‘Oh my God, how much time have we wasted?’
Lucy was sitting at the kitchen table. ‘Ages,’ she said like a little old wise woman who was resigned to our mutual blindness.
To give and receive love from a partner was a new experience for me. I’d always found Jack attractive, but a relationship was a whole new level. I finally understood what love was. Sex in a committed relationship was a new thing for me too, and I realized now that one-night-stand sex was the worst type of sex a girl could have. There was never any effort by those men to please me. With Jack, the first few times were almost frenzied because we had been holding back our hunger for each other, but gradually we got to know each other’s bodies and what we liked and didn’t. One time, Jack said that he never wanted to touch me the way I had been touched during the incident. I froze, which turned out to be the correct response, and he apologized and held me, and we never mentioned it again in the bedroom.
Six months later, we were married. We kept it small, a registry office affair. We didn’t even tell my parents. Jack’s family consisted of one uncle with whom he had no contact, but Svetlana came to be his best woman, and his sponsor, Graham, came along. Jane andSinéadwere there as witnesses and some of ourfriends who were actors and teachers from the Academy came too. We went for dinner after the ceremony to the Trocadero, in true theatrical style. We made Lucy central to the ceremony. It was Lucy that bound us together. My little angel child.
Afterwards, I called Mom and then Dad and then Erin. Mom and Dad were doubly disappointed. They had both met Jack and liked him well enough, but I hadn’t told them we were dating. They also would have liked a church wedding. They would have to get over themselves. Erin wished us luck, but it was the mildest of congratulations.
We took a short honeymoon in Florida, a week in Walt Disney World, Orlando. It was as magical for us as it was for Lucy, walking hand in hand, the three of us, stopping for kisses and ice cream. We availed ourselves of the hotel’s Kids’ Klub babysitting service and had romantic dinners in outdoor restaurants by ourselves.
Jack wanted to adopt Lucy. It turned out to be more complicated than I thought. I had to produce a death certificate for Lucy’s birth father. This was not going to be possible. Jack had casually asked a few questions over the years about the identity of Lucy’s dad, and I had shut down the conversation, but a few months before the wedding I was able to admit to Jack that Lucy had been conceived at the height of my addiction and I did not know who her father was. He understood – he had also had a few encounters with women he could not recall. We told Lucy that she could call Jack ‘Daddy’ if she wanted. We tried to explain that he wasn’t her real daddy. She was too young to understand everything, but ‘Jack’ was quickly replaced by ‘Daddy’.
I gladly took Jack’s surname, Brady. If I were Ruby Brady, I no longer had to hide like Ruby Cooper. I had avoided social media and photographs and I had adopted Ruby Bean for my stage name, a little homage to my hometown, even though no self-respecting Bostonian would call it Beantown. Ruby Cooperwouldn’t be tagged in any photo, but I lurked online. I had accounts under fake names which I used to watch friends, ex-friends and enemies.
Poor Isobel Lucas, she occasionally popped up in made-for-TV movies, years after our encounter. If only I’d known that Jack already loved me. Another life ruined, at least temporarily. She went back into rehab according to TMZ and later married a producer and moved to LA. She’d also made a new career for herself as a screenwriter. She was happy. It all worked out in the end – I probably did her a favour.
39
Erin
Another year went by while I tried to forget about Milo, but the things he said could not be forgotten. Why would he have attacked Ruby in our home? Why not a girl in his own neighbourhood, whymysister? And how did he ever think he’d get away with it? He had told Ruby not to speak of it, but he must have known that she would be traumatized, she would have to tell us. Why hadn’t he claimed it was consensual? I heard from Dad that at the trial Milo said he never even unzipped his pants. It was such a strange defence against such overwhelming evidence. The prosecutor’s job was very easy.
The anonymous letters continued about once every two months. I didn’t bother reading them and eventually they stopped. But then, strange things started to happen which made me wish I’d opened them. I was called into the boardroom at work and questioned about sending lewd photographs of myself to a male author who was edited by my boss, using my personal email address. I had no idea what they were talking about. The email address wasn’t a match for my personal one but they demanded access to my work email. This horrified me. I had used my work email address for lots of things: buying lingerie online, bitching about my immediate boss to a colleague, searching various publishing houses for employment opportunities. They couldn’t prove I’d sent anything to the writer, but my ownemails were damning enough. They didn’t take action – I guess because they couldn’t verify I’d sent the photos, which were clearly Photoshopped. I was embarrassed, though.
A few weeks later, I was called in again. A colleague had anonymously reported me for having sex in the office with an unauthorized visitor after hours. I was outraged by this and demanded to know who the colleague was. They couldn’t tell me, but word spread like wildfire and people from different departments were casually passing my desk on the daily. Nothing could be proven, and I guessed that the ‘colleague’ didn’t exist.
The reputational damage was bad, and I worried about what was going to happen next. Margie had got bored sending letters to me and started to email my company instead.
Later, the texts started. She must have had a burner phone.
I know where you live and I know where your dad lives, and where he preaches.
A week after I received that text, Dad called me from the hospital, distressed. There had been an arson attack on his church in Boston during a service. I left the office immediately and went to his bedside at Mass General. Kathy told me everything. Gasoline had been poured around the rear of the church, nearest the altar. Nobody saw a thing. Because the church was relatively modern, it had side doors as well as the traditional front door and was evacuated quickly and efficiently. Dad kept the congregation calm. But once the church was evacuated, he ran back into the maw of flames to save the tabernacle containing the chalice. Kathy screamed as she saw him dive into the fire. The fire station was only a few blocks away and fortunately the firemen rescued him, but he had severe burns on both hands that caused him lifelong pain. The fire was extinguished before it got into the main nave. Unfortunately, Dad didn’t have security cameras around the church. Even after everything that had happened with Ruby, hetrusted everyone and didn’t think he had any enemies. I didn’t think so either. But Margie had warned me.
I called her in a rage. ‘Leave my dad alone. He didn’t do anything.’
‘Is that Erin? Fuck you.’ She ended the call.
She didn’t deny it.
I went to the church. The damage was bad, though the congregation were already talking about fundraising and rebuilding. Dad was sitting up in his hospital bed with his hands swathed in bandages like a boxer. I hadn’t seen my dad cry since Milo’s trial. I realized that the church was as important to him as his children. I called the cops on Margie and told them everything for the first time. A detective was assigned to the case, Irene Hernandez. Margie was smart enough to have an alibi: she’d been out of town when the fire started, and the cops searched her studio apartment and couldn’t find any burner phone. She did not appear to own an old typewriter. They had also seized her laptop and found no sinister emails.
She called me in a screaming rage after Hernandez paid her a visit. ‘Arson? What next? You won’t rest until you’ve destroyed all of us. I’m warning you. Leave me alone. I did not send any letter to you or your office. If I never see or hear from you again, it will be too soon, you hear me? Leave me alone.’
She was angry, but she’d got the message. There was a text after that:
I didn’t intend anyone to get hurt. I’m sorry. I went too far.
40
Ruby
My messy situations were now a thing of the past. I didn’t drink again. I was happy and fulfilled in my marriage and determined to put the past behind me. I wrote down the rape story and simplified it. I rehearsed telling it. I almost convinced myself it was true.
I knew that if Milo had died of cancer I would have heard. I never asked Erin, but she would have told me, or Dad would have. I was nervous about what would happen in a few years’ time when he’d be released. But I couldn’t think about that.
Jack was getting more acting work. We agreed that I’d take over the Academy, while he would still be the figurehead. After the lease ran out, we rented another, more modern building which used to be a dance studio. It was perfect for our requirements and cheaper than the previous place. We lowered our prices and gradually started building up the profile again, particularly when some former students started to get work in film and TV in America. We renamed it the Jack Brady Academy.
