21

Ruby’s handbag vibrated. She pulled out her phone and wiped some crumbs off the screen. It was Paul. She hesitated for a moment. This was the first time he’d called since the night they’d bumped into Eliza and she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to him. She stared at the screen for a moment, then pressed the accept button.

‘Hello,’ she said, tentatively, not sure yet what tone to take.

‘Hello,’ he replied. He sounded businesslike, but friendly. ‘Where are you?’

‘In rehearsals with the boys.’

‘Are you free this afternoon? For an hour or so?’

This usually meant that he wanted to come over for sex. She took the phone into the corridor. ‘Erm, I’m not sure. Why?’

‘I need to see you. To talk to you. I can pick you up. How about tea at the Wolseley?’

Ruby laughed. ‘Tea at the Wolseley?!’

‘Yes. I’ve got a meeting in Green Park at five, so you’ll have to get yourself home. I’ll pick you up at three.’ He hung up without saying goodbye.

Ruby switched her phone off and stared absentmindedly at a notice board on the wall opposite, at postcards appealing for lead singers and drummers, cards advertising keyboards and clarinets. She could hear someone further up the corridor tuning a piano and next door someone was battering the hell out of a drum kit. She was in her comfort zone here, surrounded by rhythm and noise and scruffy men.

Ruby liked scruffiness. She liked wading through plastic beer cups on sticky floors in claustrophobic clubs; she liked smoking and drinking too much in dingy old pubs; she liked watching films in proper old-fashioned flea pits with no leg room and tatty carpets. Ruby didn’t like slick and glamorous. She didn’t like the latest thing. She liked her life to feel grimy and used, like her men. Tea at the Wolseley? This was going to be very strange indeed.

The woman at the front desk appeared to know Paul. ‘Of course,’ she smiled, when he asked if they had a table available without a reservation.

They were led through the cavernous restaurant by a small girl in black and shown to a table at the back. Ruby looked round in awe. It was like a vast black-lacquered cathedral, held up by forty-foot pillars and hung with chandeliers the size of transit vans.

Paul had spent most of the journey here talking to someone called Mike on his Bluetooth, so they hadn’t had a chance to talk yet, but Ruby knew that something was wrong. There’d been no fond smiles, no fingertips trailed down her inner arm, no hand clasped over her thigh – just a subtle but clear distance.

Ruby ordered half a dozen oysters and a glass of champagne, figuring that she could eat sandwiches and cake at home any time she wanted. She glanced at Paul. ‘So,’ she began, ‘what’s up?’

‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

‘Right.’

‘I’ve asked Eliza to marry me.’

Ruby winced and grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Last week. I asked her to marry me. And she said yes.’

‘Oh, my God,’ she laughed, though she wasn’t amused. ‘You’re kidding.’

‘No. I’m not.’

‘But, you’ve only known each other for six months.’

‘Eight months, actually.’

‘Eight months. Whatever. It’s not very long.’

‘No, it’s not. But then I’m not very young. And neither is she.’

‘Yes, but, Jesus. Getting married. I mean, that’s such a fucking big deal. That means …’ And then it hit her, exactly what that meant. It meant no more her. ‘What about us?’

‘Well, that’s the thing, Rubes. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’

‘Oh, God.’ Ruby let her head fall into her hands. The tiredness she’d been fighting all morning at rehearsals hit her directly between the eyes like a left hook.

‘There’s no way that this can carry on.’ He gestured at the two of them. ‘No way. It’s one thing messing round in a casual relationship. But, you know, we’re talking engagement rings here. We’re talking a major fucking commitment.’

‘Yes, yes, I know what you’re talking about.’ Ruby pulled her hair away from her face and glanced up at him.

‘And I can’t have you in my life any more.’

Ruby laughed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can. You’re my best mate.’

‘No, Ruby, I’m not. “Best mate” is just a term that you bandy about because it makes you feel better about the fact that you sleep with men without commitment. I’m not your best mate. You don’t have a best mate.’

‘What?’ Ruby sat up straight.

‘Well, you don’t. I’m sorry. You have friends. Lots of friends. And you have lovers. Lots of lovers. But you don’t have a best mate.’ He stopped and appraised her for a moment, as if he was about to say something harsh. ‘But anyway … anyway,’ he sighed, and pulled his hands down his face. ‘I didn’t bring you here to give you a character assassination. I brought you here because I wanted to do this properly. Because you deserve it. So here …’

He pulled open his jacket and removed a box from his inside pocket. He passed it to Ruby.

‘What is this?’ she said.

‘Open it,’ he said, nodding at the box.

The box clicked open and something glittered at her. It was a tortoiseshell hair comb, one of those Spanish-style ones. It was decorated with tiny pink rubies set into the shape of flowers. Ruby gazed at it for a while not sure how to react. It was a beautiful gift, but what did it mean?

‘Do you like it?’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘it’s beautiful. But what’s it for?’

‘It’s for your hair,’ he said. ‘A hair thing.’

‘No, no. I mean – why have you given it to me?’

‘To say thank you. To say goodbye.’

‘Right.’ She let the box snap shut and laid it gently on the table in front of her.

‘Was it a mistake?’

‘No,’ she sighed. ‘No. It’s stunning. It’ll be nice to have something to remind me of you. Of us.’

‘Are you being facetious?’

‘No,’ she said, ‘of course not. You don’t owe me anything. This was always a, you know, an easy-comeeasy-go thing. It’s fine.’ She stopped and caught her breath as a dreadful thought occurred to her. ‘But, what about our arrangement?’

Paul lowered his gaze and waited while the waitress arranged their drinks on the table.

‘Well,’ he said, after she’d gone, ‘obviously that’s going to have to stop.’

‘Right,’ she said, panic surging through her. ‘So what am I going to do? How am I going to pay my rent?’

‘Toby will let you off the rent, I’m sure.’

‘Yes,’ said Ruby, ‘but what about everything else? What about food and clothes and … and …life?’

‘You’ll find a way,’ he said. ‘You’ll get a job, sell a song. It’s time for you to grow up, Ruby …’

‘Christ,’ she felt panic engulf her, ‘what’s going to happen to me? I owe Kev for the rehearsal this morning. I’m overdrawn as it is. Fuck. Can’t you, maybe, just lend me some money. Just to tide me over?’

‘No, Ruby. I can’t. This is it. This …’ He gestured at the gift box. ‘And this …’ He gestured at her oysters which had just been placed in front of her. ‘After this there’s nothing. It has to be like this.’

‘What – not even fifty quid?’

Paul sighed and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out a sheaf of twenty-pound notes and slid them across the table to Ruby. She covered them with her hand. It was more than fifty, probably about a hundred. They were still warm. She slipped them into her handbag without looking at them. ‘Thank you,’ she said, then she stared at her oysters, while she tried to corral her thoughts. Who was the first person to eat an oyster, she wondered, prodding one gently with her fork? Who prised open that first shell and thought it would be interesting to put it in their mouth? She tipped a teaspoon of pink vinegar and shallots into the shell, picked it up between her thumb and forefinger, and lifted it to her nose. The smell reminded her of summer holidays, of barnacle-encrusted shipwrecks and razor clams on empty Kentish beaches, of fish and chips eaten with wooden forks, and buckets full of seaweed and tiny translucent crabs. She tipped the oyster into her mouth and bit down on it, once, twice, swallowed it. She glanced at Paul. He was watching her wistfully over tented fingers. ‘Aren’t you worried about me?’ she said, softly. ‘Aren’t you scared I won’t survive?’

‘No,’ he said, picking up his cutlery.

‘Why not?’

‘Do you want me to be worried about you?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Seriously?’ he laughed.

‘Yes. I’m scared. I’m … I’m …’ She felt herself dangerously close to tears and paused for a moment. ‘I don’t know who I am and I’m scared that without you I might just float away.’ She stared at Paul with glassy eyes. Paul smiled at her apologetically and covered her hand with his.

‘You’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘I know you. You’re a strong woman and you will be absolutely fine.’

Ruby smiled stiffly and pulled her hand away. Because if that was what he thought then he really didn’t know her at all.