‘She’s gone.’ Ruby had never been left by a lover. She preferred to do the leaving, precisely for fear of what she was feeling right now. She sat down on the artist’s stool and caught a fracture of her reflection in the stainless steel worktop. That look on her face, she’d seen it before, but on other faces. It was how Heather had looked the night in the bathtub; it was how Cindy had looked – she had been too slow, too stubborn to learn from her past indiscretions.
‘There’s a note.’ Opal held up a scrap of paper in her hand. Ruby reached for it.
Dear Opal,
Thank you for your hospitality and the opportunity. Unfortunately I have had to leave suddenly due to unforeseen circumstances. I hope you can understand.
I would appreciate it if you could have Gareth arrange for my work and materials to be shipped back up to Glasgow. See below for my studio address.
Yours faithfully,
Heather
‘It’s not even addressed to me.’ Ruby watched as a teardrop blurred the ink on the page. Heather was gone. Why had it taken this for Ruby to realise her feelings? She was so used to the game that playing with people’s feelings had become second nature, and it was only now that hers were on the line that she could see clearly what had been in front of her the whole time.
Heather, quiet, self-possessed, steadfast Heather, who was so willing to care and share and love without keeping score. It had felt so easy that Ruby hadn’t even noticed the subtle changes to her own constitution. With Heather she was effortlessly kinder, more generous, smarter even. Now that was all gone, and Ruby felt hollow.
The next few hours were a blur. Opal led Ruby back to her bedroom, and once she was alone, she cried until there was no water left in her body. Her notebook lay unopened on her desk, as she watched the blue of day turn to the indigo of night through her open window. At some point, she must have fallen asleep, at least for a while.
Chapter 49
Opal woke up to a banging on her door. Her alarm clock read 5.36 a.m. It was Ruby. Her eyes were ringed red. She looked like she had barely slept.
‘I need that note,’ Ruby croaked, and it took Opal just a moment too long to work out what she was talking about. ‘The note from Heather’s studio, I need it now,’ Ruby repeated. ‘And also the number for a cab.’
‘Where are you going?’ Opal asked as she searched for the scrap of paper, even though she knew the answer.
‘Glasgow.’
‘But it’s the final showcase tomorrow and it’s an awfully long journey! Can’t you wait a couple of days? I’d love to read your final piece.’ Opal realised at that moment that she’d always assumed she would give the prize to Ruby. There was something about Ruby that had always impressed Opal. She saw in Ruby all of the things that she was too afraid to be.
Even now, with this spontaneous romantic gesture, Opal felt a pang of something like envy over Ruby’s ability to figure out wholeheartedly what she wanted, and then just … make it happen, regardless of the consequences. It was a fiercenessthat Opal had always lacked, and something she had long considered in her mother as a failing, a weakness. In Ruby, it looked like strength.
Still, though, she couldn’t help but remind Ruby of what she was giving up.
‘If you leave now, I can’t award you the prize fund.’ Opal held out the note and Ruby took it immediately.
‘You see the thing is, Opal, I came into this piss poor, so what’s the difference if I leave piss poor?’ Ruby shrugged. ‘But if I can speak to Heather, maybe I can at least have learnt something from this, something about myself. You said so yourself, Opal, all great art … birth, death and sex, there’s only one common thread that runs through them all, one thing that makes each brighter, or darker, or harder or softer, something that makes them more vivid, more felt, more beautiful, and it’s love.’
Ruby laughed. ‘Sounds fucking corny, I know, but it’s true. How can I ever become a great artist if I can’t learn to face love head on, in all its forms?’
Opal pulled Ruby into an embrace, which took them both by surprise. She found herself swiping at her own tears as she pulled away.
‘Here, let me …’ Opal could sense Ruby’s impatience as she rummaged through her drawers. ‘It’s at least enough to get you there.’ She pressed twenty pounds into Ruby’s hand. ‘And I’ll call you a taxi.’
Opal watched as the headlights disappeared down the drive and she felt a pride that she could only describe as maternal. In another life perhaps she would have encouraged her own daughter to follow her heart. Opal didn’t get back to sleep. Forthe second day in a row she watched the dawn settle, and with it a slight shift in how she saw the world.
It was around 8 a.m., with the sun now firmly settled in the sky, that Opal heard the honking of a horn. She was sitting at her dressing table and it crossed her mind, along with a flash of disappointment, that Ruby had turned back; maybe she had gone for the sensible option after all.
From her new vantage point, back in the master suite, Opal peeked out the window. It wasn’t Ruby; it was Gareth. He leant against the bonnet of his car, cigarette in one hand and what looked like a white cloth in the other, as though he was signalling surrender.
Opal waved, feeling as though she had never been so pleased to see a friendly face. There was so much to tell. She pulled on her kimono and rushed to the front door.
‘Hello, darling,’ Gareth greeted her, with a face full of smoke and a hug. She was slightly taken aback. This new affection between them was something she was still getting used to.
He pulled back and dangled the cloth in front of her face; it was dripping wet. ‘I fished these out of the fountain … Care to explain?’ His expression was one of bemusement, and only then did she realise what he was holding. A sodden pair of Martin’s briefs.
Opal burst into a fit of giggles, and Gareth couldn’t resist, although he must have no idea what they were laughing about, Opal thought.
