“Good thing you don’t have as many gifts as me, or we might be struggling for space.” Ruby glanced at Fran’s backseat, then turned around, giving Fran what she hoped was an apologetic look. Spits of rain were visible on the windscreen. Or was it snow?
“I go a bit overboard at Christmas. It’s a family trait. Plus, when I knew I had a lift, all bets were off. I like to get everyone I love in the village a gift. Most of them are just fancy biscuits in posh tins, but they’re exotic as they’re from London. Audrey, for instance, would kill me if I didn’t come back with some for her.”
Fran laughed. “She was one of the more interesting characters I met at The Bar.”
“Audrey doesn’t hold back, but she means well. She played cards with me when I was a kid. You don’t forget things like that.” Ruby did up her seatbelt with a click. “By the way, I was expecting you to have a bit more of a fancy car than this.”
“Creative industries don’t pay well.” Fran gave Ruby a you-know-that’s-true look. “This is my dad’s old car, actually.” She patted the dashboard softly, as if it had to be handled with care. “My trusty Honda might be old, but she’s never given me a moment of pain.” Fran started the car and pulled out onto the road.
Ruby glanced at Fran’s hands gripping the wheel. Her nails were polished, and short. Her hands looked strong, too. Capable. They’d only met a few times, but already Ruby knew that about Fran. Also, that she was persistent.
“In fact,” Fran continued, flicking her indicator and turning right. “My parents are getting it serviced for me this weekend. I keep missing the dates they’ve booked in, and they insisted I didn’t miss this one. It’s been over two years since I had it done, which is way overdue. Is it shameful to admit that at the age of 36, I still don’t pay for my car to be serviced?”
Ruby laughed. “Canny is more the word I’d choose. If I could get my parents to give me a car and pay for its upkeep, I would, too. Sadly, I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon.” Ruby made herself comfortable. “Has it got a name?”
Fran shook her head. “It doesn’t. I just call it Car.”
“Very creative. Perhaps you and my sister have something in common. You called your car, Car, and she called her bar, The Bar. Very literal.”
Fran glanced her way. “Do you and your sister get on?”
Ruby nodded. “Now we do, but it was touch and go in our younger years.”
“Then there’s hope for us yet.”
Getting out of London on a Friday evening was just as sticky as Ruby had imagined. The M11 was way too popular, and a light snowfall had just begun.
Fran flicked on her lights along with her windscreen wipers. At least she didn’t need constant chat. The radio had been the soundtrack to their journey so far, which was fine with Ruby. They were currently in a jam, with no sign of it easing. Ruby sucked on the inside of her cheek. When she glanced at Fran, she was doing the same.
“Here’s the next smash hit from Delilah, called ‘Losing You’,” said the DJ.
Fran flinched, before leaning forward and turning the radio off. She grabbed her phone from the centre console and plugged it in. Spotify flashed up on her screen. Fran slid her finger left, then right, until music filled the car.
Ruby tapped along for a few moments before she spoke. “Not a Delilah fan? I would have expected the opposite. I thought you worked with her?”
Fran gave her a slow nod. “I did, so I’ve heard her stuff a lot. Plus, things didn’t end well.”
Ruby sat up. “She wasn’t great to work with?”
“She was at first.” Fran took a deep breath. “I signed her, but now her immediate team has changed. It happens.” Fran shrugged. “I wasn’t that involved in her last album. The first one, though, was the two of us driving it from the start.”
Fran cleared her throat, looking straight ahead. The traffic began to move, and she pressed the accelerator.
Ruby didn’t want to pry, but her curiosity was piqued. She couldn’t imagine being as big as Delilah, having her hits known around the world and playing to massive stadiums. It was never what she’d got into music for, but she’d love to experience it once.
However, Ruby loved the intimate connection with her fans. She usually gigged in places where she could see their faces. She even knew their names. Her hardcore fans came to most of her gigs when they could, and she often had a drink with them in the bar afterwards. She couldn’t imagine Delilah being able to do that.
“I didn’t realise you were so involved. That must have been exciting, being a part of a career that really blew up like that.”
Fran didn’t take her eyes off the road as they finally got over 20mph. She gave Ruby the faintest of nods as the snow fell that little bit harder. Seconds later, the traffic slowed again. “It was for a while.”
There was an edge to Fran’s tone that Ruby couldn’t quite nail down. “Is it true she’s queer? I’ve seen her out with guys and girls, but you never know what to believe. I’m nobody, but I’ve had fans question whether my flatmate and me are together.” Ruby eyed Fran. “For the record, we’re not. Tom is just as queer as me.”
Fran gave Ruby a wide grin. But that was soon wiped off her face as a loud bang made them both jump.
Instinctively, Ruby turned around, but it wasn’t on the inside of the car.
Fran turned the music down. The car moved forward slowly with an ominous guttural sound. When she pressed on the accelerator, it sounded like the engine was eating itself. Either that, or Fran was the worst type of boy racer.
Ruby put a hand to her chest. “What the fuck is that? It sounds like something is dragging.”
Fran winced then gripped the steering wheel, leaning forward as if searching for answers. “Not sure, but maybe something fell off the car?” She shook her head. “Fuck, my dads are going to kill me for not getting this serviced sooner.”
The tops of Ruby’s ears prickled. The noise wasn’t letting up. “Do you think it’s your exhaust?” It was just a guess; Ruby was no mechanic. She glanced out the window and pointed. “Look! There’s an emergency layby just there, can you aim for that?” What a stroke of luck.
Fran nodded, then steered the car left.
They both winced again at the sound it made.
When they were safely onto the layby, Fran let out a relieved sigh. She flicked on her hazard lights. “Luckily, my parents buy me an AA membership for Christmas every year.” Fran cut the engine and picked up her phone. “Let me see what the issue is, and then call them.” She grabbed her coat and got out of the car, slamming the door. Then she disappeared out of sight.
Ruby twisted around, then back. She bit her lip. There wasn’t much she could do. It began to snow more steadily, and the traffic started to inch forward again. She was glad they were tucked into an emergency layby and not just on the hard shoulder. She didn’t fancy being there with cars whizzing by. They could be stuck for a while.
Ruby closed her eyes. She should have got the train. She’d bargained on two to three hours for this trip. However, now it could be double that. Ruby grabbed her phone and texted her mum to let her know what was happening. She got a sad-face emoji back, and a message that Mum would keep dinner for her.
The driver-side door opened and Fran sat back in her seat, rubbing her hands.
“It’s bloody Baltic out there. I swear, it’s not normally this cold at the start of December.” She put her key in the ignition and jabbed the heater on, then breathed into her hands in a bid to warm up.
“What happened? Could you see?”
Fran nodded, still shivering. Her dirty-blond hair glistened with snow, as did her dark grey coat. “It was the exhaust. It’s hanging off the car. I called the AA, and the bloke reckoned a bracket’s come loose. He might be able to fix it roadside or he might have to tow us, but it’s likely to be at least an hour until they can send someone, so get comfortable.” Fran lifted up a bottle of water. “We have fluid. I also have wine in the boot if things get desperate.”
“And I have Christmas biscuits. That’s almost a party.” Ruby gave her a grin. “If we have to eat my sister’s present, so be it.”
“Not Audrey’s?”
“Are you mad? I value my life.” Ruby tapped her fingers on her knees. Another hour in the car with Fran, maybe longer. This was going to be a challenge.
“How about we play a game. You ask me a question, then I’ll ask you. It’s how we used to pass the time on long car journeys when I was little.”
Fran didn’t look convinced. “So long as they’re not too personal.”
Ruby shook her head. “Not at all.” She tapped her foot. “Let’s see. What’s your favourite colour?”
Fran threw her a withering look.
“Would you prefer to sit in silence?” Ruby was trying her best. “Work with me.”
“Okay.” Fran paused. “Yellow.”
“Really? But you’re always dressed in dark colours when I see you.” She wiggled her fingers in front of Fran. “Grey shirt, blue jeans today. You were all in black when I saw you at the pub the other day.”
“You’ve got a good memory.”
Ruby blinked. She did. “I look at people’s clothes.”
Fran shrugged. “Yellow is still my favourite colour, even if I don’t wear it all the time.”
“Do you have any clothes that are yellow?”
Fran turned to Ruby. “I had some yellow socks once.”
Ruby laughed. “Daring. You need to get some colour into your wardrobe. It might cheer you up. Colour has an effect on mood.”
“Is that right?” Fran tilted her head.
“Yep. I wrote a song about it. Called ‘Multi-coloured Dreams’.” Ruby paused. “Have you ever written a song, or do you just sell the music?”
“Isn’t it my turn for a question?”
Ruby held up her palms. “My mistake. It is.” Fran had flipped from being friendly Fran to spiky Fran. She clearly didn’t deal well with motoring hiccups. Perhaps that’s why her dads looked after her car for her.
“I got it.” Fran pointed a finger in Ruby’s direction. “Favourite band and album.”
Ruby blew out a breath. “Impossible to narrow it down to one.”
“Try.”
Ruby shook her head. “I can’t. But I can give you my inspirations. Janis Joplin, Joni Mitchell, Beth Orton, Rufus Wainwright. Also, George Michael. He’s my mum’s favourite.”
“Your mum has taste.”
“Plus the Indigo Girls, of course.”
“Rite of passage,” Fran replied. “Or should I say, Rites of Passage.”
Ruby chuckled. “You know your Indigo Girls album titles.”
“Don’t sound so amazed.” She paused. “And by the way, I’m a fan of all of those artists you mentioned.”
A bristle of surprise ran through Ruby. Musical taste was important, and Fran had passed the first round. “Go on then, tell me yours.” Ruby sat back.
Fran frowned. “It’s a lot harder when it’s me.” She paused. “My taste is across the board. I love country old and new – Dolly Parton to Cam – as well as pop, rock, hip-hop and indie. Janelle Monae is a favourite. My dads are Tina Turner and Celine Dion fans, and the latter is one of the best concerts I ever saw. My parents took me to Vegas for my 30th and we saw Celine there. She was immense.”
“I have no doubt,” Ruby replied.
“I’m also a fan of the Wainwrights – Rufus and Martha.”
Ruby hadn’t expected that, either. “Sounds like you have impeccable music taste.”
Fran eyed Ruby. “It sounds like we both do.”
Ruby paused as she registered a slight shift between them. It was her turn for a question. Her mind was blank. “I can’t think of another question.”
“This was your idea.” Fran glanced Ruby’s way. “I’ve got another one. Signature dish.”
A creative question. “That’s easy. Chicken and mushroom pasta bake. I know it sounds easy, but trust me, it’s delicious. The secret? A ton of parmesan and cream.”
“Everything’s better with parmesan and cream.”
“Exactly.” Ruby’s stomach rumbled. “I could really eat a pasta bake right now. Warming. Tasty.” She shivered. Outside, the snow was still falling.
Fran turned the heat to full.
Ruby adjusted her vent, then put her hands up to it like it was a roaring fire.
Fran laughed, then got on her knees and twisted round. Seconds later, she dropped Ruby’s coat into her lap, before wriggling back into her seat, hugging herself. “You look cold, put it on.”
Ruby glanced her way, doing what she was told. Gratitude tiptoed up her scalp. “Thank you.” She buttoned up before she asked: “What about yours?”
“Mine?”
“Signature dish.”
“I don’t cook much. Perils of the job. I’m usually out at a gig or working late. Can I say Deliveroo?”
Ruby grinned. “You cannot. You must cook something.” She twisted to face Fran. “Come on, you’ve got a date with a hot chick. She’s coming around to yours. What do you cook her?”
“Panic on toast?”
Ruby smirked Fran’s way.
“Okay.” Fran paused. “Malaysian curry. My old flatmate taught me how to make that. It’s surprisingly easy and never not impressive.”
“There you go. Malaysian curry. If you fed me that, we’d definitely be off to a good start.” It was only when the words were out that Ruby realised what she’d said. “Not that I’m coming around to yours for a date.” Heat flooded her cheeks. “I mean, not that you’re not datable, it’s just…”
Now Fran twisted in her seat, a smile hanging from her lips. “You’re right, this game was a good idea. Watching you squirm while we’re sitting freezing on the side of the motorway has taken my mind off things.”
Ruby wanted to curl up in the footwell, but one glance at the tiny space and her long legs made her reconsider. “Here to help,” she replied.