Woman of Yorkshire
By: Miss Puppet

Rated: T
Fandom: Calendar Girls
Pairings: Ruth/OC
Disclaimer: Another thing that isn´t mine. Belongs to Buena Vista International and Touchstone Pictures.
Spoilers: It´s a follow-up on the movie, so you should watch that first.
Summary: After her divorce, Ruth picks up the pieces of her life.
Genre: friendship/romance

A/N: Calendar Girls has been my absolute favourite movie for years. There are so many wonderful characters, but I´ve always been very drawn to Ruth´s storyline. She´s such a genuinely kind-hearted woman and the way her husband treats her is just appalling. So… I wanted to give her her own happy ending and something more substantial than ´I´m off to Hollywood!´

Chapter 1

She was in Hollywood. She was sitting at the bar of an incredible fancy hotel, sipping expensive wine from a crystal glass. She was wearing a sophisticated, figure-hugging black dress and impossible high heels. She had left her husband. She had been on National TV in America. She had posted naked for a calendar.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the one of the shining glass doors of the bar and she barely recognized herself. Whoever this woman was, perched elegantly – although highly uncomfortable – on a black leather barstool, it most certainly wasn´t Ruth Reynoldson. However, for some obscure reason it very much was.

The last few days had passed in a blur. Uncharacteristically, she hadn´t been thinking much at all, but just living the experience and enjoying herself. So far from home she´d felt like a different person, free and unrestrained. It was only now, after the sobering events of today that tiredness was finally settling in. And now that the adrenaline had ebbed away, she felt the feeling of euphoria rapidly disappearing. Today, standing behind that clothesline with those ridiculous, revealing, cardboard clothes she had rather unceremoniously been plunged back into reality. Standing there her stomach had knitted with nerves when she had realized what exactly was expected of her – of them. To take off their clothes again, but this time for a detergent commercial of all things. The relief that had swept through her when Annie had stormed out was quickly tempered by the awful realization that things had somehow gone too far. And within seconds she had been back to her old self again: timid, self-conscious and insecure Ruth. The tension between Chris and Annie had been tangible all afternoon and after dinner the later had excused herself and retired to her room early. They would fly home tomorrow and despite everything she felt glad for it.

And finally the thought that she had studiously tried to ignore all this time was now pressing firmly to the front of her mind: she had left her husband. After he had left her – she commented wryly to herself. And he had probably left her years ago, thrown himself into the arms of the dark-haired, sharp-eyed woman she had met at the restaurant in Ilkley. Ruth wondered briefly if she had been his only mistress. Or had there been others? Her husband (ex-husband, she corrected herself sternly) had looked like a different man when he had walked into the hotel restaurant that evening: freshly shaved, wearing a black leather jacket and the air of a player. It had felt good to confront him, but now, as she was returning home again, she felt the first tinges of panic starting to rise up inside her.

What was she going to do without Eddy? What was she going to do without her husband? She wasn´t as oblivious as most people perceived her to be. In fact she was a great deal less oblivious than she wished she was. She had known Eddy was drifting away from her, she had known it for years. She had realized that it was highly unlikely that a simple middleman of carpet was required to go on business trips quite that often. She had never dared to admit it even to herself but in a way, she had known all along.

So she had tried to hold on to him. She had tried so very, very hard. But like sand slipping away from between her fingers, simply because she was squeezing it too hard, he had slipped away from her. Gradually at first, almost imperceptible. But later on it had become more obvious. As he was straying away from her and – as she suspected now – drifting into the arms of other women he had begun to shun her more openly. At first she was the only one to notice. He barely touched anymore. She had to coax him into displaying even the tiniest sign of affection – beg him for it almost. He looked at her with cold indifference, sometimes barely concealed annoyance even. She knew he no longer found her attractive. In the last few years they had seldom been intimate together and it had always been on her initiative. She told herself that she didn´t mind to seduce him. Told herself that it didn´t matter to her that he turned off the lights before he even touched her.

Over the last years their troubles had become more apparent to those around them. She never quite figured out what hurt her the most, the burning humiliation when he put her down or slighted her in public, or the pity in the eyes of women like Ceilia, or Chris or even Annie, women who would never be treated in the same manner by their husbands. Women who would never stand for it.

She had refused to acknowledge that her marriage was falling apart around her. Instead she had put up a brave face and a smile and pretended that everything was alright – or at least would be. She still loved Eddy. And he loved her. He was just over-worked, tired, perhaps a little bored.

It hadn´t been the truth that had hurt her so much when she had phoned his hotel and that other woman had picked up the phone of his room instead of him. What had hurt her was that his infidelity had become such a reality all of a sudden. Something she could no longer pretend away or fix if she just tried a little bit harder. He didn´t want her anymore. As she had put down the phone and ran off to Ilkley on a whim it had really only been another attempt to pretend that she wasn´t feeling empty and run-down.

For years she had been begging for the crumbs of his table, while she was slowly starving inside from lack of attention and intimacy. She might be free now from waiting for him and expecting anything from him, but she still hurt.

The barkeeper poured her a third glass of Chardonnay and the unusual amount of alcohol she was consuming did nothing to improve her already melancholic mood. At first she barely noticed the presence on her right, until a low voice asked: ´Would you mind if I take this seat?´

´No, not at all,´ she replied automatically, surprised to hear a Yorkshire accent in Hollywood. She glanced sideways without thinking and then blinked in shock. The most beautiful man she had seen since – well, it didn´t really matter how long – was slowly lowering his tall frame on the barstool next to her.
She knew she was staring, probably doing a perfect imitation of a goldfish, but she couldn´t help herself. She guessed he had a few years on her, his blonde hair was already streaked with grey. But it was still thick and curled slightly at the nape of his neck. He was clean-shaved and dressed casually-smart in a pair of dark jeans and a cream-coloured dress shirt. Shaking her head slightly she tried to get her bearings back and listened as he quietly ordered a brandy from the barkeeper. Definitely a Yorkshire man.

´Are you from around here?´ he asked her then, shifting slightly so he could look at her. She had been so busy staring at him that she was startled when he addressed her. Looking up in his eyes, she found that they were steel blue.

´I… uhmmm…´ she stammered, suddenly at loss for words and cursing herself for it. ´No, actually, I don´t think I could be further from home than I am right now.´

A surprised, warm smile filled his face and she almost forgot how to breath as she noticed the dimples appearing on either side of his mouth. He was so handsome. He had the most beautiful smile she had ever seen on a man and he was smiling at her. Unexpectedly her heart missed a beat and then began to hammer. It must be the wine, she told her dazed mind. He was talking but she could barely make out what he was saying to her.

´… it is certainly nice to hear a familiar tongue again.´ She assumed he had noticed she as from Yorkshire too, but she couldn´t be sure, so she nodded a little hesitantly and asked him: ´What brings you to Hollywood then?´

´I just came back from Tanzania where I worked for Doctors without borders,´ he told her. ´A friend of mine lives in California and I´ve been staying with him to sort out some affairs. He told me I had to see Hollywood, so I decided to squeeze in a day before I go back to Britain. I fly back to London tomorrow from Fort Lauderdale.´

While he was talking she had calmed down somewhat. He was leaning casually against the bar, nursing his brandy and watching her. Something about his relaxed composure rubbed off on her and she felt herself unwinding just a little. That was until he asked: ´And what brings you to Hollywood?´

´I…´ she started and then blushed furiously. Oh goodness, how was she going to explain this to him? How was she ever going to tell this utterly gorgeous man that she was in Hollywood to promote a nude-calendar, featuring herself and ten other middle-aged women?

´I´m here with friends,´ she eventually offered lamely, adverting his eyes. Right at that moment the bar-keeper, an impossible slim male in his early thirties, dressed in tight black jeans and a grey shirt with some sort of shimmer over it, popped up in front of her. ´Another drink for you, darling?´ he asked in an overly cheerful voice that had annoyed her all evening. ´We can´t have Miss July go thirsty, now could we?´

She declined the drink, feeling she really didn´t need anything else fogging her mind. Tentatively she risked a glance sideward and found him looking at her with a dumbfounded expression on his face. ´Miss July?´ he asked incredulously.

Realizing he now probably thought she was the background dancer of some seedy show in one of the many obscure theatres here in Hollywood, she suddenly felt rather resigned. After all, this handsome man who led such an interesting life would never think much of her to begin with. The fact that he was talking with her in the first place was already astonishing. Either way his opinion of her was going to plunge. If she told him about the calendar he would see her as ´an old tart showing her nipples´ and if she didn´t tell him it wouldn´t take him more than five minutes to figure out she was nothing more than a boring prude. So she opted for honestly at least.

´My friends and I – we all know each other through the WI. A while ago one of us lost her husband to cancer. In order to raise money for a couch in the hospital we all posed for a calendar…´ Here she trailed off, not having the courage to tell him about the tiny but rather crucial detail: that she had posed naked for it. Or in the nude as Jessie insisted.
She didn´t need to elaborate however. His eyes already widened in amazement. ´You were on the Tonight Show yesterday… I saw you… all of you.´

She felt his eyes sweeping over her and she was struck with the irrational impulse to run away and wrap herself in the thickest, most concealing dressing-gown she could find. Her cheeks burned with mortification and with great difficulty she pushed back the tears that prickled behind her eyes.

Looking down at the smooth surface of the bar, unable to meet his eyes, she muttered quietly: ´Yes well… it was a rather outlandish idea to begin with…´ More than anything she wanted to leave. Eddy´s cruel, hurtful words still rang in her ears and she couldn´t bear to hear the scorn from another man. The calendar was a joke and so was she – a big joke.

´I think what you did was amazing,´ his voice was soft and sincere. ´I´ve seen the devastating effect of cancer. And out of a tragedy like that you´ve managed to celebrate life and beauty…´

She still couldn´t look at him, but as he spoke, she watched his hand, resting on the bar from the corner of her eye. Once upon a time – before her marriage to Eddy, she had done a lot of sculpting. She had loved it. It gave her an opportunity to escape into a world of her own where she would mould and pressure the clay until it took the shape or form she intended it to have. She had liked to believe then that she was somewhat good at it and at any rate, it had just been wonderful to create something, something that was just hers and just the way she wanted it to be.

For some reason Eddy had always been adverse to this little passion of hers. In the first years of her marriage he had complained non-stop whenever she had started on another project. He complained of the money she spend on materials and evening classes. He complained of the mess, of the room her equipment and sculptures took up and he complained about the time she spend on making them. Her ´muddling´ as he consequently referred to it annoyed him to no end and eventually she had given up on it entirely, telling herself that willingness to compromise was the foundation to every solid marriage.

But now, looking at his hand, she suddenly wished she had a lump of clay in her hands so she model it. The long fingers with perfect, oval nails, trimmed short and clean kept. The firm, square joints and the curves of his knuckles.

She smiled wistfully and pondered on his words for a few seconds, slowly letting them sink in, before she finally looked up again. There was not the slightest trace of judgment or disgust in his eyes, but he was looking at her in wonderment, as if he could barely believe it had really been her in that calendar. Well, she could easily understand that sentiment and she laughed a little. ´Perhaps it´s just me then… I´m not one for doing something outlandish…´

´So why did you do it?´ he asked and it was the genuine interest in his voice that made her answer that question.
´Because I liked John – Annie´s husband a lot and it broke my heart when he died. He was far too young and he suffered so much from that wretched disease. I was just as angry and upset as the other girls were, but they… they had something they could do with their emotions. They could turn it into a determination to make sure something good came from it. They came up with this idea for a calendar and I was just afraid, terrified really... The afternoon when they were taking the pictures… I was at home, I´d told them I wouldn´t come, but I couldn´t think of anything else either. And all of a sudden I was so sick and tired of being a coward, of being afraid all the time…´

She was terrified right now, sharing her inmost thoughts with a complete stranger, who for some unfathomable reason was still listening intently at her. In a lighter voice she continued: ´So I went over to Annie´s house, gulped down half a bottle of wine and told the photographer ``Let´s do it!`` Next thing I know, I was Miss July.´

He grinned at that, his eyes never leaving her face. But then his face turned serious. ´Would I be far off if I said that you would have never done this if it hadn´t been for the cause?´

´Oh no, I´d say you´re spot on!´ she agreed heartily, relieved that he understood. ´Although I don´t think any of the girls would have done it if it wasn´t for the cause. It´s just… to them it was so much easier. I never had that ease like Ceilia or Chris has.´

´Is that so wrong?´ he asked thoughtfully. ´You´re not Ceilia or Chris. You´re you.´

´Perhaps,´ she replied quietly. Just lately being me hasn´t exactly been a picnic.

´You know…´ he was leaning a little bit closer towards her and there was a hint of a smile around his lips. ´This would be a good moment to tell me who you are.´

Smiling, she felt herself relax again. ´I´m Ruth,´ she told him. ´Ruth…´ she hesitated for a mere second, ´… Reynoldson.´

She felt his strong fingers closing around hers as he took her hand. ´Tim Wellington.´

A/N again: So I think it´s safe to say that Dr Timothy Wellington is the love-interest for whatever character Penelope Wilton happens to be playing…

I´d like to hear what you think!