THREE DAYS TO GO

Hair tumbled across the pillow and Ruby’s face. Harry reached down and gently stroked the strands to one side. Ruby smiled in her sleep and it took all the strength he had to pull his hand back. With Rubes, he felt safe and comforted in a way he never did at home. Knowing that he made her feel the same, made him transform into a man, no longer a boy.

He didn’t want to go, but it was late – no, early, he corrected, checking the time on his phone. Four in the morning. Despite the time, he wanted to stay with Ruby. With her, he felt complete in a way he hadn’t been aware was possible, not when he hadn’t even known he wasn’t whole.

Once she had stopped crying this afternoon, he had persuaded her to switch off her phone while she was with him. They had both managed to calm down a little, talk and listen to music.

She hadn’t left until about half eight; it was definitely after he’d had to put the twins to bed, because she’d helped him. His mum had been out for the count again. Every move he’d made, he’d wished Ruby was by his side, making smart comments, rolling her eyes, making him see things in a whole fresh way, and smelling so sweet that he felt like one of those old cartoons where people float on the scent. Funny, the more time they spent together, the more he wanted to. He never got bored of her. After spending a whole day together at his place, parting had been harder not easier.

But they hadn’t been apart for long. By eleven p.m., as arranged, he’d climbed up the trellis below her window. It had been a bit hairy, because about a minute after he’d hauled his arse into her room, her dad had pulled up. But they’d got away with it. Her mum had gone to bed at ten p.m., according to Rubes, drunk after a night talking to some mate or other.

Both parents too wrapped up in their own worlds to notice Ruby had sneaked a boy into her room. Thank goodness.

He really, really didn’t want to go. But it was four a.m. and he was shattered. It felt like he was being torn in two as he got up.

Holding his breath, he crept to the sash window, then glanced back. The cold might wake Rubes when he opened and shut the window. He slipped into the chilly air in double quick time, the original wooden windows sliding back into place easily, leaving only the tiniest gap beneath that he couldn’t quite shut from outside.

The warmth of Ruby’s body clung to Harry’s skin as he jogged along the streets. It was a comfort. He didn’t want to leave her but he knew he had to get out before the rest of the house stirred. They couldn’t risk discovery. Besides, he needed to be there for when his brothers and mum woke. They relied on him.

---

A long luxurious stretch, limbs extending, toes curling in the soft morning light peeking around the edges of her curtains. For a moment everything was bliss.

Naked body. Porno pose. Lurid messages.

The memories hit Ruby like a boxer’s rally, left, right, left. The last a knockout punch. She closed her eyes, forced herself to breathe, made Harry’s soothing words come back to her. They had talked about the fake prostitute web page set up in her name all night. Finally, she had agreed with him that she had nothing to lose and possibly everything to gain by telling her parents. As soon as they saw the photo and read the messages, they were bound to take action.

It would take a lot of courage, though. And more than a little swallowing of her rage, suspicion and pride. They stuck in her throat, but she remembered Harry’s own pained face and decided to do it for him. Pulling her dressing gown over her pyjamas, she rushed downstairs.

---

Her parents were in the kitchen, sharing a silent breakfast, both of them with their noses buried in their tablets. Dad would be reading his newspaper online and Mum would be reading whatever the hell it was she was interested in.

Ruby brushed aside her irritation, tried to ignore the staccato beat of her heart.

Mum looked at her first. Her eyes were red, dark marks beneath them, and her skin was pale, but she gave a tight smile.

‘You’re up early. What are you going to do with your first day of the holidays?’

‘I, um, need to talk to you both…’

Dad put his tablet down with a theatrical sigh. ‘What have you done now?’

‘I – nothing. I haven’t done anything.’ Her voice was louder, more whiney than expected. ‘No, I just—’

‘You need to calm down, and stop shouting. You’re in enough trouble already without coming down here and starting first thing.’

How was it all going so wrong so quickly?

‘I am calm, I’m just trying to tell you something and you’re not listening.’

‘You better behave tonight. We have friends over and it’s a very important night, okay, so we don’t need you in one of your moods. Best behaviour, young lady.’ Dad gave her a long, hard stare then picked up his tablet again. End of discussion.

The rage inside Ruby was building up again. Blood thumping, body thrumming. Still, she tried to ball the anger up in her fists and hold it clenched there, but it seemed to be seeping through her fingers.

‘Why don’t you ever listen to me? There’s something you need to know—’

Mum threw a glance over at Dad, and of course took his side, cutting her off.

‘I don’t think now is the best time, Ruby. Why don’t you come back later and tell me about it then, eh?’

Later? Later?! Why was she always so low in their priorities? Why did they never try to listen to her? Ruby didn’t have hold of the anger any more. It had her in its iron fist. Shook her like a rag doll. She screamed in rage, picked up her father’s glass of orange juice and hurled it against the wall.

The room exploded with the glass. Shrieks, yells, her parents leaping to their feet. Finally, she had their attention.

‘I hate you.’ It wasn’t a shout, it was a poison-laden whisper. She let it drip into her parents’ ears then ran from the room, up the stairs and into her bedroom, which she locked.

The floor shook with Dad’s stomping steps coming after her. He hammered on her door, told her to ‘open the door immediately’. But she didn’t. Didn’t see why she should do anything to make life easier for those two cretins she called parents. They weren’t interested in her or her life or her pain. They definitely weren’t interested in stepping in and protecting her.

She wasn’t only angry with them though – she was furious with herself for even trying.

Finally, Dad bogged off. She heard his car drive away.

A gentle tap on the door…

‘Ruby? Look, what’s going on? Do you want to talk about it?’

She unlocked the door and skewered her mum with a look of pure venom. When she spoke, she sounded calm. ‘I don’t ever want to speak to you again.’

Then she closed the door. Sat on her bed and hugged her knees as her rage took flight and her thoughts soared.

Who did they think they were? Even though it was first thing, Dad stank of whisky and had bloodshot eyes. Yet he had the audacity to lecture her on morals and good behaviour. Hypocrite.

And her mum was such a pushover. She let Dad get away with anything. What a doormat. She barely seemed with it these days, with her watery, pink eyes and distracted looks.

If no one was going to protect her, she would protect herself. She would make everyone pay. She would lay waste to them.