Chapter 13
Ruby was regretting having declined a lift from the station.
Or maybe she was actually regretting the whole thing.
She’d only been outside of London a handful of times.
Her mother had taken her down to Margate a few times when she was little, and last year she’d gone up to Manchester for a gig.
She’d assumed there would be a bus service, but when she arrived at Cambridge station and asked the train guard how to get to Arylebourne, he’d pointed her towards the taxi rank.
There was no chance she was about to fork out for a cab, so she’d decided to walk. Five miles. How long could that take? It turned out close to two hours, and with her army surplus backpack weighing her down under the midday sun, it felt longer.
Once she got to the village, she headed for the post office to ask where the house was. The clerk eyed her suspiciously as she walked over.
‘Are you lost, miss?’ He looked to be in his sixties, or maybe older, the cream-coloured hair on his head lying in wisps.
‘Why would I be lost?’ She couldn’t help herself. The whiteness of this place was already getting to her, making her jumpy. She hadn’t seen a black person since she’d left King’s Cross. She took a deep breath. As she was in fact lost, maybe it wasn’t such an unfair assumption from this bloke.
‘Actually sorry, yes, I am. I’m looking for Fairfax Manor?’
Now the clerk looked even more wary. ‘Might I ask what business you have there?’
Ruby gave him her widest smile. ‘No, sir, you may not.’
He smiled back, seemingly nervous. ‘OK well, I um, I don’t feel very comfortable divulging that kind of information to anybody …’ he paused, positioned the glasses hanging from a chain around his neck, onto his nose ‘… who’s a stranger to the town.’
Ruby tried to keep her anger in check. It wasn’t going to serve her well. She turned, without another word, and walked back into the sunshine. She wandered over to a bench and began to roll a cigarette. It was almost midday; maybe the pub over the road would be more helpful once they opened.
She’d barely taken a drag when a battered blue VW Golf pulled up in front of her. She recognised the man at the wheel straight away. The fingers clutching the wheel were perfectly manicured.
‘Miss Ruby Tongue, the one and only. Would you care for a lift?’ Gareth smiled.
Ruby was grateful but she refused to give Gareth the satisfaction of knowing that. ‘Can I finish my fag first?’ She brought the cigarette to her lips and took a long drag.
Gareth was not alone in the car; in fact Ruby noted that the other two men cramped in the back seat were both very good-looking. She grinned through the smoke; maybe this wasn’t going to be a dull summer after all.
In terms of complexion, they hailed from opposite ends of the spectrum.
The man seated behind Gareth was black, his face delicately composed with high cheekbones and an angular jaw.
His dark eyes were heavily lashed and his lips full.
His hair was sculpted into a sharp flat top.
And then next to him, with light blonde curls chopped into a messy mullet, a man with pale blue eyes and freckles sketched across his cheeks.
When he smiled at Ruby, a single dimple appeared – it brought a strange symmetry to his face, balancing out the piercing glinting in his right eyebrow.
Gareth had turned off the engine. ‘By all means, take your time.’ He took out a silver cigarette box from his breast pocket and lit his own time killer.
‘These are your competitors by the way.’ He vaguely gestured behind him; the blonde man gave her a wave; the black man turned to look straight ahead. ‘Behind me is Adam. He’s a dancer, and next to him is Johan, the photographer.’
‘You can call me Jojo.’ Johan’s accent was odd, an East London lilt, mixed with … something else.
‘Sorry, mate, I absolutely cannot call a grown man Jojo. How about Jo?’ Ruby threw her butt and ground it into the pavement with the heel of her boot. She walked around the front of the car and settled in next to Gareth.
Johan leant forward in his seat and whispered: ‘Darling, with a smile like yours, you can call me whatever you want.’
Ruby felt a familiar throbbing of lust migrate down her stomach and settle between her legs.
She imagined what he would feel like pressing her up against a wall, and then she felt sure that it was only a matter of time before that particular little speculation became a reality.
She also felt a pang of relief; maybe her little dalliance with Cindy had been an aberration.
A bit of distance had already done her some good and reminded her that she did in fact fancy men.
‘In that case I’ll call you what you are, a Tired Old Rake?’ Ruby’s tone was droll but she winked at Johan in the rear-view mirror. He laughed heartily. He seemed utterly unselfconscious, comfortable in his own skin. It was hot.
‘Settle down, kids.’ Gareth threw his butt onto the road and started the engine.
It was a short drive – although the narrow roads were anything but pedestrian-friendly, Ruby thought.
They drove through a pair of tall iron gates and turned around the corner.
Fairfax Manor stood before them in all its sandstone glory.
Ruby didn’t think she’d ever seen anywhere this posh, let alone stayed there.
The driveway melded into a large gravel circle in front of the house.
In the middle of the circle stood a fountain statue of a woman whose breasts were spurting steady streams into the shallow pool at her feet.
As they drew closer, the two huge burgundy doors opened and a woman stepped out. Opal Fairfax, Ruby gathered.
She was taller than Ruby had imagined, and broader.
Her hair was the same colour as the sky, right before it burst into the flame of sunset.
Almost peachy. It fell just past her shoulders in thick waves.
She was wearing a black boiler suit belted with a tartan sash. Her hands were splattered with paint.
The car ground to a halt, and Gareth walked around the front to open the door for Ruby. She was a little stunned. The whole scene was surreal.
‘May I present Miss Ruby Tongue.’ Gareth gave a ceremonial bow as she stepped out the car, and Ruby couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Opal smiled and strode towards them.
Before she knew it, Ruby was being pulled into a hug.
‘It’s so lovely to have you here, Ruby. Thank you for coming.’ Opal’s voice was low and slightly raspy. She’d either been chain smoking since breakfast, or crying.
‘Ermm, yeah, hi, miss, thanks for having me.’ Ruby hadn’t expected to feel nervous.
From behind, she heard a chuckle. She turned to see Johan. He held his hands up, mimicking an apology, and shot Ruby a wink.
Opal, though, had already turned her attention to the boys. She seemed to glide as she moved towards them.
‘You must be Adam.’ The beautiful black man stood stock-still as Opal raised her hand and cradled his face. They held a gaze so intense that Ruby found herself compelled to both look away and look closer.
‘You have the same brow, the same eyes as Joshua,’ Opal said softly, and then turned to Gareth. ‘Doesn’t he?’
Gareth grunted and took out another cigarette from the slim silver box.
‘Thank you, Lady Fairfax, for welcoming me into your home,’ Adam replied. Ruby thought she could detect the slightest hint of an African accent, smuggled beneath his deliberate enunciation.
‘Please call me Opal, or failing that, Miss Fairfax at least.’
Ruby just spotted Gareth’s fleeting look of bemusement before it disappeared behind a puff of smoke.
‘And that’s Johan.’ Gareth seemed to be uncomfortable with the prolonged attention Opal was giving Adam. Ruby was intrigued.
Johan extended his hand as Opal turned her attention to him. ‘Please, call me Jojo.’
‘Of course, Jojo, lovely to meet you.’ Opal narrowed her eyes slightly for a moment, and opened her mouth as if to say something more. Apparently deciding against it she turned on her heel suddenly.
‘Come, everyone, let me show you to your rooms, and then we can all get stuck into making dinner in time for the others to arrive!’ Opal looked gleeful, almost skipping back into the house. Ruby retrieved her rucksack from the boot and watched everyone file through the door.
She had the distinct sense that one day she would look back at this moment and think about her life in two halves: before and after it. A shiver ran down her spine. Get a grip, Ruby, you’re going to need to keep your head if you’re planning on walking away with that prize money.