The Truth About Ruby Valentine

Kelly and Jez met for the very first time on a deserted beach at sunrise. Kelly was perched on a ragged rock at the high-tideline watching the pale sky slowly take on the colours of the summer day that was to come. She saw him before he saw her. He had his head down like a beachcomber and she was able to study the curious spectacle of his erratic, long-limbed strides as he picked his way through rock pools in the ghostly half-light. He was concentrating hard and she found it endearing, catching her breath if he stumbled or slipped. He held out his hands for balance like a tightrope walker and when he wobbled she willed him not to fall with all the mental powers she possessed. She wondered what he was like.

By the time Jez looked up and saw her he was close enough for Kelly to admire the green flecks in his brown eyes. She was about to say something – hi, good morning, something – when he smiled at her and suddenly Kelly felt as if she didn’t have to say a single word. There was a whole conversation in his smile. Hello, lovely morning, I’m a nice guy, is this seat taken?

He sat beside her and together they watched the golden globe chase away the pre-dawn cool. The grey sky gently bloomed into delicate pastel shades that in turn gave way to the blue. She kept expecting him to speak but as the shared minutes went by and he didn’t, she got excited. It was romantic, and she was enjoying the mystery. She could feel the warmth of his body inches away from hers. It was as if they were cocooned in a magic spell, one that she didn’t want to break with prosaic words.

Then he kissed her and she let him, because moments like that don’t come around very often. A perfect first kiss, the early birdsong and the lulling waves the only sounds for miles around. She felt as though they were the last two people alive in the world. Two wandering souls finding each other at daybreak. It was by far the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her. It was as if he was her destiny. She felt like the star of her own private movie.

The truth was far more mundane. Kelly was only out so early because she’d drunk way too much the night before with the girls after work, crawled home and into bed before the ten o’clock news and woken at four in the morning feeling wide awake, bursting for a wee and slightly hungover. Once she’d navigated the bathroom she was even more alert, with an empty fridge and a desperate craving for a bacon cheeseburger. She knew she would not be able to get back to sleep unless she had one. So she’d driven down to the all-night garage and bought one of those microwaveable burgers, which had tasted sublime, and then she’d decided that a bracing walk down to the sea might clear her fusty head and alleviate the nausea in her belly.

Jez was only out unusually early because he’d been rudely awoken by the gruesome sound of someone having an enthusiastic shag in the room next door to his and had been so depressed by his flatmate’s success with women compared to his own that he’d slammed out of the flat, hoping to piss off Darren, the flatmate, and hopefully interrupt his stride, so to speak.

These people were the real Kelly and Jez. The pair on the beach didn’t yet know that about each other.

The kiss ended and when they pulled apart Jez said, ‘I’m Jez.’

‘Kelly,’ she whispered.

That was almost a year ago. They’d been together ever since. They had some sweet moments, they had some good times, but Kelly had never been able to re-create that feeling on the beach when the world seemed enchanted and her life suddenly overflowed with promise. Sometimes, ridiculously, she resented the fact that they’d had their starry-eyed first encounter, because everything that followed that morning was bound to be a disappointment. Maybe if they’d just met in a club or something she wouldn’t feel so heavily invested. It wasn’t that he did anything wrong, it was just that when she looked at him her thoughts were not of passion and romance and happy ever after. Mostly when Kelly looked at Jez, she thought: is this it?

Under the bed Kelly’s fingers dipped into something squishy and unpleasant. She flinched and then withdrew a plate of half-eaten super-noodles. Last week Jez had suggested that she move in officially and they should start splitting the rent. Was it any wonder that she couldn’t bring herself to do it?

Beneath the covers he moved. ‘Get up,’ she said. ‘You’ll be late for work.’

‘Notgoinin.’

‘What?’

‘I’m not going in,’ he said. His dishevelled dark blonde hair appeared above the duvet, shortly followed by his smiling face. Jez still had his utterly disarming smile. She loved it. If only she could move in with a smile. If only she could love the rest of him.

‘Since when?’ she said.

‘Since there was hardly enough work for one person, let alone two. Glynn told me to take the rest of the week off.’

‘Paid?’

He looked at her as if she was stupid. ‘Well, no, of course not paid. Don’t worry, I’ll manage.’

Jez worked at a vintage video store. He described it as a niche market. Kelly tried not to think of the money that she’d lent him when he hit zero at the end of last month. She should just kiss it goodbye. Or him. Or something. But not today. She was running late.

Her hand closed around the shiny leather of her elusive boot and she was momentarily elated. ‘Got it!’ And she still had thirty minutes to get in to work on time. It was practically possible.

‘Make us a cup of tea?’ said Jez, smiling. And she did.

While she was waiting for the pot to brew Kelly tried to work out what kept them together, but it quickly got depressing so she stopped. He was a nice guy. That should be enough.

Kelly worked for a financial management company, a fancy way of saying debt collectors, which was really just another way of saying bailiffs. Every day she fielded phone calls from people all over the country, up to their eyes in debt and up to their necks in sand. They were usually upset or very, very angry and either way they took it out on her. Kelly had been verbally abused, her life had been threatened and she had endured endless tears and tirades from people who got hopelessly carried away on charge cards and then acted put upon when they received a court summons, or worse – men turning up to take away the widescreen television.

Kelly was only three and a half minutes late but Chartreuse raised an eyebrow just the same. An exquisitely shaped eyebrow which Chartreuse had painstakingly plucked around a template supposedly based on the perfectly shaped brows of Elizabeth Hurley. Kelly knew this because Chartreuse had told her. At length.

Chartreuse tapped on the dial of her pink swatch and then went back to lazily flicking through the pages of a gossip magazine, all the while chatting down the phone on what was obviously a personal call.

‘Sorry,’ said Kelly, except she wasn’t.

She plugged in her headset and answered the blinking call. Chartreuse could have answered it but there was a rumour that she hadn’t answered an incoming call since 1998 and so, just to add to the fun, this caller would have been on hold listening to a synthetic version of ‘Greensleeves’.

‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘First Fiscal, this is Kelly, how can I help?’

‘Finally! I need somebody to please tell me what the hell is going on,’ said an angry, slightly posh voice. ‘I miss one bloody payment. It’s an outrage… daylight robbery… making good people feel like criminals…’

‘I see. And do you have an account number?’ Kelly went through the motions of the call, keeping her voice low and under control, not reacting no matter what he threw at her, just as she’d been taught. ‘Every caller is a learning experience,’ Chartreuse was overly fond of saying. ‘If you feel pressured, refer to the handbook.’ The acceptable response to every possible query was written in an exhaustive handbook; Kelly hadn’t looked at hers since her first week on the job. ‘Remember, there’s no such thing as the perfect call,’ Chartreuse would say, and Kelly always felt like saying, ‘Like you’d know?’

Chartreuse received an extra five grand a year to be their supervisor – correction, team leader – but she didn’t actually seem to do anything special other than organizing the rota, which had been the same for as long as Kelly had worked the nine to four shift. Which felt like for ever. Maybe she should ask to switch to the two to nine, just for a change.

Kelly sighed. Was that the most exciting thing she could think of? Switching earlies for lates? Woo-hoo. Wild. But Kelly didn’t expect too much out of life. A nice view or a filthy bacon cheeseburger was often enough to raise her spirits. There were, after all, plenty of people in the world who never got the chance to enjoy either. One day she wanted to have adventures, but she was only just getting the hang of being a responsible adult and there never seemed to be enough time in the day to make any serious decisions. So she stayed in a job she didn’t much like, and with a boyfriend she wasn’t sure about because, really, what was the alternative? Being unemployed and alone? One day maybe, but not today.

As soon as the door closed behind their leader, the First Fiscal team relaxed palpably.

‘Bags I get her magazine,’ said Kelly, and dived into Chartreuse’s desk drawer before anyone else had the chance. Around her people turned on their mobiles and started texting their mates or surfing the Internet, all the while answering the calls as they came in. If only Chartreuse weren’t there, this job would be much more bearable.

Kelly got lost in the lush pages of the celebrity magazine. It was senseless really, she knew, her relentless interest in the lives of strangers, passing judgement on their relationships or outfits or the inside of their houses as if it really mattered in the larger scheme of things. She occasionally used the excuse that her father, Sean Coltrane, had been a celebrity photographer back in his day, though Sean’s black and white art was a world away from the latest picture of Christina Aguilera papped without her makeup on. But more often she happily admitted the guilty pleasure she took from paddling in the shallow end. It was fun. Kelly had a healthy appetite for tales of the rich and fabulous and she didn’t feel the need to hide it.

And judging by the brief tussle for the magazine when she’d finished it, neither did the rest of the girls.

‘How’s Jez?’ said one of them.

‘All right,’ said Kelly. ‘How’s Dave?’

‘Pissing me off as usual.’

Kelly didn’t really like it when people complained about their boyfriends either but she laughed anyway.

A few desks away a girl was having an argument on the phone with her mother. You could tell it was her mother by the way she spoke to her, impatiently and with more than a touch of teenage histrionics. When the call was over the girl slammed down the phone, sighed deeply and said to anyone who might be listening, ‘My mum is a total bitch to me.’

Kelly particularly didn’t like it when people complained about their mothers. It was just her and Sean at home. There hadn’t been a mother in the picture for as long as she could remember. People who complained about their mothers didn’t know how lucky they were. At least they had someone to complain about. Kelly could have said as much, but she didn’t. In her experience the tale of a runaway mummy encouraged the worst kind of pity and she didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for her. On hearing such a story people invariably think of how it would feel to lose their own mother and how awful that would be, but it wasn’t like that for Kelly, and people found it hard to understand. Kelly had no sense of loss because it was impossible for her to miss what she couldn’t even remember.

Kelly was totally fine.

Okay, so her job and her boyfriend and her living situation were not what she might have hoped for when she was a little kid. Back then she had imagined a much more interesting life for herself, but wasn’t it that way for everyone? As a child you dream of what you are going to be and nobody says, ‘When I grow up I want to work in an office,’ but thousands of people end up doing exactly that. As the years go by you forget what it was you wanted to be in the first place. She was happy enough. Growing up without a mum only felt as if she was being short-changed once in a while; most of the time she was content. And the gnawing sense of dissatisfaction with her lot was nothing to do with the fact that she thought about her absent mother every single day. Okay?

Just before three o’clock Chartreuse blew back into the office with an armful of Warehouse carrier bags – she must have driven all the way to Cardiff – and she was obviously very excited about something.

Kelly tuned her out. Probably some bloke had called her and for the rest of the afternoon it would all be: ‘… he said and then I said…’ and Kelly would hate the poor guy even though she’d never met him. Then she noticed that the rest of the office were caught up in Chartreuse’s excitement and someone was plugging in the old television in the corner of the room, moving the ailing spider-plant gathering dust on top of it, and trying to get a decent picture. Something was happening and bigger than their team leader’s love life, because as much as Chartreuse might have wanted it to, her love life wouldn’t make the news. That was the difference between them: Chartreuse read her magazines and felt maliciously jealous; Kelly read them and felt sickened and appalled, but in a good way, the way one might after gorging an entire family bar of Dairy Milk chocolate.

She picked up a blinking call and tried to keep half an ear on the gossip but it was impossible (the woman on the end of the phone swore blind she knew nothing about the debt on their joint credit card, why should she have to pay for a stinking husband’s affair?) When the call finished, or rather, when the woman had hung up on Kelly after calling her a bitch, Kelly put her phone on ‘Do not disturb’ and went over to the television in the corner.

‘What’s happened?’ she said. It must be huge for the television to be dragged into service. She hoped that it wasn’t anything too awful.

‘It’s just so sad,’ said Chartreuse.

‘My dad was crazy about her,’ said someone else.

‘I can’t believe she’s really dead.’

‘Who is?’ said Kelly. ‘Who’s dead?’

‘Ruby Valentine,’ said Chartreuse. ‘Yesterday. I heard it on the radio driving back.’ Her voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. ‘Suspected overdose.’

As she said this the news headlines began on the television and the sombre voice of a BBC newsreader confirmed that screen legend Ruby Valentine had been found dead in Los Angeles.

‘Oh, I don’t know if I’d say legend,’ mused Chartreuse. ‘Icon maybe.’

What’s the difference?’ someone asked.

‘Well,’ said Chartreuse. ‘I suppose an icon is more like David Bowie, but a legend is, say, Elton John.’

‘Can we please listen to this?’ said Kelly. ‘She was neither. One’s a symbol of something and one’s a story that may or may not be true, okay?’ She shook her head dismissively, earning a sour look from Chartreuse. ‘She’s an actress.’

‘Was,’ corrected Chartreuse. ‘Sorry, didn’t know we were in the presence of such a big fan.’

A windswept correspondent on a beach with a pink house behind him reported that although they were waiting for official confirmation there seemed little doubt that Ruby had committed suicide. Then the short news item was over and the weather forecast began.

‘Is she Sofia Valentine’s mother?’ said one of the girls.

‘Grandma,’ said Chartreuse with authority. ‘Can you believe it?’

Kelly wandered back to her desk trying to work out how she could get away with looking at the news on the Internet. Maybe if she angled her screen differently or waited until her team leader went out for one of her marathon fag breaks. She wasn’t a huge fan as such but it was an intriguing story, a deliciously macabre piece of gossip. Ruby wasn’t exactly Kurt Cobain or Marilyn, she was older than that and her fruitful career had been on the wane, but she was a fallen star nonetheless. Her grand-daughter Sofia Valentine was one of those poindessly famous people who seemed to get paid an awful lot for not doing very much at all and was always in the tabloids.

Kelly’s mobile rang and Chartreuse’s head whipped round, looking for the source of the jaunty ringtone. ‘No personal calls!’ she snapped.

‘It’s my dad,’ said Kelly. ‘It might be important.’

‘Keep it short.’

Kelly turned her back before she could see Chartreuse tapping her swatch. Who wore a swatch in this day and age? Did she think it was retro? Was it?

‘Dad,’ said Kelly, ‘what’s up?’

‘You have to come home,’ he said.

What’s wrong? Are you okay?’

‘Nothing’s wrong but you have to come home.’

She didn’t believe him. She could tell by the tone of his voice that something had happened. She tried to ignore her instinctive sense that it was something bad. She promised to be there in a little while and told Chartreuse she had to leave early as there was a family emergency.

‘That’s impossible.’

‘What’s the big deal?’ said Kelly. ‘The late shift will be here in a minute.’

‘I wish I could but…’

‘But what? It’s my dad, and he needs me. I’m going. I’ll stay on tomorrow and make up the time.’

‘Kelly! I said no.’

Kelly was already half-way across the office. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I’m going. I have to.’ She was thinking that if Chartreuse gave her one more reason to quit then she would, right here and now. In fact, half of her was begging for an excuse to do it. Unemployment would motivate her to seek out a more interesting life than this. If she was lucky maybe she’d get fired.

She turned and stared defiantly at her team leader, who she noticed was openly reading the entertainment headlines on the Anonova website. Kelly’s pale blue eyes were cold and challenging. I dare you.

Chartreuse looked at Kelly in surprise as if she had suddenly seen a new side of her, a side that wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not the subservient underling she took for granted. She didn’t know how to deal with this rebellious streak.

Kelly held her gaze. She felt strong because she didn’t care.

‘You look a bit like her, you know,’ Chartreuse said eventually.

‘Like who?’

‘Ruby Valentine.’

That was unexpected. ‘Um, thanks. So I’ll see you tomorrow’

Chartreuse backed down and Kelly’s thoughts of adventure subsided, which was a relief. She had no idea what she’d do if she lost her job.

‘Fine,’ said Chartreuse. ‘But don’t forget what a nice person I am.’

She’d try to remember.

She loved growing up here, just the two of them, Kelly and Sean, as tight as the twin shells of a Pembrokeshire clam.

Up close, the ancient farmhouse revealed its flaws like the wrinkles of an ageing screenstar. Bricks were held together with moss and a prayer, the mortar having long since crumbled, victim of the damp Welsh air. Both the attic windows were riddled with cracks, and black holes in the regular pattern of the roof tiles revealed the vulnerable spots like missing teeth in a smile. Kelly knew that indoors there would be the steady rhythm of drips into a bucket or a saucepan. She had long ago stopped nagging Sean to get the house fixed up; it simply wasn’t a priority for him and at times she thought that he enjoyed the shabbiness, that it reflected something of himself. She could relate to that.

Besides, now she was all grown up she supposed that bringing their house up to date was her responsibility too and she had neither the means nor the drive to begin. Once that particular realization had hit home, Kelly suddenly found the ailing heating system charming rather than annoying, and thought it was quaint that you could race pennies down the gentle slope of the kitchen floor.

She pushed open the heavy wooden door, which scraped on the stone flooring where the wood had warped and swollen. ‘Dad?’

The smell of developing fluid and damp roll-ups tickled her nostrils. The familiar smells of home. There were no buckets, just a puddle collecting behind the back step, following the pitch of the floor. Kelly grabbed a dishtowel from the crowded sink and jammed it into the puddle with her heel. It was instantly sodden.

‘Dad?’ She looked for a clean saucepan, but there were only two and they were both dirty. She turned on a tap and the pipes rattled like a chesty cough. The house groaned.

‘Kelly?’

‘It’s me!’ She wiped the saucepan hastily and placed it under the drip before turning off the tap and running towards the sound of his voice.

Sean was in the most chaotic room in the house. Tucked away at the back, unchanged in two centuries, it had a flagstone floor and no natural light. The room had variously been Sean’s darkroom, Kelly’s den and a junk room. Now it was reclaimed as an office but Kelly suspected it was still a junk room at heart.

Sean was hunched over his desk, an anglepoise lamp casting a single halo of light in front of him. He was too old for freckles but there they were, scattered over his nose and cheeks, across the pleats of his laughter lines all the way up to his thatch of grey hair. Shy freckles because it was winter, but marks of boyish charm that would never fade away completely.

When he looked up she thought his eyes looked strange. Was it possible he’d been crying?

‘Hello, love,’ he said. ‘Nice day?’

‘What’s happened?’ she said.

A number of scenarios had presented themselves to her on the drive home. They had run out of money and needed to sell the house. He was sick. He had found her diaries from when she was seventeen years old and discovered that she had not, as she’d always insisted was the case, saved herself for marriage. Or maybe, just maybe, it was good news. He’d won the lottery on his first try. One of his old photos was being used in a major advertising campaign. Some of his new photographs were going to be exhibited. He had a girlfriend.

From his expression she could not tell. It was not an expression she’d ever seen before. She walked towards him and as she got closer she could see that he’d been staring at some old photographs. Photographs of Ruby Valentine.

She picked one up. ‘This is gorgeous,’ she said. And it was. A black and white studio shot of a much younger Ruby, her eyes reaching beyond the camera, maybe to someone out of shot who was responsible for the laughter in her face.

Sean pushed away from the desk to allow Kelly to look at the photographs properly. There were dozens, all of Ruby. Some of them were candid shots taken at parties, some of them were posed, still more featured her on set between scenes. There were photos of Ruby on her own, in company, playing with her children. Intimate shots that captured her over the years. And one of Sean with his arms around her, receiving a kiss on the end of his nose.

‘Oh, Dad,’ she said, pulling up a chair of her own. ‘You knew her? These are incredible. It’s awful what happened.’

Kelly had always been aware that her father had had many famous friends in his heyday. To be photographed by Sean Coltrane in the Sixties and Seventies really meant something. She knew this the way other girls know their fathers are doctors or drive trucks for a living, with respectful interest which occasionally drifted into boredom. After all, she could never recognize half the people in his shots. There were only a few survivors, like Ruby, who were still stars. Sean mainly photographed landscapes these days and it was hard to get excited about sand dunes on a greetings card. Landscapes were less rock and roll but he insisted he liked it that way. ‘Once upon a time,’ he said, ‘you were able to catch fame off guard, take a photograph of the person and not the image. Now the image is all they’re willing to give. Everyone is “on” if there’s a camera nearby’ Sean still occasionally took portraits, as a favour, or for charity. Once, thrillingly, so Kelly had thought at ten years old, for a stamp.

Kelly picked out a stack of photographs to study, her interest grabbed by a more pensive Ruby, heavily pregnant and deep in thought. ‘Were you very close?’ she said.

Sean raised his eyes to hers and this time there was no mistaking it. Tears threatened to fall. ‘I was in love with her,’ he replied.

Blimey. ‘Did you… I mean…’ How could she ask her dad this question? Did she really want to know? The thought of him having sex was bad enough but the thought of him having sex with one of the sexiest women in the world… She wasn’t sure if she could handle the mental image that presented. Ugh, too late, so she asked away. ‘Did you sleep with her?’

‘We were friends for a long time,’ he said. ‘Then we had an affair.’ He took the top photograph out of her hand and traced the curve of Ruby’s swollen belly. ‘Then we had a baby girl.’

‘Huh?’ Her train of thought stopped dead and then backed up. What the hell? A baby?

‘I should have told you,’ he said. ‘I should have told you years ago.’

‘Told me… what?’ said Kelly, her train of thought thoroughly derailed. ‘I have a sister somewhere?’

Ruby’s eyes were starting to look hauntingly like her own. Half of her knew the truth before he said it.

‘We had you.’

‘Me?’

‘Kelly, Ruby’s your mother. Was your mother.’

The rest of the photographs dropped from Kelly’s hand on to the cold stone floor. She fled.

Just thinking about her mother always made Kelly feel guilty. She felt as if she was being disloyal to Sean. She loved her father intensely and was worried that being curious about the woman who had given birth to her would somehow make him think she loved him less, or that she wasn’t satisfied in some way by her childhood. And she was. She had a fleeting memory of asking him why she didn’t have a mummy when she was very small, far too young to worry about being insensitive, but could never recall his exact words, no matter how hard she strained for them, only, ‘I love you.’

From time to time in later years questions would rise in her throat and she would go to him, determined that this time she wouldn’t chicken out, she would just ask him some stuff and it would be fine, absolutely fine. She wanted to know what her mother had been like, that was all, she wanted to know where she came from. Then all the questions would dry up in her throat when she saw her dad, and how his face lit up in eager, loving anticipation of what his treasured daughter had to say. So she let it slide and slide, until it felt far too late to ask, and the gap in their lives where a wife and mother should be was never mentioned.

Kelly only allowed herself to think, Who was she? Where did she go? Will she ever come back? Am I like her?, when she was locked in her room. When Sean was safely under the impression that she was in a bad mood and all she was thinking about was your average teenage trauma.

Kelly thought she had grown out of it but she felt the urge now, as strong as a drug addict needing a fix, to run up the stairs and shut the door.

‘Kelly, wait!’

She ignored her dad’s shout and only started breathing again when the door was closed and she was sitting on the floor with her back to it.

Disbelief? Sure. Shock? You betcha. Anger? Some.

After all this time she’d convinced herself that the truth must be too awful, Sean loved her and so he must be protecting her from something for her own good. But the truth was that her mother was a superstar. Another thought pushed for space in the chaos. God, she must have been loaded! All those things that Sean had said they couldn’t afford, the horse she’d wanted when she was twelve (okay, so he’d been right, the whole pony thing was a bit of a phase), the holiday to Ibiza that he refused to pay for when she was sixteen (but then, everybody else’s parents had vetoed that grand plan too), the secondhand Corsa he’d picked out for her twenty-first birthday instead of the classic MG of her dreams. Ruby Valentine would have had enough money to buy Kelly whatever she wanted, but what Kelly wanted most – a mother – had clearly cost far too much.

Was it really true? She couldn’t think of any possible reason why her dad would lie to her. Especially about something like this.

She reached across the cluttered bedroom floor for a cheap compact mirror in her eyeline, a free gift when she’d bought two or more items (one to be skincare). She wiped away a thin layer of dust that had gathered on the glass and studied her reflection. Too many freckles (thanks, Dad), unruly eyebrows, the beginnings of a spot on her chin, a smudge of grey on her forehead that she hadn’t even known about. She licked her palm and wiped away the grey smudge. She studied her thick black hair that looked dyed but wasn’t, and her pale, wolfish eyes that everybody said were her best feature. These features had come from Ruby Valentine. Kelly realized with a start that she hadn’t fully believed it until now, until she saw the eyes of a ghost in the mirror.

‘Kelly? Sweetheart?’

Her dad outside her door. It was like being thirteen again. She felt as ill equipped now to deal with unsettling emotions as she had been then. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I promised her I’d never tell you.’

What? And now that she was dead it was okay to break that promise? What possible good did it do Kelly to know this now, when it was too late? What on earth was she supposed to do with this revelation? Sell it to the tabloids? And say what? I never knew her, she never knew me, but check me out anyway? It didn’t even matter that her mother was famous. She was gone, and for now that was all Kelly could see.

‘Leave me alone.’ She walked over to her clapped-out stereo and pushed play on the CD, not caring about the song and turning up the volume to drown Sean’s repeated pleas for her to come out.

And she sat with her back to the door and tried not to cry.

For as long as she could remember she had thought there was a chance she had a mother out in the world somewhere, but now she knew there was no chance at all. A fantasy she’d had for years – that her mother would turn up and they would become close – disintegrated. And she felt that with it went any hope of ever finding out why she felt so lonely sometimes.

‘Uh, Kelly? Are you in there?’

Jez. She opened the door.

What’s up?’ he said. ‘I’ve been calling your mobile. I thought you were waiting for me after work. You know, so we could go to that place and get that thing?’

She vaguely remembered something about Jez needing a lift into the next town but trying to recall the details was like wading through fog.

She had to talk to someone, it was the only way this would seem real. ‘Something’s happened,’ she said.

‘What?’ he said. His hands flew to his mouth. ‘Oh no, I know what it is. You used the cash card and the machine swallowed it? That’s okay, babe. Glynn says there’s work coming up next week for sure.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘That’s not it.’

She felt hot tears spike the back of her eyelids, and even though she kept them in check Jez must have noticed a change in her expression. He sat down on the bed beside her and laced his fingers through her own and she looked down at their joined hands. They matched.

‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

She paused to allow him the chance to make an inappropriate joke – if he was going to make jokes then she’d rather give him a chance to do so early on – but he didn’t. He just tightened his grip on her hand a tiny bit, tipped his head to one side and bit his bottom lip the way he always did when he was trying to concentrate.

‘It’s no big deal,’ she said, stalling. She didn’t know what to tell him first or how – that Ruby Valentine had died or that Ruby Valentine was her mother or that her mother had died? – and in that moment of confusion she lost the will to tell him at all. She pulled her hand away. Forget it. She would carry on with her life as if she’d never known. If she didn’t want to confront this then she didn’t have to.

‘Kel,’ he said. ‘Tell me. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.’

‘That’s classic. Right away you assume it’s something bad.’

‘If it’s good, then why are you so scared of telling me? So scared that you’d rather pick a fight?’

She hated it when Jez was right.

‘My mother, she died. Just.’

There, she’d said it. It might be the first time ever that she’d referred to Ruby as her mother but she’d said it. Jez looked concerned and started to embrace her. ‘Please don’t,’ she said, shoving him gendy away and crossing her arms across her chest. ‘It’s no big deal. She left right after I was born. We never met.’

‘You never met?’

‘Well, maybe we did when I was a baby, we must have I suppose, but I don’t remember her.’

‘Why did you never tell me that?’

‘You never asked.’

‘I did once but you got a bit funny about it.’

‘I did?’

‘It was at that wedding in Manchester, remember? You were a bit tipsy. Don’t worry about it.’

Why should I worry? Funny how? What did I say?’

You said you hated her more than anyone else in the world including Hitler and then you asked me to get you another sausage roll.’

Kelly remembered that wedding. If she really thought hard about it she could even remember the conversation through the red wine fug. She’d only been trying to be flippant, she hadn’t meant it. She just hadn’t much fancied having that particular heart-to-heart while competing with the Stevie Wonder from the mobile disco.

‘I never knew her.’

‘Still, your mum, I’m sorry. That’s rough.’

‘There’s more.’

Jez waited.

Again Kelly hesitated. This was the bit she didn’t quite think she could say out loud because it sounded ludicrous. ‘She was famous, an actress.’

Would I have heard of her?’

‘Probably’

Fair play to Jez. She could tell he was struggling to conceal his intrigue. His eyebrow rose almost imperceptibly but he held his tongue, letting her tell him in her own sweet time. That was one nice thing about Jez, she never felt hassled or judged. He was too relaxed for that and not easily fazed. A bit more reaction would be welcome from time to time.

‘Ruby Valentine,’ she said. Let’s see how unfazed he was by that.

‘No way! Ruby Valentine’s dead?’

‘She died yesterday’

‘Shit.’ See the penny? Watch it drop. ‘Shit!’ There it goes ‘She’s your mother?’

Kelly shrugged. ‘Apparently, yes. She was.’

‘Apparently?’

‘So my dad says.’

‘Well, he should know’

‘For some reason he seems to think that now she’s dead I might want to be aware of this. Doesn’t that seem a bit twisted to you?’

‘You didn’t know until now?’ Jez’s voice was becoming more high-pitched with every question and by now he sounded like a nine-year-old girl. He coughed and repeated himself in a more manly way. ‘You didn’t know?’ He was struggling to digest this bit of information. A classic movie buff since his early teens, he had always had a bit of a thing for Ruby And all this time he’d been unknowingly giving it to her daughter. That thought made him undeniably horny.

He stared at Kelly intendy and she had a good idea why. He was looking for the family resemblance. Was this the way it was going to be from now on, would anyone who learned the truth inspect her as if wondering how Ruby Valentine’s genes could have produced such an unpretty picture? Kelly thought she scrubbed up okay if she put in the time but she rarely did.

Jez touched her face. ‘Wow. You look just like her.’

‘Don’t lie. I mean, maybe I do a bit, but not really’

‘No, you do. It’s incredible.’

Kelly covered her face with her hands. ‘Stop it,’ she said. ‘You’re freaking me out.’

‘I just can’t believe it. If you didn’t have the same eyes I’d swear you were winding me up. And she died? How? What happened?’

‘She killed herself.’

‘Nooooo!’

‘Allegedly. Pathetic, huh?’

There was an odd little catch in her throat. It made Jez want to comfort her and he tried to put his arms around her again.

‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘I’m fine.’ She wished that Jez would leave. Talking to him was only confusing her further. Surely, she thought, if you knew me, if you saw me, if you really got me, then you would know exactly what to say to make me feel better. For the second time that day she tried to work out what kept them together.

‘So,’ he said after what would be regarded by some people as an awkward pause, but Jez never noticed when Kelly was sulking, ‘do you think she left you any money?’

She snapped. ‘For God’s sake, Jez. Why do you care?’

‘I was just making conversation.’

‘My mother died and the first thing you have to say on the subject is did she leave me any money?’

‘Wait a sec, Kelly, the first thing I had to say was that I was sorry and that it must be rough, and I tried to give you a hug but you pushed me away and said it was no big deal.’

‘Well, it is a big deal, okay? Sometimes, when I say something’s all right, it’s not. Sometimes I’m just putting on a brave face.’

‘Well then, we need to have a signal for when it’s one of those times.’

‘We shouldn’t need to have a signal, she said. ‘You should just know.’

They faced each across the narrow bed and Kelly knew this was her opportunity to say so much more, but couldn’t organize her tangled thoughts. Meanwhile, Jez was afraid to utter a single word. It was bound to be wrong, whatever it was. This didn’t stop his mind racing as he tried to think of what he could say to comfort her, wishing for divine inspiration to put the exact right words on his tongue.

In the end Kelly broke the silence. She had never been able to communicate how she felt to Jez, so what had made her think that they could start now? With this? They should start on something smaller, like dinner plans or what to do on a Saturday night. ‘You should leave,’ she said. ‘I think I need to talk to my dad.’

‘Don’t do this, Kelly’

‘Do what?’

‘Push me away. I want to help you.’

She didn’t like Jez to see her like this, vulnerable and unsure. She could hardly bear to look at herself in the mirror when she felt this way, let alone admit to it. And this was a very big deal, not a bad day at work or an argument with a friend. She had just found out the answer to her life’s most burning question but it had left a hollow feeling inside and she didn’t know how to make it go away. ‘This is my thing to deal with,’ she said, ‘not yours. I’ll be fine. Just let me deal with it.’

‘I don’t think it’s supposed to work like that.’

‘What’s not?’

‘You know… um. Love.’

‘Oh, shut up, Jez, let’s not pretend we’re in love.’

Who’s pretending?’ He grabbed her wrist and put his own next to it. They had matching woven leather bracelets that they’d bought from the market in Penarth. She could remember buying them, she would always remember because it had seemed so utterly simple to be Kelly and Jez that day. She had never felt so chilled out in her life. It was midsummer and they’d taken a massive picnic to a spot overlooking the harbour and had followed the lazy arch of the sun for hours, sharing stories and kisses, with nothing to do but enjoy each other’s company. Sitting there, she had thought that maybe she could love him, maybe he was the one.

They’d bought their bracelets just before sunset and solemnly tied the strands of battered brown leather on to each other’s wrists. They hadn’t tried to express in words what this meant, this small ceremony in the bustling street, but it had meant something to them both. They made a connection that day, the sort of connection that had been lacking these last few months. The romance was dead and gone.

‘If we’re not in love,’ he said, ‘then what’s going on with us?’

His words reached her slowly, as if she was underwater. She struggled to fit what he was saying into the whirlwind that was currently her headspace. ‘Not tonight, Jez. Let’s not do this tonight. Please.’

She could tell from the look on his face that she was hurting him. She didn’t like herself much for doing so, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to make him feel better. There was too much going on in there to make room for his bruised ego. Why did everything have to be about him? Couldn’t he see that she had more important things on her mind?

‘I’ll go,’ he said. ‘But I do love you, Kel. I thought you knew that.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, but she couldn’t say it back. Lying would only make things worse. Deep down she knew that he was only trying to help, like a good boyfriend should, but every word out of his mouth grated on her tonight like nails screeching down a blackboard. It was better that he left.

Kelly kissed Jez goodbye, feeling like a bitch.