The Doll's House

Stevie could have written a book about the goings-on in that house. That’s the thing about dog shit: once the smell is covered up, no one sees the shit until it’s too late. It seemed to Stevie that, one way or another, his life kept bringing him back into contact with the Hamiltons. It was as if their paths were always meant to cross.

There was no reason other than soccer and a large stretch of beach that two young guys from either end of the social spectrum should meet, but now he was getting himself tied up with that family all over again, including little Ruby. The girl was the spit of the grandmother. She had the same lofty, up-her-own-arse manner, the one that suggested she didn’t want to share the same air with the likes of Stevie McDaid. Still, the pretty little thing was taken aback when she’d found him in her flat. The young lover boy hadn’t hung around for long. When Ruby came back, she came alone.

It was easy enough for him to break in. She was an untidy young thing, no doubt well used to others picking up her crap for her. Stevie had had a good rummage. He’d even found her secret stash of coke, and the envelope with nearly a thousand smackers in it. He had been tempted to help himself there and then, but had thought better of it. Still, the little find had turned out to be a bit of a trump card when Angel Face returned, even if she’d nearly had a heart attack at seeing him.

‘What the fuck?’ were her first endearing words.

‘Steady now, Princess. Let’s not get all panicky.’

‘I’m calling the police. Get the hell out of here.’

‘Relax, chill out, Ruby, precious. First, I’m not going to let you do that, and second, they might be interested in your little treasure trove over there.’ Stevie had pointed to her bedside locker.

‘You’ve been through my stuff?’ Her mind was ticking over. ‘How the hell do you know my name?’

‘Just getting to know you, that’s all, getting acquainted.’ He pushed her down on the bed.

‘How do you know my name?’ Ruby attempted to sit back up again.

‘Let’s just say we have connections together.’

‘What do you want? What kind of connections?’

And that was when he saw it. The same stare that the grandmother, Lavinia Hamilton, had given him years before. Stevie had been standing at the bottom of the stairs pretending to be a Yank. Now the look concentrated his mind. He leaned over the girl, holding both her arms above her head, Ruby’s lower body fighting him off. ‘I have to say, Ruby, you have fight in you. I like girls with a bit of fight. It makes getting to know them all the more interesting.’

‘FUCK THE HELL OFF ME,’ Ruby spat in his face. Stevie jumped back before her right foot got him where it would hurt most. He laughed at her.

‘You haven’t answered my question, arsehole, what connections?’

Stevie knew, if he wanted to, he could get the better of her, but decided instead to push her a little, saying, ‘What connections?’ raising his eyebrows in disbelief. ‘You’d think discovering an uninvited stranger in your apartment, a girl like you would be more concerned about what an unknown man might do next, rather than playing Question Time.’

‘I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you’d better leave.’ Her tone was level, calmer, as she stood up from the bed regaining her composure.

‘Now, Ruby, I’m not going to leave until I’m good and ready. Still, I appreciate that you’re not creating a fuss. I don’t like my women screaming.’

‘I’m not your woman.’ Her face distorted as if she had swallowed something revolting.

‘No?’ Stevie walked closer to her, all the time wondering whether she would keep her head, and Ruby didn’t disappoint. Standing upright, rigid, like some beautiful mannequin in a shop window, she waited to see what the stranger would do next. Rubbing the back of his right hand down her left cheek, he felt her cool porcelain skin, like a doll with a hard smooth skull, capable of being smashed to smithereens.

‘I’m not afraid of you. You’re that shitbag from Neary’s.’

‘The name is Stevie. Perhaps, Ruby, you’re used to near strangers being in your place.’ His smile didn’t unnerve her. Again she passed the test. Ruby McKay was going to be a worthy opponent – a pity about her fucking tripping habits.

‘What do you want?’ She pushed his hand away from her face.

‘Just for us to be friends – that isn’t such a terrible thing, now, is it?’

‘Get the fuck out of here.’

‘Now, now, Ruby, that’s no way to talk to a friend of your lovely family.’

‘Has he sent you? Has he asked you to keep an eye on me?’

‘Do you mean Daddy dearest?’ Stevie reached out, touching Ruby on the neck this time, then pulling his hand back.

‘My dad? Why would he? Stop playing stupid games. Admit it. He sent you, didn’t he? You’re one of his fucking crawlers, aren’t you?’

Stevie wasn’t keen on the crawler reference, but she’d ruled Martin out of the equation so the noose was getting smaller. ‘Listen, Ruby, you sound like a girl who needs a friend, someone to protect her. Why don’t you give me your side of the story, and between the two of us, we can take it from there?’