took the girls back to mine. Mia was on usual form, disappearing off into their room to catch up with Daisy on Skype. She was never off the thing. There was only one thing Ruby was rooting for, I could read her a mile off. She sat herself on the sofa and stared at the blank TV with a grin on her face.
“Top Gear?” I said, and she punched the air.
I fired up the re-runs and put the kettle on, delivered Mia a cup of tea to her room before I settled down on the sofa with Ruby. She sat like I did, a foot casually tossed over her knee, her mug in one hand, fingers splayed just like mine. It made me smile.
We made the same scoffing sounds in the same places, ridiculed the driving in the same places, and nodded in appreciation in the exact same places. Genetics, or learned, I didn’t know and didn’t care. I ruffled her hair and she smiled her toothy grin up at me and it gave me that warm feeling inside.
“I’ll be nipping to the yard later, thought maybe I’d let you and Mia have a practice in the truck.”
Ruby’s eyes were like saucers. “Driving?! Really?!”
“ Half driving, nothing crazy. Don’t want your mum freaking out, do we?”
She shook her head, smiling from ear to ear.
I gestured to the rain outside the window. “Just wait until this crap passes, it’s supposed to brighten up later.”
We turned our attention back to the TV, and Clarkson took a flash Audi convertible for a spin through some mountain tracks. I watched Ruby’s face as he took the winding roads at speed, the starkness of the landscape looking really fucking awesome. She was absolutely transfixed.
“What do you make of that?” I asked.
“Cool,” she said. “Epic cool.”
They did the round-up of the car, bigging up its awesome handling, the flashiness of the optional extras. Then they called it a chick magnet . A sure-fire way to land the ladies .
Ruby pulled a face, stared up at me with eyes full of questions.
“What?” I said.
She paused, just stared. “Is that what your truck is?” she said. “A chick magnet ? Is that why all the ladies want to…”
I raised an eyebrow. “Want to what?” She shook her head, but I called her on it. “Come on, Rubes. Spit it out.”
She shrugged. “Mia told me not to say anything.”
“And I’m telling you to spit it out.”
“It’s the kids at school,” she began. “They say you like… they say you’re a gigolo. What’s a gigolo, Dad? Are you really one?”
Shit. My stomach dropped.
“What do you think a gigolo is, Rubes?”
She shrugged again. “I think it means kissing, like kissing lots of people…” She stared at her mug. “And the other stuff… the icky stuff… more than kissing…”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
She sipped her tea. “They say you’re doing the icky stuff with all the ladies in the village.” Finally, she looked at me. “Are you doing that, Dad? Are you doing the icky stuff with all the ladies in the village?”
I opted for honesty. I find it’s usually the best way. Well, honesty within reason – she’s eight-years old.
“No,” I said. “I’m not doing the icky stuff with all the ladies in the village. I made a mistake and may have done some icky stuff with one of them, because I’m a stupid prick sometimes. I’m sorry about that, Rubes.”
She pulled a face. “Mandy Taylor.”
Shit. Playground gossip knew no fucking bounds.
“I’m not doing any icky stuff with ladies in the village, Rubes, especially not Mandy Taylor. Not even any kissing.”
“Pinky promise?” she asked, and held up her little finger. “I don’t like Mandy Taylor. She smiles funny and I don’t like the way she laughs. I don’t want her to be my step-mum.”
Jesus! I hooked her finger with mine. “Pinky promise, Ruby. No women in the village, and Mandy Taylor will never ever be your step-mum.”
I thought that might be the end of it, but blue eyes stared into mine, her smile dulling just a little. “If you want to kiss
“Top Gear?” I said, and she punched the air.
I fired up the re-runs and put the kettle on, delivered Mia a cup of tea to her room before I settled down on the sofa with Ruby. She sat like I did, a foot casually tossed over her knee, her mug in one hand, fingers splayed just like mine. It made me smile.
We made the same scoffing sounds in the same places, ridiculed the driving in the same places, and nodded in appreciation in the exact same places. Genetics, or learned, I didn’t know and didn’t care. I ruffled her hair and she smiled her toothy grin up at me and it gave me that warm feeling inside.
“I’ll be nipping to the yard later, thought maybe I’d let you and Mia have a practice in the truck.”
Ruby’s eyes were like saucers. “Driving?! Really?!”
“ Half driving, nothing crazy. Don’t want your mum freaking out, do we?”
She shook her head, smiling from ear to ear.
I gestured to the rain outside the window. “Just wait until this crap passes, it’s supposed to brighten up later.”
We turned our attention back to the TV, and Clarkson took a flash Audi convertible for a spin through some mountain tracks. I watched Ruby’s face as he took the winding roads at speed, the starkness of the landscape looking really fucking awesome. She was absolutely transfixed.
“What do you make of that?” I asked.
“Cool,” she said. “Epic cool.”
They did the round-up of the car, bigging up its awesome handling, the flashiness of the optional extras. Then they called it a chick magnet . A sure-fire way to land the ladies .
Ruby pulled a face, stared up at me with eyes full of questions.
“What?” I said.
She paused, just stared. “Is that what your truck is?” she said. “A chick magnet ? Is that why all the ladies want to…”
I raised an eyebrow. “Want to what?” She shook her head, but I called her on it. “Come on, Rubes. Spit it out.”
She shrugged. “Mia told me not to say anything.”
“And I’m telling you to spit it out.”
“It’s the kids at school,” she began. “They say you like… they say you’re a gigolo. What’s a gigolo, Dad? Are you really one?”
Shit. My stomach dropped.
“What do you think a gigolo is, Rubes?”
She shrugged again. “I think it means kissing, like kissing lots of people…” She stared at her mug. “And the other stuff… the icky stuff… more than kissing…”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
She sipped her tea. “They say you’re doing the icky stuff with all the ladies in the village.” Finally, she looked at me. “Are you doing that, Dad? Are you doing the icky stuff with all the ladies in the village?”
I opted for honesty. I find it’s usually the best way. Well, honesty within reason – she’s eight-years old.
“No,” I said. “I’m not doing the icky stuff with all the ladies in the village. I made a mistake and may have done some icky stuff with one of them, because I’m a stupid prick sometimes. I’m sorry about that, Rubes.”
She pulled a face. “Mandy Taylor.”
Shit. Playground gossip knew no fucking bounds.
“I’m not doing any icky stuff with ladies in the village, Rubes, especially not Mandy Taylor. Not even any kissing.”
“Pinky promise?” she asked, and held up her little finger. “I don’t like Mandy Taylor. She smiles funny and I don’t like the way she laughs. I don’t want her to be my step-mum.”
Jesus! I hooked her finger with mine. “Pinky promise, Ruby. No women in the village, and Mandy Taylor will never ever be your step-mum.”
I thought that might be the end of it, but blue eyes stared into mine, her smile dulling just a little. “If you want to kiss
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