Chapter 21 #2
‘Like, marching and stuff? I’ve been to a few.
’ Ruby was being coy. She didn’t want Heather to think she definitely wasn’t gay, but she wasn’t about to out herself either.
If Ruby was being honest with herself, even she didn’t really know the answer.
At that moment, Cindy’s face flashed into her mind, and she shook it away immediately.
Heather narrowed her eyes, as though she understood exactly what game Ruby was playing. Ruby wasn’t enjoying feeling this seen.
‘Well yeah, but other stuff too. He got all his rich friends to donate to the Lighthouse. D’you know what that is?’
‘No,’ Ruby admitted truthfully.
‘It’s an HIV AIDS centre. It’s not open yet, but it’s all about patients first, none of this bullshit plague stuff. It’s about people being just that: people first and sick second.’ Heather’s eyes blazed as she spoke, and her voice cracked on the last word.
Ruby had only known a few people tangentially who had died. The rag-tag group of artists she hung out with were mostly straight with only a couple of, it would seem, very lucky not-so-straight men.
There was loss in Heather’s voice, though. And it was still raw. Ruby felt compelled to reach out and take her hand, but she thought better of it.
‘That sounds rad,’ Ruby said, trying to remember how they’d ended up on this topic. Maybe she was still a bit stoned from her bath.
‘Anyway, the point is that Gareth basically made it happen. His partner died a couple of years back, and I guess he wanted to do something productive with that grief.’
Ruby was glad she hadn’t spoken her true mind about Gareth. When Heather spoke of him, there was admiration in her voice. Maybe Ruby had jumped to conclusions about him too quickly. She found herself quite persuaded by Heather’s opinions.
For a moment they sat in silence. ‘So what’s your anodyne idea then?’ Ruby asked.
Heather stubbed out the end of her cigarette and sighed heavily. ‘I was moulding rabbits.’
‘Rabbits?’
‘Yeah, I was thinking like birth, population control, reproduction … fuck I have no idea.’ Heather shook her head. ‘And I swore to myself that I was in this to win it. No sharing my ideas with anyone.’ Heather dropped her head into her hands. Ruby could see her frustration.
‘Well, if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t written a single word since I’ve been here.’
Heather looked up shyly. ‘Really?’
‘No, actually that’s not quite true, I’ve written the word “birth” in capital letters at the top of a page …’
Heather cracked a smile. ‘That actually does make me feel better …’ Heather leant back again. ‘Maybe I should do something about my sister.’ She sounded as though she just was musing out loud, but Ruby was intrigued.
‘What about your sister?’
‘You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?’
‘Not usually, only when I’m interested in someone.’ Ruby had spoken before she’d considered how the words would sound out loud. She worried they were too revealing, but it was Heather who blushed.
‘When my sister was born, I realised I was gay.’ Heather said this bluntly, as though it was self-explanatory.
‘I’m going to need more than that …’
‘Well, up until then I don’t think my parents really thought about my girlishness.
They had nothing to compare it to, but my sister, Amanda, she was so …
Girl, even when she was still a baby there was something undeniably feminine about her, and it made me feel like up until that moment I had been wearing an ill-fitting costume, a costume that looked completely natural when she put it on. ’
‘The birth of a dyke.’ Once again Ruby spoke before she thought.
Heather smirked at her. ‘You’re a bit of a wordsmith, eh?’
‘That’s the idea.’
‘You mind if I nick that? It’s a good title, even though my art school peers would deride me for using anything other than “untitled”.’
‘It’s all yours.’ Ruby felt a glimmer of pride.
‘Right. Back to the grindstone for me, Miss Ruby Tongue. It’s been a pleasure. Thanks for the fag.’
Ruby wondered how she knew her stage name, but Heather had already disappeared back into her studio by the time it occurred to her to ask.
Ruby headed back inside the house. She wasn’t sure how to entertain herself until dinner.
She’d spent the previous day in the library – a small, dark room that smelled like smoke – and found a book of medieval poetry.
She hadn’t expected to feel so drawn to the strange-looking words on the page, distant cousins of the English that she knew, but familiar enough to intrigue her.
She’d left it on her bedside table, after an unsuccessful attempt at deciphering the first page following a boozy dinner.
As she climbed the stairs, she heard voices and instinctively pushed back up against the wall, hoping to overhear the conversation without being seen. It was a great house for that, the creaks and shadows too often unattributable, and so easy to hide behind.
‘That was … sorry I didn’t mean to cry. It was just far more intense than I expected.’ It was Opal’s voice drifting down the corridor.
‘It was beautiful. Don’t apologise.’
Ruby’s mind raced. What were Johan and Opal doing coming out of the master bedroom?
She wanted to hear more but their footsteps were approaching and she was about to be spotted.
As they came into view she hopped down a couple of stairs and walked back up slowly, as though she was only just reaching the top of the banister.
‘Oh, hello, Ruby.’ Opal seemed flustered.
Her hair was loose and fell in waves over her shoulders.
She wore an oversized white linen shirt and loose khaki drawstring trousers.
She was flushed, as though somehow undone, caught out.
Johan by contrast looked entirely composed, his dark grey silk shirt unwrinkled.
It hadn’t been tossed to the floor recently.
But then again maybe he’d kept it on while he fucked her, just pulled out his cock and had her right up against the wall, like he’d tried with Ruby that first night.
Despite herself, Ruby felt a pang of something hot and sharp running through her. It was jealousy, tinged with desire. Suddenly she was yearning for it, a shag so intense, it’d bring her to tears.
‘Afternoon, Opal. What have you been up to today?’ It was an innocent enough question, but Opal averted her gaze, and clawed at the back of her neck as she spoke.
‘Not much really, just showing Jojo around some of the paintings in the house.’
It was a believable lie, thought Ruby, and she’d come up with it on the spot, which was impressive.
Her overfamiliar use of his preferred nickname prickled, despite the fact that Johan had insisted on multiple occasions that Ruby use it and she had refused stubbornly.
He preferred his lovers compliant, perhaps.
Maybe Ruby had been too quick to judge Martin.
She couldn’t help it; she was primed to take a woman’s side, regardless of the circumstances, but in this case it was worth keeping in mind that it takes two to tango, and Opal was not like any woman Ruby had met before.
Maybe Opal was not the blameless wronged wife she appeared to be.
‘How lovely. Anything take your fancy?’ This question she directly squarely at Johan, who shrugged.
‘It’s all a bit too … antique for my taste.’ There was glint in his eye. Ruby realised he was teasing her. Could he somehow sense the ache between her legs? He was goading her, and with Opal standing right beside him, it was shameless. It all made Ruby even hornier.
‘Anyway I better get on with some dinner.’ Opal looked from Ruby to Johan. She seemed to sense that she was no longer wanted, and Ruby smouldered with satisfaction. Opal was the antique, and Johan had decided he wanted something fresher.
Ruby watched as Opal shot Johan one last longing look as she walked down the stairs. When she was out of earshot, Ruby leant against the banister, hoping to feign nonchalance.
‘So, what were you two really up to?’ She picked at her nails as she spoke.
Johan laughed. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know.’ He seemed to be enjoying himself.
‘Well yeah I would, or else I wouldn’t have fucking asked.’ Ruby was appalled by how snappy, how wounded she sounded.
After that first night neither of them had made a move, each too proud to be the one to beg.
Instead they stayed up late smoking and gossiping, exchanged loaded looks over dinner and found small excuses to touch each other.
When Johan laid his palm on Ruby’s shoulder as he leant to pick up the milk at breakfast, Ruby remained staunchly unreactive.
For a week she had played her role to perfection.
He needed to believe that he wanted her more than she wanted him, and then in a single sentence she’d broken character, and her true feelings were laid bare.
Johan leant forward and stroked her arm patronisingly, a smirk on his face. ‘Oh, Ruby, jealousy is not a good look for you at all, and anytime you want a seeing to, you know where my bedroom is.’
Ruby jerked her shoulder away. ‘Oh please, Johan, don’t pretend you’re not gagging for it. If you ask me it’s a really desperate move to go as far as shagging an old lady to get a rise out of me.’
Ruby didn’t get the reaction she’d hoped, despite loading her words with venom. Johan just laughed again. ‘Oh come on, Opal is fit and she’s only thirty-six. You’re not so far off in age …’
Ruby knew he was winding her up. The worst thing was, it was working. ‘Yeah, what’s a decade I guess,’ she retorted, seeping each word in sarcasm.
‘Exactly, you two could be sisters!’ Johan grinned, knowing he had won this battle. Ruby took a deep breath. She was too worked up to think clearly. She wanted to punch Johan as much as she wanted to kiss him. Instead she stormed to her room. It was petulant, but she couldn’t help herself.