‘And you didn’t happen to mention I’m married?’
‘What do you think?’ Molly sounded almost angry. ‘That I’m going to stand by and watch that gorgeous man go to waste? If I can’t have him, then you should have him. Come on, Ruby, this is your chance for some fun.’
‘If I wanted fun, then it wouldn’t be with Payat, it would be with Geph-’ Ruby quickly corrected herself. ‘I mean, it would not be with Gephart, it would be with Payat.’
Molly raised her eyebrows in a smug, knowing look, but said no more.
*
It was ten o’clock in the morning and Ruby sat in Payat’s office. She hoped she didn’t appear too keen coming back within twenty-four hours.
She was thrilled with his reaction. ‘Wow, Ruby,’ he exclaimed. ‘Your hair looks great.’
Was it her imagination or was there a gleam of lust in his eyes? ‘Proof of the pudding and all that,’ she mumbled. She saw his look of incomprehension, but since she’d had less than four hours sleep last night, she was too tired to explain. She also had a twinge of pain in her neck. Whiplash, she supposed, from dancing with a cowboy who kept twirling her around as if she were a spinning top.
‘So, what do you have for me today?’ Payat asked. Ruby began to read from her notepad:
‘Hi-lites for Hi-lives
Lite up your Life
Put the sun in your hair
Put summer in your hair.’
When she had finished, she was delighted to see that Payat had written down most of her suggestions. ‘That’s great, Ruby.’ He put down his pen. ‘There’s a couple of other products I want you to give you. Nail varnish and lip-gloss. Plus a shampoo-conditioner that’s been designed for women with busy lives. Weavers want to get that message across.’
Ruby didn’t lose a beat. ‘“Busy Beavers Love Weavers”.’ She wondered why he shifted in his seat, seeming embarrassed. Then he jumped up. ‘Let’s go grab a coffee.’
*
That afternoon, Ruby parked outside Shady Acres. She was eager for Gephart to ask her out on a date. Then she could tell him she was married. Ha!
He sat in reception. In uniform. Why couldn’t he have changed into civilian clothes? Now he would make her look like an offender. Or was that his intention? Just because she’d put a few scratches in his police car.
‘Hi, Ruby.’ He stood up, crushing a plastic cup in one hand and tossing it in the bin.
She stared pointedly down at his belt. ‘Are you going to put me in handcuffs?’ she asked sarcastically.
He winked. ‘Not if you’re good.’
Ruby blushed. Why was it that every time she gazed into his eyes, she felt as if a hand was pressing down on her chest? She was only thankful that once she started reading to the old lady, Hank Gephart would go.
The receptionist was busy dealing with two elderly gentlemen, so Ruby and Hank had to wait to sign-in. Ruby felt strangely jittery in the big man’s presence. She only wished he wouldn’t stand so close. She inched further along the reception counter and, wanting to hide her nervousness, started squaring up the brochures into neat piles.
He came closer. ‘Ruby, I don’t like you mixing with Hells Angels.’
She felt his warm breath on her cheek. ‘Is there a law against that?’ Refusing to look at him, she picked up a brochure and found herself reading about incontinence.
‘No, but-’
‘Then, presumably, I have the freedom to choose with whom I associate?’
‘Yeah, but I’m warning you-’
Warning you. Angrily, she grabbed up another brochure and flicked through it at speed, false teeth and hearing-aids flashing by. ‘Why do you have to be so aggressive? Why can’t you say, “may I suggest?”’
‘Okay.’ He rested his arm along the counter and leant towards her. His eyes were blue, very blue. ‘May I suggest you keep away from them?’
‘No, you may-!’ She stopped abruptly. A matronly nurse was hovering beside them.
‘Well, Hank,’ the nurse said gaily. ‘Is this your lady friend you’ve been telling us about?’
Hank beamed down at Ruby with proprietary pride. ‘It sure is.’
‘I’m not his lady friend,’ Ruby mumbled.
‘Nice to meet you, Ruby,’ the nurse said. ‘I’m Amy.’ She beckoned with a finger as if tempting two small well-behaved children to an exciting treat. ‘If you want to come along, Mrs Amstruther is waiting.’
As they walked along the corridor, Ruby noticed two pretty nurses break off from their conversation to study her. She sensed that Hank had been gossiping about her. She caught up with Amy, determined to quash whatever rumours were flying around. ‘I am not at all familiar with Geph- I mean, Hank.’
The nurse stopped at a door and knocked. ‘I love your accent.’
Ruby persisted. ‘I have merely bumped into him on various occasions.’
‘We know.’ The nurse winked and opened the door. ‘You two go on in.’
As Ruby spluttered indignantly, Hank took her by the elbow. ‘Mrs Amstruther?’ he called. ‘I’ve brought my friend to meet you.’
‘Come in, come in,’ a quavery voice replied.
Ruby stepped across the threshold and froze.
Mrs Amstruther was blind.
The old lady was sat up in bed, dressed in a faded, flower-print bed-jacket, her eyes wrapped in bandages; her skin appeared almost translucent, the pink skull showing beneath a mop of dazzling white hair. She smiled sweetly, reaching out a tentative hand.
Ruby felt a pang. Mrs Amstruther shouldn’t be here; she should be in a cottage-garden in Devon with a wicker table laden with a cream tea and a vase of freshly cut delphiniums; and surrounded by her grandchildren.
‘Dear Hank,’ Mrs Amstruther murmured. Ruby stepped forward, and put her hand in the old woman’s. ‘Hello, I’m Ruby.’
‘Oh, how lovely to hear an English voice! You’re so kind, Ruby; volunteering to read to a boring old lady like me.’
‘It’s my pleasure.’
‘Hank didn’t bully you, I hope?’ Mrs Amstruther said in mock gravity.
With an ache of sadness, Ruby gazed down at the old woman so far from home - a home she would never again see. Ruby realised the childish bickering between her and Gephart was pathetic. The discord she had brought into the room, evaporated. ‘I didn’t need to be bullied. I was delighted with Hank for asking me.’
‘Do take a seat, Ruby, dear,’ the old woman said.
Ruby pulled an armchair closer to the bed. The room was sunny, the walls covered in framed photographs of children at the seaside. Beyond the window, at the far perimeter of a vast lawn, a freight train rumbled passed, the melancholic blast of its horn fading into the distance. Gephart, too, was watching it.
Mrs Armstruther’s hand was searching the rumpled bedding. ‘Ruby, could you possibly read a few pages of Wind in the Willows? My son loved it when he was little.’ She brought out a book from under the covers. ‘It’s so annoying not being able to see. Thankfully the bandages come off at the end of the month.’
‘So it’s not …?’
‘What, dear?’
‘Permanent?’ Ruby asked, taking the book.
‘Oh, no, it’s just cataracts; the curse of old age.’
Ruby, discovering the old woman would recover her sight, felt a lightness of spirit; felt she could embrace all her fellow beings - including Hank. He was standing, studying the photos on the wall. Catching his eye, she smiled at him, tilting her head towards the door, a silent message that he could leave.
He wrinkled his brow, evidently unable to gauge her meaning.
She tried again, running her fingers through the air towards the door.
He gave her a stupid look.
‘Are you going?’ she mouthed silently.
He nodded to signify that he understood. Then he shook his head, walked over to the armchair by the window, sat down and rested his hands squarely on his knees.
He was obviously staying.
&nbs
p; ‘Have you ever read Wind in the Willows, Ruby?’ Mrs Amstruther asked.
‘Yes, years ago.’
The old lady laughed. ‘Mole is delightful, isn’t he? Who is your favourite character?’
‘Toad. I loved it when he dressed up as a woman to escape the police.’ Ruby instantly regretted the words. ‘Of course, I don’t identify with Toad,’ she added hastily, forcing herself not to look at Gephart. ‘I just think he’s a loveable rascal.’
‘Isn’t he just!’ Mrs Amstruther settled back to enjoy the story, and Ruby began:
‘“The Mole had been working hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home …”’
Why is P.C. Plod hanging about anyway? Surely he’s not interested in riverbank creatures.
‘“First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash till he had dust in his throat and eyes and splashes of white-wash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms …”’
He’s staring at my breasts; I know he is.
‘“Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below …’”
He is staring at my breasts!
This was too much! Ruby glared at him. ‘Haven’t you got a murder to solve?’
‘What?’ Mrs Amstruther jerked in confusion.
Ruby was appalled by her thoughtlessness. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs Amstruther, I was talking to Hank. You see, I don’t want to keep him from his work.’
He folded his arms across his chest and grinned. He was obviously taking delight in her embarrassment. ‘I’m off-duty,’ he said.
For the sake of the old lady, Ruby had to speak sweetly, but there was nothing stopping her from raking the man from head to foot with hostile eyes. ‘Do you always wear uniform when you’re off-duty?’
‘I do when I haven’t had time to get to my locker and change.’
She couldn’t bear to look at that smug face a second longer. She snatched up the book and continued to read. ‘“Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below-’” She stopped in confusion, her cheeks a fiery red.
‘Oh, I’ve read that bit already.’
She could sense him laughing at her. And he was!
He stood up, his eyes dancing mischievously. ‘I’ve got a feeling Ruby can’t concentrate with me here. I’m flustering her pretty little head.’
Her relief that he was going was rapidly replaced by fury. That awful man was insinuating she fancied him! As he passed by, he bent and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby … Sweet Cheeks,’ he said softly, squeezing her shoulder.
Wide-eyed and apoplectic, she watched him walk to the door.
‘He’s such a lovely man,’ Mrs Amstruther said after he had gone.
Ruby couldn’t trust herself to speak.
‘The nurses say he’s very handsome. Is he?’
Ruby was still pinning the door with a look of fury. ‘O-h-h, you don’t want to know what I think.’
She picked up the book, her decision made.
She was no longer angry; in fact, she was rather jubilant. Like any institution, this building would have a goods delivery entrance. Well, Gephart, she thought complacently. You’re about to have a long wait because Sweet Cheeks, here, is going out the back.
Chapter Nineteen
Hank was grinning. Sweet Cheeks. That one had hit the mark.
He strode out to the parking lot and jumped in his truck. He figured he had plenty of time to pick up Roxanne from basket-ball practice, take her home and be back for Ruby. Roxanne would have to do the cooking for her and her brothers tonight - because Hank was aiming on taking Ruby out to dinner!
He was relaxed and confident. Molly said that Ruby liked him but couldn’t show it because she was too shy. He suspected there was more to it than that, though. Normally, a woman liked a guy in uniform, but not Ruby. For some reason, his uniform antagonised her. He’d heard the sarcasm when she’d asked if he was going to put her in handcuffs. ‘Not if you’re good,’ he’d joked. The fury on her face! Her reaction had been out of all proportion to the situation, and he felt a reckless excitement that he had been able to reach her so.
*
Hank dropped Roxanne off home - ignoring her whining that she was too tired to cook - and gunned the engine back to Shady Acres. There was nobody in reception. He sat and waited, admiring the bunch of flowers on the chair beside him. The sales lady said white was elegant, but he didn’t want white. Instead, he picked every colour there was. He hoped the flowers would relax Ruby, show her he was just an ordinary guy under the uniform. Then, he’d ask her out on a date.
There was hot chemistry between them; he could almost hear it spit and crackle. He saw how her pupils dilated whenever she looked at him - which she tried hard not to do - except when she was mad and couldn’t help herself. She might be fighting against her feelings, but they showed on her face; the blush that stole over her cheeks when he watched her reading, the way she couldn’t hold his gaze.
He glanced at his watch. Already he’d been waiting for over an hour and Ruby still hadn’t shown. That was good. That meant she and Mrs Amstruther were getting real friendly.
He wished Ruby wasn’t mixing with that biker crowd; but the more he tried talking to her, the more stubborn she’d get. She might seem fragile but she sure didn’t want to be dominated. And that’s what Hank wanted to do: to assert his will against that beautiful and volatile girl.
And she was beautiful, especially with that short blonde hair. Her golden cat-eyes flashing, cheeks flushed, fingers curling into claws. It was like taunting a kitten. He had been teasing her, but he would make up for it on their date, apologise for calling her Sweet Cheeks, hang back from lecturing her, buy her champagne, and ask her about her life in England …
Again, he had a premonition of loss; a feeling that however hard he tried to keep a hold on her, she was slipping … slipping away from him …
‘You still here?’ It was Amy, seeming surprised.
‘I’m waiting on Ruby,’ he explained.
‘But, Hank, she’s gone.’
Chapter Twenty
Ruby smiled jubilantly as she drove home. How long would it take before Gephart realised she’d gone? Hours, hopefully.
Sweet Cheeks!
He’d enjoyed watching her blush, putting her in a situation she couldn’t escape from. Payat, on the other hand, was a gentleman; courteous, mild-mannered, and a million times more handsome than that gorilla in uniform.
On Quivira Road, she stopped at the Book Store and searched for something that would give her inspiration for her poetry. She refused to think of Hank Gephart a minute longer.
She bought Kansas, Off the Beaten Track. Back home, she settled in an armchair and flicked through the pages, pausing at: Prairie Woman Adventures and Retreat.
You can ride out for roundup and smell the burnt Hereford hair as you watch the Flying J brand appear out of white smoke on a calf’s haunch during branding of the herd. Real work. In May, the women wield three-inch-long hypodermic needles for inoculations and scalpels for castration of the male calves.
“Castration.” She could find a rhyming word for that. But “inoculations” …? She continued her search, reading about the Dalton Gang Hideout, The Trail of the Whispering Giants, Dodge City. The paragraph about Boot Hill Cemetery seemed promising:
Two cowboys had a gunfight. The dead man was unknown, and wrapped in a blanket was buried where he fell, boots and all. The frequent and sudden deaths of unknown drifters and outlaw rebels filled the cemetery quickly. The burial in 1878 of Alice Chambers was Boot Hill’s last.
Who was Alice Chambers? Had she been a bank robber, or simply a drifter? Unfortunately, there was nothing more about her, but it had certainly fired up Ruby’s imagination. She grabbed her pad and pen and began to write.
Alice Chambers
Alice get yer makeup, get yer frills and get yer coat.
Git yer lacy dr
ess (from Aunty Tess) and pearls from a-round your throat
Get yer fan and all those trimmings, the show has just begun
Now sling ’em out the window honey and
Alice git yer gun
The Branagh Boy is back in town a’shootin’ and a’braggin’
The cur who shot yer pappy down, a’chokin’ and a’gaggin’
He says he’s come to get you, too, so I guess it’s time to tell
Little six-gun Alice Chambers gonna
Send him back to hell.
*
It was Saturday morning and Ruby sat in the breakfast room writing her diary entry for the previous day. Since she’d gone to bed so late and so drunk last night she hadn’t been in a fit state to hold a pen, let alone write coherently.
Friday morning
9.00 Donna is having a Kriskringle party tonight for the agency + has invited everyone including PAYAT!
12.00 Buy clothes. See 2 cops enter CiCi’s Pizza. Recognise Deputy Sheriff Branagh. He nudges his colleague + they give me a suspicious look as if I’m going to rob the place. Buy Red Hot Chilli nail varnish + paint OINK! on their squad car. Due to the size of the brush – and my nervousness – I paint it merely half an inch high. Lucky for you, Branagh, I don’t have an industrial spray-paint gun!
afternoon
2.30 Idabel drops by with hand-drawn map, entitled: IDABEL’S CABIN. This is like a circuit diagram for a Mars probe. She’s explaining how to skin a rabbit when the telephone rings. It’s Grandad.
3.10 Grandad and Idabel still talking. Must be nice for Grandad to talk to someone on his own wave-length.
4.00 Claire phones to tell me her Ground Floor American has been commissioned by the European Parliament to paint gigantic canvas of Europe to mark the Millennium; only problem is, he’s painted the Kremlin in Holland. This gives me an idea! Maybe, I, too, can do something creative to mark the Millennium in Kansas?
Brake Failure Page 13
