Carmel Harrington - A Thousand Roads Home

Ava and Aisling looked at each other, then back to Ruth again, a little startled by her quick maths.

‘Wouldn’t it be nice if, for once, we didn’t have to be thinking about things like the cost of every little thing we need to buy?’ Aisling said. ‘I spent a day yesterday trudging around Penney’s, Heaton’s and Tesco, comparing prices on a tracksuit for Anna. And everywhere I looked I saw all these cute outfits in, ready for Christmas. I’d have given anything to buy her a whole new wardrobe.’

‘Anna always looks beautiful,’ Ava said with kindness.

‘Hand-me-downs. Thank God for my friend. She sends down a bag of clothes every six months or so. It’s like Christmas for Anna.’ Tears threatened to spill from Aisling’s brown eyes as she flipped her sausages again. ‘Just once, I’d like her to have her own outfit. Brand new with labels. Chosen just for her.’

Ava squeezed Aisling’s arm in sympathy.

Ruth wanted to say to them both that she knew what it was like to juggle her finances so that she did not have ‘too much month at the end of her money’. She wanted to tell Aisling that she needed to do a similar exercise to find DJ new tracksuit bottoms and trainers. But the words were getting jumbled in her head again, the way they did. She was making a terrible first impression but she felt powerless to change it. They would see her continued silence as an insult and she did not want them to think she was rude.

Tell them you are shy. Be honest. People always respond well to honesty. This advice was given to her over a decade ago by her doctor and it often popped into her head. Funny how some words stick while others disappear into nothing. Maybe it was time to take this advice.

‘I am shy, not rude,’ Ruth blurted out.

‘Ah, I’ve a younger sister like that,’ Ava said, nodding in understanding. ‘Crippled with shyness, has been ever since she was born. She spent most of her childhood hidden behind Mam’s skirts!’

‘And there I was, thinking the cat had your tongue! I’m sure it’s been a tough day for you,’ Aisling said, smiling.

‘I never thought I would end up in a place like this. In this situation,’ Ruth said.

They both understood that.

‘Hotels are meant to be about leisure, rest, holidays. But this is hell on earth,’ Ava said, her eyes filled with tears.

‘Maybe this will be your month to get a house,’ Aisling added, patting her hand.

‘We said that last month and the month before, too. When we moved into this hotel, we thought it would be temporary. Couple of weeks, max. Six months later it’s getting harder to be upbeat,’ Ava replied. She pulled the pot of pasta off the stove and drained it over the sink. ‘I don’t think my husband, Brian, can cope much longer.’

‘It will be your turn soon, you wait and see,’ Aisling said.

‘That is most unlikely. Twenty per cent of those on the housing list will remain on it for five years,’ Ruth interjected in an effort to join in.

Ava and Aisling both turned towards her, Ava in distress, Aisling in irritation.

‘Read the room!’ Aisling said. She made a face, nodding her head towards a tearful Ava.

Ruth looked at the floor, wishing she was an Aisling, someone who knew automatically what to say, how to make Ava feel better. Why did she always find her voice just in time to say the wrong thing?

Then

The past couple of months had been difficult, the worst of Ruth’s life. First of all, the man she loved, Dean, disappeared. She missed him. She refused to give up hope that he would return. But the realisation that she was pregnant brought a whole new world of trouble. And telling her mother, dealing with her reaction, was the start of the end for them both.

‘A baby? No, that’s impossible,’ Marian had said, picking up her cigarettes.

‘Yes, Mother. It is quite possible. I am twenty weeks pregnant.’

Her mother’s eyes dropped to her abdomen and Ruth automatically placed her hands over it. And then her mother did something that she’d never done before. She threw her cigarettes at Ruth and screamed at her. The box bounced off Ruth’s hands. The blow did not hurt, but the rage behind her mother’s actions did.

Things had not improved since then. Had Marian told Ruth’s father about the baby? She did not know. She guessed her mother called him to complain that there was an even bigger inconvenience on the way.

It was Mark who came to her rescue during those awful few weeks after her announcement, unlikely ally though he was. When her mother called him to garner support in her tirade of abuse about the pregnancy, he stood closer to Ruth while Marian ranted and raved.

‘You can’t have a baby!’ Marian said. ‘Tell her, Mark. It’s preposterous.’

‘Why not?’ Ruth asked. ‘I am perfectly healthy.’

‘What if it’s like you?’ Marian replied with a shudder. At that damning question, silence fell over the room.

Mark broke the silence. ‘Have you listened to yourself, Mother?’ His voice was low and gruff.

Ruth looked at him in surprise. He sounded angry.

Mark continued, ‘Seriously, have you actually listened to the fucking shit that comes out of your mouth?’

‘How dare you speak to me like that?’ Marian screamed, horrified at Mark’s words.

‘How dare you?’ Mark replied.

Ruth and her mother both looked at Mark in shock. He had never stuck up for his sister like this before.

Marian found her voice and screamed, ‘Get out. Get out. Get OUT!’

‘With pleasure,’ Mark said. Then he turned to Ruth: ‘If I were you, I’d get the fuck out of here, too.’

Three days of non-stop abuse from Marian followed.

That boy Dean used you. A cheap and easy tart, who fell for his lies.

You have really gone and done it this time.