Bring Me Back (B.A. Paris)(16)

‘I’m glad Harry’s agreed to give me away,’ Ellen is saying as she toys with her salad. ‘I was afraid he might refuse.’

It takes me a while to realise that she’s talking about our wedding. ‘Why would he?’

‘Well, he didn’t like Layla very much.’

I look at her, perplexed by her logic. ‘No, he didn’t, not really. But he does like you.’

She raises her green eyes to mine. ‘Do you think so? I mean, I’m never quite sure.’ Her voice trails away. ‘It’s just that when you told him we were getting married, he seemed a bit shocked. I thought maybe he didn’t approve because of who I am.’

‘I think he was shocked – in a nice way – at being asked to be best man,’ I say, although I had registered Harry’s momentary shock too. I might not have been married to Layla but in some people’s eyes, the fact that I lived with her amounts to the same thing. Therefore, I shouldn’t be marrying her sister. I hadn’t expected it to bother Harry, though. ‘Harry adores you – maybe a bit too much,’ I go on, reaching for Ellen’s hand across the table. ‘It’s a good job I’m not the jealous kind.’

‘He’s coming for lunch on Sunday, isn’t he?’

‘Yes,’ I say, because Harry always comes for lunch on the first Sunday of the month.

‘Good, I’ll be able to show him my Russian dolls. He’ll be pleased I’ve got a full set at last.’

‘Does he know the story then?’ I ask curiously. ‘About how you lost yours as a child?’

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I remember telling him. I wonder what he’ll make of it.’

There’s something about the way she says it that tells me she’s hoping to find an ally in Harry, as if she knows he’ll side with her and for some reason it annoys me. Much as I’d hoped that Harry would like Ellen more than he’d liked Layla, I sometimes wish he didn’t like her quite as much. A thought pops into my head – that if Layla hadn’t disappeared, we might have become a foursome, me and Layla, Harry and Ellen. Mortified, I chase it away.

‘I’ll give him a ring when I get back,’ Ellen says. ‘Just to check that he’s coming.’

We finish our lunch and I ask Ruby for the bill. The pub is busy so it takes her a while to bring it over, presented as usual on a plate, inside a card with a picture of a jackdaw on the front. Ellen goes to the toilet and I watch Ruby as she talks freely with customers. There isn’t any sign of unease or tension in her body. Frustrated, I fish for my wallet and flip open the card to check the amount of the bill – and there, lying inside, is a little Russian doll.

Shock gives way to anger. But the anger I feel is not straightforward anger at someone having gone a step too far, it’s an anger tinged with hatred, and its intensity shocks me almost more than the little Russian doll staring up at me with its black-painted eyes. Snatching it from the plate, I push through the throng to where Ruby is standing at the end of the bar. The smile on her face freezes when she sees the look on mine.

‘That’s enough, Ruby,’ I hiss, leaning in close to her.

She looks at me in alarm. ‘What do you mean?’

I reach out and grab her wrist. ‘Enough of the games. You’ve had your fun, now that’s enough.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Trying to split up me and Ellen.’

‘Look, Finn, I’m genuinely happy for you and Ellen. I wasn’t being funny or anything.’ She tries to draw away but I hold her wrist even tighter, aware of my other hand clenching around the Russian doll. A woman pauses in her conversation and looks over at us. I take a breath, steadying myself.

‘You know damn well that’s not what I’m talking about,’ I say, my voice low. ‘Sending me emails, pretending to be someone else, planting little Russian dolls for me to find.’

Ruby smiles reassuringly at the woman then locks her eyes with mine. ‘Finn,’ she says calmly. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. Let go of me, please. You’re hurting me, a lot.’ Realising how tightly I’ve been gripping her wrist, I drop it quickly. ‘What on earth has got into you?’ she says, rubbing the livid mark I’ve left.

‘I mean it, Ruby, stop playing games.’ I open my palm so that she can see the Russian doll. ‘It’s over, OK?’

She looks down at it, shakes her head. ‘I’m not following you.’

‘This. It’s you, isn’t it? You put it on the plate with the bill.’

‘No, I didn’t! Anyway, why would I do that? I don’t get it.’

‘Yes, you do. You get it very well. You know exactly what I would think if I saw one of these.’

‘Look, Finn, I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ She nods at the Russian doll. ‘I didn’t put that on the plate and I have no idea what you would think when you saw it.’

‘You brought the bill.’

‘Yes.’

‘You prepared it and brought it over.’

‘I prepared it, yes, and I prepared others and I left them at the end of the counter for one of the staff to bring to you. When I saw it was still sitting there, I brought it over, and I brought others over too. I was doing my job, that’s all.’