Page 20 of A Miracle on Hope Street
‘Where then? India? Gran Canaria? Africa? Where?’
I walk back into the sitting room of my childhood home. My handbag and my shoes lie at the edge of the sofa where I kicked them off earlier and the heap of junk and charity mail sits on the floor beside them in a careless bundle. I’m a free agent and I can do whatever the hell I want to do in this life and I can do whatever I want to do this Christmas. But I’ve made my choice. I have an idea and it excites me a lot already.
‘Are you going to tell me, Ruth?’ she asks again.
One of the leaflets that came in the post catches my eye.
‘I . . . look, I’m just thinking . . . maybe I’m mad . . .’
‘What?’
‘I think I’m going to . . .’
‘Africa?’
‘No. I think I’m going to . . . I’m going make a really big dinner here in this house and invite some people who would otherwise be on their own at Christmas,’ I tell my sister. ‘I want to help others this year. I need to, Ally. I need to do something positive or I’m going to lose my whole sense of worth in this world. I need to do something that makes me feel like I’m me again. Like I’m making a difference rather than merely existing, and then I’m going to sell up and I’m going to start somewhere new.’
‘You’re what? Have you been drinking, Ruth? Or have you been taking sleeping tablets or something? You sound weird and you’re talking gibberish.’
‘You heard me,’ I say to her. ‘I’m going to open up this big, empty house and have Christmas here for people who wouldn’t have a nice Christmas otherwise. I’m going to go out of here with a bang! I’m going to take action instead of just shelling out words. I’m going to do something positive for others instead of sitting here feeling sorry for myself – and maybe seeing how other people struggle will kick me back into shape and give me the strength to do my job again.’
There’s a long pause. My mind is racing and I’m guessing that hers is too. I don’t know where that outburst or idea has come from, but I’m loving it already. In fact, I do know where it has come from! It came from Michael and the feeling I got when he told me how, with one tiny piece of spontaneous human kindness I actually changed his life! I changed his life! I want to do that again and again and again!
‘Oh,’ she says eventually, laughing exactly like I did moments earlier. Not in a funny way, but in a nervous, awkward way that asks me am I really serious. ‘Not Australia then?’
I flick the leaflet back and forth in my hand.
‘Gosh, Ally, I got talking to a man who was freezing cold and homeless this time last year. You know when you picked me up outside the cinema on the night that Dad died? I gave him forty pounds and he used it to change his life around and get off the streets. He was suicidal, actually, but he now works in Gloria’s café and his name is Michael and he says I saved his life! He says that simple act of kindness gave him hope to keep on living and yet, to me, it was only a token gesture. An easy gesture. I saved his life. Why don’t we all do something like that more often?’
There is a brief silence on the line.
‘No way, Ruth, that’s mental!’ whispers Ally seconds later. ‘The night Dad died? And he told you this today?’
‘Yes,’ I say, nodding, my eyes widening as that warm, fuzzy feeling comes back inside of me.
‘And is that why you want to do this at Christmas?’ Ally says. ‘I mean, fair play to you and all, but you’re always helping people in your job. Don’t you just want to lie up and take it easy for a change? Eat chocolate, stuff your face with turkey, get a little drunk? And where on earth are you going to find these people?’
I pace the floor, feeling adrenaline pump through my veins as I picture it all in my head.
‘I already know who they are,’ I tell her. ‘I mean, I don’t knowexactlywho yet, but I could easily choose six or seven or eight people who have written to me lately about how lonely they are feeling and dreading Christmas. I already could tell you who they are and where they’ll come from. This city is full of loneliness, Ally. The world is full of loneliness. It’s the least I can do when I’m in this position with no responsibilities and the space and time to do it.’
‘But you don’thaveto do anything,’ says Ally and I can hear Owen trying to get her attention in the background. ‘Come on, sis. Take a break from being Mother bloody Teresa for once in your life, please. Come and stay with us for the holidays and we’ll get shit-faced on fizzy wine and change the world like we did last year after Dad died. You’re going to wear yourself out, that’s all I’m afraid of. You need a break from that city. You need a break from solving other people’s problems.’
I slump down on the old grey armchair and a puff of dust makes me sneeze. I really need to get a cleaner.
‘I can’t get him out of my head and I think it’s a sign for me to do more,’ I tell my sister. ‘I can’t just sit around and stuff my face when there are hundreds of other people like him out there who have nothing. I feel useless, right now, and I want to be usefulinstead. Do you think I’m crazy?’
I can sense my sister gulping down the phone.
‘No, not crazy at all,’ she says. ‘Well, a bit crazy maybe, but it makes a change from me being the wild one. Oh, we’ll miss you at the table and it’s just very . . . I’m really proud of you, Ruth, I really am, you know that, and so was Dad. He would love that you’re doing something like this – and if it makes you feel good as well as helping others, then you go for it, crazy of not. You can always come to us on another day over the holidays when it’s less hectic – if you want, of course, or if you change your mind.’
‘Yes, yes I can do that,’ I tell her. ‘I promise I will. I’ll definitely come and visit and I’ve a cool present for the boys and can’t wait to see them but this is – gosh, yes. It’s what I’m going to do. Who knows? This time next year I might have some other priorities at Christmas to deal with but this year I feel I’ll be doing the right thing by doing just a little bit extra. Thanks for understanding, sis. From now on I’m going to take action. It makes sense, right?’
But she’s gone, been cut off which I should know happens when I reach this side of the house that I seem to have paced to unknowingly. I rub my eyes and let out a long, deep breath.
I will never be fulfilled by simply dishing out words from behind a computer screen. I think I’ve got it. I think I know now what I have to do to temporarily fill this empty void in my life. It’s time to take action. And who knows what else it will lead to? After Christmas I’ll say goodbye to life on Beech Row, but for now I’m going to give this house one hell of a send-off and it will be a day that no one who comes here will ever forget.
Chapter Ten
