Ruby's Tuesday Read online

  The perspiration ran off me. It was just after ten in the morning in late July and it was already a tropical twenty-three degrees outside.

  I ran along the West Pier, the uneven surface of the breakwater grunting as I pounded down it and out towards the sea. A gentle breeze had attracted early-morning kite-surfers onto the large sandy patch of Shelley Banks. I could see the outline of their coloured sails to my left, off out in the distance. The reds and yellows stood out against the powder-blue sea. Flashes of dwarf furze cheered up the sea and sky with its fierce yellow colour. The furze too seemed a little duller this year. Maybe it was just that the morning heat haze had robbed the colour from the sea, sky and gorse?

  To my right, young kids in oversized wetsuits were poured into life jackets too small for them. They were being tipped over by multicoloured toy boats, and their squeals reverberated between the two piers.

  I pushed open the large yellow door and tippy-toed into the apartment, not wanting to disturb my husband and daughter.

  I put my left ear up to the door of Luke’s office. I wondered if he had finished that conference call to China.

  For the eighteen months prior to the last week in June, when we had at last made vital changes to our life, I had tried to understand things from Luke’s perspective. He did only have a few years to make it as a junior partner. It was a competitive world in international consultancy and even more cut-throat since the economy had slowed down. The demise of the Celtic Tiger had affected the whole country. I understood the long hours, the many international conferences that he needed to attend and speak at. Any decent wife would have been very proud of her husband for creating such a profile for himself in such a short time.

  Of course I understood the importance of winning international clients, the significance of bringing in new international business, fresh business from outside of Ireland. That type of business was deemed more valuable, bringing new money into the country. It added weight to the sluggish economy; it was not the recycling of existing revenue.

  Luke’s role as Head of International Business Development had turned our lives upside-down. He had been away more than he was home for those eighteen months. At the start he was insistent that it was only for the first six months: as soon as he had his legs under the table then things would improve, or so he said – there would be less travelling and we would return to normal.

  Back then Luke would try to spend hours explaining all the whys to me. It was not that I didn’t understand it, I did of course, but the result was still the same: Luke was never home.

  We were now living the new ‘normal’ married life that we had adjusted to since that last week in June. Luke no longer travelled and I had taken the summer off work. I thought at first I would have difficulty adapting to the new version of our marriage, where we were literally together twenty-four hours a day – but no. Surprisingly not. We seemed to enjoy each other’s company again, maybe because we had spent so much time apart over the past eighteen months. We were beginning to work out a routine, though with parameters. Our sex life was back on track, evenings were spent sea-swimming in our old spots, and we were ticking over, just about.

  I had always felt guilty, well, mildly anyway, that Luke worked day and night, literally, when he was doing all that travelling. Since the promotion all that had changed. Now he was working from home until they set him up in his new office with a river view of the Liffey, one of the rewards for the gruelling eighteen months toiling in the Chinese market. It would be ready, they said, in another few weeks, so the commuting would begin again, but nothing compared to the weekly commutes to China.

  My job, on the other hand, was a means to an end. It was grand, just about. I went to the office day in day out and managed a bunch of people that were unmanageable in an IT company. I had kind of resigned myself to it about a year ago, when the managing director, who was even more trying than my team, refused to confront the multitude of issues that stood in the way of increasing the profit margin. Obsolete technology and systems, and a poorly trained team, low staff moral and zero investment in innovation meant that the company limped from one unstable contract to another. The pay was average, but the terms and conditions were good, and they had looked after me very well this summer when I needed to take a few months off. So I would stick it out. It suited me, and I sort of suited them.

  “Imagine working in a technology company – even worse, being a manager – and not having a smart phone!” I would say to Luke.

  Luke would tease me and say: “Gorgeous, there’s a call for you!”

  I would rush from our bedroom, from the desk at the window overlooking the sea, to my old Nokia brick that was permanently charging at the wall in the living room.

  He would giggle and say: “It’s the cavemen – they’re looking for their phone back.”

  I would fall for his silly joke, every time. Sometimes, annoyed with myself, I would deliver him one of my frostier dirty looks and go back to my desk with the view of the sea, back to my book.

  For a while I would ignore his advances and apologies, I would block him out, pretend for just a few minutes that he no longer existed. He would tiptoe into our bedroom and stand by my desk and tell me to give him a hug. I would for a few moments ignore him, dismiss him, just to tease him, as if reprimanding a bold child for its bad behaviour. Then, he would get scared that I might be cross with him. He didn’t like it if I was even just a little bit upset. In his head he had the idea of a perfect relationship. That was what he lived for: perfection.

  He would retreat – go back to his office. Then I would give in and get up from my chair by the window and meet him halfway in the living room and run into his open arms, into his chest. I would lay my head on his chest. There it was safe, and there the hurt would disappear, if only for a few seconds or even for a moment – that was all we could ask for now.

  When I teased him and he got upset, I was unable to watch the sadness that descended over his puppy eyes. The only thing I dreaded was that the melancholy would tumble down over those chocolate-brown eyes, like a mist coming in over Dublin Bay. His eyes would then resemble the bay on days when it looked vacant, monochrome and without life. His change of mood, like the mist, could happen in a matter of minutes.

  Now, as I listened from outside the door, I could no longer hear Luke’s tender tones inside the blue room – but he had a soft voice so I wasn’t sure if he was on the phone to those bloody clients or not.

  Very slowly, I opened the door.

  “Sweetheart . . . Luke?” I whispered

  I waited for him to respond, to turn around and acknowledge my presence.

  “Luke, can I talk to you for a second?” I asked in a low focused voice.

  I wanted to make sure that I was not breaking his concentration. Luke was a very focused type of person, and very organized, and he disliked intensely being interrupted. I constantly teased him about his inability to multitask. He never did deny how challenging he found it. I’d had to constantly remind myself for the past month that we had not in a long time spent so much time together. Living in such close quarters needed guidelines and parameters, and with those it would be fine.

  “Yes, Afric, what’s up?”

  By his tone I knew to keep it short. We were not here for a casual chat. I was only invited to talk business or for ‘information exchange’, as I had termed it in the last few weeks.

  One of the reasons that Luke had been so successful in the Chinese market place was that he never got sidetracked, and though the Chinese were willing to waste hours on unimportant details of a contract, this never distracted Luke. Out of courtesy, he would allow them to waffle on for hours on end. Calmly, he would always bring them back, back to the important issues. The contracts that Luke signed with the Chinese were one-hundred-per-cent watertight. About the Chinese he would say: “It’s all about attention to detail – all the i’s need to be dotted, otherwise they would wiggle out of a contract when it suited them, and Sheppard Consu
lting and I would be left holding the baby.”

  Luke was Sheppard Consulting’s golden boy.

  “No, nothing important, sweetheart – just about the arrangement for the weekend,” I replied efficiently, in case he thought I was lingering in his space and on his time. I had become over-efficient since he had moved his office back into the apartment.

  “Yes?” he responded.

  “Well, what time do you want us to leave this afternoon, for the airport?”

  There was silence. He swung his chair away from me and towards the window. He lifted up the white net curtain and looked out onto the road below where the traffic whizzed up and down Coliemore Road.

  “God, Afric, I wouldn’t have a clue. It’s over a month now since I’ve been to an airport – a full month, can you believe it? Isn’t that fantastic?” He seemed radiant. “Almost five bloody weeks since I’ve been in an airport.” He swung his chair around again and looked directly at me. “What time do you think, Afric? Whatever you think – you have a better idea of the traffic on a Friday than I do.”

  “Would about four suit you?” I was genuinely surprised to be allowed such air time.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m happy to do whatever you think.”

  “Yes, four should be plenty time. That will give us enough time to drop Ruby off on the way.” My tone was now even more efficient as I felt as though I was on his borrowed time.

  “I thought you told me that Sue was coming to pick her up?” he replied in a deadpan voice.

  “Sure it’s miles out of her way – and anyway we’re heading that direction to the airport.”

  He looked at me with a slight grimace, so that his clusters of summer freckles were even closer to each other than normal. They were so close, I was afraid they might increase and multiply.

  “Luke, I’d be happier if we could drop her off. I’d feel better if we could settle her in, see where she’s staying, make sure the room is okay. I’d be more relaxed then about leaving her. Is that okay?” But I was determined to get my way.

  Luke got up from the desk and walked around to where I stood, in the middle of his office. His opened his arms and drew me into his solid chest.

  “Of course, my sweetheart, it is. Of course you’re right. We’ll both be happier if we know that she’s okay when we’re away.” He caressed the top of my head, then ran his hand right down over my hair onto my back. “I know it’s very tough leaving her for the first time – the first time is the worst and then, I promise you, it will be fine, all the other times will be fine – I promise you it will get easier. Let’s concentrate on getting the first time out of the way and make it as easy for us all as possible. We must try not to get too upset.” He held me tight, very tight. He rubbed my back tenderly and ran his hands up and down my arms. “Sweetheart, please don’t worry, it will be fine. Have a hot shower and relax before we head off. Why don’t you lie down for a few hours, have a nap? You’ll feel better after that, I promise you will.”

  I always felt okay when my head was placed on Luke’s chest. I felt it was the safest place on the planet. There, snuggled between his arms, nothing or no one could hurt me. For the past couple of weeks, it was the only place where I found solace.

  My body craved his; I wanted to lie down beside him, with my cheek placed on his firm hairy chest. Sometimes, when I drifted off to sleep on his chest, I would wake up coughing when his chest-hairs had crept up my nose and tickled the membranes inside. Then Luke would rub the side of my forehead very gently, to settle me again. He would caress my face until I drifted off again, then later, somehow, some time, when I was fast asleep, he would extract himself from underneath my needy body and try to carve out some bed space for himself for just a few hours . . . until I searched once again for the safest place in the world, between his arms, on his chest.

  Every morning, when I woke up beside, instead of on, his chest, I felt cheated. I would stretch out my hand, look for the matted hair and crawl back on to his chest, into his arms. Gently, I would rub his chest in a circular motion, to remind him I was there, in case he hadn’t noticed.

  “Shh, Afric, shh, my sweetheart,” he whispered now. “It will be fine, she will be fine with Sue, with her godmother . . .” His voice trailed off as he rubbed the top of my head gently and caressed the side of my face.

  “I know, I know, you’re right. I’m fine, honestly, I’m grand. I’ll feel better when she’s properly settled into Sue’s house. Sue will look after her really well and anyway, sure, she’s a very low-maintenance child. Sue said she’s looking forward to having her.” I cleared my throat. I looked up and into his milk-chocolate eyes. “I’m fine, really I am. I’m going to go and pack now for both of us.”

  “Afric, I love you, you are my world. Please don’t be upset – it’s only for two sleeps that she’s going to stay with Sue. Two sleeps only and then we’ll be back.”

  I didn’t want to disturb him any further, so I turned to walk to the door

  “Afric . . . Afric!” The second Afric was louder than the first.

  I turned back and waited.

  “Sweetheart, if you get very, very sad, we can always come home,” he said, walking towards me. “There are loads of flights from London every day. We’ll just jump on the next plane and come home. We can be back home with her in a matter of hours.” He cupped my face in his hands, then with his index finger he traced my lips, first the bottom lip and then the top one. “Afric, I love you. Whatever will make you happy, whatever it is, we will do.” He tapped me gently on the bum, as if dismissing me, now that he had heard my plea.

  “Thanks, Luke, I love you.” I left his arms and walked to the door, then looked back and gave him a quarter of a smile; it was more of a gesture than a smile. I pulled the door of his new office gently closed behind me.

  I walked into the room where my daughter was. She had not moved from where I left her before my run down the pier.

  “Ruby, my sweetheart, Mummy’s back from her jog on the pier. It’s a beautiful morning out there. We have the first heat wave in years and your mummy is roasting.”

  I picked up my little girl and kissed her tenderly.

  “Ruby, I am so happy to have your dad back. Yes, my little girl, your daddy is back now from China and he will never have to go back there again. Isn’t that so good, my little angel?” I rubbed her very gently. “And, guess what, your dad is happy – well, as happy as can be expected – he seems very happy to be back home with you and me. Isn’t it great that we’re all together again? Ruby, I am so glad that you are here with us, that you’re back home with your mum and dad.” I kissed her again. “Now there’s something I need to tell you. My little angel, your mum and dad are going to head off for the weekend. We’re only going for two nights, so you’re going to stay with your godmother, your Fairy Godmother Sue. You’re going to Sue’s house and she will look after you. Do you hear me? My little girl, you’re going on your holidays too, like your mum and dad, except we’re going to different places, not together this time. You’re going to the Northside of Dublin for your holidays. Then on Sunday morning Mum and Dad will come and collect you and bring you back home safe and sound. Is that okay?”

  Ruby as yet didn’t have words, so she could not speak, and I had developed this awfully rude habit of talking for her and at her.

  “Ruby, don’t you know that your mum will miss you lots and lots? I’ll be very sad leaving you for the first time, but Mummy has promised Dad that she will not cry. So, my little angel, you are to be good until I come back. Do you hear me, my little angel? Ruby, do you hear your mummy?”

  There was no response.

  “Afric! Afric!” Luke hollered from his office. He came hurrying out with my phone in his hand. “Afric – there’s a missed call from Sue – you left your phone in my office.”

  I redialled the last missed call.

  “Sorry, Sue, I missed you, I’m just in the door,” I wittered down the phone. “I was on the pier, went for a
run, trying to get rid of some of those bloody pregnancy pounds – Jesus, Sue, they’re nearly impossible to shift –”

  “Afric, don’t be ridiculous, no one but yourself even notices them. It’s all in your head!”

  “I wish, Sue. It’s not in my head, I wish it was – it’s on the scales and, as we both know, the scales don’t lie!” I giggled.

  “You know, the white wine adds the pounds on too . . .”

  “Fuck off, Sue,” I said jokingly, clearly pronouncing each word. “Fuck off – don’t you start!”

  “Afric, don’t be so hard on yourself. Sure it’s only a month since you gave birth to Ruby. It takes weeks, months and even years to shift those bloody pounds. I still haven’t got rid of all the weight after the twins and they are nearly six – it takes time for your metabolism to readjust.” She paused. “Well, maybe not six years, that’s the extreme, but, God, give yourself a break, honestly, after all you’ve been through.”

  “God, Sue, it feels like months ago since I gave birth,” I said, my voice beginning to tremble.

  “That’s a good sign, Afric, very good. It means that you’re moving in the right direction, moving forward, getting back on track . . . Afric, what was it I wanted to say to you? Oh, back to Ruby – just checking in with you on the arrangement for me to collect her – I said I’d give you a quick call to see what suited. Do you want me to come by and collect her soon? That would probably be easier for you. Both the boys are on play dates so I’m free now, and if you had the time we could have a coffee in the sunshine down by the pier.”

  “Don’t be mad,” I replied. “Sure we have to go to the airport anyway so we’ll be out your direction, so how about we drop her off and then head straight for the airport? Honestly, Sue, we’ll drop Ruby off. I don’t want to put you out, especially when you’re so kind as to have her for a few nights. Would about five this afternoon suit?”

  “Okay so . . . if you’re sure . . .”

  “I am.”

  “Right – see you about five. Love to Luke!”