Brake Failure

by Alison Brodie

  ‘She’s recently divorced. Her husband used to beat her.’

  Ruby felt a surge of pity, recalling the golden-haired girl with the sweet smile. How could anyone hit someone so fragile, so defenceless? Yet … should a secretary tell her boss such intimate details? Ruby hardened herself against her rival.

  ‘Well, I’m sure that’s put her off marrying again,’ she muttered.

  ‘Oh, no, she’s still searching for Mr Right. She says her sisters have three kids apiece, and she wants six.’

  ‘Six?’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  Ruby paused. Was Donna foreseeing Edward as Mr Right?

  Ruby lifted the pan of bouillabaisse off the stove. ‘By the way,’ she said. ‘Molly has invited me out to a club on Wednesday night.’ She would not reveal what sort of club.

  ‘Who’s Molly?’

  ‘My chum I keep telling you about. The one from Lenexa.’

  ‘I’ll be staying over at Topeka on Wednesday night, so I’d prefer you stayed home. It’s not safe, two females alone. Anyway, you don’t want to look like one of those sad cases who get dolled-up just to re-capture their youth.’

  Ruby had always tried very hard to follow Vanessa’s dictum to be all Sweetness and Light but, for the last few days, she had been finding it a struggle. She was getting sick of being pushed around. It wasn’t just Edward. It was Charlotte who treated her as if she were her son’s nanny, which she was. It was Claire, sighing as if Ruby was a cultural moron. It was Mr Schoettler next door, who ignored all her polite notes to keep the noise down. It was Donna, making a grab for Edward. And there was Gephart, who had used his authority to humiliate her.

  She had been thinking that a visit to the Brown Bag might be rather reckless; now, after listening to Edward ordering her not to, her mind was made up. She was going! And since he would be staying over in Topeka on Wednesday night – he would never know.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mission Hills Police Precinct, Kansas City

  12.45 am. Jan 1, 2000

  Beyond the window the night-shift was arriving back with the sound of banging doors and going-home laughter. Blue and red lights chased around the ceiling.

  Knowing that her friend was a suspect in a robbery and shooting, Molly sat stunned. After a moment’s pause, Madame van de Ghellinck snorted.

  ‘I have never heard of anything so preposterous,’ she said. ‘Ruby is far too timid. Apart from anything else, she wouldn’t dream of doing anything that would upset mother.’ She sat down, crossing one slim leg over the other, her spine not touching the back of the chair. ‘You may have mislaid three million dollars, but to accuse my sister is laughable.’

  Madame van de Ghellinck’s perfume filled the air, made the place smell expensive. ‘What do you think, Molly?’ he asked.

  ‘She’d never rob a bank.’ Molly was shaking her head, over and over. ‘She must’ve been terrified being held at gun-point, so when she got out, she just ran.’

  ‘Where to?

  ‘Home, I guess.’

  ‘She’s not there. My men searched the place. Can’t find her passport, neither.’ The Police Chief sipped his coffee. ‘You familiar with the Native American downstairs?’

  Molly nodded. ‘Payat? Yeah. He’s the creative director in her husband’s agency. Ruby sometimes worked for him.’

  ‘They worked together, huh?’ The Police Chief rolled a grain of sugar between his fingertips, staring at it in contemplation. ‘What is he? Cheyenne?’

  ‘Ruby said he came from Taos, New Mexico.’

  ‘That’s the Pueblo tribe. He sure is a long way from home.’

  Madame van de Ghellinck leaned forward. She suddenly seemed animated; spots of colour on her pale cheeks. ‘Two weeks ago I phoned Ruby and she said, and I quote: “There’s a Red Indian Chief coming over to dig me out and shag me.”’

  ‘She said that?’

  The stepsister nodded quickly. ‘Don’t you see? She hasn’t robbed a bank. She’s gone off with some Indian chap. That explains everything!’

  The Police Chief imagined a sunset creeping over the desert of New Mexico, a car on the highway, a pretty blonde sitting side-by-side with a handsome, dark-skinned driver. If Ruby got to the reservation, the law couldn’t touch her.

  He hit the intercom button and spoke to Sergeant Waltz: ‘The Native American? His name is Payat. Put him in Interview Room One. And, Waltz? I want road blocks on all routes into New Mexico.’

  Eight weeks earlier …

  Chapter Eighteen

  Edward, having spent half an hour playing with the fridge’s ice-cube-making machine, was now in the shower singing: “Don’t bury me in this prairie, take me where the c-e-e-ment grows. Let’s caboose to some big hoosh, where they know a girl by the blah-de-blah, and I’m all yours in buttons and bows.” Not knowing the rest of the lyrics, he began humming the tune. Ruby settled into bed, plumped up the pillows and began writing her diary entry for the day.

  6.00 Mr Schoettler wakes up the neighbourhood (all except Edward who has his ears stuffed with silicon plugs). Schoettler is using a leaf-blower to blow ONE solitary leaf across his lawn. This has to be the loudest, most aggravating, most useless noise I’ve ever heard. Why doesn’t someone complain?

  7.00 Eat muesli. Remember the dream I had last night. It’s always the same one: A voice is shouting up at me: ‘Don’t jump, Ruby!’ Don’t know what it means, but it always leaves me feeling frightened. Browse through church bulletin + read: “For those who have children and don’t know it, we have a crèche.” (How do you have children and not know it?)

  8.00 Play with the garbage disposal. It’s wonderful. Why don’t they have these in England? I experiment with so many different things and it simply gobbles them up. Melon skins make a satisfying slurping noise. Styrofoam meat-trays make a cracking sound.

  8.30 Edward leaves for work. Mary-Jo turns up, hands me a bag of flour + asks if I can baby-sit Daisy for the day. (Daisy? I gaze at the bag of flour in bewilderment. Then I remember: this is her daughter’s project). I bring Daisy into the house and settle her on the sofa. This is going to be so easy.

  10.00 Doctor’s Surgery. The doctor studies the white spots under my fingernails + tells me I’ve got leukonychia. He sees my terror, chortles merrily + explains that it’s simply trauma to the nail and I must have banged it. What a relief! Once more, he assures me there will be no Y2K meltdown.

  11.00 Hy-Vee. At the check-out, Clementine asks about the Queen. I tell her one must address her as ma’am, (not “marm”, but “mam”, like in “jam”). She looks confused. I then identify my vegetables. “These are courgettes,” I tell her. “These are aubergines.” Everyone in the queue disagrees with me - even the boy with the neck tattoo and skateboard. Evidently, they are “Zucchinis” and “eggplants”. (Americans no longer speak English. E.g., Line means queue, washroom = lavatory, pants = trousers, sidewalk = pavement, blinkers = indicators, candy = sweeties. The list is endless. At this rate, America will be speaking a foreign language!)

  12.00 Meeting with Payat tomorrow. Go shopping for an outfit that will define my role as Creative Assistant. Fringed suede biker jacket, or little black suit? Wild mustang or colleague’s wife? First, I buy a smart red collar and matching leash for Rowdy, plus a dinner bowl, water bowl and dog brush.

  4.30 Home. Since Rowdy is feral, I worry that he won’t like having a collar tied round his neck. In fact, he sits very still and afterwards he struts about like he’s proud of himself. I brush him + he groans in ecstasy and collapses on the grass. (He’s probably never been brushed before).

  5.30 ‘That dog is in the house!’ Edward yells when he arrives home. I see Daisy has sprung a leak. Seems Rowdy has been sharing the sofa with her. Put Daisy gently on the front porch and go find a Band-Aid plaster for her (it’s only a tiny leak).

  5.40 Edward gives a scream from the porch. He’s covered in flour. In rushing after Rowdy, he kicked Daisy down the steps. I bring Edward into the hall a
nd hoover the flour off him. When I go out to check on what’s left of Daisy, it’s raining. Daisy is paste.

  *

  The next morning Ruby followed the receptionist through the open-plan office adorned with Christmas decorations. How long before Payat realises I’m just a boring housewife? she thought, clutching her briefcase.

  Since Edward was out of the office, she wore a short red skirt with matching tight-fitted jacket, no blouse, just a lot of cleavage, brightly coloured ear-rings and stiletto shoes. She felt suffocated with excitement. This would be the closest she would ever come to having an affair. An imaginary one was bad enough; a real one would give her a heart attack. Having a husband had its benefits, though. She could flirt with a handsome stranger and then dash back to the sanctuary of her marriage.

  She recognised faces from Ruth Chris’s Steak house the other night. They waved and she waved back. Rita and Taylor came over. ‘What colour is your suit: scarlet?’ Rita asked. ‘No,’ Taylor answered. ‘It’s raspberry.’

  Donna wore a grey shift dress with a white Peter Pan collar, looking like an innocent - but gorgeous - nun. She squeezed Ruby’s arm, saying, ‘I would love it if we could meet up sometime.’ What a good actress, Ruby thought indignantly; this husband-grabbing-harlot could almost make me believe she wants to be friends with me.

  All thoughts of Donna evaporated. There, sitting in a glass-fronted office was Payat. ‘Ruby!’ he exclaimed, throwing open the door. ‘Thanks for coming in.’ He shook her hand. ‘Take a seat. Find your way here okay?’

  As she stared into those dark eyes, her manner collapsed into the English dither she had so wanted to avoid. ‘Gosh, yes, I … um, yes, I parked-’ she twirled a finger ‘-outside.’

  He smiled. ‘Good.’

  After five nights of building this man up in her fantasies, the sight of him in the flesh made her breathless. The Audreys/Brendas would swoon if they saw him. Effortlessly, he swung his chair from behind his desk, and sat down, his knees inches from hers.

  ‘So, Ruby, what do you have for me today?’

  She tried to pull her skirt down - which had risen alarmingly up her thighs - and began to read from her notes: ‘Soft Touch, Velvet Touch, Mellow Touch-’

  ‘You got stuck on “touch”.’ He grimaced. ‘Happens to the best of us.’

  But it wasn’t me. It was them!

  ‘To tell you the truth,’ he said. ‘I like the first one best. “Hand Relief - You know you want it”. I think it’s great.’ Ruby opened her mouth and closed it. She just hoped he didn’t have to sell the stuff in England.

  He gave her a white box. It was a hair-colorant kit with a picture of a smiling blonde on the front. ‘Could you take this away and think about it?’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘Great.’ He jumped up. ‘Do you want to grab a coffee with me?’

  She lurched to her feet. Her knees were like jelly. It didn’t help that she was unaccustomed to wearing stilettos. As she wobbled ahead of him, her right ankle buckled beneath her. Payat gripped her elbow to steady her. This was done in a brotherly manner, but as far as she was concerned, he might as well have poured jet fuel to a smouldering bonfire.

  *

  When she arrived home she placed the hair-colorant box on the kitchen counter and stared at it long and hard. Her mind was blank.

  Vanessa phoned. ‘Hello, Ruby, darling. I received the photos of your house. Of course, it hasn’t got the pedigree of Claire’s apartment, but it’s still quite lovely.’ She paused. ‘I am so glad you finally found a husband and settled down.’

  ‘Even if the husband isn’t a duke of the realm?’ Ruby was joking, but her stepmother’s voice was grave when she answered.

  ‘We can’t all marry dukes and government ministers. But you did your best, Ruby. And you’ve certainly come a long way from that wild, surly child I first met at your grandfather’s house. Now you’re a perfect daughter; obedient, sweet-natured, and sensible.’

  ‘Do you think mum would’ve been proud of me?’ Ruby was stunned she’d asked the question.

  Vanessa must also have been stunned because she hesitated. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  ‘Grandad never talked about her,’ Ruby muttered. ‘Neither did dad. Sometimes I thought she was a figment of my imagination.’

  ‘You still remember her?’

  ‘She doesn’t deserve to be remembered!’

  ‘We don’t know what happened-’

  ‘She said she’d come back for me!’

  ‘Something must have happened-’

  ‘Haven’t you ever wondered why she went in the first place? It was dad. He used to look at her like he hated her.’

  ‘No, Ruby; don’t talk like that!’

  Ruby sighed, the anger suddenly gone from her. ‘I’m sorry. You’d think after twenty years, I’d have forgotten about it.’

  ‘One never forgets something like that. I just hope …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I just hope I was good enough to take her place.’

  ‘Oh, you were! You were!’

  ‘That’s so sweet of you, darling. Now, listen. Forget the past and concentrate on the future. You have a husband to take care of and important business clients to entertain. I am depending on you to make me proud.’

  ‘I will. I promise.’

  After the call, Ruby stood at the window, remembering the sound of her mother crying behind a locked door.

  What had happened to make her leave? What had happened to make her stay away?

  *

  ‘I thought we’d stop off on the way to the Brown Bag,’ Molly said as Ruby climbed into the van. ‘The Daughters of the British Empire are having a meeting, which might interest you.’

  ‘They sound like a rebel faction.’

  Molly laughed enigmatically. ‘Wait and see.’ She accelerated. She wore polka-dot trousers in purple and yellow, with a pink smock and peacock-feather ear-rings. ‘Ray Marsh School has given me permission to do the book next week. Do you want to help me?’

  ‘I’d loved to.’

  ‘Great. Thanks. It’s the last remaining pod school in the U.S. That’s a school without walls,’ she added. All grades sit in one big room with only screens to separate them.’

  ‘And does that work?’

  ‘As I said, it’s the last one.’ Molly glanced across. ‘So what have you been up to?’

  Ruby began to talk about Payat. ‘Hang on,’ Molly interrupted. ‘How come, if he’s a Native American tribal chief, he’s working in an advertising agency?’

  ‘He wants to see the world before settling down with his people.’

  ‘And you believe that?’

  ‘You would, too, if you-’ Ruby saw the police cruiser. ‘Gephart!’ she yelled. Startled, Molly swerved, hit a wooden post and braked hard. The post collapsed, bringing down a tarpaulin covered walk-way in front of a building site.

  Molly spun to Ruby. ‘What the hell-?’

  ‘I’m … I’m so sorry!’

  Molly was peering hard in the rear-view mirror. ‘Get in the back.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Get in the back.’ Molly pushed her. ‘Hide under the cloaks. And keep quiet.’

  ‘But why?’ Ruby protested, crawling between the two front seats.

  ‘I could be charged with reckless driving or I could sweet-talk my way out of this. One thing’s for sure: you open your mouth and we’ll both end up in jail.’

  Ruby pulled a cloak over her head, and seconds later heard Gephart’s voice.

  ‘Hey! Molly … right?’’

  Molly chuckled. ‘How nice of you to remember me, Sheriff Gephart.’

  ‘Swerved a bit back there, huh?’

  ‘A cat ran out in front of me.’

  ‘Well, I’d rather you hit a cat than a pedestrian.’

  Ruby sneered in the darkness. I bet you would!

  ‘So,’ Gephart continued. ‘Where’s your friend?’

  ‘She’s not here, officer.’

&n
bsp; He laughed. ‘I can see that.’ He hesitated. ‘She says she’s here on vacation?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  He hesitated. ‘Do you reckon she’d come out on a date with me?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  What? Ruby jerked, and immediately crouched back down. Was it surprising he wanted to go out with her after seeing her practically naked on the lakeshore.

  ‘Has Ruby said anything about me?’ he continued.

  ‘Oh, yeah, she said plenty.’

  ‘Great,’ his tone picked up. ‘Here’s my number. I’d be obliged if you could give it to her.’ There was a brief pause and then he continued. ‘Sorry to break up your performance the other day, Molly. That story you were telling looked mighty fun. Just next time, check if the school has an opt-out policy.’

  They chatted for a while, their sentences punctuated with Molly’s giggles and Gephart’s deep chuckles. Finally, they said goodbye, the engine started and the car moved off.

  ‘You can come out now,’ Molly called brightly.

  Ruby erupted, casting cloaks back like a demented Dracula. ‘Why did you say I wanted to go out with him?’

  ‘I demolished a walkway so I thought it was a good idea to tell him what he wanted to hear.’ Molly, having stopped at a traffic light, was holding a small square of paper while copying a phone number into a neon green notebook. ‘Besides, I think you should see him.’

  ‘I’m married, in case you’ve forgotten.’

  ‘So?’ Molly handed her the square of paper. ‘Here’s his number. Take it, in case you change your mind.’

  Ruby snatched it, tore it up and threw the shreds out of the window.

  Molly gave her a steady looked. ‘That’s an offence. Littering.’

  Ruby was stunned. ‘What’s wrong with me?’ she wailed. ‘I never litter. It’s him!’ She hesitated, trying to identify these bubbling emotions. ‘He makes me …’

  ‘Lose your mind?’ Molly suggested.