Chapter 46
Heather lay in bed, her racing thoughts chasing away any prospects of sleep.
It had been the same story all week. Heather lying in bed each night, as the end of the competition grew ever closer, and instead of coming up with any decent ideas for a final piece she would instead go over and over the details of their last conversation.
Thinking not of what materials she might need, or how to compose her artwork but instead trying to work out exactly what she could or should have said to Ruby in that moment to stop the derailment.
On a couple of occasions she was sure that she heard footsteps outside her door. She found herself holding her breath, hoping and maybe dreading that it was Ruby. It never was.
Usually this sort of discontent was good for her work, but this time around she could find no solace even in that.
With each passing day, the prospect of being able to create anything felt vanishingly possible.
Mostly she spent hours mixing cement aimlessly, submerging various body parts into plaster and chain smoking.
Now it was only two days before the final showcase and Heather had nothing.
Fuck you, Ruby. How had she managed to so easily get distracted from the life-changing pot of money at the end of this farcical experiment?
How was she going to explain to her sister that she’d thrown it all away because of one pretty girl?
During the days when Heather remained confined, unproductively, to her studio, she would occasionally sneak into the house to help herself to the leftovers from the meal she had avoided.
She found herself often hoping that she had mistimed one of these trips and she would bump into Ruby and then they would be forced into a confrontation.
But thankfully, or frustratingly, they had managed not to cross paths at all.
Heather had been snubbed by indecisive straight women before, and she had never taken it this hard.
But then again this was different in a few ways.
The first being that there was just no way Ruby was straight.
Heather understood that a hatred of men did not a lesbian make, but Heather felt sure that Ruby could never feel content with a man as a partner.
There was too much contempt there, too much generational disappointment.
And then there was the glaring fact that Ruby wasn’t like anyone she had ever met before.
She was fierce, and almost as angry at the world as Heather was herself.
Ruby was of course beautiful, but more than that she was smart enough to understand her own beauty for what it was: a political tool and a curse.
Ruby had a way of seeing not just the world around her, but also the way that the world saw her.
Sometimes she could harness it beautifully, and other times it drove her mad.
Heather had been thrilled at the chance to understand such a mind, to have access to it, and maybe even to soften its hardest edges with love.
Heather sat up suddenly. Clarity suddenly flooded through her.
She had not entirely considered the possibility that she loved Ruby, mostly because it was absurd.
But then this whole place, this house, this summer had been wholly absurd, and now that she was thinking it, it made more sense than much of anything had made in a while.
Heather felt strangely calm for the first time in weeks, the serenity that comes with knowing, rather than thinking.
She got out of bed and pulled a jumper on.
She needed to see Ruby. She wasn’t sure yet if she was going to admit her feelings.
It seemed more likely that doing so would scare Ruby away, but she at least needed to clear the air.
Maybe if she could show Ruby she wasn’t angry anymore, if they could swallow their pride and forgive, they could work something out.
Heather felt hopeful, and excited by the thought of seeing Ruby’s face again.
She knocked lightly on Ruby’s door at first, but when there was no answer, she rapped her knuckles louder against the wood. She waited, impatient now for a reunion, wondering why she had put this off for so many days. She imagined how they would one day joke about how stubborn they both were.
Still there was no answer. Heather gently opened the door, but the room was dark.
Inside the bed was unmade, as though someone had recently left it.
Heather headed downstairs and looked for Ruby in the kitchen.
And then the dining room and the orangery.
Back upstairs and turning right, Heather checked the library, but Ruby was nowhere to be found.
As Heather walked back towards the east wing of the house, where all the guests’ bedrooms were, she lingered at the junction.
To her right were her own bedroom and Ruby’s empty one.
To her left, the boys’ quarters. It was in that split second that she heard the grunt of a man’s voice.
Heather was frozen in place as she realised in horror what the medley of sounds she could hear meant.
The rhythmic sound of a headboard against the wall, the soft moans of a woman’s pleasure, and then Johan’s unmistakable timbre.
She couldn’t make out the words exactly but she could guess the genre of filth he was muttering.
Heather felt sick. She rushed back to her room and locked her door, as though that might protect her from the truth of what she had just witnessed. And the worst part? She only had herself to blame really. Had it not been her who told Ruby explicitly to go back to his bed?