Ruby Tuesday

by Debbie Chase

  She’d been cool since I’d got back, and Dad’s comment about Rose being crazy to see me had definitely been wrong. I don’t know whether or not it was a coincidence that we were never in our room, awake, together. She went out in the evenings with the usual gang but never asked me, and I was usually asleep when she came in, and then she was asleep when I went out early in the mornings. She barely asked any questions about my holiday, my adventure, and because of that, I’d not uttered a word—in fact, I’d told no one, as yet—about Blake.

  Dad had made the remark about a holiday romance when he picked me up, but I hadn’t followed up on it, and he hadn’t asked again. It was as if everybody was too wrapped up with our stepbrother now. And anyway, I didn’t want to look a fool if it all came to nothing, and I never heard from Blake again. Oh my God, what a downer I was on. Holidays were supposed to do you good, perk you up. In this case, though, it seemed that the reverse was true and that I was slowly sinking deeper and deeper into a pit of despair.

  Lunch time came, and I made a tentative foray into the cafeteria. I didn’t usually go in there, as I brought my own lunch and, if it was a sunny day, always sat outside at the wooden benches set aside for staff, private from the students. Rose was in there so deep in conversation with Katie, the library manager, that I didn’t like to intrude. They were tucking into bowls of tuna salad and sipping steaming coffee from plastic cups.

  I made a half-hearted unsuccessful attempt to catch her eye before wandering outside, where I sat at a bench with Jo and a couple of the girls from the Student Reception Team, who were more than willing to engage in conversation about our respective holidays. They were also eager to find out why Rose was “swanning it around” in the library while I was still “stuck at the reception desk”—their words, not mine. I told them I’d changed my mind about the job and felt that Rose would be far better at it than me.

  “Don’t you be so sure, Ruby,” pointed out Lynne. “It’s only her first week on the job, and she’s throwing her weight around already. That job was yours.”

  An opened bag of crisps lay on the table, from which they all picked at regular intervals.

  “Throwing her weight around?” I bit into a sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “I find that hard to believe. Rose isn’t like that.”

  The three of them exchanged glances before Lynne said, “We hadn’t really intended to say anything to you, Ruby, but…well, yes, she is like that. She’s already been into Student Reception this morning, demanding to know why some literature quiz sheets weren’t ready and waiting on her desk this morning. First week back too. Did she think we were in here over the holidays, laminating the sheets for her?”

  Quick to defend my twin, I said, “Once she’s settled down, she’ll be fine. She’ll be trying to prove herself to Katie.”

  “Yeah, well, Katie won’t be happy if she behaves that way towards us. But okay, we’ll see how it goes,” mused Paula. She took a sip of milkshake, banana by the smell of it, and went on. “But she’s going to have to come down from that pedestal she’s put herself on, or she won’t be very popular.”

  “Yeah,” stated Lynne. “She needs to understand that kindness and respect towards others is the way to go around here. She’s so different from you, Ruby.”

  “Actually,” said Paula, giving me a sidelong glance, “Maybe you could have a word with her? Put her on the right track before she makes a total mess of it.”

  Almost choking on my coffee, I spluttered, “I’ll see what I can do. But…well, I don’t like to interfere, especially where Rose is concerned.” I almost mentioned home and our new found stepbrother and all the complications that seemed to have arisen because of him. But I decided against it and clamped my mouth shut, bam, like one of those cockle shells that Blake and I used to find lying around on the beach, razor-sharp enough to cut your toes if you weren’t careful.

  “Yeah,” said Lynne. “Do you know what, Ruby? If you two didn’t look so alike, I’d question whether you’re even sisters, let alone twins.”

  I decided to ignore that remark and carefully folded the foil my sandwiches had been wrapped in and placed it in my bag before saying, “Anyway, what happened to all the other people that were going to apply for the library job? The internal applicants?”

  Both Lynne and Paula shrugged, and Jo replied, “Not sure. I think only one other person applied. Angie, I think. You know, the girl from Attendance? But apparently, she didn’t have enough experience with books.”

  We gazed around at each other and laughed. “Experience with books? What does that mean?”

  I went back to my desk at reception feeling slightly more lighthearted, cheered up in a way by the conversation with the girls, even though it had shown a somewhat darker side to Rose. I was also on a bit of a high with the arrival of a text message from Blake, telling me he had another regular booking at a club called Platform 99, which, he said, was a really cool place. And from his advertisement for band members, he’d had responses from a drummer and a bass player, and he would be meeting them this very evening in La Bar.

  Wow, was he really on his way to fame and fortune? While I was pleased for him, another darker side of me had vague misgivings about the good-looking rock star, Blake Edwards, being besieged by fans, eager women of all curvy shapes and sizes, mostly far more pretty and attractive than me. Would he be tempted by the adoration of his fans, or even, far worse still, tempted into liaisons with groupies? A hot wave of panic swept over me, and I took a deep breath to steady myself. I must put thoughts like that out of my mind—otherwise, it would drive me mad.

  The rest of the day passed in a busy blur and, as soon as the bell sounded for the end of the day, I grabbed my bag and jacket and made a beeline for the door. I saw Rose briefly in the milling crowd of students and teachers making her way alongside Katie to the parking lot. Perhaps Katie was giving her a lift home. Rose knew I always walked, so she definitely wouldn’t be searching me out to accompany her. I texted Blake before I set off, a short chatty text telling him I was pleased he had another booking and potential new band mates but that I missed him and wished I were there. I even made a joke about joining the band and playing the maracas, just as Jim Morrison used to while lead singer with the Doors.

  Thoughts of Rose and the comments made by the Student Reception girls ran through my mind as I began the walk home. The weather was sunny and warm but, in readiness for the autumn, leaves of bright ambers, golds, and reds pried themselves from the bony twisted branches of the trees and twirled gently to the ground. I knew Rose could be bossy at times, particularly with me, but I didn’t think I’d ever known her to be that way with other people. Thinking about it, though, this was her first really responsible job. Okay, she’d worked in fast food outlets and bakery shops, but this was a school, and maybe different rules and attitudes applied, particularly as she was working with children. Perhaps I really should speak to her about it before she did, as the girls said, make a mess of things, although, at the moment, I really didn’t think she would welcome that at all.

  As I walked, I thought of our stepbrother, Michael, and our first meeting. He’d come to the house, where Mum had prepared a fantastic tea, spread out across the dining room table like a banquet. I’d been prepared to dislike him, sick of the fuss that was being made and the feeling that Rose and I were being relegated to second best just because this wonderful man had turned up out of the blue. But I couldn’t because he was nice, really nice, chatty and affectionate—wow, he gave me a bear hug as soon as he saw me, for God’s sake. He smelled good too, sort of citrusy, a scent that clung to his clothes and his dark hair, cropped short, and at the tender age of only twenty-nine, flecked with grey at the temples.

  I tried to see Mum in his looks, but there was nothing, not even eye color. Mum’s were a deep brown, but his were hazel green with yellow flecks like a cat that glowed brightly when the sun hit them. He was stocky, broad-chest
ed, muscular with large hands and thick fingers, with clean short square nails. He had a flat open face with a smudge of a nose and a smile that could break your heart. The perfect boy next door. I wasn’t surprised that Mum and Rose were smitten. I think I would be, too…eventually.

  Apparently, he’d worked as a reporter for a local Swansea newspaper. He wrote under the by-line “Michael Fisher—Fishing for News,” and commented on new up-and-coming bands, wrote detailed reviews of local gigs, and printed real-life stories about new authors, singers, and songwriters. Hey, maybe he’d have an interest in Blake and his new wannabe band. Connections, that’s all it amounted to, really. Oh, and talent, of course! All his work was featured in a weekly pull-out called “The Gig.”

  I let myself in the back door when I got home, which opened straight into the kitchen. The room was empty, although I noticed that something smelling pretty good was baking in the oven. “Hello, anyone around?”

  I walked into the hallway and, dumping my bag on the floor, hung my jacket on the coat stand.

  “Yes, Ruby, in here.” Mum’s voice, sounding slightly panicked, was coming from the conservatory. I had to walk through the dining room to get there, which, to my surprise, smelled strongly of cigarette smoke. Nobody in the house smoked, so this was really weird. Did I imagine it? Mum, sitting on one of the comfortable cane chairs, discreetly batting the air with her hands, a tell-tale wreath of smoke coiling above her head, smiled brightly and said, “Hi, Ruby. How was school today?”

  I stood in the doorway and gave an exaggerated sniff. “Mum?”

  “What?” she said, looking all around like she’d lost something. Then, after a hasty glance at me, she realized she had to come clean and shamefacedly said, “Okay. I’ve had a cigarette. Please don’t tell Dad, will you? You know what he’s like about smoking.”

  She looked so much like a little girl caught in mischief that I had to smile. “No, I won’t tell Dad. Where is he anyway?”

  “It’s Wednesday—late night at the surgery.”

  “Oh yeah, of course. Why are you smoking, though, Mum? What’s wrong?”

  I sat down on the cane chair opposite her. Sunshine fell in golden pools on the tiled floor through the massive arched conservatory windows, and in the garden, bees and bright colored butterflies circled the massive buddleia bush. The garden was a beautiful blaze of emerald, red, orange, and gold.

  “Oh, you know, I suppose I feel a little stressed, with Michael turning up and…. Oh, I don’t know, Ruby.” She hung her head and raked a hand through her hair.

  “Where’s Rose?” I asked her gently.

  “Gone for a walk with Michael.” She must have seen the hurt look on my face that they’d gone off together without asking me because she said quickly, “Oh, I’m sure she’d have asked you if you’d been here, but she knows you have your walk home from school every day. Michael asked about you, though.”

  “Mum, Rose barely speaks to me now since I got back from France. Not even at work.”

  “I know, I have noticed, Ruby. She was upset at you going off alone the way you did, and she’s so stubborn. You two have always been so different from each other.”

  “I had to go off like that, Mum. Rose wouldn’t have let me go alone. She would have followed me—you know that.”

  Reluctantly Mum nodded. “I’ve barely spoken to you either. I’ve been so distracted. Tell me more about your holiday. Did you meet any nice people?”

  I frowned and said, “Has Dad said anything to you?”

  She shook her head no but then said, “Why? Should he have?”

  This time it was my turn to shake my head before saying, “I’ll come back to that. There’s something I need to ask you first.”

  She looked at me expectantly.

  “Mum, how do you know that Michael is your son?”

  “I just know. Believe me, Ruby, Michael is my son and your half brother, and obviously Rose’s half brother too.”

  “Yes, but how do you know for absolute sure? He could be anybody. Have you had one of those tests, DNA tests?”

  “I don’t need to,” she replied. There was a short silence before Mum said, “Ruby, Michael looks exactly like his dad.”

  “So you’ve seen Michael’s dad recently?” I asked in surprise.

  “Yes,” said Mum.

  “I don’t understand.” And when she didn’t reply, I pressed further. “Mum…?”

  “Let’s go and make a cuppa,” she said, rising slowly to her feet and holding out her hand for mine. “And then I’ll tell you everything. Oh, and while we’re having a heart-to-heart, I want to know what happened about the library job. I’m sure there’s more to that than meets the eye.”

  She nodded knowingly as I cowered under the unwavering stare from her dark eyes. “Well,” I began to say. “I don’t like to tell on Rose, but….”

  She smiled and gave me a wink.

  Chapter Seven

  It had been four days since I’d heard from Blake, four whole days since I’d sent the text asking about his meeting with the possible band members. I also told him that I missed him and hoped to see him very soon. He hadn’t replied to my jokey text about Jim Morrison and the maracas, that being the reason I’d texted again. Okay, four days wasn’t that long, I supposed, but because we’d been in touch a lot, I was getting worried.

  Visions of him being in some sort of trouble flashed through my mind. Had he been kidnapped by some dodgy French gang who was after—I don’t know—his guitar? Fallen over in the street and banged his head? Been involved in a car accident? Or, horror of horrors—worst thing of all—had he gone off with another woman? I felt distinctly down and dispirited, and the only thing I seemed able to do was to sit there on my bed and gaze at my phone, waiting impatiently for a message to pop up.

  How frustrating that text messaging or possibly ringing was our only contact. I had no email for him and no actual address, although I could possibly contact the B&B he’d been staying in if I could remember what it was called. We’d been so caught up with La Petite Amelia and La Bar as meeting places that nothing else had seemed to matter. With a sense of relief, I realized I could contact La Bar if I really needed to. My mind was all over the place—how lucky that it was Saturday and I didn’t have to work.

  My phone beeped, and looking at it straight away, desperate for it to be a message from Blake, I saw that, yeah, it was a message…but from James! I read it curiously. I’d never had a text from James before, and of course, I hadn’t got in touch with him while I was away, so I could only think that he’d got my number from Rose.

  Hey Ruby, hope u okay and enjoyed your trip to France. Don’t forget the gang’s night out tonight cos of firework night. 8.00 pm in the Bluebell. Will be good to have a catch up. Seems ages since we spoke J xxx

  By the gang, I assumed he meant me, Rose, Vanessa, Steve, Craig, and, of course, James. All purely friends. None of us were couples. I’d known nothing about it. Obviously Rose hadn’t invited me but, thinking about it, why shouldn’t I go? James had asked me to, and I had more right to be there than Rose did, really, considering that Vanessa was my friend first from college. Okay, we’d both known the boys since school, but I’d invited Rose along the first time we’d all met up, just to make it an even number really, and also because, at that time, Rose and I went everywhere together. Oh, happy days.

  I felt quite buoyed up and excited about a night out. After all, I hadn’t been out to a bar for a drink since being in France with Blake. That, of course, encouraged all sorts of worrying things to flit through my mind, and, gazing longingly at my phone, I wished it would beep, and a reassuring message pop up. Also, though, I hadn’t been out with the usual gang to the local pubs in Emsworth for ages, weeks before I went away. I’d been bored with it but now felt that a night out would do me good, and it would be great to catch up with James.

  The bed
room door opened and peering over the top of the room divider, I was pleased to see it was Rose. She looked good in a pair of skinny jeans and a long red T-shirt, the words, I Love Music With Soul, written across the front in loopy white letters, which immediately made me think of Blake and his comment about today’s music having no soul. I had the exact same T-shirt hanging in the wardrobe.

  “Hey, Rose.”

  She looked up in alarm. “God, Ruby. You made me jump. I thought you’d be out walking. It’s Saturday….”

  “I’m going out soon, but….” Just having a response from her and hearing her voice made me really tempted to confide in her about Blake. At one time, we would have discussed it in depth for hours and gone through, and even written a list of the pros and cons of hearing from him or not hearing from him. The thought that we didn’t do that now made me sad.

  She gazed at me questioningly, yet not quite meeting my eye. “But what?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just that James texted me, so I know about tonight, about meeting in the Bluebell. Just thought I might go.”

  “Okay.” She shrugged as if she couldn’t care one way or another and then flounced herself down full length on the bed and began to study her phone as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “I’m thinking of having a little sleep,” she told me. “So don’t slam the door on your way out.”

  “Rose, can we talk?”

  “No, not at the moment,” she replied sulkily. She put her phone on the bedside cabinet and turned on her side, away from me. “I’m tired, couldn’t sleep last night.”