Goodbye Ruby Tuesday. A. Michael L.Читать онлайн книгу.
big adventure. And that’s the only adventure left to me. But I think you guys have got another big one coming up! A lovely friend named Evelyn owns the art space (I know Evie, right, another Evelyn? It was fated!), and she knows I wanted you to use it. Her number’s at the bottom of this letter. I’ve included my key (just try making a copy of that sucker!).’
Chelsea’s eyes wavered to the bottom of the page, and she nodded to herself, and continued reading, ‘Have some big adventures for me girls. Love you. Ruby.’
The women sat there, waiting for the hurricane to pass. The silence lasted forever, as they each stared at their hands, unsure of how to proceed. Chelsea upended the envelope into her palm, and the heavy iron key fell out. It was dark and thick, the top curved into roses and vines. It looked like something from a fairytale. It was attached to a red ribbon, scuffed around the edges as if it had been worn as a necklace.
‘Well, that was definitely Ruby,’ Chelsea shrugged, ‘just when you think everything’s settled, she manages to bowl you over with a brand new surprise.’
‘That crazy bitch!’ Evie exhaled, lying back on the grass, ‘I can’t even…’
‘She wants to give us our teenage dreams,’ Mollie said simply, smiling. ‘We were her friends for a couple of years when we were teenagers, and we’re the ones she wants to leave her legacy to. Isn’t that sad?’
‘I think it’s sweet, actually.’ Chelsea said softly, ‘She still thought our dreams mattered. Ten years later and that’s what she was bothered about.’
‘We can’t take it,’ Evie said simply, not looking at them. ‘It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?’
What she really wanted to say was: okay, how about it? Want to run away and use our dead superstar friend’s studio to make our dreams come true? But somehow that not only seemed childish but… well, selfish.
‘Why not?’
‘We can’t just… live her dream for her.’
Mollie looked up sharply, ‘But we could sublet the studio space for six months and use the money. Ruby wanted a better life for all of us. Do you think I want to be stuck living with my mum? Think I want to raise my daughter around a woman like that, drunk and bitter and spiteful? If Ruby knew what our lives were like, maybe she’d want us to have that money. She’d want us to have a fresh start.’
Neither of them had ever seen Mollie angry. Sad, disappointed, biting her lip to keep quiet – sure, those were Mollie-type things to do. But Mollie never got angry, because that’s just who she was. Living with her mum must have been hell if she was going to get so worked up.
Evie said nothing, but her lips were a thin line. It wouldn’t be right. But maybe that was because she still wanted exactly what Ruby wanted to give them. The little art gallery where all would be welcome.
‘She must have known we might not have the same dreams we had at sixteen though, right?’ Chelsea rationalised, ‘People grow up.’
‘Is that something to be proud of?’ Evie said bitterly, leaning up on her elbows to look at Chelsea. Chelsea had been the most exquisite dancer she’d ever seen. Everything about how she moved could tell a story, whether there was music or not. Tap, ballet, hip-hop. Chelsea just loved to move, like her body didn’t just house her soul, but it was her soul. The only relic of that version of her was her excellent posture. It seemed wrong.
‘Why, was she right about you, Eves? Are you nailing Barbie heads to canvas?’ Chelsea’s voice was challenging, and Evie remembered every fight they’d ever had, the squabbles and the all-out screaming matches, usually a case of hurt pride. She was older and wiser now. She hoped.
‘I make jewellery that may or may not include plastic doll bits,’ she smiled, ‘and I was trying to make it happen here. But let’s be real – an arts centre in Badgeley? I tried to set up a life drawing class last month; four people turned up, laughed at the model’s dick and reported me to the Neighbourhood Watch. Art is never going to happen here.’
‘So you do have that same dream? The one Ruby wanted for us?’ Mollie smiled, her whole face soft and light in the sun.
Evie pursed her lips in embarrassment, ‘That’s stupid, isn’t it? Chelsea’s gone off and has a big important job, and you made a person, and I’m here wanting to do the same stupid thing I wanted to do when I was a teenager. It’s pathetic.’
‘It’s not… it’s just, well, we have lives,’ Mollie soothed. ‘I can’t just leave my kid and my job and start up a business that may not work. It’s not… realistic.’
‘Neither’s being left a studio space by a dead school friend,’ Chelsea shrugged. ‘And for the record, I don’t have a big important job.’
‘Can you explain it in less than three words?’ Evie asked.
Chelsea opened her mouth, paused, closed it again.
‘Lots of paperwork?’ she offered. ‘No wait, let me try again. Project Management Bullshit.’
‘Do I have to be polite and ask what that entails?’ Evie said.
‘Please spare us both. It’s not worth explaining.’
Chelsea sighed, looking at the two of them. They were both stuck here. She’d made it – at least, she’d made it out of their crappy town. She had a well-paid job and a lovely boyfriend, but… sure, she still wanted to dance. Back when they’d been hatching this plan, they’d decided Chelsea would teach dance. First, she’d be an international dancing superstar, and then she’d return, and they’d all get together again, and she’d teach all the little girls how to dance. They wouldn’t just be the posh little girls either, they’d be the ones off the estate, the same place as her. They’d get funding and teach anyone who wanted to learn. That was the dream. But it was silly. She didn’t even continue dancing at uni. Too much pressure.
The silence stretched on. ‘It’s a lovely dream though,’ Mollie sighed. ‘I could make cakes. I always wanted a place to create delicious things, play, make fun stuff. Me and Ez cook together all the time… when the old bat is out of the house, obviously.’
‘You were going to teach drama classes, remember? All those little kids who wanted to learn how to lie, and you were going to teach them,’ Evie smiled, remembering the day mild, sweet-mannered Mollie told them she wanted to be involved in that plan, that she wanted to share something that she could do.
Mollie’s face hardened a little, ‘It’s a beautiful dream, and a beautiful gesture, but… we can’t. We have lives, and we can’t just turn them upside down because Ruby–’
‘Died?’ Evie offered, eyebrow raised.
‘…wanted us to,’ Mollie finished stiffly. ‘Believe me, I’d love to just run away, but I’m a mum now. I’ve got to be responsible.’
Evie knew she was fighting a battle that wouldn’t be won, and she wasn’t even sure she wanted to win, but she had to keep talking, keep trying. ‘Wouldn’t it be better for Esme to see her mum trying for her dreams? To see her be brave and take a risk? Surely anything is better than being with your mum?’
Mollie’s eyes flashed, ‘Really, have you seen the shared accommodation they offer to a single teenage mum? Just because you had to come back after art school, you think you know what it’s like to make a life here? At least you got those three years in London! I was meant to be an actress. I had that space on the stage waiting for me when I left here – Ophelia. I was going to be Ophelia and here I am, working in fucking Greggs! Baking cakes and pretending I’m a caterer! Don’t try to tell me what my child needs, because I am doing the fucking best I can.’
Evie and Chelsea looked at each other, and then back at Mollie. Mollie never said the f-word. She even called it ‘the f-word’. Even before Esme was born, that was just Mollie.
‘I… I am so,