Blood Ties (5 page)

He could sit with Den all afternoon if he wanted, unload his concerns with the aid of several pints, go over old times, new times, discuss cases from work. He let out a silent belch and fell back in the leather armchair. Guilt smothered him. He wanted to be there for Ruby as Erin broke the news, but staying out with Den and creeping back into the house when it was all over was, Robert admitted, his cowardly way of playing at parenting. When the damage was done, he would begin the repair work.

He considered taking Ruby into the office with him the next morning, perhaps for a few days, to give her time to recover, maybe find her a private tutor. She could help Tanya with the filing. He’d give her some cash and she could go shopping. To begin with, Erin need never know. He couldn’t allow Ruby to go back to the comprehensive school.

Den returned with fresh drinks. ‘How’s our friend Jed Bowman?’ he asked, a grin rising above the rim of the glass, breaking his tanned face into a network of lines. Perfectly styled grey-black hair complemented Den’s smooth, lady-kill look, as did his designer dress sense. Den was a successful man-about-town, always open to offers, always willing to make them.

‘Not giving up,’ Robert replied. ‘And don’t change the subject.’ Robert didn’t want to talk about the Bowman case. He couldn’t face shattering more lives.

Den picked up the menu and scanned the sandwiches on offer. ‘Hungry?’

‘Depends. Are we in for the kill?’ Robert was feeling more relaxed. Being with Den was like being underground – safe but airless. And as the senior partner at Mason & Knight, he was always in control, both in and out of the office.

Den glanced at his watch. ‘I’m glad to get out for a bit to be honest. Tula’s got her girls round.’

Robert winced at the thought. Tula Mason and her group of girls were a tidal wave of forty-somethings desperately seeking physical perfection. He had once made the mistake of stepping inside while dropping off Erin – much younger and therefore not in need of the enhancements on offer – at one of Tula’s gatherings. Even before drinks and canapés were offered, botox and collagen treatments were pressed upon him. He had grinned as he left Erin in Tula’s clutches, admiring how young his wife looked at thirty-four. She could easily pass for late twenties.

‘In for the kill, then.’ Robert smirked.

 

During the time they had been at the squash club, the fine weather had been occluded by a miserable front of tepid rain. So far, June had been unusually dry and warm but, as if to match Robert’s current mood, the sky was now a muddy, swirling milk. Den and Robert shared a taxi and sat in silence watching fat bulbs of rain pelt the windows. It had all been said at the club.

Robert got out of the cab first, light-headed and slightly nauseated from afternoon drinking, and walked unsteadily up the rain-glazed front steps of his house. He had left his car at the sports club and given the doorman twenty pounds and the keys to return it later. One of the perks of belonging to such an exclusive club; one of the perks of being partner to Dennis Mason.

He stood in the dim hallway of his house. It was a Victorian townhouse and while it still managed an impressive entrance, most of the rooms were in need of decoration. Until Erin and Ruby moved in six months ago he hadn’t bothered much with interior design. But gradually it was becoming a family home, which, after everything, was all Robert had ever wanted.

His mind shifted to Jenna, catching him off guard. He could see her standing at the top of the stairs with a white towel slung low round her back, her cheeks glowing pink, a welcoming smile dividing her face. Jenna alive. The pair of them happy. Then she was gone, the recollection stuffed back into the bundle of pain he kept locked away. Jenna had no place in his thoughts now, so why did she insist on seeping into his new life?

He dumped his sports bag on the hall floor and shook his wet hair; shook the image from his head. He was being stupid. Jenna had never even lived in this house and certainly didn’t belong here now.

Then he became aware of a sound – a low-pitched drone, repeating over and over like an animal in pain. It was barely audible but filled the entire house, making its source difficult to pinpoint. Robert went into the kitchen and was met by dirty plates littering the worktops and a basket of fresh washing giving off a sweet smell. The radio was on, quietly humming, explaining the strange noise. He flicked it off. The drone continued.

‘Erin?’ he called out. Nothing. He poured a glass of water and walked from the kitchen to the living room. It was empty. He thought perhaps it was the chill from his damp clothes or the beer after exercise making him feel strange and unreal, causing him to hear noises that weren’t there.

Robert went upstairs to change. The drone grew stronger, making his bones vibrate. It was coming from Ruby’s room. He knocked once and went straight in.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The curtains were closed and the light was off but when his pupils dilated and he forced his beer-skewed vision to straighten, Robert saw Ruby trembling in the corner. She was completely naked and chanting in a growl that electrified the stale air. Ruby’s only source of modesty was her hair, which dropped down over her shoulders and chest in sweaty black streaks. Her entire body was quivering, as if the resonance spewing from her parted lips tore at every cell. Ruby was completely unaware of his presence.

‘Rube?’ Robert approached, not comfortable with her nakedness. ‘Ruby, stop.’ Robert stretched out his arms but then diverted and reached for her robe hanging on the back of the door. He offered it to her but she didn’t move. Just the chanting, the energy coming out.

Robert draped the robe around her shoulders but it fell off. As he bent down to retrieve it, he saw goose bumps on her pale skin. He could smell something, a metallic tang rising from between her legs. Then Robert saw the blood. Mirroring the pattern of her black hair on white skin, dark red river stains mapped the insides of her thighs.

‘Ruby, you’re bleeding,’ Robert said, kneeling now, staring up at her. The girl’s eyeballs appeared hard on the surface, as if made of glass, and her pupils had grown to the full width of her eyes. He didn’t care any more that she was naked, that her legs were crusted with blood. Robert scooped her up and placed her on the bed. Still paralysed, she continued to chant, her eyes fixed on something beyond the ceiling. That place she always wanted to be.

Robert sat alone all evening with a client’s file propped open beside him and his laptop balanced on his legs. He attempted work but was unable to think of anything except his distressed stepdaughter and, of course, Erin – the woman responsible for her state.

The light from the silent television speckled the walls, casting shadows as the scenes changed. Robert stared and waited; stared at the tired magnolia paint of the living room, occasionally at the gut-wrenching letters that might have been written in blood by his client’s wife, and waited with decreasing patience for Erin to return.

When he’d called her mobile, he was diverted to her voicemail. She wasn’t at any of her friends’ houses and if she’d gone to her shop, then she wasn’t answering the phone. When finally able to speak, Ruby couldn’t give any clues as to her mother’s whereabouts.

As the rain continued into the evening, leaving the sky rancid and spent, the girl gradually descended back into a state that resembled normality. Robert had sat with her for ages, rubbing her tense back, warming her stiff body, wrapping her in blankets and holding a mug of sweet tea to her mouth. He didn’t ask what was wrong. He knew.

Later, Robert pulled his legs up onto the sofa. He was exhausted – from the violent one-sided game of squash earlier, from drinking all afternoon, from Erin’s sudden about-turn but mostly from guilt. He should have been there for Ruby.

He kicked off his shoes and dragged a fur throw across his unusually tired body. He was a fit man, proud of the way his muscles responded quickly to workouts or lengthy sessions in the pool despite being only two years off forty. And he enjoyed Erin’s approving gaze as he undressed at night. But today, ravaged by his wife’s extreme behaviour, Robert felt ten years older.

He again imagined Ruby’s face as her mother told her she would not be going to Greywood College. Nothing could have prepared him for the state in which he found his stepdaughter. He loved Ruby as much as he loved her mother, sometimes more. Now more. Not being her father but having to be one was the hardest thing he knew. If she was entirely his, he would have stopped this nonsense long ago. Erin wouldn’t have had a choice. Robert wondered if he would ever feel like a proper father, have any right to ownership.

He must have fallen asleep, but only lightly because as soon as he heard the front-door latch click he was sitting upright, mussing his hair, gathering his thoughts. Erin stood between the hall and living room and, even in the half-light, Robert could see that she was drenched. She turned on the light, revealing that she was gripping a collection of flowers by the stalks, upside down, their colourful heads hanging down to her knees.

‘For Ruby,’ she said. Her voice was flat as she raised the sodden bunch.

‘That’ll make everything better,’ Robert replied, standing up. He strode into the kitchen and slammed the lid of the kettle onto the worktop. ‘Coffee? Reckon that’ll make everything all right too?’ Erin followed him into the room; he could smell the rain in her hair as she approached him from behind. He inhaled a whiff of the summer blooms.

‘I didn’t tell her,’ Erin said.

Robert turned round slowly, a jar of coffee in his hand. He stared at his wife. Her usually blonde hair had turned verdigris in the rain and her mascara formed dark crescents under her eyes. She had been crying. He spooned coffee granules into mugs, sloshing on half-boiled water.

‘I didn’t tell her because she already knew,’ Erin finished.

Robert sat across the kitchen table from Erin. Her head was supported in her hands, her feet wrapped awkwardly around the chair legs. He noticed the shiver in her shoulders, how she tried to suppress it. He swallowed away the knot of hope that brewed in his throat; hope that was quickly dashed as Erin continued.

‘She overheard us talking this morning.’ She sighed and picked at a chip on her mug. ‘It’s been a hard day for her.’

Robert snorted and shook his head. ‘Did you even know that she started her periods today?’

Erin covered her face. ‘I wasn’t here for her.’

Robert could have said the same thing but kept hold of the point he had scored. Besides, he sensed there was something heavy within Erin that she needed to unload, although he didn’t like trusting instincts alone. He was a lawyer, after all, trained to make the truth shine from basic facts.

Erin was his wife.They had sworn trust and honesty at their April wedding. She was sensible Erin, hard-working Erin, practical Erin. Why was she doing this to their daughter? For Ruby, the most important thing in her life was her music and that, coupled with escaping her idiot peers, meant going to Greywood College. The piano was as integral to her as the colour of her hair or the way her eyes turned up at the corners. Now her mother had ensured that the promised hot-housing of her talents would come to nothing. Robert couldn’t bear the waste.

Erin sighed, her head briefly collapsing. ‘She came to me this morning and said, “I know you won’t allow me to go to Greywood.” Simple as that. I was going to discuss it with her but she seemed fine. She even went out to the shop for me. I didn’t know that she’d started . . .’ Erin emitted a little sob of guilt. Whatever happened now, their daughter had entered a new phase of life.

Anger welled within Robert as he watched his wife tidy the kitchen, as if she didn’t want to hear about Ruby, that folding the washing was more important than her daughter’s happiness. There was something final about the way she smoothed the piles of towels, and the meticulous and inappropriate sock-pairing was ridiculous when her troubled daughter was whimpering upstairs.

At one thirty Robert led his wife to bed. He went to the bathroom and then to check that Ruby was sleeping soundly. She lay on her side, clutching a grubby rabbit for comfort, wheezing softly through her dreams. Robert wished he could see into her head, guide her through her nightmares and make all her wishes come true. He blew her a silent kiss and went to join Erin in bed. He slept fitfully and all too soon he noticed pink and orange lines spread across the sky from the east. His chest tightened as he realised that it was Monday morning.

‘Tell me you won’t send her back there today.’ Robert wiped his hands across his face. He wasn’t the type to plead. Other measures were needed. He rolled over to face Erin. ‘Ruby can come to the office with me. Anything.’

Surprisingly, Erin nodded. ‘I’ll telephone Greywood and let them know the situation.’

‘I’ll take care of that. I can call from the office.’ He didn’t need to insist. Erin would gladly allow him to telephone the headmistress and explain their ‘difficult’ situation.

Before rising, he stared at the ceiling. Was this the first flicker of fatherhood? he wondered. His first taste of parental control? Then he looked across at Erin, who was sliding a cream satin robe over her shoulders, and thought: is this the first flicker of doubt?

Half an hour later, Robert and Erin were in the kitchen preparing for the day ahead. Ruby entered, fully dressed in her old school uniform, an unlikely smile widening her face. She had applied make-up, mascara and lipgloss, and her hair was swept back into a long ponytail tied with a blue scarf.

‘Morning,’ she said. She dropped her bag of books on the floor and swung the refrigerator door open, removing juice and eggs. ‘I’m starving,’ she continued. ‘I don’t need a lift today. I’m early enough to catch the bus.’

For a moment, Robert thought the smile was artificial. Had there been hesitation? Was that swallow concealing pure fear, the flicker of her eyelids chasing away welling tears? He stood and approached her, wanting nothing more than to absorb her, to save her from what the day held.