Ruby Tuesday

Looking from his office window Robert watched the old bag lady sit down on a bench in the square below. She unwrapped a sandwich and began slowly to break it into pieces, a piece for herself and a piece for the birds. How kind he thought that someone with so little was willing to share. He thought of how he too always fed them but that was different his mother always packed much more that he could comfortably eat. He watched absently as she finished and rose to leave. It was almost time for his own lunch and he would be sitting on that same bench. He little knew then how this old lady was going to affect his life.

The next Tuesday, he was seated on the same bench enjoying the spring sunshine He was alone as usual, most of his colleagues thought him a little weird so chose not to eat with him. The old bag lady came and sat at the other end of his bench. ‘Hello’ he said with no great enthusiasm.

‘Hello yourself’ she replied in a soft Irish accent ‘Eating on your own again I see.’

‘Yes, yes I prefer to’ he said feeling slightly defensive. ‘I'm not into football or any sport for that matter you see so the other blokes kind of hang together talking of these things.’

‘What about the girls?’ she asked.

‘Oh in our office there’s only Stella who’s under fifty and who is not either married or courting’ he answered. He was feeling a little intruded upon and it irritated him slightly.

‘What about you?’ he asked trying to steer the conversation away from himself. ‘How come you live like this if that’s not too rude a question?’  If she could be nosy, he thought, so could he.

‘Circumstances’ she sighed her voice sad, ‘just circumstances.’

Then she suddenly smiled at him and Robert saw a brief flash of the woman she had once been. ‘Ah yes’ he replied thinking of the circumstances that kept him from doing what he wanted to do. ‘They can get in the way.’

Robert still lived with his mother. His father had been dead these past four years. He’d love to have a place of his own but property prices being what they were in London it was virtually impossible to get a mortgage deposit together on his salary even if he could have afforded the repayments.

'I want to show you me jewels’ she said out of the blue ‘I’ll show you because you’re a nice boy but I won’t show anyone else.’

Oh god he thought she’s a nutter why are the nutters always attracted to me?

‘Sorry, I've got to be going now’ he said briskly ‘some other time perhaps ok?’ He half rose to leave when she spoke again.

‘Oh I understand, I'm just a daft old woman soft in the head and here was me thinking you were different.’ There was an air of sad resignation in her voice that arrested him. He sat down again feeling embarrassed and slightly ashamed of himself.

‘Er, well ok I don’t have to go for a few minutes yet’ he saw her face break into a broad toothless smile. She delved into one of her numerous bags and came out with a battered coronation souvenir tin from which she prised the lid.

‘There’ she said with pride ‘what do you think of those then?’

Robert looked into the tin and what he saw confirmed his worst fears the ‘jewels’ were mostly the sort of stuff one would find in Christmas crackers.  ‘Very nice’ he said forcing a smile ‘you had them long?’

‘No’ she replied ‘only since I freed myself thirty years odd ago. How old are you?’ she asked, suddenly changing the subject.

I'm thirty six.’ He replied a little surprised.

‘You got anyone special? She queried looking straight into his eyes.

‘No. not at the moment, there was a girl but… but it didn't last.’ He let the words trail off he didn't want to think about Joan and his inability to provide her with a house was the reason for their split, he still felt quite raw.

‘What happened?’ she asked sympathetically.

‘I don’t want to talk about it if you don’t mind’ he said brusquely ‘and now I really must be off.' With that he rose, threw his sandwich paper into a nearby waste bin and headed for his office.

‘OK’ she called after him ‘I’ll see you next Tuesday.’

The following week Robert saw the bag lady again he was sitting on the same bench thinking about his mother. He loved her dearly but wished she’d accept that he was grown man and could make his own decisions. He’d asked her repeatedly for just two sandwiches for lunch but she always replied that he was a growing lad and should eat more.

He suddenly became aware that he was not alone any more.

‘Hello there’ she said brightly ‘any of those sandwiches going spare?’

‘Sure, help yourself’ he said handing her the packet glad not to be throwing them to the pigeons. ‘It’s nice to see you again.’

‘It’s nice to see you too’ she replied ‘one gets so little good conversation these days.’ She paused ‘I used to enjoy conversations with all sorts highly intelligent people.’ She said wistfully
.
‘Why do you always come here on a Tuesday?’ He asked using her tactic of suddenly  changing the direction of the conversation.

‘Oh I have a circuit’ she replied ‘a day here next day The East End people get used to seeing me around and I don’t like to disappoint me public.’

He smiled, she was a harmless old soul he thought and her blarney was always welcome.  It was like a breath of fresh air, cheering him up and lightening the monotony of his day. He quite looked forward to Tuesdays now, they were different if only for half an hour or so. He was amused by her sudden and often wild changes of direction in her conversation. He wondered to himself what her background really was and how come she’d ended up living like this.

‘And you had great conversations in your former life?'

‘Yes, oh yes’ she said with something akin to enthusiasm ‘We always had interesting visitors up at the big house. Father was a scientist you know he had all sorts of clever friends.’

Robert was intrigued she did have a rather refined Irish accent and mostly spoke as though she was still in contact with reality. But then he remembered her jewels and sighed. Before he could formulate a response she went on.

'I call myself Ruby now but back then I was Lady Rowena Mary O’Malley-Fitzpatrick of Connedown.’ A small tear appeared at the corner of her eye and Robert could feel nothing but pity for this poor deluded old woman. OK so she was as mad as a box of snakes but she believed her story, no matter how far-fetched, it was real enough to her as was her distress.

He looked at her wrinkled face and washed out blue eyes feeling deep compassion for this hapless victim of life. Whatever she was or had been she was still a human being and a very vulnerable one at that.

He found his voice at last ‘What happened to make you so unhappy Ruby?’

She let out a long sigh ‘Oh I had a great time as a child, a gloriously happy childhood alright but then, when I was eighteen, I fell in deeply love with the wrong person. We were found out you see’. She choked as if about to burst into tears and he reached out and took her grubby hand. ‘We were caught ’flagrante delicto’ as they say in the silver cupboard both naked to the waist we were, kissing passionately and fondling each other’s breasts.’

Robert felt a slight shock at this revelation but held his peace it was nineteen sixty four for god’s sake this sort of thing was becoming more accepted now-a-days by the young at least.

‘Father hit the roof.’

She went on to tell how he had declared that not only were these the passions of the devil they were abhorrent in the sight god and deviant in the extreme. ‘The other girl, Molly, was our new palour maid you see. She’d only been with us a month or so but as soon as we saw each other we knew.’ She paused in sad reflection for a moment ‘Molly’s father was summoned and he took her home in disgrace that very afternoon.’

‘What happened to her? Have you met her since?

‘No she was taken to see the priest who prayed for her and said a mass for her salvation then a suitable young man was found and she was forced to marry. She hanged herself a year later. I was sent to a convent home to be “cured.” Not the normal Irish home for wayward girls of course I was from a good family you see. The only other girl there was called Sheila she was the same age as me. Sheila was eight months pregnant and the father had run off to America; just another fool who fell in love. I remember when she had the baby it was in the early hours of the morning and by breakfast time the baby was gone, sent for adoption. Ireland was a very conservative place in those days; it still is for that matter.’

Robert was incredulous ‘Cured?’ he exclaimed ‘How the hell were they supposed to do that?’

‘By constant prayer and deep contemplation upon the crucified Christ who died for all our sins.’ She said it mechanically as if repeating what someone had drummed into her.

‘We rose at five a.m. and prayed for half an hour then went back to bed until seven thirty.. Ablutions followed and then a priest came to say morning mass before a breakfast of porridge, always porridge except on Sundays when we had a boiled egg with it. We worked in the garden or sewed until we said the angelus at twelve. Lunch was soup and dry bread with a cup of tea. More work until five when we prayed again and sang hymns for an hour. Supper was at seven then we went to bed at eight lights went out at nine.’

‘Good god’ said Robert aghast ‘how long did that go on for?’

‘It was supposed to be for six months but mother died suddenly after I’d been there for three months’ She sounded bitter as she went on: ‘Father sent a letter telling me it was my fault and that she had died of shame and a broken heart caused by me. I was not allowed to return home again nor was I welcome at her funeral. I was never to contact my brother, sister or any family member again, ever.

Robert felt like crying at the sheer cruelty of it all.  The poor woman was wrenched from her family and cast aside simply because she was homosexual. Good god did these people believe that being gay was a choice that one made?

Robert simply didn't know what to make of her story one moment Ruby was an intelligent woman making perfect sense and the next she was lost to wild fluctuations in both thought process and speech. One thing for sure it was real enough to her.

Has there been no one else in your life since Ruby?

‘Oh yes she said brightly cheering up when I was twenty one I declared myself cured and left the sisters. I had a little money and some of mother’s jewellery so I took the boat to Liverpool. I got work as a ladies companion for a while but it was tedious and that old style was fast dying out. Then I met Amber and we fell in love we moved to London for work and what they called the Bohemian lifestyle but the war came and we had to take jobs in different places. I guess we just drifted apart.

‘Did you ever watch the changing of the guard at Buckingham palace?’ she suddenly asked. ‘I go there most Fridays in the winter.’ She said suddenly skewing wildly from the topic of conversation. 'There’s just too many tourists in the summer.’ Just as quickly she reverted to the previous topic.

‘After the war I met Julia but we were hounded out of one place after another when they found out we were a couple. Eventually I couldn't find work and started drinking, one thing led to another and here I am.

‘Do you still drink Ruby?’

‘No I gave it up when I found a place at the hostel. They were very nice and really helped me with my problems but then the place closed and we had to move out.’

Robert looked at his watch ‘Good lord Ruby I should be in work. See you next Tuesday ok?’ and with that Robert hurried away.

He saw Ruby only once more, it was on the following Tuesday. She was sitting next to him talking very lucidly about the current Wilson government when she suddenly clutched her chest,groaned and fell against him.. The ambulance was called and Robert accompanied her to the hospital. He went to visit her that evening but she had passed away. A staff nurse handed him her ‘jewel’ box. ‘She said you’d be back and she wanted you to have these oh and there’s a photo too.’ She handed him a tattered old black and white postcard size photo.

Looking at the picture Robert saw it was unmistakably that of a very young Ruby dressed, it appeared, for a ball in a flowing elegant gown and long sleeved gloves. There was a tiara in her hair and she held a small evening bag, from her wrist dangled a dance card. At her throat was what looked like a large diamond pendant on a choker; she looked absolutely stunning.

Back in his room that night Robert wept for Ruby and the life destroyed by blind prejudice. How could the people who were supposed to love her have treated her like that?

At Ruby’s funeral he was the only mourner; the hospital had asked him what religion she was and they were mystified when he had replied that she was a cured catholic.  

On returning home Richard, who had put the box aside, now opened it and smiled at the junk inside stirring it with his forefinger until one item caught his eye. It looked vaguely familiar but was caked in filth and looked badly tarnished.

Suddenly he picked up the trinket and the photo and looked again. There was no doubt at all it was the same pendant that had been round her throat all those years before. He hurried to the bathroom, took a nail brush and began carefully removing the dirt of decades. The whole thing took on a brilliance that told him that these were real diamonds not only that but the centre one was positively huge. When the man in Hatton Gardens told him what it was worth Robert nearly fainted.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked hardly able to believe his ears.

‘Oh quite’ the jeweller had said ‘It’s Russian made, four and a half carats of the best stones I've ever seen, mounted in platinum and bearing the Faberge mark; an absolutely stunning piece.’

Robert Winston Brewer passed away in two thousand and thirteen at the age of eighty five. His daughter knew that she had been named Rowena Mary after a great Irish noblewoman her father  had once known. Not until near the end though did he tell her the full story of why the house she had grown up in so loved and cherished had been named Ruby Tuesday.

The End
Copyright J A Milligan all rights reserved