Don’t trust Tomas,’ he said. ‘He’s using you to get at Octavia.’
Kelly refused to take such a melodramatic statement seriously, particularly from a man who had spent the last two hours saying nothing of consequence. Why should she start listening now?
Octavia was loud and overly affectionate when she said goodbye. Kelly guessed it was the drink. ‘Where are you staying?’ Octavia asked.
‘The Peninsula,’ Kelly said, and Octavia’s eyebrows shot up – she was clearly impressed and a little put out.
‘You should stay here, we can always find space for family’ Considering the size of this house for just three people, that was stating the obvious.
‘That’s very generous of you,’ said Kelly. ‘I’ think about it.’
‘Do,’ said Octavia and clasped both Kelly’s hands in hers. Kelly could feel the sharp stone of Octavia’s engagement ring pressing into her flesh.
There were photographers gathered at the gates of Octavia’s house. Tomas’s car sped past them in a blur.
‘Why do they bother?’ said Kelly. ‘Surely all they ever see is car windows?’
You can get a pretty good shot through a car window,’ he said. ‘And sometimes the gate doesn’t work and you have to get out.’
‘But that must hardly ever happen.’
‘You’d be surprised. Funny how often the gateman chooses that exact moment to take a break. You’d almost be tempted to think that the press had tipped him a fifty to make himself scarce.’
‘Is that what they do?’
‘Either that or block you in somewhere down the road, harass you until you get out of the car because you’re pissed. Then not only do they get the picture they want, they also get you with a face like your ugly mood.’
‘That’s so calculated.’
‘That’s nothing,’ he said. Wait unti
l they’re camped outside your house for two weeks, keeping you prisoner, trailing your family through the worst days of their life.’
Kelly said nothing. Tomas was talking about his father. The press had gone into overdrive when Dante Valentine died.
You’ll find out,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You can’t stay a secret for ever. Ruby Valentine’s beautiful lovechild? I give it forty-eight hours and then the press will be all over you. I hope you’re prepared.’
She couldn’t care less; had Tomas just called her beautiful?
‘Do you want to get a coffee?’ he said. ‘I know a place that does the perfect espresso.’
The first time Kelly had slept with Jez it was because he’d offered her ‘coffee’. Now coffee had become their euphemism for sex, as it was all over the world, ‘Do you fancy a coffee?’ becoming a proposition so blatant that it was practically considered consent. How many hearts had been broken or babies born because of an innocent coffee? Was there really any such thing?
‘A coffee sounds great,’ she said. She tried not to think how Jez would feel if he found out she was having coffee with another man.
He took her to an unimposing brick building tucked into North Beverly Drive. Inside it smelt of wood-fired pizza and fresh basil. ‘Just coffee,’ said Tomas to the waiter who greeted them. ‘And maybe a dessert menu?’ He looked at Kelly, as if it was a question, so she nodded.
‘Good to see you again, sir.’
They slipped into a booth at the back, next to a loud birthday party drinking shots of grappa. Kelly wondered how often Tomas came here, and who he brought. He was based in New York, she knew that, but either the waiter had a good memory for faces or Tomas made a habit of coming here. Did he seduce women over the single candle stuck into an empty Chianti bottle? She tried to imagine being wined and dined by a man like this, but the fantasy wouldn’t come. It was too far removed from the pub/pictures/occasional party cycle that made up her usual social life. Kelly and Jez ate out rarely: local choice was limited and most of the time neither of them could be bothered to make the effort necessary to leave the house – like, for example, wearing shoes. At weekends they had breakfast in a café at the end of Jez’s road but she could go down there with a parka over her trackies and still feel comfortable.
Tomas had taken off his necktie and opened the top button of his pale grey shirt, but kept his suit jacket on. Jez only wore suits to weddings and funerals. Tomas looked as if he’d never wear anything else. He couldn’t wear a business suit all the time, though. She tried to imagine him lounging around his New York apartment in jeans and a hoodie, but the picture refused to come. She stopped this train of thought as soon as she realized that imagining Tomas in various stages of undress had only one likely conclusion.
She was glad to get away from the torturous dinner party. She guessed that Tomas stopping off on the way back to wherever he was staying meant that he didn’t have anywhere he needed to be, he had just wanted to get away from there too. This shared aversion made her feel connected to him.
Was this just a coffee or was it more than that? She tried to picture herself as he must see her, a reserved twenty-five-year-old British girl with a nice figure. She mustn’t assume that Tomas was out of her league just because he was handsome and successful. She was something of a catch. Only in town for a short while, unlikely to make too many demands. On the other hand, practically related and currently going through an existential crisis. She might be a little much to take on.
They ordered espressos and two portions of cheesecake. Not one to share, which might have given her a romantic clue, though she couldn’t imagine Tomas making lovey-dovey eyes over a shared dessert.
When the espresso came it had a kick like fresh chillies; the first taste scared you but within seconds you were craving more. It sharpened Kelly’s senses. She needed to stop deliberating over whether Tomas liked her – how teenage – and start concentrating on whether she liked him. Too often in the past she’d been so flattered by attention that it had clouded her judgement. Maybe that was why she was still with Jez. Technically. But she had never felt this way with Jez, not even during that first kiss on the beach, a sense of excitement as sharp and delicate as broken glass when she looked at him. It was more than attraction, it was something chemical, like chillies, that whetted her appetite.
She looked down at the leather bracelet still tied to her wrist. She thought of Jez and his matching bracelet. If she’d never understood what it meant, did it have to mean anything at all? She wished that she could just press a switch that would make Jez freeze for a few months while she tried to figure out what it was that she wanted from her future, but she knew that was unfair. Jez had his own story to live, he wasn’t just put on earth as a potential life partner for her. And that’s what he could be, a partner for life.
When Kelly thought that way she didn’t picture white wedding dresses and a lifetime of happiness, she pictured life as a sentence. She’d only had two boyfriends before Jez, and had pulled the plug on both of them when they got too serious. But Jez was a serious relationship from the word go and now he was asking penetrating questions about their future, marriage, children, the lot. Sometimes she felt as though she was the perennial bachelor being sweet-talked into settling down. Jez would say, ‘What would be so different if you moved in?’ She would think, I’d live here, and she’d feel as though a net was closing around her and she was about to be dragged to a place where she would no longer be able to breathe. Surely these were not the normal thoughts of a woman in love? Surely a woman in love wouldn’t be thinking of having coffee with an attractive other man?
Tomas kept up a steady stream of conversation, talking mainly about things Kelly should do in town while she was here, speculating that she would love New York and asking about Wales. He asked what her dad was like, said that he had a vague memory of an ‘Uncle Sean’ somewhere in the past, but that his mother and Sean had lost touch years ago.
You have to remember,’ he said, ‘that back then they were a group of free-thinking liberals, practically a commune. Then suddenly the Eighties kicked in and they all scattered. Ruby was the only one to come back.’
What was she like?’
Tomas sipped his espresso. ‘I was fifteen the last time I saw her. The day before I moved to New York. Back then she still carried her grief around like a mask she could hide behind. Everyone loved her but nobody ever got close. Maybe over time she changed.’
Or maybe, thought Kelly, she stayed that way for the rest of her life, never remarried and died alone. The bitterness of the espresso matched the thought.
‘How do you feel about her?’ asked Tomas so directly that she had to take a moment to consider her answer.
‘I’m trying not to judge her,’ said Kelly. ‘But Ruby didn’t want to know me, and that hurts. I know I’m nothing extraordinary, but I’m not a bad person. She might have liked me. We might have been friends.’
‘She didn’t have any friends,’ said Tomas. ‘Not in the end.’
‘What about Max?’
‘He was working for her, that’s different. He was paid to be nice.’
She couldn’t finish her cheesecake. It looked delicious but she wasn’t as hungry as she thought she was. Similarly, she was glad that coffee with Tomas turned out to be just coffee and nothing more.
Back in her hotel room Kelly pulled out the box of DVDs from Jez that she’d pushed into the corner and tried to forget about. Which was the real Ruby? The one whose closest family and friends hadn’t cried at her funeral? The one who must have been so lonely? Or the gorgeous Oscar-winning actress who had made all these celebrated films?
She cracked open the mini-bar, a temptation she had so far managed to avoid because no matter how thirsty she was the thought of a five-dollar Coke always terrified her, and she sipped Jim Bean straight from the bottle. Maybe it was time to see the other side of Ruby Valentine. Jez would have known that she couldn�
�t resist. It was sweet of him to have gone to all that trouble. She hadn’t even said thank you. She was the world’s worst girlfriend. In the last few days she had crossed an ocean without telling him, ignored his incredibly thoughtful gift and entertained the occasional fantasy about another man, Tomas, whose knees had touched hers under the table and whose lips had lingered on her cheek when he kissed her goodbye. He had smelt of lemon soap, and while she inhaled the fragrance Jez could have been sitting by the phone waiting for her to call.
She checked the time difference. It was too late to phone him, or rather, too early in his morning. She missed him tonight. She needed another outsider to work through this with, someone who could see how disappointed she was that the family were not what she might have hoped for or imagined and someone who could tell her that she was doing just fine. She would have to watch the films without a pep-talk and thank him later.
Time to see what all the fuss was about. She selected Viva Romance, Ruby’s very first movie. Her hands trembled as she ripped the cellophane off the pristine DVD and slotted it into the player.
The soundtrack swelled, a panoramic paradise beach filled the screen, and framed by a setting sun, there she was.
13. Ruby Fairbrother 1968
A light breeze floated across the Pacific coast and ruffled Ruby’s immaculate hairdo. She turned her face away from the sea and squinted into the bright sunlight. A short distance away she could make out someone running down the beach towards her across the impossibly pale sand. Ruby knew that she was about to be told off. But it wouldn’t be harsh, it would only be the kind of deferential reprimand that a minor crew member could give an actress in a movie. Spineless and ineffective. She could take it.
‘Miss Fairbrother!’
Her mother’s maiden name, chosen by Max because Norton wasn’t glamorous enough. She liked it a lot.
Max Parker had made good on his promises. It turned out that Ruby was an actress after all, just like he’d said. She was shooting an honest-to-God movie, a ditzy comedy set in Puerto Vallarta, playing a rich socialite resisting the advances of a dashing but dangerous suitor, played by movie star Andrew Steele. When Ruby was first introduced to Andrew she noticed two things: one, he was much older than she expected, and two, despite the suggestion of a gut and lines on his face, he was still sexy.
