Ruby & The Rose (lesbian stories)

Chapter 11

Mallory stayed with them 24/7; not once did she leave their side. They travelled from town to town, picking up quick jobs. In their spare time, they taught Ruby. She was a quick learner, and keen to know all she could. She sat with Rose every evening, as they shared cheap takeaway, tracing diagrams of guns' interiors, and copying poison recipes. When it was dark they would find alleyways out of sight, and line up old tin cans on the edges of wheelie bins. Ruby's aim was soon perfect. Rose struggled to keep the glow of pride from her face.

Before anyone knew it, summer rolled around, and July sunshine pierced through the clouds. Their travels brought Mallory, Ruby and Rose to a tiny Cornish village, hunched up tightly on the very edge of the sea.The only rooms to be found were above an old, roughly built pub,where ruddy faced locals grouped outside, sipping great tankards of cider and talking animatedly. Rose considered herself anything but close-minded, and had seen how darkness could lurk within the brightest of light, but even she had trouble seeing how evil or strife could be found here.

The man behind the bar gave a warm, toothless grin.

"Hello ladies," he said. "What can I get you?"

"Two half lagers, a rum and coke, and a couple of beds for the night,thank you," Mallory replied, resting one elbow on the polished counter. Rose was startlingly aware of how out of place the three of them looked, dressed all in black and endowed with the stick thin figures of an unsteady income.

The lager was refreshing after a long day of train rides and bus journeys. Rose leant back against the plush scarlet seat, and gave along sigh.

"You alright?" asked Mallory. Rose forced herself to smile.

"Yeah,"she said. "Yeah."

She took another long drink.

They spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the seafront. Gulls circled above their heads in clear blue skies. Deep blue water slapped at golden sands. Rose had always been rather fond of the coast. When she was very little, her mother would take her all the time. She had a great aunt who lived in Cromer. How many holidays had she spent in that tiny cottage? She didn't allow herself to answer.In fact, the train of thought had hardly left its station before tears started to prickle the backs of her eyeballs, and she stopped it in its tracks.

"How would you feel about doing your first job tonight?" Rose asked Ruby. The latter had tipped her head back on the bench, to watch white fluffy clouds float over the shore, her long hair flowing down behind them. "It's been a few months. I reckon you're good enough."

Ruby didn't move her head. A few seconds passed.

"I don't know," she said. "I guess I've got to do it at some point- right?"

Rose shrugged. "Not if you don't want to. But it might become a necessity at some point. Would you not want to get your first out of the way?"

"Yeah."

Silence returned.

Cindy Palmer was a woman who had seen younger years. She was fifty at least. Her long, thin hair was bleached within an inch of its life, and her forehead was dotted with subtle marks that would tell the exceedingly observant of a less than natural means of youthful beauty: Botox, years of the stuff.

If anyone asked, she worked in marketing. But really, her line of work was high end espionage. Very high end. Her previous clients included dukes, earls, and even a princess.