Ruby didn’t reckon she’d exchanged more than a dozen words with Heather, and yet it would seem that Heather was quite familiar with Ruby’s movements. It was a little disconcerting, especially as Ruby had been lying about the hours she had spent writing at her desk each day, when Opal asked them all at dinner how their days had gone.
‘Yeah, just a little wander, you know?’ Ruby sounded more defensive than she’d intended.
Heather just shrugged. ‘Don’t suppose you have a rollie I can pinch?’ Heather asked. Ruby was relieved to be back on well-trodden ground.
‘Course.’ Ruby took the other seat at the small table. ‘How’s it going anyway?’ Ruby gestured to the converted stable behind them with her chin, a filter between her lips.
Heather grimaced. ‘Honestly?’
Ruby nodded, handing over the tobacco pouch and rolling papers.
‘I’m losing my mind a little bit. It’s kinda fucking odd to be somewhere this idyllic, and trying to make art that’s, you know, real and …’ Heather trailed off as she rolled her cigarette, and Ruby caught herself admiring the smattering of freckles that danced over her cheeks as she crinkled her nose in concentration. ‘Real andmeanssomething.’ Heather dragged her tongue along the edge of the paper, and Ruby looked away.
‘Do you know what I mean? Or am I just too fucking Scottish to appreciate a nice time?’
When Ruby glanced back, she was surprised to see Heather smiling. She’d been so stoic and serious up until that moment. In the brilliant sunshine, with the green of the lawn framing her face, Heather’s hair almost glowed, and her amber eyes were lit up by the reaches of her smile. Ruby hadn’t noticed how symmetrical Heather’s face was; now she fixated a moment too long on the perfect Cupid’s bow of her top lip.
It was only when Heather lit her cigarette and leant back in her seat that Ruby realised she hadn’t said anything.
‘God, sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m kinda out of it.’ Ruby reached for the lighter, relieved to have something to do with her hands, while she tried to recall what they had been talking about. Finally it came to her.
‘I get it. I feel the same, never thought I could feel cooped up in a place like this, but it’s almost like it’s too quiet to hear my own thoughts.’
Heather nodded in agreement, and Ruby felt that small thrill of relatability, as a precursor to connection.
‘It’s exactly that. I had this stupid idea about rabbits and now … I don’t know, it just feels so anodyne,’ Heather drawled as she took another puff.
Ruby’s confusion must have presented as a grimace.
‘Fuck sorry, I must sound like a pretentious cunt right now.’ Heather chuckled to herself, but she also blushed lightly.
‘No not that, I just have no fucking clue what anodyne means.’ Ruby usually hated admitting things like this. When she was with Jude and they would have writing sessions together, he would often use words she’d never heard of, and rather than ask him to explain, the thought of which made her blood boil pre-emptively, she would make a mental note and then look them up in Hortense’s thick, well-thumbed red dictionary when she got home. Anything to avoid the possibility of his smug satisfaction at her ignorance.
Now, though, sitting in front of Heather, she was eager to hear an explanation, and unembarrassed. Heather for her part did not flinch with pity; instead she said simply, ‘It’s like boring, uncontroversial.’
‘Did you go to art school?’
Heather laughed again at this, louder, heartier than before and Ruby smiled. ‘It’s that obvious is it? Yeah, Glasgow School of Art. That’s actually how I met Gareth. He came up to my final year show, offered me an exhibition at Toad on the spot.’
‘What do you think of him?’ Ruby had made her mind up. She found him pompous and affected, but she was keen to get Heather’s read. Why that was exactly, she wasn’t so sure.
‘Who, Gareth?’
Ruby nodded, taking another drag.
‘He’s a bit of a twat sometimes, but he’s got a good eye, and he’s, you know …’ Heather eyed Ruby up and down, seemingly trying to suss something out ‘… he’s a fighter for the cause,’ she said finally. Ruby wasn’t sure if she had passed whateverassessment was being made, but she suspected Heather was trying to work out whether she was gay.
‘Like, marching and stuff? I’ve been to a few.’ Ruby was being coy. She didn’t want Heather to think she definitelywasn’tgay, but she wasn’t about to out herself either. If Ruby was being honest with herself, even she didn’t really know the answer. At that moment, Cindy’s face flashed into her mind, and she shook it away immediately.
Heather narrowed her eyes, as though she understood exactly what game Ruby was playing. Ruby wasn’t enjoying feeling thisseen.
‘Well yeah, but other stuff too. He got all his rich friends to donate to the Lighthouse. D’you know what that is?’
‘No,’ Ruby admitted truthfully.
‘It’s an HIV AIDS centre. It’s not open yet, but it’s all about patients first, none of this bullshit plague stuff. It’s about people being just that: people first and sick second.’ Heather’s eyes blazed as she spoke, and her voice cracked on the last word.
Ruby had only known a few people tangentially who had died. The rag-tag group of artists she hung out with were mostly straight with only a couple of, it would seem, very lucky not-so-straight men.
