by Jane Holland
‘But which people?’
‘At yoga? I’m not sure. Why is it so important? Are you having a problem with her?’
‘No, not at all,’ I lie, closing my eyes.
‘Surely she came with references?’
I open my eyes abruptly. ‘Yes, she did,’ I gasp, clutching the phone. ‘Thank you, Stella. You’re a life saver. I’ll just contact the referees she gave when she first came to me.’ I ring off, promising to come to yoga as soon as I possibly can, and then search for another phone number in my list. ‘Hello, is that Jules?’
Jules is amazed to hear from me. Three years ago, while David was still alive, we both volunteered for a few days’ work at a local charity, where Jules was the administrator. When I saw her name as one of Ruby’s referees, I had instinctively felt that she could be trusted.
I walk a few steps down the gravel drive, not wishing my call to be overheard from the house, and briefly explain the situation, again leaving out my real reason for calling, and ask the same questions I asked Stella.
This time, I get a different answer.
Jules sounds troubled. ‘Ruby Chambers?’ she repeats. ‘I barely know the woman. Erm, yes, I worked with her briefly about a year ago when she came to volunteer at the charity offices. She worked the phones, dealt with the public, but then… Well, it didn’t work out and we parted company.’
I’m stunned. ‘Wait, you mean you didn’t write a reference for her? As a carer?’
‘Goodness, no.’
‘But she gave me a reference from you. With your name and the charity address. You gave her a glowing reference, saying she’d worked for your family as a carer.’
‘I definitely didn’t write that, sorry. I’m going through a kind of menopausal fog right now,’ Jules admits, with a wry laugh, ‘but I think I’d remember her working for me as a carer.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘Are you okay, Kate?’
‘I meant to ring you at the time. But I was so busy. I never chased the reference up, never bothered to check…’ My mouth is dry. ‘I just assumed it was genuine.’
‘So this woman faked a reference to get a job with you? That’s serious.’ Jules draws in a breath. ‘Okay, you need to send me what I’m supposed to have written, and then I think you should go to the police. Once you’ve sacked her, of course.’
‘Yes,’ I say slowly.
‘You are planning to sack her, I hope? Someone who can fake a reference shouldn’t be in a position of responsibility.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘I remember Ruby,’ she says, her voice sharpening. ‘She was always a bit odd. People complained about her. And she had a way of sneaking up on you and then just standing there, looking at you… It was really quite unnerving.’
I say hurriedly, ‘Look, can I call you back tomorrow? Sorry, there’s something I have to do.’
I end the call, and turn to see the pale oval of a face framed between partly closed curtains up in my bedroom.
It’s Ruby, and she’s staring straight at me, unsmiling.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Bloody woman, I think savagely.
But it could be dangerous to confront her. Knowing what I know now, she strikes me as someone deeply unstable. She’s taken over the entire household, lied about her references and God knows what else, possibly tortured my mother in the most cruel and appalling way, and today she’s been wandering openly about my bedroom as though she has the right to do whatever the hell she pleases.
It’s obvious she isn’t bothering to rein in her behaviour anymore, and I have no desire for a violent scene with her. But at least while she’s in my bedroom, she’s nowhere near Mum.
I stay where I am, turning my back on Ruby deliberately, and ring Mr Adeyemi’s office. Jules is right. I need to call the police. But first I need some professional advice.
The deeper I go into this, the more likely it seems that Ruby is the one behind my mother’s shocking bruises and burns. Which means Mr Adeyemi is not the enemy I thought he was. But I also need to be very careful what I accuse her of.
Lucy, his receptionist, is apologetic. ‘Mr Adeyemi’s not in the office today. Can I take a message for him?’
I’m dismayed by this news. ‘When will he be back?’
‘Not until tomorrow morning at the earliest. But I can make sure he gets your message as soon as he gets into the office.’
‘Can’t I call his mobile?”
‘Oh no, I’m sorry.’ Lucy sounds almost shocked. ‘Mr Adeyemi hates being disturbed at home. Though if it’s really urgent, I can pass you onto his junior partner.’
I hesitate, wondering if I should take the junior partner into my confidence. But my gut instinct tells me the fewer people who know about this, the better. Ruby may have faked her references but that doesn’t prove she’s been abusing my mother, and I need to be very careful what I say. Accusing her without any real evidence could backfire on me.
‘No,’ I say at last, ‘I only want Mr Adeyemi.’ Reluctantly, I leave my name and number with her, and ask for the solicitor to contact me first thing.
‘Kate? What are you doing?’
The hairs prickle on the back of my neck at that voice. I turn, pinning a smile to my face.
Ruby is behind me. Her expression is unreadable.
‘Me?’ I push my phone into my jeans pocket. ‘Oh, I just had to make a few calls. Work, you know.’
‘Outside?’ Ruby glances about the windswept garden, eyebrows raised, as though expecting to find my work colleagues lurking in the bushes, and then looks back at me. ‘Isn’t it a bit cold?’
‘Freezing. Which is why I’m coming in now. My brain was a bit fuzzy, so I decided to get some fresh air. I took a couple of pills earlier, you see.’
‘I thought you must have done.’ Her smile is superior. ‘I can always tell, you know. You needn’t have bothered denying it before. I wouldn’t have told anyone. Besides, some people have a problem with pills, don’t they?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Pills and alcohol.’ Ruby walks back into the house, and I follow her in silence, staring at the back of her head and wishing I could understand what she’s up to, and why. Her behaviour seems utterly incomprehensible to me. ‘Some people need that kind of prop in order to live a full life, and others don’t. It’s sad, but there you go. I’m not judging.’
I’m incredulous.
Is she suggesting I’m some kind of addict? Just because I had a few drinks last night, and then popped a couple of pills to take my mood down a notch or two today?
That hardly makes me a druggie…
All the same, I decide it’s better not to contradict her. There’s no point causing a confrontation. Though I suddenly wish I’d taken Jules’s advice and called the police straightaway. There’s something about her that disturbs me. She’s not behaving differently, exactly. It’s more that I’m seeing her behaviour differently.
I still feel on fairly steady ground, however, and can hold off for a short while at least. I wanted to consult Mr Adeyemi, to be sure I don’t need to give her any notice, but I can do that tomorrow, now that I’m more certain he wasn’t the one who hurt my mother.
My path ahead seems clear.
I can sack Ruby today, and that should be that. She’s unlikely to make a fuss, not when she could go to prison for what she’s done. What I want to avoid, above all things, is for my mother to be taken away from me, to be forced to live in a residential home for her own safety. Obviously, if her bruises or burns are discovered before they have a chance to fade, I’ll have to take my suspicions to the police and hope their investigation exonerates me. But if I can possibly save my mother the trauma, it’ll be worth it.
I ignore the little voice in my head that tells me I’m a coward, and that by not calling the police, I’m secretly saving myself from the horror of falling under suspicion. Which is ridiculous. Of course I don’t want to be accused of torturing my mother. Who would? It’s nothing to
do with cowardice or being self-serving.
But that little voice won’t shut up.
The house feels cold and oddly empty. I follow Ruby into the living room and stand in front of the mantelpiece, exactly where I stood when PC Plimley was here. It’s hard not to recall the awful news she brought, that lovely, smiling Giorgios is dead, that his body was discovered in local woodlands, as well as what she didn’t need to say, which is the unavoidable truth that he must have been murdered…
Ruby faces me across the chilly room, her arms folded across her chest. Her eyes are over-bright, her smile rather fixed. ‘Do you have something to say to me, Kate?’
I’m taken aback. ‘Sorry?’
‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? I have a psychic streak. I can tell what people are going to say before they say it. It used to drive my mother bonkers.’ Ruby waits, looking at me expectantly. ‘Go on, then. Spit it out.’
I lick dry lips, suddenly not sure that sacking her is the right course of action. If she can happily attack my mother, she could attack me too. I’m not a vulnerable dementia patient, it’s true. But I am considerably shorter and lighter than her.
Carefully, trying not to make it obvious, I consider what’s to hand that I could use as a weapon if she gets violent.
There’s a tall brass candlestick that always sits on the tiled hearth behind me. I can’t actually see it without turning my head, but I know it must be there. That might hold her off for a couple of minutes.
‘You’re right, of course. There is something I want to tell you, Ruby.’ I can’t seem to find the right words, more than a little freaked out by the direct way she’s looking at me, her gaze never moving from my face. ‘It’s about my mother. And her care.’
‘Decided to let me go, have you?’
Now I’m genuinely unnerved. Maybe she really is a mind reader. ‘What… What makes you say that?’
‘Just a hunch.’
I search her face for signs of emotion, but there are none. Ruby is neither flushed nor pale. Her gaze is steady, and so is her voice. To a casual observer, she would appear calm and collected. Confident, even.
I’m stunned, and a little shocked too.
Ruby must know that I’ve found her out. That I’ve guessed it’s her who’s been terrorising my mother, not Logan, and definitely not Mr Adeyemi. Yet she doesn’t even have the grace to look guilty. And I’m pretty sure now, looking into her eyes, that it’s not because she’s innocent.
‘The thing is,’ I stammer, ‘I’m worried about my mother.’
‘I know you are. That’s why you need a carer.’
‘Maybe. But what I don’t need is someone who doesn’t care.’ There; it’s said, it’s out. No taking it back now. ‘What I don’t need is someone who chooses to hurt and humiliate instead. To make up cruel stories and… and drive people away from this house.’
‘Cruel stories?’ Ruby tuts and shakes her head. ‘Oh dear. Remind me, love. How many of those pills did you swallow again?’
‘You’re fired.’
‘I see.’ Ruby’s chest heaves slightly as she takes a deep breath. Her smile is arctic, but it’s still there. ‘I suppose that means you want me to leave.’
‘Yes.’
‘When, exactly?’
‘Now would be good.’
‘I’ll have to pack up all my things. It could take a while.’
‘I’ll wait.’
Ruby’s eyebrows flicker. Her mouth opens and closes in silence. I see her gaze stray around the room, as though looking for something.
‘You’re making a mistake, Kate,’ she says softly.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Who was on the phone to you outside? Your boss? Your boyfriend?’
‘That’s none of your business.’
‘Whoever it was has filled your head with a load of nonsense.’ She takes a step closer, looking down at me. ‘You’re going to regret this.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Mothers like yours don’t look after themselves. Celeste will have to go into a home now, for sure. Have you considered that?’ She stares at me accusingly. ‘Did you even bother to ask your mum what she thinks about this? Have you consulted her feelings? Or doesn’t the patient get a vote?’
‘I’ve said all I intend to say.’
‘And my salary? You haven’t given me proper notice. Do I at least get severance pay?’
‘You’ll get what you’re owed to date and nothing more. I’ll make sure it’s in your bank account by the end of the week. Unless you’d prefer to take me to court?’ When she says nothing, I allow myself to smile. ‘I didn’t think so.’
Ruby continues to stare at me for a few more thoroughly alarming seconds, and then stalks out of the room, leaving the door wide open.
‘Better get comfortable,’ she throws back over her shoulder. ‘It may take me several hours to pack, and to say my goodbyes to Celeste.’
I bite back the urge to tell her in no uncertain terms that she’s not going anywhere near my mother again. What would that achieve except to antagonise her further and risk making her resist leaving? Ruby can say goodbye to my mother if she insists, but she’ll do it with me in the room. There’s no way I would leave the two of them alone together ever again. Not even for a second.
I listen to her heavy tread on the stairs, followed by the sound of her bedroom door closing. She doesn’t slam the door, but she might as well have done; the click is so wounded and disdainful.
I sink into the armchair and bend over to catch my breath, gulping at the air as though I’ve been running.
‘Christ,’ I mutter, ‘that was hard. That was really hard.’
And by hard, I mean terrifying, of course. But I’m not ready to admit, even to myself, how much Ruby is scaring me. I’ve never fired anyone before; that’s why my stomach’s churning and my head’s in a vice, I decide.
I wonder if Mark felt like this when he fired me. Somehow, I doubt it. But it would be some consolation if he’d felt even a tenth of the angst and panic that I’m feeling now.
When I get up, my phone falls out of my pocket. Crouching to retrieve it, I spot a pair of shoes tucked under Mum’s armchair, half-hidden from sight by the fringed red blanket that habitually covers the seat, protecting the bottom cushion against stains.
They’re black running shoes, slightly mud-splashed, and they belong to Logan. I think he only wore them once while living here, after being inspired to take an early morning run. He must have taken them off in here afterwards, and then the shoes got knocked out of the way, perhaps while Ruby was vacuuming.
‘Damn.’ I reach under the armchair and drag the shoes out.
Straightening, I look at them guiltily. Ruby hasn’t confessed. Why would she? But I’m convinced it was her who hurt Mum. Which means Logan wasn’t to blame for any of it. Yet I punished him anyway.
And now he’s gone.
Carefully, I place the running shoes on the table, and then find Logan’s number on my mobile.
He answers after about seven rings, which feels like an eternity. I guess he was trying to decide whether to terminate the call or agree to speak to me. Last time I saw Logan, he was in a towering rage, and small wonder. His girlfriend had just falsely accused him of assaulting her mother. He must have felt so angry and frustrated, yet I simply pushed him away and refused to listen to his protests.
I badly need to apologise. And maybe buy him dinner. Though he’ll probably tell me to get lost.
‘Hello?’ To my surprise, he doesn’t sound angry anymore. Instead, he sounds quiet and unsure of himself. ‘Kate?’
‘Hi.’ The word doesn’t come out right. I clear my throat and try again. ‘Yes, hi. I have your shoes here. Your black trainers?’
There’s a short silence. ‘Are you holding them ransom?’
I laugh. ‘I thought maybe I should drop them round at your place. Or you could come here. Whenever’ s convenient.’
Another short silence, during which I can hea
r the clock ticking on the mantelpiece.
‘I thought I was banned from the house.’
‘Hardly.’ I frown. ‘You came round yesterday, didn’t you? To pick up some things.’
‘No.’ He sounds puzzled. ‘I haven’t been to your house since… since we argued.’
I’m stunned. ‘I don’t understand. Are you sure? Ruby told me you were here. Yesterday afternoon.’
‘Then Ruby lied.’
I close my eyes. ‘That’s just bizarre. Why on earth would she bother lying about something like that?’
‘I’ve no idea. Perhaps you should ask her yourself?’
He sounds bitter, the uncertainty gone.
‘Well, never mind.’ I try for a lighter note, pushing aside the vexed question of Ruby’s behaviour for the moment. Maybe she lied, maybe she didn’t. Right now, I need to mend some bridges. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry about what? Having my trainers?’
‘I’m sorry about the argument. Those awful things I said. I was going out of my mind. But I know now that it wasn’t you who did all that stuff to my mum.’ I lower my voice, very aware of the curious stillness in the house. It feels almost as though the walls themselves are listening to me. ‘I think it was Ruby.’
‘Are you serious? Her carer?’
‘I know, talk about ironic.’ I run a hand through my messy hair, still feeling shaky and hungover; I need to down a few jugs of water and rest for an hour. But I doubt I’ll get the chance. Not now I’ve just sent Ruby packing. ‘Instead of looking after her, it seems Mum’s carer has been beating her up. And I had no idea. Which makes me look pretty unobservant. Not to mention irresponsible.’ Tears well up in my eyes, and I rub them away impatiently. ‘Look, I’m sorry for what I said to you. I truly am. The way I behaved was unforgivable. But if there’s any way I can make it up to you…’
‘Forget it,’ he says gruffly.
I’m not sure how to take that. Does Logan mean I don’t need to apologise, he’s already okay about it? Or that I can forget apologising because he’s planning never to speak to me again?
‘Okay. And… the trainers?’
