Her heart gave a sudden thump. Just a few feet away a mother with a baby in a sling helped two children get onto a sledge. A dark-haired boy and a younger little girl with blonde curls. The world seemed to fall into slow motion and for an absurd second she nearly ran towards them—until common sense drummed its beat.
That wasn’t Tom and Philippa. Tom would be twenty now, and Philippa nineteen. Even if they were here she wouldn’t recognise them. They were adults.
For a second, loss shredded her insides.
‘Ruby?’ Ethan’s rich voice held a question and a heap of concern.
For a mad minute she wanted to tell him the truth, in the hope that he could soothe the pain.
With muscle-aching effort she pulled herself together. Confiding in Ethan would only add to the intimacy she was trying to fight. In any case Ethan didn’t welcome emotional intensity; he hadn’t ten years before and he wouldn’t now.
‘I’m fine. Just chicken, I guess. Why don’t you show me how it’s done?’
‘No. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. We’re going to the café.’
‘I...’
‘No arguments. First rule of snow sport. You don’t do it unless you’re focused.’
Maybe he was right. Either way he wasn’t taking no for an answer and willy-nilly Ruby followed him towards the café.
* * *
Ethan held the café door open. The smell of coffee jumbled up with the aromas of vanilla and almond and Christmas spices. Carols filled the air with a choral hum—a festive backdrop to the chatter of families and the clink-clank of cutlery. Usually the scents would have triggered a smile, but Ruby seemed enmeshed in thought.
Even an almond croissant and hot chocolate didn’t bring more than a perfunctory smile to her face.
‘You want to talk about it?’ Even as he spoke the words he knew it was a foolhardy query. The invitation to confide, to share, was not one he would ever make as a rule. Panic threatened—an echo of a decade ago. He was letting her get too close. But how could he help it? When she looked to be in such pain, with her usual vividness drained? He wanted to help, to make it better for her.
If he had any sense he would never have let things get to this point—maybe he should have let history repeat itself and cut and run.
Chill, Ethan.
Time to remember that he was ten years older now, ten years wiser, and this time he would be able to control the situation. There could be no danger in an offer of support and it would be an impossibility to withhold that support.
‘If you want to talk I’m here.’
Her eyes met his with a hint of surprise, palpable hesitation, and a small determined shake of her head. ‘It’s Christmas. You’ve gone to all this trouble. I’m sorry to be a Debbie Downer.’
‘You aren’t. I promise. Ruby, we both know that Christmas can be an emotive time for people with difficult pasts. Talk to me. I know your childhood Christmases were grim. Maybe I can dilute some of your tainted memories.’
One more heartbeat of a pause and then she exhaled. Picked up the steaming mug of hot chocolate and cradled it, her eyes wide. ‘I guess for a moment out there the past arrived from nowhere and knocked me for a half-dozen. Those children on the sledge next to us... For an instant they reminded me of my younger brother and sisters.’
The words registered in his brain—generated a host of questions. If Ruby had siblings where were they now? Why did the memory of them haunt her?
Her gloved hand pushed a tendril of hair from her face and she sighed. The noise escaped into the chatter-tinged air with the sound of age-old sorrow and weariness.
‘Tom, Edie and Philippa,’ she continued. ‘I told you my parents were addicts. One of the ways they funded their addictions was via benefits. The more children they had, the more money they got. I was the oldest, then Tom, Philippa and Edie. I was six when Tom was born, and I can still remember the awe I felt when I first saw him—such a tiny scrap of humanity. I felt welded to him. Same with the girls. All I wanted was for us to stay together as a family, and I vowed I would do whatever it took. Mum and Dad told me that it was up to me—that they couldn’t do it so I had to be strong. I had to be responsible. I had to lie to social workers and school teachers. Had to make sure everyone believed we were a happy family.’
Ethan’s chest constricted at the sight of her face, whiter than the snow that glittered and glinted outside. He could picture a much younger Ruby, her expression oh, so serious, tucking an unruly curl of dark hair behind her ear as she concentrated on changing a nappy or manoeuvred a heavy pan of water onto the hob.
‘That must have been tough,’ he said softly.
‘It was and it wasn’t. I loved them all so much, you see—and I told myself that Mum and Dad loved us really. But the cold hard truth is that they used us. More fool me for ever thinking otherwise. Even after it all went wrong, when I screwed it up, for ages I still kidded myself that they loved me.’
‘What happened?’
‘I couldn’t hold up the façade and it crumbled down. We were whisked away into care. They couldn’t find a carer to take all four of us so we were split up. We went from being a family unit to having visits in a social worker’s office once a week if we were lucky.’