Free Campaign Ruby by Jessica Rudd

seemingly out of nowhere. ‘Maybe you’re not right for this—it’s not all about you.’
    My head cringed . You know you’ve overstayed your welcome when people start fighting in front of you.
    â€˜You look lovely, darling,’ said Daphne, trying to avoid staring directly at the hideous creature on my nose.
    Debs grabbed her briefcase and went to kiss my aunt goodbye, but she was rejected. She turned to me. ‘Right, we’ve got to…what the fuck happened to you?’
    â€˜Deborah!’
    â€˜It’s fine,’ I said, ‘she’s just telling it like it is.’
    â€˜See, she understands me.’ Debs stormed out the door.
    I kissed my aunt goodbye and slinked into the car, where I lowered my sunglasses and thanked the fashion gods that huge frames were in.
    Once we were on the open road, I dared to go there.
    â€˜Is everything okay?’
    â€˜Fine.’
    Don’t pry, Ruby , urged my head.
    â€˜It’s just that,’ I paused, ‘well, things didn’t seem fine.’
    â€˜Daph’s driving me up the wall. She keeps going on about babies. Babies, babies, babies.’
    I should have listened to my head.
    â€˜If I wanted to be a mum, I’d be a mum. Clearly, I don’t.’
    â€˜Is that…practicable?’
    â€˜You mean getting knocked up?’ We purred onto the highway.
    I nodded.
    â€˜Guess so. I haven’t really looked into it—it’s Daph’s agenda, not mine—but it’d have to be me. And I don’t want to have to lug another person around inside me and then on me—I like being unencumbered.’
    I let it go for a while but couldn’t help myself. ‘For what it’s worth, I think you’d be great parents.’
    â€˜Bullshit. We both work too hard to be able to incorporate another person. Anyway it’s all totally hypothetical.’ She dialled in for a conference call. ‘There’s no point in discussing it.’ While we listened to the hold music, she turned to me and summoned her most diplomatic voice. ‘You don’t look that terrible.’
    â€˜Thank you.’
    â€˜No worries,’ she smiled, thinking she’d fixed things. ‘Listen, I have a friend who works miracles. Not that you need a miracle because you don’t look terrible. But if you did need a miracle, she’d be the one to go to.’
    â€˜Right, excellent.’ I had no idea what she was on about.
    â€˜Her name is Olga. When I’ve done an all-nighter and I look like hell—not that you look like hell—but when I look like hell and need to go to court I see Olga in the morning and she fixes me for the day. I’ll call her for you after this call and you can see her first up. Okay?’
    â€˜Okay.’
    Four conference calls and a banana later, we were on the outskirts of Melbourne, when Debs rang her.
    â€˜Olga, it’s Debs.’
    â€˜Da,’ said Olga.
    â€˜My niece needs you.’
    â€˜Da?’
    â€˜She needs’—Debs looked at me intently—‘hair washed and styled.’
    â€˜Da, da.’
    â€˜Brows waxed. Legs waxed.’
    â€˜Da.’
    Debs lifted my right arm. ‘Pits waxed.’
    â€˜Da.’
    â€˜Bikini?’ she asked me. I shook my head.
    â€˜Da,’ pre-empted Olga.
    Good grief.
    â€˜She needs make-up, a manicure and pedicure. I’ll drop her off at your place in twenty minutes. Okay?’
    â€˜Da.’
    â€˜Sorted.’ Debs hung up. ‘She’s real nice. She’s Russian.’ Not Japanese?
    We soon pulled up at a rather grotty block of flats. ‘Go to the first floor,’ Debs said, ‘press the buzzer and Olga will come and get you.’
    â€˜Right.’
    â€˜Daph told me to give you this map and keys to the apartment, but it’s a bit confusing, so just call her when you get there and she’ll tell you how to get in. I’ll drop your bags