Cath Staincliffe - Split Second

Ruby fiddled with the radio, tuned it into Radio 1 Xtra. She sang along to the tunes she liked.

Louise concentrated on the road, negotiating the slew of commuter cars and heavy goods wagons. It was sleeting and the wipers were going at full tilt to clear the windscreen.

She hadn’t told Ruby about Dr Liu’s plans to move Luke from the hospital; hadn’t told anyone. Nothing would happen yet anyway. ‘In the next couple of months,’ she’d said. That could be March. They could get Ruby settled into a new routine by then. Travelling to Liverpool early on a Monday, back Friday night. They should be able to get help with her travel expenses.

‘Mum!’ Ruby yelped as a 4 × 4 swerved in front of them from the inside lane. Louise braked, cursed, sounded the horn. The vehicle flashed its lights in reply. A sarky thank-you. Louise flung a V-sign his way, shaken up.

‘I’d like to get there in one piece,’ Ruby grumbled.

‘Tell him, not me,’ Louise said.

They were just in time. The drama school was in its own grounds, a grand old Victorian villa with pillars at the entrance door and big bay windows. Trees thrashed their branches in the wind and icy rain as Ruby grabbed her holdall from the boot. Another heavy squall bounced off the car roof and the gravel.

One of the students took Ruby’s name, showed her where to leave her bag in the changing rooms and gave them a tour of the buildings. The house was warm and bright, with the former bedrooms now classrooms and downstairs rooms used as rehearsal spaces and offices.

Outside, behind the villa, a converted garage functioned as the dance studio, next to a purpose-built music centre. Ruby’s eyes roved hungrily over everything. There were plenty of students about, both boys and girls. Louise noticed the way they checked Ruby out as they passed and Ruby doing the same.

‘We’ve had loads more people applying,’ their guide told them. ‘The Glee factor.’ She mentioned the American TV series about a school choir and their ambitious musical routines. It had been compulsory viewing for Ruby when it started.

The student halls were a modern block. Canteen, lounge, showers and cubicle-style bedrooms. They were able to see inside one – it was smaller than Ruby’s bedroom at home, little more than a cell. But if all went well and she made friends, she’d only be in there to sleep.

Back in the main house, they were served coffee and biscuits and Ruby got changed and waited to be called. The auditions were in one of the rehearsal rooms. In the quarter of an hour until her slot, Ruby couldn’t sit still. Louise let her prowl about, working off some of her energy. She looked amazing: the glowing red wig framing her sculptured face, her eyes big and luminous with long lashes, her mouth generous. It was a face Louise never tired of looking at. The same with Luke. Ruby wore a red leotard and red and black striped tights, black boots. Her body was long and slim and fine. She stopped pacing and turned to Louise, panicking. ‘I can’t remember it! The poem. Oh Mum.’

‘Hey, you’ll be fine. It’s just nerves. Run on the spot.’

Then the student called her and Ruby went.

Louise fiddled with her phone. She had a voice message on there from Luke: ‘Hey, I’m staying at Declan’s, yeah. See you tomorrow.’ His voice was warmer than she had remembered, in spite of the bland, businesslike content of the message. She had played it to him recently; she’d try anything to reach him. She listened again now. ‘Hey…’ What she’d give to hear him say that now. One word. Hey .

‘Mrs Murray?’

Louise felt a prick of shock, as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. She slid her phone shut, smiled and went through to meet the principal, Vicky Plessey. They’d spoken on the phone before, and Louise had seen her picture on the website: a vivacious, Liverpudlian with long blonde hair. She couldn’t be much older than Louise. Her office was a hymn to art deco – mirrors and statues, velvet curtains, framed posters. She began by telling Louise that Ruby was an impressive applicant, obviously committed to performance. How would she find living away from home?

‘I think she’ll be fine. She’ll make friends, I’m sure, and she’ll be home at weekends.’

‘Is there anything we need to be aware of, anything that’s altered since you sent in the application from?’

Louise didn’t know whether to say anything about Luke. If she went into details, if she identified him as the boy who had been savaged in the press, it might alter Vicky’s view of Ruby. Turn her from a gifted teenager to the sister of a young criminal. But if she said nothing, there might be problems further down the line for Ruby, because no one would know Luke was in hospital.

‘Ruby’s brother is in hospital,’ Louise said. ‘A brain injury.’

Vicky frowned in concern. ‘Oh, I am sorry.’

Louise rushed to speak, keen to deflect any questions. ‘So she may need to visit, depending on how he does.’

‘Of course. The welfare of the students is our first priority.’

Before Vicky could ask anything, Louise said, ‘When will we hear if she’s got a place?’

‘By the end of the week,’ Vicky said.

‘And the bursaries – does that depend on who gets in?’ Louise realized it might be a bit crass homing straight in on the money side of things, but it was crucial Vicky understood their situation.

‘Yes. We only offer two bursaries each intake and demand is increasing year on year. Though we do have a separate expenses fund.’

‘Like I explained on the phone,’ Louise said, ‘Ruby wouldn’t be able to come here if we had to find the fees.’

‘I understand.’

Did she? Louise wondered. Had Vicky Plessey grown up in a home where school trips were out of the question and buying new shoes might mean keeping the heating off for a month. Could she imagine that? Every purchase being weighed, the permanent worry about managing money gnawing inside.

Back in the changing room, Ruby was ready to leave.

‘How did it go?’ Louise asked.

‘Good,’ she grinned, ‘good. I slipped on the last turn but I changed it into a slide and I don’t think they could tell.’

‘How many people were there?’

‘Three!’ she said. ‘And they laughed at the poem.’

‘Hey, well done you. We’ll hear by the end of the week.’

The call came on Thursday. Louise texted Ruby straight away, even though her phone would be off till school ended at three p.m. At 3.03 Ruby rang home, whooping and hollering with joy.

That evening they celebrated and Ruby flung a hundred questions at her mum, none of which Louise could answer. ‘What about my washing? Do I keep the same doctor? If I go on the train will I have to pay full fare? Will there be a public show this term? Do they have teacher training days?’ At bedtime, Ruby lingered in the doorway perched on one leg, practising her balance. She put her foot down. ‘Will you be all right, Mum?’

‘Me? Course I will.’

‘But you’ll be all on your own.’

Louise bit her cheek. Breathed in hard. ‘Hey, I’ll be fine. You’re amazing, you know. I’m so proud of you.’ She hugged her. ‘Now. Bed.’

Ruby went. And Louise kept on breathing steadily, eyes shut tight. Till she was fit again, danger past. Her delicate grasp on life, on self-control, regained.

Andrew

The time until the trial, set for October, stretched out like a barren plain, a place of thin air and stunted grass and dust storms.

Andrew felt as if he and Val were shrivelling up, desiccated, living through a drought. As the time crept on, there were hazards to overcome, earthquakes splitting the ground beneath them, cracking the surface and threatening to suck them into the dark anew. Andrew’s birthday, Mother’s Day, Jason’s birthday in May. Taurus.