The Bow Wow Club (5 page)

– Chapter Eighteen –

‘
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me.
’ Ruby sang and danced around the kitchen to the old Pussycat Dolls’ track playing on the radio. She had forgotten what it felt like to be happy. It was weird, like discovering a new emotion. Despite her hangover she decided to have a good old clean-up of the flat. With pink rubber gloves on, she began sifting paperwork. She pinned The Bow Wow Club leaflet that Margaret had given her on to her noticeboard, telling herself she would look into whatever it was later. She lifted the cutlery tray out of the drawer to give it a scrub and then suddenly just stood there motionless. For there, lying in the bottom of the drawer, was an envelope. Her name was written on it in George’s handwriting.

She took a deep breath and ripped it open hungrily. It was a birthday card. One of the ones you can get personalised. Below the words -
My Own Trouble & Strife
- it had a picture of her grinning widely, wearing a bra with a dirty hand-print on each breast. She smiled through the tears remembering the day George had got back from work and grabbed her as she was getting ready to go out.

Wanting to relish every single moment of being this near to George again, she slowly opened up the card.

I had to remortgage for the bloody candles this year! I love you Rubes and don’t EVER forget that. Yours forever G XXXX

Ruby fell to her knees on the kitchen floor holding the card to her chest. He must have hidden it under there just before he died. The silent scream gripped her from within at the realisation that he was never coming back.

Beep!
She pulled herself up slowly got up and went to her phone.

Hey Rubes, hope you’re feeling better. Last night was so special. Can’t wait to see you again x

She threw the phone on to the sofa with force. ‘Fuck off! Just, fuck off! I’m not
your Rubes
.’

– Chapter Nineteen –

‘What do you mean, the tickets are booked?’ Ruby said wearily to an excited Fi at the end of the phone.

‘Exactly that. Me and thee are going on a little trip. I’m working on an event in Prague and you are coming with me. You actually don’t have a choice.’

‘I look like crap.’

‘All the more reason to come. There’s a spa at the hotel we are staying at and it’s time you stopped growing your muff down to your ankles and dragging that pretty little chin of yours on the floor.’

Ruby had to laugh.

‘When are we going?’

‘Tomorrow morning. Just for a couple of days.’

Ruby pulled her overnight bag down from the top of the wardrobe in the bedroom she used to share with George. The whole room was still a shrine to the man. She hadn’t even been able to throw any of his clothes out. There was a Porsche magazine on the bedside table. ‘One day,’ he always used to say as he fingered the pages before going to sleep.

The last thing she felt like doing was getting on a plane and moving out of her comfort zone, but for her own sanity she knew she had to do it.

Finding the birthday card on New Year’s Day had thrown her completely back into her world of grief, despair and longing. Days had gone into nights again and she was drinking far too much. Her nearest and dearest had all tried to rally her but to no avail.

Fi as usual had worked her magic, knowing that Ruby wouldn’t be able to resist a trip away, especially as she had booked the tickets already.

She threw clothes and cosmetics into a bag with a weary heart and then carried out her nightly ritual of smelling George’s pillow. She hadn’t washed the sheets since he had died, hoping that a little trace of him just might remain where she could touch and smell him.

She wheeled her bag out by the front door, poured herself a glass of wine and sat on the sofa. The lonely cloud of silence enveloped her and she actually felt glad that she was getting away from these four walls.

The peace was interrupted by the beep of a text message. She reached for her phone.

If I had just one wish it would be to take your pain away right now. M x

‘Aw.’ Ruby said aloud. How unfair had she been to this poor man. Five weeks he had been contacting her, not in any way pushy, just telling her how much he cared.

Fuelled by wine and loneliness, she started to tap out a message.

– Chapter Twenty –

Michael woke at 6 a.m. as usual. His first thought as usual was of Ruby. Well, if he couldn’t see her, at least he could keep writing about her.

My first novel – by Michael Bell - TITLE - TBD

Chapter 10:
Michael nearly jumped out of his skin when a reply came through on his phone. He had got so used to texting Ruby and being ignored it felt almost weird that she had replied. In fact, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she was going to say. He felt too much for her to let her go. He realised that staying the night with her on New Year’s Eve would have evoked all sorts of emotions, especially as he was the first man she had had any physical contact with since her husband died. But George wasn’t coming back, and surely when the time was right she would see that she needed to fill the George-shaped hole in her heart with someone else. A different shape maybe, but someone who felt a similar immense love for this gorgeous being.

At least by her not responding with a negative there was a chance that he might see her again. He had made a pact with himself that if she didn’t come back to him by Valentine’s Day he had one more trick up his sleeve then that would be it.

He tentatively opened the message.

You’re a good man Michael Bell, but I’m not in a good place at the moment. I’m sorry

Right, that was it, not even a kiss. Not even anything really. She had said nothing he didn’t already know. He wasn’t going to sit around and wait any longer. It was about time Michael Bell got on with his life. If her husband had been alive it would be a damn sight easier, but competing with a dead man - well, how could he possibly do that?

Maybe meeting his ginger widow had done him a favour. His love for Emily had been waning for a while now but he just didn’t have the balls after a mere two years of marriage to call it a day. Her parents for a start would go mad: their ‘keep up with the Jonese’s wedding had cost them a fortune, and the impoverished writer would have proved their fears right - that he really was not good enough for their darling only child.

But, Ruby had given him the strength to do it. Whether he saw her again or not, he knew that there was a greater love than he had for Emily out there. He had to be true to himself and not waste his life with someone who just wasn’t The One.

Michael sat back from his screen. Hmm. Now - how could he leave Emily… ?

A light-bulb moment hit him. ‘Yes - yes, that’s perfect,’ he said aloud and began to type furiously again.

‘Michael, I’m home,’ Emily called up the stairs.

‘Hi, darling, won’t be a minute.’ Just as he was shutting down his laptop Emily came bounding into his office and threw her arms around his neck.

‘Whoa, what makes me deserve this then?’

‘Close your eyes and hold out your hands.’

Michael did as he was told. On opening them he could feel the bile rise to his throat. For there, staring up at him from a little white wand, was the word PREGNANT.

– Chapter Twenty-One –

Ruby threw herself back on the massive bed she was sharing with Fi at the Hilton in Prague.

‘Good work, Donahue!’

‘Only an executive room for my little ginger minger.’

‘And, I have to see the bathroom.’ Ruby jumped up. ‘Don’t you just love hotel rooms, Fi? You can be who you want and do what you want in them.’

‘After working in events so long, I know this sounds terrible but I’ve got a bit blasé about it, to be honest.’

Fi went to the mini-bar. ‘This is what I always check out first.’ She perused the selection of miniatures on offer. ‘Time for a little livener, methinks, as I haven’t got to do anything until the morning. We, my friend, are going to rip the pub out of the Czech Re
pub
lic.’

With its ancient buildings and magnificent churches, the Old Town Square was picture perfect. Wrapped up for the cold, the girls sat under a big heater at one of the pavement cafés.

‘It’s like being in Disneyland, Fi. I love it.’

‘Yes, it’s magical, isn’t it? Keep your bag close though, Rubes. It’s renowned for pick-pockets in this touristy bit.’

‘So, as you’ve been here a few times, do you know the history of this bit of the city then?’

‘Well, my friend, I could quite easily bore you senseless, but we’re here to drink and have fun. However, as you have asked me, this area evidently dates back to the 12th century and started life as the central market place for Prague. Over the centuries, buildings of Romanesque, Baroque and Gothic styles were erected around the market, each bringing with them stories of wealthy merchants and political intrigue.’

‘Who needs a travel guide when you’ve got a Fi Donahue, eh?’ Ruby laughed.

‘Not just a wiry-haired mad Irishwoman me. Oh no, siree.’

‘It could be really romantic.’

‘It is really romantic, Rubes, but that isn’t on our agenda tonight.’

‘I don’t think it will ever be on mine again.’

‘Of course it will - and dare I ask what’s happening with the lovely Michael?’

‘I’ve been a complete bitch actually. He texts me without fail every other week, a nice message, nothing heavy but just to let me know he’s still there.’

‘And?’

‘And I totally ignore him because I don’t really know what to do.’

‘What do you think you should do?’

‘I don’t know, Fi. I really do like him. We click, but he’s just not George.’

‘He’s never going to be George, mate. Like your ex-boyfriends weren’t the one before and so on. You moved on from them OK.’

‘Yes, but I left them not loving them like I loved George.’

‘That’s a lie, Rubes. You loved Dean - remember him? You left him, but then you wanted him back. You got over him. Harsh but true. Time will help you. You never saw him again - and do you miss him?’

‘No, but occasionally I may go somewhere, or someone may say something that reminds me of him.’

‘Yes, exactly. But that didn’t stop you moving on.’

Ruby was thoughtful.

‘Now, catch that waiter’s eye, Rubes. He’s a bit of a dish and we need more drinks.’

‘Actually, that’s another thing,’ Ruby told her friend. ‘Michael calls me Rubes, but George called me that and it doesn’t feel right.’

‘I call you fecking Rubes.’

‘That’s different.’

‘Just tell him what you just said to me. Be open, be honest, Ruby. He obviously likes you a lot - I mean, he’s seen you in some bad situations. You’ve fallen over in the street pissed. In fact, you haven’t even put out yet and he still wants you.’

Just as the waiter was taking their order, there was a commotion in front of them. A girl was knocked to the ground as her bag was grabbed from her hand. One of her friends chased after the thief. Ruby bit her lip and instinctively reached for her phone.

Michael, I’m in Prague. Let’s meet when I’m back. Rubes x

– Chapter Twenty-Two –

Ruby threw her keys on to the growing pile of post on the kitchen table. As she did so the pile fell to the floor. She looked around her. The maisonette was a complete tip. Two-day-old dishes were piled in the sink, there was a nasty odour coming from the bin and she couldn’t even remember the last time she had mopped the floor.

She walked through to the lounge and looked up at Patrick; the black and white cat in all his stuffed glory grinned down at her.

‘Yes, Patrick - I know. I’m a dirty slut. But no more. It’s about time I sorted this place out.’

Ruby went to her Bose system, found her most upbeat CD and cranked it up full blast. Reaching under the kitchen sink she pulled on her rubber gloves and got to work. Once downstairs was gleaming she made her way upstairs with a roll of black bags. As she entered the bedroom that she had once shared with George, she took a very deep breath.

‘Right, Georgie boy, let’s sort out these clothes of yours, shall we?’ She pushed emotion to one side and started to create separate piles for the tip, charity shop and memorabilia to keep. She couldn’t bear to look at any photos just yet, so moved that box to the spare room. She threw the full black bags down the stairs and then got into the bed. She pressed her face into the pillows, where her beautiful husband had once laid his head. All she could smell was the dull, musky odour of unwashed cotton. Bracing herself, she stripped the bed as fast as she could, screwed up the sheets and ran out to put them in the dustbin. Tomorrow she would buy new.

Running back up to the now clear room, she hoovered it methodically. Once done, she put her hands on her hips and looked to the sky.

‘I will never forget you, George Stevens,’ she said out loud. ‘You gave me some of the best years of my life, but I have to get on now.’