Page 21 of A Miracle on Hope Street
Six Days before Christmas
‘Darling, have youentirelylost your mind? You’re going to cook dinner for strangers at Christmas in your own home? Can’t you organise that for a community centre or a quiet restaurant or somewhere else a bit less personal?’
Margo Taylor looks over the rim of her glasses at me from across her desk, her breath smelling like a Christmas liquid lunch and her lipstick red, bold and meaningful just like her personality. She waves a pen around as she speaks like it’s a magic wand.
‘But Iwantit to be personal,’ I tell her. ‘I want it to make a real difference to people who have lost their way in life, who have forgotten their purpose and who are lonely. I can write about what I learned from it all, on a personal level, and I can get sponsors for the food. I know a great butcher who will give me a turkey and—’
‘Oh Ruth, darling, if only it was as simple as that!’ Margo replies. ‘Do you honestly think you are going to feed the homeless in this town on one turkey, around a dining room made for six people?’
‘Eightpeople actually, Margo. And I’m not talking about feeding the homeless,’ I explain, feeling a knot in my stomach. ‘Jeez, I’m not that naive; my goodness, cut me some credit, please.’
She glares and then smiles. I change my tone.
‘What I mean is . . .’ I take a deep breath. ‘What I want to do is . . . I’m just going to very subtly target a few people who have written to me, some people who I already know are going to be struggling this year out of sheer loneliness or for financial reasons. I’m not trying to change the world, Margo, or change this city’s problems forever. I just want to make sure that rather than justtellpeople what I would do if I were them, I canshowthem some warmth and hope. I just want to give a few people, as many as I personally can, some real hope by showing that I do actually care. And to look at it in another totally selfish way, I think it will make me feel good inside too.’
Margo puts down her tea.
‘You need a boyfriend, darling,’ she says. ‘Or a girlfriend – or both! Or a cat or dog or a baby or whatever it is you’re into, but you definitely need some responsibility in life. You’re at a very loose end, Ruth. Are you sure you’ve thought this through?’
I shake my head and shrug and smile and the fire lights in my belly once more as I picture what lies ahead.
‘No, no I haven’t thought it through at all and that makes it even more exciting!’ I tell her honestly. ‘I’ve about a million ideas swirling round my head and I’ve no idea if it will work or if it will all be one big fat disaster and if it is, then so what? At least I tried, but I’m going to give it a go.’
‘Okay . . .’
I can tell she’s thinking.
‘But I’m not out for it to be a media circus either!’ I continue. ‘I’m going to do it no matter if you’re on board or not for a feature, but I really do think it would make a nice piece on the act of reaching out and it might spark off the idea for others to do it at different times of the year and not just Christmas. It might encourage people to look out for others on occasions when those with no family need company and warmth.’
I have no clue where my new-found bravery has come from, speaking to Margo like this. For some reason, I’m the only writer forTodaywho can get to Margo without an appointment and here I am chatting to her as if she’s some junior on the office floor and not the owner of the whole publishing company that makes the newspaper I write for.
‘Have you spoken to your sister?’ asks Margo. ‘I thought you’d be going to her for Christmas? It just seems, for you, quite a lot to take on.’
‘It is a lot to take on, but I’m going to do it,’ I tell her. ‘And yes, I spoke to Ally, who says . . . well, she thought the same as you at first but now she’s totally on board, right behind me. She thinks it’s a great idea.’
Margo doesn’t look totally convinced. It’s time for me to play hardball.
‘Okay, I don’t want to take up any more of your time, Margo,’ I say, putting my phone in my bag and lifting my keys. ‘I just wanted to run it past you as a potential feature which would keep my dinner guests identity anonymous, of course, and would be written from a humanity and kindness angle, putting in what I learn from it and the gift of giving.’
‘Yes,’ she replies.
‘But maybe it would be more suitable for my radio programme? I could talk it up and ask listeners to share stories of how they’ve paid an act of kindness forward at special times of—’
I don’t get to finish my sentence this time.
‘No, no don’t even think about taking it to radio!’ she says, casting frantic spells with her pen. ‘I’ll take it. I think it’s a wonderful idea and you’re right, maybe it will inspire others to do the same.’
‘I think it will,’ I say with a smile and stand up.
She pauses, she stares. I sit down again.
‘I just don’t know where they hell you get the interest or energy from, darling, but I find it truly remarkable,’ Margo says in a much softer tone than before. ‘I always knew you were one of the good ones. I always knew you were different. You are special, if you don’t mind me saying so.’
I gulp. Really? Gosh, I might cry if she says any more nice things. Margo doesn’t usually say nice things to anyone, at least not to their face, and I don’t feel worthy of her praise.
‘You don’t have to keep me up on the pedestal you’ve created for me, Margo,’ I say to her, my voice dipping. ‘I honestly don’t feel like I’m special at all. I’m just an ordinary girl who just wants to try and make herself feel better. Maybe that, in fact, makes me selfish and not as great as you think I am. I don’t think I ever was that great, and who knows if I ever will be. Ask Nora. She seems to have me all sussed out.’
Margo stands up and leans her hands on the desk, staring across at me. I’ve seen her take on that stance when she calls an editorial meeting where she really wants to make a point.
