Carmel Harrington - A Thousand Roads Home

A sign on the door stated:

Please avoid prime times in the kitchen:

8–9 a.m., 1–2 p.m. and 5–7 p.m.

As it was now four o’clock she hoped that meant it was a good time to make their dinner. A man and a young boy were sitting down at the kitchen table, tucking into fish and chips. A woman stood at the hob literally watching water boil in a pan. Then another woman stepped out from behind the door and said, ‘Don’t get any ideas about skipping the queue. I’ve been waiting nearly ten minutes already.’

Ruth shook her head quickly and took two steps away, until her back hit the wall.

‘Leave her alone. She’s the new one I was telling you about,’ the man said. ‘I saw you arriving earlier. I’m Kian. This handsome young fella with me is Cormac, my heir apparent.’

Ruth nodded in his direction. She did not recollect seeing him in the lobby earlier. She was pretty certain it was empty. She would learn that Kian was like a silent ninja. A pro at hiding in places he was not meant to be.

Kian continued, ‘One fridge, one cooker, one microwave, ten families and five hundred bleeding rules about how you can use them all. Welcome to the kitchen.’

This made the woman beside Ruth laugh, but hob woman replied in a tone that was decidedly frosty, ‘Rules that some in this establishment don’t seem capable of following. I’m Ava, in room 124. That’s Aisling hovering to your right.’

Say hello, remember to say hello.

Kian saved her by continuing his rant. ‘Bleeding bureaucratic bullshit. There’s more rules on the lists in The Silver Sands Lodge than in a bleeding jail. What gets my blood boiling is that they don’t make sense at all. I mean, take a look at the notice on the door. The so-called rush hours to be avoided create rush hours in the quiet times. Do you get me?’

His little boy, who looked no more than eight or nine, started to laugh, delighted with his dad’s rant.

‘Ignore our resident ray of sunshine,’ Ava said. She threw a look of disdain in his direction. He happily threw an equally disdainful one back at her, then scoffed the last of his chips.

‘They need to add a new rule to the laminate. No stealing food. That way I wouldn’t have to be here. Cooking again,’ Ava said loudly.

Kian pretended to play the violin behind her back, making Cormac snort with laughter. Aisling looked uncomfortable with the conversation between them both.

‘When Brian hears that someone has stolen our food again, he’s going to lose his shit. There should be cameras in here to catch the thieving bastards,’ Ava said. ‘I wouldn’t mind but I used extra-lean mince in that lasagne. It was bloody lovely.’

Aisling turned to Ruth and said, ‘I wish I could say it’s not like this every day. But …’

Ruth felt like she had stepped into an episode of a bad daytime soap. And she did not like it one bit.

Aisling continued, ‘I’m sorry if I sounded snappy when you walked in. It’s just I’ve left my daughter, Anna, on her own. We’re in room 127 down the other end of the corridor. Her asthma has been playing up this week and I don’t like leaving her.’

Ruth could not imagine what that must be like, dealing with a sick child on top of everything else. She felt Aisling’s eyes on her, waiting for a response. She looked up and quickly scanned the room. Damn it. They were all staring at her. She had forgotten DJ’s advice.

‘Hello hello hello hello,’ Ruth burst out in one breathless sentence to each of them, one by one. She looked down at the floor again and hoped they would stop talking to her.

‘Hello, hello, hello, hello to you, too,’ Kian said. The room swelled with merriment and Ruth felt her skin prickle with heat.

She was messing this up, like she always did.

But to her surprise Aisling moved a little closer to her and said with warmth, ‘I won’t be long. I’m only frying up a few sausages for Anna. Her favourite, and you’d give them the world when they’re sick, wouldn’t you?’

Ruth nodded to Aisling’s pretty pink pumps. She had small feet, dainty. Which looked at odds with her large frame.

‘Here, Aisling, I’ve finished with the second hob. You can cook beside me.’ Ava shuffled over to make room for the woman. Aisling pulled a frying pan out of the cupboard beside the cooker and stuck it on the heat. She sprayed the pan with Frylight, coating the base. The sausages sizzled and spat as soon as they hit the pan. The smell made Ruth nauseous and reminded her of Saturday mornings when her mother cooked the full Irish fry-up for them when all she wanted was porridge.

Ruth was two seconds away from breaking rule number six and running out of the kitchen and down the corridor back to their room. They could eat rice cakes for their supper, with bananas on top. She felt the eyes of the kitchen on her. She wished she had left her sunglasses on, ignoring DJ’s advice. She could not win. You got looks from people if you wore sunglasses indoors; you got looks from people if you preferred to keep your eyes to yourself. People were tricky. People passed judgement all the time.

People are fierce judgemental. To hell with people, that’s what I say.

Ha! You’re funny, Odd.

I’ve been told that once or twice before.

Me too …

Kian and his son, Cormac, stood up, the sound of their chairs scraping the floor bringing Ruth back from her chat with her imaginary friend.

‘Will I do the dishes, Da?’ Cormac asked.

‘Do, son,’ Kian replied, then they both sniggered some more when Cormac threw their paper plates into the bin.

‘A regular double act, those two,’ Ava sniffed, keeping her back to them. ‘I queued for an hour yesterday to use this oven. And the large lasagne I made was supposed to last for two days’ dinner.’

‘Did someone take it off yer?’ Kian asked, his face a picture of innocence.

Ava ignored him and said to the others, ‘It’s not good enough. I’ll be sending an email of complaint to the council and Erica when I get back to my room. Some people have a bare-faced cheek.’ She thumbed towards Kian, who whistled as he walked out of the room, his sidekick right behind him.

‘Did you see the cut of them both? The fecking bastard! I know it was him,’ Ava spluttered out. ‘We’re eating in our room tonight. And so help me, if there is any leftovers, it’s going in the bin.’

‘They looked a bit shifty all right,’ Aisling reluctantly agreed. ‘I’ve seen Cormac running in and out of here a lot, checking to see if the kitchen is empty. I gave up leaving yoghurts in the fridge months ago. Always swiped. He’s a divil for those.’

Ava nudged Aisling as she turned the sausages over, nodding towards Ruth. ‘You don’t say much.’

‘Hello,’ Ruth said again. They continued to stare at her, so she added, ‘I am not here to steal anyone’s food or to skip any queues.’

Aisling and Ava laughed in response and Ruth breathed a sigh of relief.

‘My son and I arrived at 12.07 p.m. today,’ Ruth answered. ‘It has been quite the day.’

Aisling reached out to touch Ruth’s arm in a gesture of support, causing Ruth to jump back and knock one of the chairs onto the floor.

‘Sorry,’ Aisling murmured. The room went quiet, except for the sound of water as it reached boiling point and the splash of pasta as Ava threw it into the water with a slosh. Steam filled the air around her. ‘It’s fresh, not dried, so I’ll be done in a jiffy.’

‘Fresh pasta is 3.45 times more expensive than dried,’ Ruth stated.

‘Well, I like fresh. And for the sake of a few cent …’ Ava said.

‘Assuming you eat fresh pasta twice a week, then your saving per meal for two people, is 0.94 euro. Over a year that will be just under 98 euro,’ Ruth replied, eyes still on the ground.