Ruby feels a new sense of purpose when she enters her one-bedroom bungalow. The rented place has been her home since leaving care three years ago at sixteen, after drifting from one foster home to the next, without making any deep connections. Social workers tried to break her loyalty and stop her prison visits. They said her father was evil; he was the worst gang overlord ever seen in London. Ruby hated them for it. Her dad was just taking care of business. He hired killers for hits, ran extortion gangs and organised cyber-crime on a massive scale. The people he had killed were the scum of the earth; he did it to protect the empire he’d built for her.
She’s ignored most of the social workers’ advice – apart from using an assumed name and maintaining a low profile. That fitted the plan her dad taught her years ago, in case he ever got caught. The police agreed that she must avoid the prying eyes of journalists. Her home is shabby and little bigger than a caravan, but it’s been her sanctuary. It’s a far cry from the mansion she lived in with her dad as a child, where her playroom was filled with every imaginable toy.
Ruby has spent many solitary evenings here, drawing in her sketchbook, or reading. But she’s also kept busy, researching how to achieve her dad’s wishes. She’s carried out many visits over the past three years, and taken evening classes in combat judo, to be fully prepared. Her existence has gone unnoticed in this anonymous south London suburb, where she’s held down a job in the kitchen of a local café without making a single friend. She has no concerns about abandoning her routine at last, to get even for her father’s incarceration.
She scans the pages of notes he wrote years ago, remembering every word, before going into the bathroom to complete the first step. Ruby applies the hair dye she bought months ago. She peers through the net curtains as the colour develops. There’s no one in sight; it’s lucky the house is surrounded by high privet hedges, which hide it from view. One of the biggest lessons her father taught her is to trust no one, except his closest allies. A handful of his gang members remain loyal, but many have abandoned him now he’s no longer in command.
A stranger peers back from the mirror once the bleach is rinsed off. Ruby’s dark hair has been replaced by blonde tresses that fall to her shoulders in soft waves. She normally wears mascara, lipstick and foundation, but not anymore. The girl she’s become looks younger and more vulnerable.
Ruby sifts through a shoebox full of documents to find her old passport and driving licence, and the ones bearing her new name. She places the old letters, books and personal items on the sofa, keeping one photo of her dad in her purse with her new ID. Now all that’s needed is to wipe away every trace of his plan and her own involvement. She empties a can of paraffin on the worn carpet, then strikes a match. Fire dances across the floor in moments. Soon the hallway is full of flames that leap higher, making paint blister from the walls.
She throws one more match before stepping outside, with her backpack slung over her shoulder. It’s 7 p.m. and the neighbourhood is quiet. Ruby has reached the end of the road before there’s an explosion and the sound of glass shattering. She glances back at her home going up in smoke, with no regrets. Safety is a state of mind, her dad says; you must adapt fast wherever you land. There’s excitement on Ruby’s face when she hears a siren blaring in the distance. Her pace is rapid as she begins her new journey.