Page 10 of A Miracle on Hope Street
‘Can I get some muffins and syrup and, actually, can I get some fried bacon please with that, Gloria? I need some soakage for definite.’
I manage to nod in agreement and Gloria writes down our order on her little notepad with the pen that sits permanently behind her ear.
‘I’m here if you ever need me,’ Gloria whispers to me, her eyes filling up in reflection of the agony she knows I am going through at the moment.
I look up at her and say the words that we always chant to each other when the chips are down, ‘Even an agony aunt needs an agony aunt sometimes,’ and at that she is off to cook us breakfast.
‘Do you think Gloria has ever overindulged on a night out?’ asks Nora. ‘Do you think she has even eversinned? I bet she hasn’t. I bet she grew up with a sweet Gospel choir and the smell of home baking and wholesome Sunday worship and she’s never as much as sipped alcohol, the lucky duck.’
I shrug. ‘I’m not sure of her background or why or how she ever came to this place, but I’m glad she did,’ I tell Nora. ‘I’m not hungover at all, actually. I’m just sad, Nora. I’m really sad today. Sorry to burden you with it all. I just miss him terribly, especially at this time of year. Getting over the hurdle of that first anniversary was a toughie, I can tell you, but hopefully now I’ll be able to turn a corner.’
Nora fidgets uncomfortably, looks around her, then changes the subject entirely to talk about an article she is writing on celebrity culture and I’m reminded that, outside of work and booze-ups, Nora and I really don’t have that much in common at all. She has no idea about my sister Ally, who lives at the other end of the country, and how much I miss her being closer to home; she has no idea about how I’m killing myself to run that big empty house all on my own and how huge a decision it is for me to sell it, or how lonely I am or useless I feel now that I don’t have my dad to visit at the care home, or how much I have lately hated attending hollow events full of air kissing ass kissers which don’t fill my soul any more. I’m not sure they ever even did. She has no idea how I’m suffocating in this existence, how every day I long to run away to somewhere I don’t even know and where no one knows me, and she has no idea how much I really need to make some major changes in my life before it all becomes too much to handle. She has no idea about me at all.
In fact, none of them do. Not Gavin, not Bob, definitely not Nora. They are acquaintances through work; they are just like the thousands of social media friends who look up to me as if I live a perfect life judged on posed photos and shiny profiles.
‘Thanks for asking me to come here,’ I tell Nora when she pauses for breath during her rant about celebrity marriage compared to reality marriage, where money is tight and bills need to be paid. ‘I needed to get out of the house and it’s always nice to come here to Gloria’s and just forget the world. Sometimes I miss the office banter and the company that comes with it, but coming here helps. Isn’t this just the most magical little den? I love it here. I always have.’
Although Nora and I may not know a lot about each other under the surface, I think it’s nice to acknowledge her kindness on thinking of me this morning and inviting me here, plus my dad always taught us to see the good in people so I’m going to focus on that rather than let any negative thoughts fill my already overflowing head.
‘Margo thinks I’m meeting you here to get advice on how to sort my shit out at home as it’s affecting my work,’ she says, sniggering, stirring her drink.
‘Oh, does she?’
I sit up and Nora laughs.
‘She really does believe you can change the world, Ruth,’ she continues, looking totally unconvinced. ‘Like, why is that?’
‘Sorry?’
I have no idea how to answer her question. How am I to know why Margo insists on creating this angelic profile of me? I didn’t create it. It’s all just media hype and Nora should know that.
‘Well, it’s probably because you cared for your dad and the whole “my mother abandoned me” story that comes with your background,’ she says, in a quick summary of my life to date. ‘Then there’s the fact that men fall for you but you don’t even see it; the charitable work you’ve done through the radio station; the “overcoming obstacles” attitude that empowers women who look up to you so doe-eyed, not to mention the butter-wouldn’t-melt Italian face that has everyone going gaga. It’s a lot to live up to for the rest of us, yet in reality you’re a bag of misery.’
Nora is tearing me to pieces and I have no idea what to say. Not that I could get a word in if I wanted to. She has me very well summed up and she hasn’t finished. She bows her head and drops her voice to tell me the rest.
‘It’s so funny,’ she snorts, ‘but I knew that Margo would never have let me leave the office this morning unless I said I was meeting you, so I kind of made it up that I needed some advice and she fell for it, hook, line and sinker. It’s not everyone she’d allow me to meet when she knows fine well I’ve a stinking hangover.’
Nora takes a sip from her hot drink and I can hear the deep bitterness drip again from her tongue as she swallows. So, she didn’t really give a toss as to how I felt this morning after all. She just needed an excuse to get out of the office and that excuse was me. I am dizzy with all her revelations, not to mention her ulterior motives.
‘Andareyou looking for advice?’ I ask her, clutching at straws to save my own pride.
‘Hell no, I don’t need any.’ She laughs, knifing me once more. ‘I’m hardly going to spill out my shit toyou, am I? As if you need that on top of everything.’
‘On top of everything?’ I say to her. So she does acknowledge I’m going through my own hard times at the moment?
Nora looks around her and then back to me.
‘No harm, Ruth,’ she says, ‘but you’d be better investing in your own life, instead of worrying about mine or anyone else’s right now.’
I gulp.
I manage to splutter, ‘Are you suggesting I’m incapable of doing my job?’
Ouch, that stung. No matter how much understanding I am hoping for from my so-called colleagues, I would hate that Nora and the rest would ever think I was losing my ability to offer advice when it was needed, even if I’m having my own inner doubts. She really isn’t helping.
‘Oh, come on, Ruth,’ she says. ‘I’m a real person, not one of your silly fans who write to you because they can’t remember how to change a lightbulb. You just . . . well, maybe you just need to focus on yourself for a bit instead of poor Peter whose pet goldfish just died.’
She laughs at this, to make it all seem lighter but I’ve gone off my breakfast and I’ve gone off . . . well, if I needed to any more, I’ve gone off some of the people in my life a lot right now.
