Ruby Tuesday

Chapter twelve

    “Dogs need regular exercise.” She mumbled absently as she studied over documents. I wondered what exactly she could be so busy looking at all the time, anyone would think that her wedding was a massive business deal rather than a declaration of solidarity and love. “Think of it as your rent, love.”

    “I’d rather hand you money.” I muttered.

    Tutting loudly mum shot me a look, “you could at least try to stop whining every five minutes Ruby. It’s not very becoming on a young lady. How d’you expect to keep that boyfriend of yours interested if all you ever do is whinge and pull a face like you’re sucking on lemons?” Staring astonished at her I was at a complete loss for words.

    “Well thanks a bunch!”

    “Shut up then!” She retorted and returned to looking over sheets of paper.

    I was not in the best of moods with her when we headed into London either. She nattered away, jabbering loudly in my ear about irrelevant rubbish while I strutted along with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of my mouth.

    Mum had large sunglasses and puffed out hair with smart kitten heels and a knee length dress and although I hated to admit it she did look pretty spectacular. I had my usual beehive and babydoll styled dress and a stomp about me that made me edgy. Or maybe not but in my eyes I looked edgy.

    “You-you it’s you!” Some chubby middle aged man pointed and hollered at me, my eyes boggled in alarm.

    Glancing at mum nervously I said, “what the hell is he talking about?”

    “You! It’s her! That Jack Flash’s girl! Look!” And suddenly men with cameras and pens were swarming around us, overwhelmingly so. Squeaking in surprise I shouldered into mum asking her what we were supposed to do.

    “Get out of the way!” Mum snapped angrily, shoving into these journalists that were in a suffocating proximity.

    “What’s her name? What’s your name? What’s your relationship like with the infamous Jack Flash? How long have you been together? What’s the news? Tell us!” They yelled in my face, I’d read what they had to say in the papers but I never really thought about the way in which they sourced their information and how terrifying it was for their subjects.

    “Come on,” mum was elbowing her way through, pulling me along after her. “Move!” The owner of the bridal shop was stood on the steps astounded and waiting for us, she held the door open and just as I made it in she slammed it shut and locked the door. “God.” Mum huffed instantly composing herself and flicking her hair out of her face. “That was an experience.”

    The woman turned around and hitched a polite smile onto her aging face. “Well, you’ve probably just given us a lot of new customers.”

    Mum laughed and then I sat down in a lavender cushioned chair as she was ushered into a velvet curtained changing room where she’d be stitched and tied into various white gowns. The lights were on and the curtains drawn around the windows to stop the nosey journalists from seeing inside. I sighed to myself and lent back in the chair, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of my dress.

    When mum came out she popped her hands on her hips and pulled a pose. It was tight and gathered around the bust and flowed in various levels of lace out where it pooled like petals around her ankles. “Don’t you look interesting?” I commented with a faux smile.

    Her eyes twitched, “not exactly the response I was looking for.”

    Leaning forward in the seat I took her in properly, “well, I think you need to go for a simpler touch. You know, more elegant.”