A. Michael - Goodbye Ruby Tuesday

‘The grumpy carpenter. Got it,’ her eyes sparkled as his frown deepened. ‘This is Mollie and her daughter Esme.’

Killian grunted and nodded, his lips briefly quirking up at the sight of Esme squinting at him like he was a unicorn. But just as quickly, his eyes returned to Evie, and that glare returned.

‘So listen, just so no one gets confused – this door…’ he tapped the frame ‘… goes to my workshop. I don’t do distractions. I don’t want to be involved in what you’re doing here, I don’t want tea, I don’t want to get my kumbayas out with whatever ridiculousness you’re doing in the space. I’m here to work.’

Evie could feel her blood boil as Mollie’s mouth dropped into an ‘o’, but she just smiled. Keeping her cool. She’d been to enough of those anger management classes – something had to eventually stick. And the manly carpenter was not going to piss her off. She had a dream and a goal, and Ruby had given her this place.

‘Evelyn said she was sure we’d get along just fine… learn to compromise.’

‘Compromise?’ His dark brow furrowed, and in her head, ridiculously, Evie imagined him playing Hamlet, all broody and outraged, stalking across a stage dressed in black.

‘When it comes to noise, if we… when we have events on… well, it won’t work to have drilling or banging or whatever it is you do.’

Killian’s lips quirked, and he learned on the doorframe. ‘Well, in that case, I’ll give you a list of my working hours and you can work around me.’

‘Um… excuse me?’ Esme put up her hand like she was in class, and stepped forward.

‘Yes?’ Killian answered, bemused.

‘I think you may need to look up compromise in the dictionary, because that’s not what it means.’

The carpenter’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked at Evie, ‘Is she being funny?’

‘She’s ten ,’ she rolled her eyes ‘her sense of sarcasm hasn’t been cultivated yet.’

‘She’s just pedantic, honest,’ Mollie supplied helplessly, putting her hands on Esme’s shoulders, as if she was afraid Killian was about to launch himself at her daughter.

‘I was using the word compromise ironically ,’ he said stiffly, directing his answer to Esme.

‘Nope, that’s not what that means either.’ The ten-year-old crossed her arms after adjusting her glasses. ‘I think you’re just being grumpy so you can be grumpy. And that’s no fun at all.’

‘Kid’s got a point, Grumpy Pants. What did we ever do to you?’ Evie countered, arms crossed to match her goddaughter.

‘I don’t want things changing. I’ve got a good place to work and I intend to keep it. Evelyn’s a good woman, and I don’t want this place getting screwed, and her along with it, just because some dead diva with an attitude problem said her friends could use the space.’

Screw anger management. Evie felt her jaw drop this time. Usually in these situations she’d see red, and she had to admit there was a little ruby fuzz clouding the edge of her vision, but that may have been a blood vessel popping from the shock. Dead diva ! What a bastard.

Evie breathed deeply, in through the nose, out through the mouth, listening for the rasp of air at the back of her throat. She clenched her eyes shut and imagined those words soaring away on a breeze.

‘What’s she doing?’ The arsehole’s voice permeated her calm.

‘Auntie Evie has rage blackouts. She’s working through them though, right Mum?’

Mollie grinned at Killian, eyes narrowing, ‘Right, baby.’

Killian threw up his hands, cried ‘Bloody lunatics!’ and stormed off, slamming his door behind him. Evie opened one eye to make sure he was gone.

‘You have to do that every time he says anything mean to you!’ Mollie laughed, clutching her stomach.

‘Which I imagine, from that charming interaction, is going to be a lot.’ Evie grinned, ‘What an arse!’

‘You might want to change your inflection – that sounded like a compliment,’ Mollie smirked.

‘That was a horrible thing that man said about Aunt Ruby,’ Esme said sternly, looking at the closed door with a furrowed brow ‘do you think he was in love with her?’

Mollie and Evie blinked and looked at each other, shocked at the little girl’s perceptive skills, but also scared about what that might mean. And just how possible it was.

‘Why would you say that, baby?’ Mollie asked, stroking a hand over Esme’s silky hair.

‘Boys are mean when they love you. That’s what the girls at school say. And all those movies.’ Esme shrugged, sighing at the terrible facts of life. Mollie looked horrified, and Evie made a face, ‘Hun, if someone’s horrible to you, it’s because they’re horrible. They can’t use love as an excuse. Maybe that man did love Aunt Ruby, but when you really love someone, you’re not horrible to them, okay?’

Esme shrugged, ‘Sure.’

‘I wish parenting would come with a bloody handbook about how to undo the sh–’ Mollie swerved, ‘ silly things society teaches kids.’

‘Hey, we’ve fallen for it too.’ Evie shrugged, looking up at the narrow staircase, ‘So we’ve already met the troll under the bridge – how bad can it be?’

Two flights of winding, cramped stairs that seemed to get more uneven as you walked up, the threadbare carpet coming unstuck beneath their feet, and they were in the flat.

Apart from a faintly musty smell, it had a lot going for it. Light streamed through large bay windows, and there were skylights to enhance the effect. Whilst furniture was sparse, it was good quality. A solid coffee table and creamy sofa that Esme immediately sunk into. The kitchen had a breakfast bar, and each bedroom had beds with solid wooden bed frames. The bigger room had a four-poster bed with gauzy blue fabric floating from each corner, and Evie watched as Esme’s eyes widened with glee. The second room was even more sparse – a low bed set in a frame, close to the floor, that seemed to be made of pallets, sanded down until they seemed solid. Evie imagined the room with hanging canopies, and tea lights on the pallet edges, fairy lights beneath them. She could make this place magical.

‘So, what do we think? Can we make this home?’ she asked Esme and Mollie.

‘What do you think, Ez?’ Mollie directed the question at her daughter, anxious and unsure.

Esme beamed, ‘As long as we get the magical princess bed, this is going to be wonderful.’

***

The rest of the day passed quickly enough, lugging their furniture up the narrow staircase, unpacking and rearranging. Evie was shocked to find how few possessions she actually had. But there was her duvet cover on the bed, material draped from the huge bay window and, in the corner, a little table set up as her work station – her toolbox painted with purple glitter nail polish. It looked like a sixteen-year-old girl lived here; but she grinned, because that meant a trip to Camden Market for more pretty things. Esme would love it.

They found a stash of takeaway menus in the drawer and ordered pizza. Mollie had phoned Chelsea to invite her, but it went straight to voicemail. Evie stopped herself from commenting, just barely. It was starting to feel very much like Chelsea didn’t have time for them or Ruby. But that wasn’t much of a surprise, seeing as they hadn’t tried to get in contact with her for years. Maybe her life was exactly how she liked it.

Evie pounded down the stairs to get the pizza, and as she returned she paused outside Killian’s door, preparing herself for the treacherous climb up the stairs. Through the door she could hear the faint strum of Metallica. What was that guy’s problem? Usually people got to know her before she pissed them off. Like when a guy chases you for three years, knows you’re a selfish bitch, and then gets upset when you don’t want to marry him. That was usually how she upset people. Well, how she upset Nigel. Continuously. For many, many years. In general, she knew she was an ‘acquired taste’; she could be aggressively passionate about things, a little too focused, a little too desperate to get things done. She was not everybody’s cup of tea, she knew that. But damn, it wasn’t nice when someone disliked you for no reason. But maybe Killian was just a grouchy arsehole. Or maybe, it was about Ruby. Esme’s comment circled her brain – would Ruby have fallen for Killian? The connections listed by the tabloids usually included boyband members and reality TV celebrities. Could she have loved a carpenter from North London? Probably not. For Ruby, love was a stepping stone, not a place you stayed. But a man loving Ruby, and her enjoying the attention until she found something better? Well, that was Ruby all over.