‘I’ll give him a ring when I get back,’ Ellen says. ‘Just to check that he’s coming.’
We finish our lunch and I ask Ruby for the bill. The pub is busy so it takes her a while to bring it over, presented as usual on a plate, inside a card with a picture of a jackdaw on the front. Ellen goes to the toilet and I watch Ruby as she talks freely with customers. There isn’t any sign of unease or tension in her body. Frustrated, I fish for my wallet and flip open the card to check the amount of the bill – and there, lying inside, is a little Russian doll.
Shock gives way to anger. But the anger I feel is not straightforward anger at someone having gone a step too far, it’s an anger tinged with hatred, and its intensity shocks me almost more than the little Russian doll staring up at me with its black-painted eyes. Snatching it from the plate, I push through the throng to where Ruby is standing at the end of the bar. The smile on her face freezes when she sees the look on mine.
‘That’s enough, Ruby,’ I hiss, leaning in close to her.
She looks at me in alarm. ‘What do you mean?’
I reach out and grab her wrist. ‘Enough of the games. You’ve had your fun, now that’s enough.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Trying to split up me and Ellen.’
‘Look, Finn, I’m genuinely happy for you and Ellen. I wasn’t being funny or anything.’ She tries to draw away but I hold her wrist even tighter, aware of my other hand clenching around the Russian doll. A woman pauses in her conversation and looks over at us. I take a breath, steadying myself.
‘You know damn well that’s not what I’m talking about,’ I say, my voice low. ‘Sending me emails, pretending to be someone else, planting little Russian dolls for me to find.’
Ruby smiles reassuringly at the woman then locks her eyes with mine. ‘Finn,’ she says calmly. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. Let go of me, please. You’re hurting me, a lot.’ Realising how tightly I’ve been gripping her wrist, I drop it quickly. ‘What on earth has got into you?’ she says, rubbing the livid mark I’ve left.
‘I mean it, Ruby, stop playing games.’ I open my palm so that she can see the Russian doll. ‘It’s over, OK?’
She looks down at it, shakes her head. ‘I’m not following you.’
‘This. It’s you, isn’t it? You put it on the plate with the bill.’
‘No, I didn’t! Anyway, why would I do that? I don’t get it.’
‘Yes, you do. You get it very well. You know exactly what I would think if I saw one of these.’
‘Look, Finn, I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ She nods at the Russian doll. ‘I didn’t put that on the plate and I have no idea what you would think when you saw it.’
‘You brought the bill.’
‘Yes.’
‘You prepared it and brought it over.’
‘I prepared it, yes, and I prepared others and I left them at the end of the counter for one of the staff to bring to you. When I saw it was still sitting there, I brought it over, and I brought others over too. I was doing my job, that’s all.’
‘So this plate was lying on the counter?’
‘Yes.’ She looks at me curiously. ‘What’s this about, Finn?’
I run a hand through my hair, wondering if I’ve got it wrong after all. ‘Someone’s playing games with me.’
‘Well, it’s not me.’
I’m not convinced. ‘What was the name of your cousin, the journalist?’
‘Joe, Joe Walsh. Why?’
I thump the bar in frustration.
‘Finn?’ I spin round and see Ellen standing behind me, and I know from the uncertainty on her face that she saw the thump. ‘Is everything alright?’
I quickly relax my features. ‘Yes, everything’s fine, just catching up with Ruby.’
Ellen looks from me to Ruby and Ruby gives her a bright smile. I stuff the doll into my pocket and reach for Ellen’s hand.
‘Come on, let’s go.’ I call Peggy from Buster’s side and turn to Ruby. ‘Bye, Ruby, thanks.’ I don’t even try to smile.
We leave the pub and walk in silence for a while. I know Ellen is waiting for me to say something but my mind is too full of my conversation with Ruby so I wait for her to begin, because maybe she won’t and then I won’t have any explaining to do.
‘So what was all that about?’ she asks.
‘Just Ruby being her usual annoying self,’ I say casually, for Ellen’s benefit.
‘In what way?’
‘A barb about us getting married.’
‘Oh.’ She frowns. ‘I thought she seemed happy for us.’
‘She is. But you know Ruby, she can’t help herself.’
‘You seemed pretty angry with her.’
‘I was. But it’s fine, I’m not any more.’
‘Good. You scared me for a moment back there.’
I stop and pull her into my arms. ‘I don’t ever want you to be scared of me,’ I say.
Not like Layla was that night, I add silently.
FOURTEEN
Before
Money never interested you, Layla, but even you were surprised when I admitted that in the seven years I’d worked in the city, I’d accumulated enough to last me a lifetime. To be really arrogant, when we left London for Devon, it wouldn’t have mattered if I never worked again – which was just as well because even the thought of it left me exhausted. At not quite thirty years old I was well and truly burnt out.
I knew that mentally I couldn’t not work for the rest of my life. What I wanted was to take a year out, concentrate on you, on us, and worry about the future later. But you’d become restless. I could tell you were beginning to feel caged, like a beautiful, wild animal. Sometimes you’d snap at me for no reason at all, although you were quick to apologise, as volatile in your temper as you were in your anger and frustrations.
A week before we were due to go skiing, you were invited by your ex-work colleagues at the wine bar to a girls’ weekend in London. You were so excited about it; you smiled more that day than you had for a while and it got under my skin. But I was too proud to ask you not to go. Instead, I took you to the station and waved you off on the train.
It was a long two days. I went for walks along the beach and in between, I tried to be the perfect boyfriend and painted the bathroom as a surprise for you. By the time Sunday evening came, I couldn’t wait for you to be back and I planned to take you straight to bed and stay there the whole of the next day. But when I met you at the station, you were so quiet, and my heart almost stopped, because I thought you were going to tell me that you wanted to go back to your old life in London. Instead, you clung to me and told me that you loved me, that you always wanted to be with me, and stay in our cottage forever. And realising how much you’d missed me, my heartbeat smoothed out, and I was glad I’d let you go.
The following week we left for Megève but once there, your mood didn’t improve. You had never skied before so I’d booked lessons for you each morning, convinced that a spirit like yours would love the mountains. But your heart wasn’t in it and I couldn’t hide my disappointment, or my fear, because it seemed that everything I said or did wasn’t right any more. I asked you if you were homesick or if you were missing Ellen and you dissolved into floods of tears and wouldn’t let me comfort you. There was a nervousness about you and I began to worry that I’d got it wrong, that you wanted to go back to London after all, and were psyching yourself up to tell me.
On the way home, we stopped off in Paris for dinner and as we walked along the Seine, back to where I parked the car, I drew you into my arms and told you how much I loved you. A part of me wished I’d brought the ring with me, a ring I’d planned to give you on your birthday because I could have proposed to you there and then instead of waiting. But my love seemed to make you uncomfortable, and my doubt grew.