A few hours later, they were nicely coiffed, drinking cheap cava from plastic cups and eating the last of a pizza that Kit had ordered – insisting that Mollie’s delicious creations had to be tasted by the public and their guests, so that she could start a catering business at the gallery and get super famous. Evie wasn’t sure she’d seen Mollie blush so bright since they were teenagers.
Evie had wriggled into a slightly smarter outfit, a black, floaty dress with brass beads sewn into the front, pinning her wild curls back at the sides with a big clip. She put on some huge beaded earrings, outlined her eyes, and pretty much did everything but write ‘Look, I’m a hippie bohemian, not an angry thug from the estate’ across her forehead.
‘You look… wow. You look wow,’ Killian said softly, placing his arms around her waist, resting his bristled cheek against hers as they looked out across the room.
Esme, a few steps away, turned and looked at her, grinning ear to ear, ‘See? Wow moment. Good job!’ She held out her hand for a high five, and Evie acquiesced, laughing awkwardly as the little girl skipped off.
‘So, you ready to schmooze the public?’ Killian asked her softly, a smile in his voice. Evie looked out at the slowly building crowds. She saw Evelyn, looking lovely with a bold pink pashmina flung over her shoulder, smiling over at her warmly, her hand held up. She saw the kids from the youth centre that she’d talked to, and the guy from the Arts Council, and Martha across the street who used to be a painter and had introduced herself when she read about them in the local paper. She saw faces she didn’t recognise, and noted how they took in the space, looking at the walls, perusing the bookshelf, reaching out to touch her light fitting and then standing back to admire it. They draped themselves over Killian’s furniture, tasted Mollie’s canapes in delight. No one looked like they were arriving with pitchforks, ready to exorcise the corrupted ghost of Ruby Tuesday from their hallowed musical halls.
But Evie couldn’t take that in right now, because she was only looking for one face. The one she didn’t want to see.
Chelsea strode over, handing Evie a glass of cava, ‘I know you’re serving those cocktails in jam jars or whatever, but I just can’t.’ She rolled her eyes, her frosted blonde hair falling more softly around her face as she clinked her glass against Evie’s. ‘To defeating old demons.’
She chucked the whole glass back and grinned, suddenly looking so much like her sixteen-year-old self that Evie widened her eyes.
‘Where’s Kit?’
‘Introducing some poor investment banker to a very confused Mollie,’ Chelsea snorted. ‘Both of them are just looking at Kit in confusion, like they have no idea that he’s trying to set them up.’
‘Poor Molls,’ Evie shook her head and Killian laughed, withdrawing his arms from around her.
‘Poor Mollie? Poor hapless banker. Between Kit’s sales-pitch and Mollie’s doe eyes, he doesn’t stand a chance.’
‘The doe eyes aren’t a play, you know,’ Chelsea said seriously, ‘she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.’
‘I never thought she did,’ Killian shook his head, ‘but she’s a sweetheart who bakes, abandoned by the father of her adorable child. Some guy’s gonna wanna save her.’
‘Yeah, but… not someone named Earl.’ Chelsea wrinkled her nose, looking over as the awkward scene unfolded – Mollie and Earl looking at each other anxiously whilst Kit talked.
Evie nodded, ‘Afraid I have to agree. No matter what the size of his tax-free bonus, doesn’t make up for a bad name.’
Killian raised an eyebrow, ‘Is that a euphemism or…’
Chelsea and Evie looked at him, matching grins and silence, until he shook his head, laughing. He kissed Evie’s cheek, ‘I’ll be drinking one of those pretentious hipster cocktails over there,’ he pointed towards Evelyn, walking over and waving.
‘He’s good for you, you know,’ Chelsea smiled, her eyes bright and sparkling.
‘I know.’
‘First smart choice you’ve made in a while.’
Evie frowned, sipping her drink, ‘Don’t push it. Speaking of shitty decisions, what kind of fireworks did you promise the tabloids tonight?’
Chelsea rolled her eyes, jutting her hip and crossing her arms, channelling the teenager she once was. She widened her eyes, her voice innocent, ‘I simply suggested that Bill Davis would be here, and it would be nice to hear from the man who stole Ruby Tuesday away from her foster home when she was still a child, and put her to work in dive bars and burlesque bars. I suggested he might have something to say about how responsible he was for some of that destructive behaviour, if he did become her manager and get her performing half-naked in burlesque clubs at seventeen, that is.’
‘Chels…’
‘I only used his words, babe. I was really careful.’
Evie sighed, feeling that seasick sensation in the pit of her stomach, like she wasn’t standing on solid ground.
‘What did Kit say about the newspaper article?’ Evie watched the man across the room, smiling and laughing, his hand on people’s arms. Chelsea admired him, looking at him with soft eyes and a gentle smile.
‘He doesn’t read the tabloids,’ she shrugged, ‘I’m safe.’
‘You’re going to have to trust him with your life at some point,’ Evie leant her head on her friend’s shoulder, watching Kit as he burst into loud laughter, both of them automatically smiling in response.
‘And I will. I’m not so worried about it any more. But… we have enough showdowns and drama planned for tonight, and I suggest you get on with your welcome speech or whatever it is you’re saying before Bill turns up and tries to ruin it.’
Evie nodded, suddenly decisive, and went to turn the music off. She stood in front of the bookshelves, ‘Everybody, if I could have your attention? I won’t take up too much of your time, I promise.’
People gathered slowly, but they did not seem unwilling. Esme crossed her legs and plonked herself down on the carpet in front of her godmother. Everyone else left a slightly larger circle of space so that they could see Evie. She was suddenly taken back to her uni days, explaining her exhibition, leading people around as if she would suddenly be picked up by an agency who just had to have her art. But this was different. She was in control of their destiny now, she just had to make sure these people cared enough to be involved. And she’d already done the hard part, which was luring them into the room with free canapes.
‘My name is Evie Rodriguez, and I’m part of the team here at The Ruby Rooms. I’d like to welcome you all to our little arts oasis.’ She paused, taking in their faces, ‘I’m sure you might have read some less than savoury things about us in the newspaper recently. We’ve all got people in our lives who can sometimes cause a bump in the road – I’m glad to see that hasn’t stopped any of you from coming tonight.
‘Because the truth is, yes, we are from a crappy little town, where not much has ever happened. Except a singer named Ruby Tuesday lived there for a couple of years. And Ruby was my friend. She had a difficult and strange life, but that was never our focus.’
She smiled across the room at Chelsea and Mollie, who were leaning against each other, ‘Ruby knew that as teenagers, we had dreamed of opening an arts centre, a place where young people from all walks of life could come and create something. That they wouldn’t be told that they weren’t good enough, or they were wasting their time, or they had to be practical. We wanted to make a place that we wished had been open to us as kids.’
She paused, looking around to see the smiles and the nods, ‘And so that’s what we’ve done here. About ten years passed, and Ruby Tuesday had a tumultuous and amazing career, and yet she still remembered her school friends and their teenage dream. So… that’s it. I hope you’ll look at the list of classes and workshops we want to run. I hope you’ll add your own ideas to the sign-up sheet, or talk to us about them. We want to create something for the community that will enhance it, we want this to be a space for you. But we wouldn’t have eve
n thought we could do this without Ruby telling us about this wonderful place that she used to write songs, and the wonderful people she met here.’
Evie’s eyes found Killian’s and Evelyn’s in the crowd, smiling broadly at them.
‘So if you would, please take your drink and raise a glass to Ruby, who was not just a brilliant performer and a terrible troublemaker, but was the reason this place has happened. To Ruby!’
‘To Ruby!’ the crowd chanted back, sipping on their drinks.
‘A cheer for Ruby Tuesday, eh? Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting at all.’ A gravelly voice from the back of the crowd cut through, and she watched as he moved forward slowly, his dark eyes meeting hers with a grin. That grin she’d always hated, that seemed to say ‘I’ve won, little girl, I always win.’
‘Ah, ladies and gentlemen, we have the man responsible for all those lies and rumours in the press here tonight!’ Evie took on an overly cheerful tone, talking loudly and trying to hide the feeling of panic, as if she wasn’t terrified of this man at all any more. She jutted her chin. ‘Please do continue eating the delicious food and enjoying your cocktails, to show him his attempts at ruining us failed. Thanks and have a good evening!’
Evie had hoped that some people would turn away and start chatting, but they were too intrigued. A few whispered conversations started up, but everyone had one eye on her and the slowly approaching figure of Bill Davis.
He looked like he was limping a little, and was a lot less impressive than he used to be. Bill stood facing her, looking terribly proud of himself as the people around him stared. He always looked in need of a good wash; the charm that had appeared rakish when he was younger and smarter now gave him an air of desperation. When he used to invite people into card games, goad them into bigger bets, they used to think he was a good time, someone to bring to the party. Now, he looked a couple of steps up from being a homeless drunk on Camden high street.
‘What a way to greet your father, Evelyn, really!’ he winked at her, his voice too loud, trying to get his audience back after she had dismissed them.
‘I don’t have a father,’ she shrugged, looking at her nails, ‘I have an old drunk who turns up when he smells money, even if there isn’t any.’
‘You’re saying my darling little Ruby didn’t leave you any money?’ he laughed gruffly, it turning into a rough cough as he grinned. ‘Bullshit. That girl breathed gold dust.’
‘And she probably spent it on drugs and booze and people who would take advantage of her. People like you.’
She stood her ground, her fists clenched as he advanced, ever so slowly.
‘Evie, baby girl…’ His charmer smile was lethal, but for Evie it just made her blood boil. She could feel the throb of her pulse in the root of her stomach, a twitch that just kept going. ‘I looked after Ruby when she came here, I just want a little thank you, a little piece of the pie. Where’s the harm in looking after your old dad, eh?’ He looked around and raised his voice, ‘It’s a shame when they grow up and abandon you. You clothe them and feed them and look after them, and they abandon you when you’re old and fragile.’
Evie rolled her eyes, ‘I think you’ll find my mother did all of those things, at least until you turned up and fleeced her for cash every few months, and then we struggled to even get enough money together to eat. The only reason she’s survived the last few years is because I don’t give her money, I buy her food. Otherwise, she’d give it to you.’
‘The sign of love, my dear. Your mum’s always been caring.’
‘She’s been a doormat, and you’ve wiped your feet on her a hundred times,’ Evie said, feeling her clenched fists start to shake as if they were beyond her control.
‘You’re the spit of your mother, you know, all that dark hair and those dark eyes…’ he paused for effect, turning to the crowd ‘… not as kind as her though. How is the old gal?’
Bill’s sandy hair was ruffled and thinning, standing up in odd flicks from where he’d been running his hands through it. His dark coat was shabby, and beneath it his tan trousers were too short, a beer belly poking over the top. Bill Davis was not the same father she remembered. The man who had arrived home with huge smiles on a handsome face, charming her into forgiving him when she was very young. He was a master of manipulation, twisting any story to fit his mood. He was never at fault, always the victim. ‘Could you believe I got mugged outside the casino?’ was often his lament, ‘Could you believe it, I was attacked by Jonny Masters, that one who runs the chippie?’
And when you heard his story, you couldn’t believe it. He was just walking along, minding his business. How could the world be so unfair? Why did he always have such bad luck, poor guy!
But as the years had passed, it became easy to see why Bill Davis had such bad luck. The men who had lent him money grew tired of his excuses. As did the guys he wound up and goaded into poker games where he cheated, the men he lured into pool games and took for everything they had… But in his head, Bill was still a stand-up guy. Some days he had a pronounced limp, a souvenir from some dodgy gambling game in Peckham. It seemed to get worse when you tried to get anything from him.
‘Bill, you’re not getting anything from us, and it’s time for you to go,’ Evie said solidly.
Killian walked over to stand next to her, ignoring Bill completely as he made eye contact and whispered, ‘Do you need me to do anything?’
‘We’ll see, I guess.’ she said in a low voice, turning back to Bill. ‘So, decided to leave us in peace or what?’
‘Got yourself a strapping lad here, I see, Evelyn.’ Bill sized up Killian, who stared back at him blankly, his face a mask, ‘Smart move on your part, young man. Get in on the gravy train early and all that. If this place takes off you should get a tidy sum. If only I’d been as smart with your mum, Evie. Uneducated, never going to make good money, still can’t make a fucking shepherd’s pie to save her life–’
‘You really do not want to start talking shit about my mum,’ Evie growled, her fists still clenched. Chelsea looked at Killian in alarm, mouthing, that’s what he wants. Killian nodded, a hand on Evie’s back. It was obvious. Get Evie to snap, prove she was an angry, dangerous mess, and the whole thing was over.
Evie’s clenched hands softened, still curled up, but loosely. She looked back at Killian, her kohl-lined eyes determined, seeming to tell him she knew what she was doing.
‘I’m not saying anything bad darling, she’s a good woman, and she always more than enthusiastic when I stop by for a quick–’
Bill staggered from the force of the punch, holding his jaw as he laughed, blinking. Killian shook his hand, clenching and unclenching, as he looked at Evie in apology. ‘Sorry. You can’t do it, and someone needs to.’
‘Surprised you let a man fight your battles for you Evie. You always were an angry little bitch, thought you’d have a pop at me yourself.’
Evie frowned, raising an eyebrow at Chelsea. What was the play here? She’d expected Bill to come in and play the victim, he’d lined it all up so perfectly. Why would he ruin it by getting angry? The papers wouldn’t take his side.
‘Bill, this is tiring. What do you want?’ Her eyes flicked to Chelsea again, who nodded to let her know she was all right. She was doing just fine.
He chuckled, ‘What I want is only what I deserve. What I’m owed.’
‘A swift kick in the nuts followed by an obligatory vasectomy?’
‘Money.’ He took a step forward and shrugged, playing it up for his audience. ‘Everyone knows your slutty little singer friend left you a bunch of money. Fuck knows why she wanted you to set up an art gallery instead of a branch of AA but who cares?’ He grinned at his daughter, watching as her hands clenched and unclenched. ‘I get what I want, and you get what you want.’
‘You don’t have anything I want.’
He smiled and shook his head like he couldn’t believe how silly she was being. She suddenly felt like a child again, waiting for his moods to s
hift. Waiting for the one word to change him from charming joker to angry drunk.
‘You want me out of your life. I can take a cheque or monthly instalments.’
Evie laughed, turning around to look at Mollie and Chelsea in disbelief. ‘Can you believe this guy? There are cheaper ways to get you out of my life.’
‘Oh really? You think I won’t come down here every day? You think I won’t come back and talk to that lovely little goddaughter of yours? Not to mention the press.’ He shrugged, like the thought made him sad, ‘And there’s always your mum of course. Your lovely mum who’s always so happy to see me, so happy to have me back in her arms, in her bed… maybe I should go back to her again, try and make a go of it this time? Maybe she’d help you to see sense and help out your poor old dad?’
Evie growled a little and felt herself pulse on her toes like she wanted to launch herself at him, but instead she laughed, ‘Sorry, you do realise you’ve just tried to blackmail me in front of about twenty people?’
Bill grinned, shrugging, ‘Well they can all chip in, I don’t mind!’
A sharp clear voice came out from behind her, a voice that sounded different. Harsh and sharp. ‘I think you will mind.’
The heels clip-clopped ominously from behind her, until Chelsea was standing next to her, hip jutted in her designer jeans. Kit was watching her with interest, and Evie recognised that look – one of complete faith.
‘Hi Bill, long time no see,’ Chelsea grinned at him, her face contorting uncomfortably. Evie didn’t know what she was going to do, but it was Chelsea. She always had a plan when it came to stuff like this. A way to get out of it that didn’t leave Evie a few grand poorer with bloody knuckles.
‘And who exactly are you, love?’
Chelsea smirked, looked around, playing up to the crowds, ‘Aw you don’t remember me, Bill? I’m hurt. I’m one of Evie’s best mates.’ Her voice was friendly, jokey, but she stepped forward with intention, and said stonily, ‘And I’m also Jez Douglas’ stepdaughter.’
Goodbye Ruby Tuesday Page 23
