Let Love Win Read online

  ‘Oh no, that’s awful too, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Well, we have to get that purse of yours back, don’t we - there’s a ring to find. What’s it like?’

  ‘It’s platinum, about this thick.’ Ruby put her thumb and finger together to show him. ‘And it’s engraved inside with the words Rubes & George forever - so I’m sure no one else would want it anyway.’

  Michael thought it was probably being melted down as they spoke.

  ‘Come on, let’s drink up and report it to the police, you never know. And you’d better cancel your cards too, pronto.’

  It was raining and dark when they stepped outside.

  Six foot four Michael towered over Ruby’s five feet nine. He put his strong hand on her shoulder again. ‘Come on, Ruby; I’ll come with you to the cop shop.’

  ‘No, no, honestly - I can manage on my own now, thanks Michael,’ Ruby flustered. ‘I just want to go home.’

  ‘Let me see you home, then. Where do you live?’

  ‘Putney. But I’ll be fine, honestly. I’m sorry to have troubled you.’

  ‘Hey, slow down, I’m not an axe murderer, I promise. Take my number, at least, and just send me a quick text message to let me know you’ve got home safely.’ Ruby took his card and put it in her bag. ‘And what about your train ticket, did they take that too?’

  ‘You’re good, aren’t you?’ Ruby managed a smile. ‘Luckily, for the very reason I might get mugged, I always put my ticket in a pocket.’ She rifled around in her jacket. ‘Here it is.’

  ‘Good. Well, take care then and don’t forget to let me know when you’re safe.’

  ‘I will - and thank you so much, Michael. You’ve been really kind.’

  – Chapter Five –

  Margaret opened the door to a bedraggled Ruby.

  ‘Oh, me duck, look at the state of you. Get in here by the fire and I’ll soon have you warm and dry.’

  Since she had moved from her hometown Reading to Putney, Ruby’s elderly neighbour Margaret had been a rock to her, with and without George.

  Over steaming tea served from Margaret’s old metal teapot, Ruby relayed the tale of shopping with Tony and the stealing of her purse. Luckily she had managed to cancel her cards before anyone had used them. However, this was all immaterial. It was the loss of her wedding ring that made her ache inside.

  ‘There was this man as well, Margaret. He was just so kind - in fact, too kind. He looked after me, after those scumbags robbed me.’

  ‘You should relish good nature, Ruby, my girl. Not everyone out there is a shark, you know. Tell me about him.’

  ‘Nothing much to tell, really,’ Ruby said nonchalantly. ‘He had big, strong hands though - strong hands like my George.’ She looked up to stop the tears from coming. ‘He calmed me down, talked sense about not chasing after the thieves and got me tea. That was it.’

  ‘Well, he sounds lovely to me.’

  ‘He wanted me to text him when I got home.’

  ‘Well, have you?’

  ‘No. I feel weird. Like… like, I’m being unfaithful to George.’

  ‘That can only be a good thing, Ruby.’

  ‘Why say that?’ Ruby looked bemused.

  ‘Because Mr Strong Hands has obviously had more of an effect on you than you think.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Margaret, I don’t want another man.’

  ‘Your heart always finds room for love, duck. Your Gorgeous George will always be in there, but you mark my words, there will be space for someone else one day.’

  ‘It’s too soon,’ Ruby said defiantly.

  Wise old Margaret got up slowly from her chair, went over and kissed her young neighbour on the forehead.

  ‘That ol’ devil called love doesn’t have a calendar. Right, I need to fill my hot water bottle.’

  ***

  Ruby walked up the steps to her flat and threw her keys on the coffee table. As she did so, the business card she had been given fell to the floor face down. She left it there, almost scared to pick it up.

  She took her coat off and cast it on an armchair. Her covered sewing machine sat there like an ornament. In fact, she hadn’t touched it since the day George had died. She fell back on her comfy beige sofa and rubbed her eyes. It had been quite a day. The business card was burning a hole in the floor; she reached to pick it up.

  Michael Bell – Author

  Surely an author wouldn’t be an axe murderer? In fact, how romantic.

  Ruby had always loved the idea of being able to write; she most certainly had the imagination, but definitely not the patience. She then began wondering exactly what Michael wrote. Dark fantasy or thriller? Or maybe murder mysteries like Agatha Christie. In the morning she would Google him. She was too tired now.

  The words of her father suddenly entered her head. Treat others as you would have them treat you.

  ‘OK, Michael Bell the author,’ she said aloud. ‘I will text you.’

  Home safe. Cards cancelled. Thank you for the tea! Ruby Stevens

  Within seconds she got a reply.

  Why did you hop home? It was lovely to meet you Ruby Stevens and hope I get the pleasure again

  Ruby threw her phone onto the sofa as if it was a hot potato. Don’t put a question! I don’t want to answer you, she thought. At the same time feeling a little bit excited.

  She turned off her handset, went to walk to her bedroom then stopped in her tracks. She marched over to her sewing machine, ripped the cover off of it and threw it to the floor.

  ‘And don’t you be smirking, Patrick,’ she addressed her stuffed moggy high up on the shelf in the corner. ‘It’s about time I started getting on with a few things.’

  – Chapter Six –

  Michael unlocked the door to his flat, hung his coat on the back of the door and put the kettle on. He shivered as he flicked the heating on. He was excited that Ruby had inspired him to get his longed-for first novel down on paper. He wouldn’t tell her yet. I mean, a six foot four, strapping man writing romance! She would laugh.

  Poor Ruby. He had felt her pain, having been through the mill himself, but he just couldn’t imagine how she was coping. Incomprehensible - and what a terrible shock. With feelings of sadness running through him, he began to type.

  My first novel – by Michael Bell - TITLE - TBD

  PROLOGUE: Was there such a thing as love at first sight? He had never believed it before. But, just being sat in front of such a sweet vulnerable girl had unlocked feelings he never thought he would feel again. He had wanted to sweep her up in his arms there and then and tell her it would all be all right. Plant a kiss on that cute nose of hers and wipe her tears and pain away. It would be tricky for her to let anyone into that broken heart of hers, but he was going to try. And he knew exactly what he had to do first.

  – Chapter Seven –

  Ruby stopped herself in her tracks when she realised she was singing along to the radio. She couldn’t remember the last time she had sung and almost felt guilty for doing it. This would be her second Christmas without George, the first just passing in a complete and utter blur of tears and anger. Her mum and brother Sam had just held her at different intervals during the day and let her sob.

  She changed the thread on her sewing machine and concentrated on the intricate neckline of the dress she was working on. It made her happy to know that her friend Daphne, the owner of Piaf’s Café, would love it - more for the fact she was moving on with her life again than anything else.

  After working for another hour, she turned the heating up and started to write a list of all the ex-clients she would re-contact.

  Her holiday let money from Daffodils allowed her to pay all her bills but it would be good to have some real money coming in again. She hoped her clients would understand why she had been off the radar for so long.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by her Jingle Bells ringtone. She didn’t recognise the number. Maybe a client had got wind she was back working.

  ‘Ruby
Stevens speaking.’

  ‘Ruby, hi. It’s Michael. Michael Bell.’

  Ruby took a deep breath. As she hadn’t replied to his text she didn’t think she would hear from him again, but had to admit she was actually pleasantly surprised.

  ‘How are you? Recovered from the shock of the other week, I hope.’

  ‘Erm, yes, thanks Michael. It’s just another thing to add to life’s rich experiences, I guess.’

  ‘Well, I… I was wondering if maybe we could meet for another cup of tea? Just have a chat, you know, in better circumstances than last time.’

  And without even a second thought Ruby did something she never thought she would do again.

  ‘Yes, I’d really like that. How about we go to Piaf’s in Covent Garden - it’s on Neal Street. I’m free tomorrow afternoon if you’re around. I’m guessing you writers can pick and choose your working hours?’

  ‘I’d like you to know we work very hard, us creative types, actually.’

  ‘So that’s a date then - well, not a date but…’

  Michael laughed. ‘I’ll see you there at three - and, Ruby?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Keep hold of your bloody handbag this time.’

  Ruby held her phone to her chest. She looked across to her wedding photo. George’s cheeky face smiled back at her and tears began to roll down her cheeks. She went over and picked up the silver frame.

  ‘It’s not that I don’t love you, darling. I have got to try and start to move on, and he seems kind. In fact, I think you’d like him.’

  Walking to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine she began to doubt if she was doing the right thing. Was fifteen months too early to start seeing someone else? What would people say about her? She took a big gulp of her Sauvignon. It was only a cup of tea, nothing more, nothing less. No, she would go. Michael seemed like a lovely man. The bereavement counsellor had said she would probably feel like this, but she was to do what felt right and just take little steps.

  The Grief Monster had been rearing his head for too long now. She would go along and just have a nice time in another man’s company.

  After all, it gave her an excuse to see the Christmas lights, plus give Daphne her Christmas present.

  – Chapter Eight –

  Ruby tapped on Margaret’s window. She peered through to see the old lady was engrossed in Deal or No Deal.

  Opening the door hurriedly, Margaret ushered her in and bade her sit down.

  ‘Let me just see what he’s got in his box, dear, then I’m all yours.’ She leaned further towards the television. ‘See? He should have dealt. There’s too much greed in this world, my girl, that’s the problem. Now, how about a sherry, duck?’ Margaret offered, slurping the remnants of her schooner.

  ‘It’s only five o’ clock.’

  ‘And? What’s that got to do with the price of fish? Now come on, warm your cockles, you’ve got lots to tell your old neighbour, I’m sure.’

  ‘Not really, just I’ve made my mind up to see Michael again. In fact, we are meeting again this week.’

  ‘That’s lovely news. He sounds such a decent man and it’s about time you had a bit of happiness, darling.’

  Margaret plonked a large glass of sherry in front of Ruby and then went scurrying back to the kitchen. She shuffled back through to the lounge with a leaflet.

  ‘I picked this up today. Think it may do you good, love. I know you’re busy making bits and pieces with your dressmaking, but I think you need to do more with your time. There’s still too much dark stuff going on in that noggin of yours.’ She handed Ruby a leaflet.

  Screwing up her face, Ruby read aloud: ‘The Bow Wow Club – new year, new volunteers required. Margaret? What on earth are you getting me into here?’

  – Chapter Nine –

  There were carol singers in Covent Garden and their rendition of We Wish You A Merry Christmas brought a tingle to Ruby’s arms. She had always adored Christmas.

  She arrived at Piaf’s early to be greeted by a massive hug from Daphne du Mont. At seventy something (a lady never tells), Daphne still looked like she was in her fifties, with her long dyed-black wavy hair, false eyelashes and bright red lipstick. She was wearing her trademark black lacy knee-length dress and pointy boots. Norbert, her German actor toy boy, waved, then carried on serving customers with steaming tea and exquisite pastries. Since working here, Ruby’s friendship with the couple had remained strong.

  ‘Darling, darling, how are you? How wondrous to see you and looking so well too,’ Daphne chimed.

  ‘I’m not so bad actually, having a good week. In fact, I’m meeting a man.’

  ‘A man? Well, there’s a thing. I hope he’s gorgeous.’

  ‘It’s nothing like that. I just owe him a cup of tea really. He was the one who helped me when I got mugged.’

  ‘Well, even if it is “like that”, that’s just fine, my little darling. You deserve to put a smile back on that face of yours.’

  ‘Oh shit, here he is.’

  Michael was much better-looking than Ruby remembered and also much taller. His glasses accentuated his hazel eyes and he had crinkly laughter lines. She didn’t even know how old he was. In fact, all she knew was his name and that he was an author.

  ‘She’s a marvellous woman, isn’t she?’ Michael commented when Daphne had seated them in Ruby’s favourite window seat.

  ‘Yes, she really is. I used to work here years ago and she’s remained a really good friend.’

  ‘So…’ Ruby felt like he was looking right into the back of her green eyes. ‘It’s really nice to see you not looking so distressed.’

  Ruby’s nervous blurt appeared. ‘It was so awful that day, and I really want to thank you for helping me. If I’d had my way I’d have been hotfooting it down the tube after them - and goodness knows what would have happened.’

  ‘It was nothing, eh.’ He detected her angst and put his strong hand on her forearm and smiled. ‘I have my uses.’ Ruby noticed how white his teeth were.

  ‘So, I guess no luck with getting anything back from the police then?’ he went on.

  ‘No, nothing. It’s losing the ring that hurt me the most.’ Ruby felt herself well up.

  ‘I know. I’m so sorry about that, Ruby. I can’t even imagine how you have coped with everything, at such a young age too.’

  ‘Anyway…’ Ruby immediately changed the subject.‘What have you written? I Googled you but couldn’t seem to find anything about you.’

  ‘Did you indeed? I’m not sitting in front of some crazed stalker, now am I?’

  Ruby went as red as her hair. ‘I was just… er… interested.’

  ‘I write short stories and stuff for fun, and freelance articles for some magazines and newspapers to earn a crust.’

  ‘So you’re just showing off then, putting “author” on your business card?’

  ‘I guess.’ Michael laughed. ‘Sounds better than I will write for food and who knows, maybe I have a pseudonym?’

  Ruby laughed. ‘A man of mystery. I quite like that.’

  ‘So, what do you do then?’

  ‘When I’m not wallowing in my own self-pity, I’m a clothes designer. Actually that reminds me.’ She pulled out a neatly wrapped present from her bag. ‘I made Daphne a dress for Christmas.’

  ‘That’s brilliant, Rubes - two creative types together then. Decision-making could be an issue.’

  ‘I am just having a cup of tea with you.’ The cakes arrived. ‘Ooh, now which one should I have?’

  ‘See I told you decision-making was an issue.’

  Ruby laughed.

  ‘You’re almost as beautiful when you laugh as when you cry, do you know that?’

  ‘Oh, shut up.’ Ruby blushed. ‘But, I’m glad you noticed.’ She cocked her head to one side and began fiddling with her hair. Shit, she was flirting. She was actually flirting with this near-on stranger and she didn’t want to stop.

  ‘How old are you anyway, Michael Bell?’
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  ‘I’m thirty-seven - you?’

  ‘Thirty-five.’

  ‘You’re looking good on it.’

  ‘Why thank you. It must be down to the tubs of expensive wrinkle creams I plaster on at night as I certainly haven’t been looking after myself for the past fifteen months.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about what happened?’

  ‘Not really, Michael. It’s nice to be in a different place for a while. Grief is such an insurmountable emotion. If you can bury it even for a second it’s like a massive weight being lifted from your mind. And I haven’t had many of those seconds before.’

  ‘Here, smell this éclair - I’m not sure if it’s fresh.’

  Ruby bent forward and Michael pushed the creamy end right onto her nose. She squealed and Daphne beamed knowingly behind the glass counter.

  ‘You sod! I can’t believe I fell for that.’

  ‘Here.’ Michael gently wiped her face with a serviette. She looked at him as he did it and felt a feeling she had not felt for a long time.

  By the time the cakes had been devoured and Daphne had been given her gift, two hours had flown by. Michael looked at this watch. ‘I have to go soon, Ruby. I’m meeting an editor in Dean Street at six.’

  ‘OK, no problem.’ She felt slightly disappointed.

  ‘Before I go I have got something to give you, but you mustn’t open it until Christmas Day.’

  ‘A present! How exciting. I feel bad now. I haven’t even got you a card.’

  ‘It’s fine. Let’s just say I think I have found something I knew you would like.’

  Michael looked down at her as they stepped out on to the pavement and held both her hands loosely. ‘So, shall we do this again?’

  ‘Yes, we shall, definitely. Have a lovely Christmas.’ She looked up to him and had a massive urge to kiss him. He felt the same way too. Just as their lips were about to touch it started to snow - big soft flakes that floated aimlessly and gently settled on their hair. Ruby pulled away suddenly.

  ‘I’m sorry, Michael, I just… I just can’t.’ She turned on her heels and started to run down the street.