Mum doesn’t help. She can’t believe that her top-of-the-class daughter could possibly be failing, whereas if it was Ruby who’d gone to pieces, she wouldn’t bat an eyelid, because it’s Ruby’s role in the family to mess up.
After years of resentment, she’s come to accept this label and even turn it to her advantage. Her mother’s expectations of her are so low it gives her full rein to explore and experiment. Since leaving university, she’s tried her hand at documentary film-making, selling jewellery made from recycled drinks cans and starting a vegan ice-cream business. When her brave plans fail – as they usually do – her mother just rolls her eyes in that told-you-so way. Now Ruby is working odd shifts at an escape room in Shoreditch, a job she would like to escape from herself.
She chains her bike and helmet against the park railings opposite and, after ringing the bell twice to no effect, knocks loudly with her fist. Eventually she hears the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and George opens the door. A gust of wind instantly blows dry leaves into the hallway.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I was making up feeds; I thought Amber was getting it.’
‘No worries.’ She follows him back up the stairs and shrugs off her coat, hanging it over the top banister. Mabel is in the kitchen, strapped into her high chair. She looks up as Ruby enters and gives her a big smile.
‘Hello, gorgeous!’ Ruby bends down. ‘Is that another tooth I can see?’
‘Yes,’ answers George on Mabel’s behalf. ‘She was very grumpy while it was coming through, but the last couple of nights she’s slept for five hours straight.’
‘Clever girl! Please do the same tonight for Auntie Ruby.’ She plants a kiss on the top of Mabel’s head. Her wispy hair – as red as her mother’s – smells of mashed banana.
‘I’ve written it all down,’ George says, nodding towards a piece of paper on the table. ‘Don’t feel you have to stick to the times; it’s just a guide. She hasn’t had any fresh air yet today, so if you want to take her for a spin around the park …’
‘I’d already thought of that.’ Ruby goes to the window and looks out. ‘It’s a beautiful day.’
‘But only seven degrees,’ Amber points out, entering the room. ‘Wrap her up properly. Hat and mittens, no arguments.’
‘Lovely to see you too,’ says Ruby, unable to resist the dig.
‘You know what you’re like. You’ll forget.’
‘I won’t.’
Amber shrugs, picking up the list of instructions and scrutinising it for omissions and mistakes. Unable to find any, she puts it back on the table.
‘I’ll follow it faithfully. Promise.’ Ruby offers a pacifying smile. ‘Please don’t worry. Just forget about us and have fun.’
‘Thanks, we really appreciate this, don’t we?’ George looks at Amber. She nods, but Ruby can tell that her sister is putting on an act. At least she’s made a bit of an effort to spruce herself up. Her shoulder-length hair looks as if it’s been attacked by a hairdryer, and she’s wearing make-up for the first time in months. Amber has classic Celtic looks – bright auburn hair, pale skin that turns pink at the merest exposure to sun, freckles sprinkled across her face like a dusting of demerara sugar. Ruby has the same pale skin, but she’s dark-haired, with not a freckle in sight. Amber has their father’s height, while Ruby is short like their mother. They couldn’t look more unlike each other and are consequently never taken for sisters.
‘You look great,’ says Ruby.
‘Do I? Really? You’re not just saying that?’
‘No! I like that eyeshadow. Suits you.’
‘I’d almost forgotten how to put it on.’ Amber looks down at herself critically. ‘Does this skirt look okay with these boots?’
‘Perfect.’
‘It needs an iron.’
‘Nah, it’s fine. You’ll be sitting in the car for ages, so there’s no point.’
Amber bends down to Mabel. She puts the back of her hand against her forehead and frowns. ‘George … she feels a bit hot.’
‘She’s fine, just excited because Auntie Ruby has come to play.’
‘Did you leave the thermometer out, like I asked?’
‘You didn’t ask, but I’ll do it now.’
‘I did ask.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘No, I definitely remember mentioning it.’
George bangs the bottle of formula down and walks out of the room. Amber closes her eyes, as if enduring real pain.
‘I’m sure I won’t need it,’ says Ruby.
‘That’s not the point.’
George returns with the thermometer, which is shaped like a dragon, and puts it on the table next to the spare key. ‘Shall we get going? I was hoping we’d be there in time for lunch, but that’s not going to happen now. We’ll have to find somewhere to stop on the way.’
Amber huffs. ‘I can’t get ready any quicker. I’m so tired, I feel like a zombie.’ She turns to her sister. ‘We’ve been up since five.’
Ruby grins. ‘I only had four hours’ sleep myself, if that makes you feel any better.’
‘But you were out clubbing, I expect. We had no choice.’
‘I know, I was just—’
‘Will Lewis be joining you later?’ asks George, trying to change the subject.
‘No,’ says Ruby. ‘He woke up with a sore throat and didn’t want to pass any germs on to Mabel.’
‘Very considerate,’ says Amber approvingly. Ruby nods, remembering the cross words she and Lewis exchanged that morning. She doesn’t believe the sore throat story; there’s always some excuse. Lewis hasn’t seen Mabel for months, and Ruby’s starting to wonder if he’s sending out a subtle message to the effect that he doesn’t want children. Not that they’ve ever discussed having a baby – they’re too young for a start, and have only been together two years. She loves being Auntie Ruby, but Lewis reacted quite negatively to being called Uncle. Maybe he doesn’t feel entitled because they aren’t married. He can be old-fashioned like that.
Amber’s voice cuts into her thoughts. ‘Don’t forget to turn on the baby monitor. Don’t let her sleep in the bed. If she wakes up, just go into the nursery and talk to her calmly. You can lay a hand on her tummy but don’t pick her up. If she gets really hysterical, let her have some water from her beaker. Filtered only, from the jug in the fridge, but don’t give it to her freezing cold. Use the dummy only as a last resort. With a bit of luck, she’ll sleep from about midnight to five.’
‘Yes thanks, got it,’ Ruby replies, not really listening. ‘Honestly, we’ll be fine.’
It’s another twenty minutes before they’re ready to leave. Amber gives her daughter a last cuddle and starts to cry, but Mabel doesn’t seem to care. She’s too busy playing peekaboo with Auntie Ruby and a tea towel.
Ruby hears the front door slam and immediately breathes out. ‘Right, Mabel Rosebud,’ she says. ‘I don’t care what it says in the instructions. We’re going to see the ducks.’