Noah
Opal read the letter through three times. She found the mix of formality and familiarity intriguing. There was no attached note from Gareth to place this Noah man in any kind of context. But then again, none of the other letters had exactly come with a biography attached. This one, though, piqued her curiosity. Was it just the smell? She found herself reading something like longing in his words, for a chance, an opportunity, a payday?Dearest Miss Fairfax.Did this Noah just assume she was unmarried – Gareth did always refer to her by her maiden name – or was there more to it?
Opal felt oddly embarrassed by her reaction to this letter.But there was something else that was different with this one. The others had only confirmed their attendance; they had made no mention of an application for a place. Noah had obviously gotten the wrong idea from Gareth – that he needed to somehow earn his place. Maybe that explained his sweeter tone.
Regardless of the reason, it had indeed won her over. The artist in her was fascinated by his practice, and the bruised woman was flattered by the slightest hint of flirtatious attention. She responded:
Dear Noah,
It would be my pleasure to welcome you to Fairfax Manor to take part in the tournament this summer. Please make yourself available from the 14th of June until the 27th of July and I can make arrangements to pick you up from Cambridge train station upon your arrival.
Do forward on a list of essential materials you may require.
Opal paused, unsure of how reciprocal she was willing to be to his tone. She had opted for ‘Dear’ over ‘Dearest’ in conjunction with addressing him by his first name. It seemed a wise choice. But was she going to match the familiarity of his ‘sincerely’?
Yours faithfully,
Opal Fairfax
In the end she bottled it on the sign-off but didn’t correct her maiden name.
Chapter 10
Ruby spent the whole week with the business card burning a hole in the back pocket of her jeans. She went to work, came home, cooked dinner for two and ate one half of it. Hortense was usually chained to her sewing machine in the back room until long after dark, so often, she ended up at the pub.
On this particular Thursday night, she couldn’t be bothered to trek up to North London to see the gang, which was how she thought of the rag-tag group of artists and junkies that shared that squat in Islington she so coveted. Instead she went local, to the Railton.
It was a favourite of the old Rastas and the air was always thick with the smoke and smell of dope. She’d often leave the place feeling stoned, even if she had, for whatever reason, refused the tokes she was offered. She was usually the youngest person in the place, but not tonight.
Ruby spotted her through the glass as she walked around to the entrance. By the time she’d reached the front door, a couple of steps later, her heart was pounding in her chest. She checked her reflection and cursed herself for not reapplying her eyeliner. Hastily, she swiped under her lower lash line,hoping to look a little less like she’d sat in a muggy office block all day. She pushed through the heavy doors.
Cindy, of course, looked radiant. The dark waves of her hair fell almost to her waist, which was exposed and encircled by a fine string of glass beads. When she turned and caught Ruby’s eye, she smiled wide. Her front two teeth were a little crooked, but somehow it just made her face even more enchanting. Ruby’s palms were sweating as she made her way over.
‘Cindy? What are the chances? Didn’t think this was your kind of spot …’
Cindy laughed softly, and Ruby found herself wondering whether this all meant that she was actually a lesbian. She’d kissed women before, once or twice at a party and at a club. She’d even admired women before, physically, but that had only been from afar.
She had a distinctive memory of leaning up close to the television set at her ‘uncle’ Eugene’s house to watch the lady newsreader when she was about fourteen. When Eugene had snapped at her to sit back, she had felt a stab of shame, like she was being scolded for something more than just obstructing the view. She remembered fearing more than anything in the world that somehow adults could read minds, that Eugene would read hers and beat her for the impure thoughts she’d had.
He never had, but that feeling of shame had lodged itself inside her. Once when she was about ten or eleven, she’d been playing mummies and daddies with her friend Wendy from school and had maybe-not-so innocently suggested that mummies and daddies did tend to kiss each other.
The look Wendy had given her, one of shock and disgust, had given her that same feeling. And it was with these deeply seeded memories in mind that she had fervently dismissed any and all questioning of her sexuality. Even when she found herself moshing at a Dykes of Deptford night, or marching with friends for LGSM, she’d maintained, categorically, thatshewas straight.
But now Cindy was laughing, and she wasn’t so sure.
‘It’s exactly my spot! I love this place; I just don’t get to come here much anymore, now my parents have moved up to Kennington. After the riots they …’ She trailed off, and a frown spread across her lovely face. ‘Sorry, that was … You didn’t ask for a life story.’
‘If it’ll keep you talking, I just might, though.’ Ruby didn’t know where this bravado had come from, but she felt emboldened. When Cindy blushed just slightly and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, Ruby could have sworn she could hear her own blood pumping through her veins.
They stayed at the Railton until closing, and then, unsatisfied with their time together ending, they found a house party nearby. When Cindy wanted to leave and head back to her house-share in Clapham, Ruby went with her. She had planned only to walk her home but as they approached, Cindy had slipped her fingers between Ruby’s and the warmth of their palms touching made Ruby feel dizzy.
Wordlessly Ruby followed Cindy through her front door and up the stairs. They were both a little drunk and a little stoned. The bedsheets felt deliciously smooth against their naked limbs. They held each other. Ruby wondered – in that sort of high, slightly dissociative way – if this is what peoplemeant when they talked about being at peace. Cindy’s eyes began to droop and Ruby stroked her face softly. Without opening them Cindy leant forward and gently pressed her lips against Ruby’s, before letting out a small sigh and dropping her head back onto the pillow.
They lay facing each other. Ruby found she was strangely unperturbed by the nakedness of Cindy’s body. It was undeniably beautiful but, unlike Jude’s nakedness, it didn’t inspire anything ravenous. The desire was still there, but it was calmer. Less frenetic but somehow more sure of itself. Ruby fell asleep with a serene smile on her face.
Chapter 11
The deep thrum of reggae beats wove its way into her dream and then abruptly pulled her out of it. Ruby sat up with a start. Daylight was pouring in through the window. Cindy was sitting on what looked to be a stolen bar stool in front of a full-length mirror propped up against the wall. Her slender fingers coaxed her dark hair into a long plait.
