Goodbye Ruby Tuesday

by A. L. Michael

  ‘He seemed… nice. I knew he wasn’t because of things you and Mum have said, but to anyone else, he seemed like a nice dad, happy about the opening.’

  Evie scrunched her face up, getting a headache almost immediately, ‘Okay. Okay. We’re going home now.’

  She grabbed Esme’s hand and started walking briskly down the road, mind racing. It was a threat, all of it was a threat. And he’d passed it through a child to make her know just how easily he could get to them. ‘I’ve got to speak to Evelyn, that’s not acceptable…’

  ‘You’re hurting me!’ Esme pulled her hand away, huffing, ‘You need a timeout!’

  Evie could feel her own hands shaking, ‘What if he’d tried to take you, Ez? What if he wanted to hurt you, or us? He’s going to destroy this place, and I’ve put all my savings in, and if this isn’t a success we’re going to have to go home. You’ll be back with your nanny, do you want that?’

  Esme’s eyes filled with tears as she watched her godmother ranting. Her lower lip wobbled, and her cheeks turned patchy and red. She took a deep breath, stamped her foot and readjusted her backpack. Then she turned her back on Evie, and started walking home. Evie could do nothing but follow in silence.

  ***

  Evie watched as Esme stamped up the stairs in silence, pausing just once to look over her shoulder and throw her a glare, her eyes red and puffy. Evie wanted to run after her, to cuddle her and tell her everything was fine, but she couldn’t, she couldn’t do anything but stand there and vibrate with the panic of what her father could do to this dream they had built.

  Mollie would be mad at her. She knew the minute she walked up those stairs she’d be greeted with a stony face, and the simple question, not even voiced: why have you made my daughter cry? What have you done now?

  Evie pulled out her phone desperately, typing in the number for her mum’s house. She felt herself get more frustrated as she heard the phone ring and ring, eventually reaching voicemail, and feeling herself let every bit of anger and irritation out as soon as she heard the beep.

  ‘Why? Why did you have to tell him what we were doing and where I was? Now he’s come to fuck it up, and take it all away from me! One day, you’re going to realise what a fucking horrible human being that man is, but I’m not going to be there to see it.’

  Pressing the ‘end call’ button was not quite as comforting as slamming the phone down, but she threw the mobile across the room anyway. Evie stomped through to the kitchen, finding herself a glass and pouring a plentiful helping of whisky. She didn’t know what else to do. Tomorrow’s newspaper article would be worse, Chelsea would pull out in case it destroyed the new life she’d built, people wouldn’t come to the opening, and within weeks they’d be back home in Badgeley, as if it had never happened. Except Mollie would hate her. And Evie wouldn’t be able live with her mother again, not after this.

  She turned, leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping at the whisky and feeling it burn as it went down her throat, closing her eyes and pressing the cold glass to her lips, humming. She needed an answer, she needed a way out, but there wasn’t one. Bill didn’t make a play unless it was foolproof. The man was a snake, and he didn’t care about anything enough to have a weak spot.

  ‘What was all the shouting?’ Killian’s voice was warm, and full of concern, and she knew, the minute that she opened her eyes, that she was going to fuck this up. She paused, trying to breathe, trying to remember any of those techniques they taught her in the anger management classes. But this wasn’t anger – it was panic, pure panic.

  ‘Nothing,’ Evie opened her eyes and looked at him blankly, watching as his light eyes stared back at her, doubting her.

  ‘Why lie without even trying to sound convincing?’

  He looked painfully gorgeous, his jeans sitting low on his hips, wearing a worn grey tank top, his stubble even more pronounced. He stood squarely, daring her to answer, thumbs in his pockets. He’d come for an argument and she was in the right frame of mind to give him it.

  ‘Because I was hoping you’d get the hint that I do not want to talk.’ She chucked back the whisky and poured herself another.

  ‘And maybe you need to talk if you’re chucking back booze at one in the afternoon like that.’ His face didn’t change, stony and solemn.

  ‘Look, just because we went out and drank some Old Fashioneds whilst looking at a giraffe does not mean you know shit about my life, okay? I am trying to deal with stuff, and keep everyone safe and happy, and you are not helping.’

  ‘I’m trying to!’ Killian yelled, slamming his hand on the side, ‘You won’t let me! We’re spending time together, getting on, and then suddenly – you’re not here any more.’

  Evie screwed her face up, rolling her eyes, ‘Oh I’m sorry if me having a life is making you “wonder where this is all going”,’ she snorted. ‘What are you, a girl from a nineties romcom?’

  Killian shook his head, like he couldn’t believe her, ‘I’m not into wasting my time, Evie. I didn’t sign up for drama and bullshit. Talk to me when you’ve grown up.’

  He walked from the room, and she could see the stiffness in his arms, the tension in his neck. Seconds later, she heard the door slam and felt a dull satisfaction that she’d pissed him off. The best way to relieve anxiety was to take it out on someone else. No doubt she’d feel crappy about it later, but for today, she was pretty sure the only way to dissipate that sick knot in her stomach was to make other people feel like shit, and drink extensively, until this horrible day was over, and she could wake up tomorrow and see that newspaper article.

  ***

  She’d waited until she heard Mollie and Esme go out. She could tell things weren’t all right, because Mollie was using her upbeat ‘everything’s all right, really’ voice. She sounded like Minnie Mouse on crack, talking ten to the dozen at Esme about the cinema and what a lovely treat it was, and why didn’t they go and see if they could get into the ice cream place after. By that point, Evie was numb anyway, that anxiety that sat in the bottom of her stomach having been replaced with sickness, the whisky making waves as she crawled up the narrow staircase, using her hands to pull herself up, as if it was Everest. She heard herself make whimpering noises as she slipped and fell. The stairs looked like they went on forever, steep and narrow, and Evie was suddenly faced with the fact that she had proven herself right: she was alone, and there was no one who could love her. She pushed them away, and they let her, and that was what she had learnt.

  ‘You’re a mess,’ a deep voice seemed to rumble through the floor, and she kept her eyes closed, desperately wiping at them as she tried to pretend she wasn’t there.

  ‘I’m…’ she tried to deny it, but it was true, ‘… I’m a huge mess. And I’ve disappointed everyone. I’m broken.’

  If she’d been slightly more sober, Evie might have realised that she was talking to the carpet, clutching the stairs like they were about to move, her bum sticking up in the air as Killian tried to talk to her. Luckily, she was not in the state to notice or care.

  ‘Come on, you massive pain in the arse,’ Killian’s voice got closer, and she smiled a little as she felt his warmth against her shoulder.

  ‘You’re back to being Mr Grumpy Carpenter again,’ she murmured, a little smile on her face as she felt his strong arms hold her up, awkwardly rocking her back and forth up the stairs, her feet barely skimming the steps as he pulled her along.

  ‘Be easier to give you a piggyback, but I’d probably have to duct tape you to me to make sure you didn’t fall off,’ he grunted as she knocked her head on the wall.’

  ‘Kinky,’ Evie laughed, snuggling into his neck. ‘You smell nice.’

  ‘Thank you. You smell like a distillery.’

  ‘Why are you being nice to me?’ Evie braced herself against a wall so that she could look at him, her eyes unfocused as she tried to look at his face, trace it for anger or hatred. Instead, she found tiredness, softness and a slight tinge of irritation.

&nbs
p; ‘That wasn’t me being nice to you,’ he said gruffly, ‘but if I was, it might be because I spent almost a year being in the state you’re in now, and I wish I’d had someone to tuck me up in bed and tell me everything would be all right.’

  Evie smiled at him, reaching out to touch his chin gently. His eyes softened, creasing at the edges just a little as he waited for what she was going to say next.

  ‘I like the grey bits in your stubble.’

  Killian rolled his eyes, ‘All right, enough of this,’ and with that he hoisted her over his shoulder, stamping up the last few steps, unlocking the door with his key, and marching her through to the room that used to be his, where he unceremoniously threw her on the bed.

  ‘Everything’s going to be all right,’ he said, and left, closing the door behind him.

  A few hours later, Evie woke wondering why her temples were throbbing as if a ping pong ball in her head was flicking back and forth between bongos. Hangover Pong. She groaned, rolling over, trying to piece together how she’d ended up in bed, fully dressed. She sat up, immediately regretting the decision as she bolted to the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time to vomit, the taste of whisky making her eyes water. She had to admit she felt better, although the dizziness was still overwhelming. She brushed her teeth, and padded to the kitchen for a glass of water.

  She blinked. There was a man in her flat, doing the washing up.

  ‘Wha–?’

  Killian turned around and grinned at her, ‘All right Drunky? Feeling better?’ He pointed at the glass of water sitting on the breakfast bar, with the packet of paracetamol next to it. Evie frowned, then downed the water and the pills.

  ‘Why are you here?’ She shook her head, ‘No, better question – why are you washing up?’

  ‘Well, I did go back to work, and then I worried that you might have choked on your own vomit, or stopped breathing, or that you got a concussion when you hit your head on the walk up, so after I’d been up and down so many times, this made more sense.’ He shrugged, putting a plate on the draining board.

  ‘Well… stop it. It’s creepy.’

  ‘It’s creepy that I’m washing up?’

  Evie growled, embarrassment tinging her cheeks, ‘It’s creepy that after I said some truly horrible things to you, you’re here being nice to me. And doing my washing up.’

  Killian paused, considering, and then dried his hands on the dishtowel, coming over to stand on the other side of the breakfast bar. ‘Evie, I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t have time for drama. It was the reason Ruby used to drive me so crazy, always playing games and messing with people.’

  ‘I come with too much baggage, I get it,’ Evie said, pressing her lips together and nodding. ‘Thanks for looking out for me. I’ll let you get back to work now.’

  Killian laughed in frustration, ‘You’re doing it again! You push everyone away!’ He leaned in, across the bar, eyes meeting hers and demanding she not look away. ‘Ruby did it for fun, because she wanted people to want her, because she wanted to feel powerful. You don’t even know you’re doing it! Which might be more frustrating.’

  ‘I just… there are some things I need to do on my own,’ Evie shrugged, looking away, and then walked round to fill up the kettle, the hiss of the tap offering her a few seconds of silence.

  ‘Why?’ Killian frowned, ‘Why do you have to do them on your own? Do you get Brownie points if you make things harder for yourself?’

  She sighed, shaking her head, ‘Tea?’

  ‘I still want an answer.’

  ‘And I can think about giving you one whilst I’m making tea,’ she said pointedly, eyes widened.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  He stood watching her as she prepared the cups, creating a ritual as she avoided the question.

  ‘People can’t be trusted,’ she said simply, handing him a mug that said World’s Best Mum on it.

  ‘I’ve learnt that myself,’ he nodded.

  ‘I know.’ She took her tea over to the sofa, and he followed, sitting down at the other end so as not to crowd her. She sighed deeply, curling a hand into her hair and running her fingers through the knots. ‘I have to look after everyone. I have to protect all of us, and I can’t…’

  ‘Can’t stop for five minutes to explain what you’re protecting everyone from?’ Killian chuckled.

  ‘From myself. I’m selfish, and I made some bad choices. I lied to get us here.’

  ‘And now Mollie knows that.’

  ‘But if this opening doesn’t work, she’s going to have to go back to raising her child in a home with a selfish alcoholic who only wants her for the benefits she brings in.’

  ‘Okay,’ Killian nodded, putting his tea down on the table and turning his body to face her, his arm resting along the back of the sofa. ‘But it probably will be a success. And Evelyn’s not going to throw you out, and you’ve got the artists renting the space to bring in revenue.’

  Evie nodded, ‘Right. And it might have been a success if my dear old dad hadn’t got involved, and started screwing us over in the tabloids. And following us, and getting hold of Esme to pass on messages to me.’

  Killian’s light eyes widened, ‘What does he want?’

  Evie pretended to laugh, shaking her head, ‘What Bill Davis always wants, just his piece of the pie.’

  ‘He thinks you owe him something?’

  ‘He’ll be after money. There’s always a con in there somewhere. Income from the rental of this property, a percentage of her royalties. Who knows. The tabloid payout will tide him over, but he has let me know that he’s going to be here at the opening, and that the papers will herald another nasty little surprise.’

  Killian sat back, sighing as he stared into the distance, ‘Don’t suppose all publicity is good publicity?’

  ‘Not if he drives off Chelsea, and not if he alienates our locals. We’ve got the local councillor coming to the opening, people from the Arts Council. People who we can’t afford to embarrass.’

  ‘And why would he drive Chelsea off?’ he frowned.

  Evie took a sip of her tea, curling up in on herself, ‘Chelsea hasn’t been… forthcoming with the details of her past. Got a new surname, has hidden some stuff from her boyfriend. She doesn’t want the drama, just like you.’

  ‘What’s she running from?’

  ‘The same thing we all are,’ Evie snorted, ‘our parents and our upbringing.’

  They sat in silence for a moment, Killian twitching his lips, as if he couldn’t figure out what to say. Evie smirked, ‘Did I finally shock you?’

  ‘That your dad’s an evil bastard using the memory of your dead friend and the situation he raised you in to blackmail you?’ Killian rolled his eyes, ‘Nope, was just trying to figure out what we need to do to make sure the opening’s a success even if he tries to mess it up.’

  ‘You’re going to help me? You didn’t even want us running a gallery here.’

  Killian sighed, ‘Well, unfortunately, you seem to have grown on me. A little like a really proactive fungus. I think I might even be sad if I didn’t hear you clomping up and down those stairs at stupid hours of the night.’

  Evie hiccupped, putting her cup down on the table, ‘Killian, this isn’t your fight. I’ve got to–’

  ‘Worry about Esme, protect her and Mollie from your dad, as well as stop them moving back to Mollie’s mum. You’ve got to stop your dad ruining the opening, stop him from exposing Chelsea, and make sure everyone has enough money to survive and that the gallery does Ruby’s memory justice, as well as fulfilling every single one of your dreams.’ Killian said simply, ‘And I’m going to help.’

  ‘Why?’

  Killian flinched a little, his hands stiffening, as he shook his head, ‘Because, despite you throwing it back at me a few hours ago, I’m standing here with my heart in my hands again, apparently. For some ridiculous unknown reason, I trust you. And you can try and push me away as much as you like, because you feel like you have to d
o this alone, because you can’t depend on people, because you don’t want to be weak. But until you tell me you don’t want me here just because you don’t want me, I’m going to stay.’ Killian paused, looking briefly like he might be sick. And then his light eyes met hers, and he winked, ‘You all right with that?’

  ‘I… uh… I guess,’ Evie blinked. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Well… good.’ He grinned boyishly, scooting down the sofa to reach her, a hand already on her cheek.

  ‘Um, Killian, do you think we could skip the kissing part right now? You heard me throw up half an hour ago. Doesn’t make for the most romantic of scenes.’

  ‘And I wasted all my good lines for nothing,’ he laughed, pulling her in to cuddle against him on the sofa. ‘So what do we do now?’

  Evie’s mobile rang from her bag, the sound of ‘Push It’ by Salt-N-Pepa getting louder and louder.

  ‘That’s Mollie,’ She scrambled for the bag, noticing Killian’s raised eyebrow. ‘I set it once I’d found out she had a baby… she thought it was funny.’ She grabbed the phone desperately.

  ‘Moll?’ She held the phone like a lifeline, ‘I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare Ez, I got so panicked, and I can tell you all about it when you get home, but I’m so sorry!’

  She paused, waiting for that angry, hurt voice Mollie used when she wasn’t only upset, but was also disappointed. It was like parents learnt that voice as soon as they had kids. It was like a super power to make her feel shitty.

  ‘Evie… she just told me what happened. I mean, the bit with Bill. Are you okay?’ her voice was soft and calm.

  ‘I scare your daughter and you’re asking if I’m okay?’ Evie exclaimed, perilously close to tears.

  ‘You didn’t scare her Eves, she loves you. If anything, she’s actually peeved with you for not behaving like a grown-up.’

  Evie laughed, tears falling freely, ‘She told me I needed a timeout!’ she snuffled.

  ‘Well, she was probably right, she usually is,’ Mollie said, and Evie could hear the smile in her voice.