“Yes. I’m planning to move in a few months and I’m not sure where I’m going to,” I said. “I don’t want to tie myself down just yet.”
Her eyes narrowed and I could see her wondering whether it was going to be worth investing her time in me.
“Of course,” I added quickly, “I’m staying in this region, so I hope to keep working with you for longer than that. It’s just that I’ll be buying a house and want to work nearby, so I’ll find a permanent job after that.”
I had no intention of staying in this area once my house was sold. I’d be off. I thought of my friends from university who lived in Edinburgh, others in Devon. One lived in the South of France, another worked for the British embassy in Iceland. Suddenly my heart lifted. I would be free to go wherever I wanted to. I had a sudden flashback to something Tom said after a holiday we took. He’d told me he was busy but that I should book something. He said he was happy to go anywhere. I booked us a trip to Italy, to a little place near Sorrento. I thought he’d enjoyed himself, thought we’d had a good time, but right at the end, on the flight back, he said, “You never quite manage to choose the right place, do you?” My stomach fluttered with panic at the memory. What if I moved somewhere new and hated it?
My phone started to ring then, deep in my bag. I flushed, knowing I should have turned it off before I spoke to Lesley. “I’m so sorry. I’ll just ignore that.”
“Don’t worry, I was just going to make some more coffee,” she said. “Take it if you want.”
I took my phone out of my bag and saw that it was from a withheld number. I thought it must be a company, calling about a job application, so I answered the call.
“Hello? Ruby Dean speaking.” At first I couldn’t hear what he said. “Sorry? Can you say that again?”
“I’m going to do whatever I like to you,” a man’s voice said. “And you’re going to beg me for more.”
CHAPTER 36
Ruby
I pressed the End Call button quickly and switched my phone off, shoving it into my bag. My cheeks were burning and Lesley commented when she came back over, carrying two mugs of coffee.
“Everything all right?”
I laughed, flustered. “You’re not going to believe this,” I said. “I’ve just had my first dirty phone call.”
“What? Who was it?”
“I don’t know. The number was withheld. I thought it might be someone calling about a job.”
“What did he say?”
I told her, imitating his deep, rough voice, and she grimaced. “You poor thing. I haven’t had one of those calls for years. They seemed to disappear once we had mobiles, didn’t they? And if he withheld his number, you can’t block him. What a pathetic man he must be, pestering women like that.” She settled back at her desk. “I’m afraid there’s not much work in at the moment and I have to give priority to my regulars. I’m sure you understand. The longer you work for us the more choice you’ll get.” My heart sank. This didn’t sound good. “The only thing I have available now is to start on Thursday. It’s a receptionist job in a small company on the Wirral. Someone’s getting married and they’re taking three weeks off, so they’re looking for a stand-in.” She told me the hourly rate and I winced. I’d always earned much more than that.
“I’ll do it.” I needed something—anything—to get me out of my flat and to help bring some money in.
She typed the details onto an e-mail and sent it to me. “I’ll look out for something more suitable for when that job finishes. It’s pretty slow this year because of the economy. A lot of companies are making do rather than employing temps. You’ll have a lot more luck when you’re ready to take on a permanent position.”
When I left the agency I walked through the city center and into a café that I used to go to years ago. I ordered coffee and sat at a table at the back, watching groups of people chatting. Everyone seemed so carefree. I knew that they’d have their own problems, but right at that moment I couldn’t see what they were. I straightened my shoulders. I had to stop myself from getting depressed. I’d got myself into this mess and I had to get myself out of it. I sent Tom a text:
What shall we do about putting the house up for sale? Do you think we should do any work on it first?
He replied straightaway. It should be OK as it is. I’ve painted the hallway and some of the woodwork outside. The rest is fine. I’ll get the Molly Maid team to give it a good clean, then get the agents round to value it. Do you want to be there to talk to them? x
While we were together, Tom had often ended his messages with a kiss. I always did, but sometimes he wouldn’t, depending on how he felt. I scrolled up and realized that he’d ended every message since I left with a kiss. Was that automatic? Would he realize one day what he’d done and regret it? Or did he mean it: Was he being affectionate?
My stomach clenched at the thought of talking to the estate agents. I knew they’d find out that we were splitting up, because they’d want to know if they could find us something new. And I didn’t want to see Tom’s face tighten as he’d have to admit we were divorcing. I knew he’d find it hard, especially as it was his second divorce. I didn’t want him involved in my life now, to know where I was living or what I was doing. As far as he knew, I was still working for Sheridan’s; I certainly hadn’t told him I’d been fired. I wondered then where he thought I was living, but shrugged it off. It didn’t matter what he thought. I cared for him, but my life was my own now. I think that was the first time that I felt hopeful, as though I had a future that I could control.
And so I replied:
I’d rather not be there if that’s OK. Let me know how much the cleaners charge and I’ll transfer half to you.
His reply was swift:
Don’t be silly, Ruby. I’ll sort that out. But how are you? I’ve been worried about you. Are you OK? x
I almost laughed. I was as far from okay as I’d ever been. I couldn’t bear to look round my new home, at its stained carpet, its sofa that made my back ache.
I’m OK. Thanks for dealing with the agents.
I hesitated, but didn’t put a kiss at the end. Those days were gone.
He replied instantly. I didn’t remember him replying so quickly when we were together.
Fancy coming round for a drink sometime? It would be good to see you again x
I didn’t know what to say. I was frightened of saying no outright and I was terrified that if I did accept, I’d find myself moving back in there. I had to force myself to remember what it was like at home and sometimes that was hard to do. I didn’t reply. I didn’t let myself think about the fact he’d see his message had been read. Quickly I turned off Read Receipts on my phone, though I knew he’d probably already seen that I’d read his message.