Careful What You Wish For

by Maureen McCarthy

  Ruth shifted position and her foot hit something under the table. She bent down, picked up the wallet and handed it silently to her father.

  ‘Oh, you’re a gem, Ruthie!’ His eyes lit up. ‘Thanks, love.’

  ‘Well done, Ruthie!’ Her mother beamed at her. ‘You really are a whiz, darling.’

  Ruth shrugged. All the gems and whiz darlings in the world did not make up for the fact that she did not want to be in this shambles of a kitchen – why was there a red plastic football on top of the fridge, for example, and why were there strips of greasy paint hanging from the ceiling? – at such an unearthly hour with any of these people whom she was apparently required to help out and be kind to, for no other reason than that they were her family. Ruth shuddered. Family. As far as she was concerned, family was completely and utterly overrated. She lowered her head and tried to think of something more pleasant. How come being an orphan got such a bad rap? In every book, play and film it was the orphan you had to feel sorry for. Ruth could think of at least half-a-dozen things about being an orphan that would be wonderful.

  While she was finishing her cereal a small, wayward idea disassociated itself from the pack of old, boring ones in Ruth’s head and raced to the front. Where had it come from? Nobody, least of all Ruth, asked for it to start pinging like an electronic bleeper. It had arrived for no obvious reason and it was different to any idea she’d ever had before. More importantly, it was growing.

  The longer she sat there looking at all the dirty dishes on the table, knowing it was more than likely that she would be the one to clear away and wash up, the stronger it got. If you really want something, then … you’ve got to make it happen. She could almost hear Mary Ellen’s voice in her head and that sent a shiver of excitement down her spine.

  All of a sudden, her mouth opened and the words tumbled out before she could even think.

  ‘I can’t do it,’ she said quite firmly, getting up and taking a pile of dishes from the table to the sink.

  ‘Can’t do what?’ Marcus stopped what he was doing on the floor and turned around.

  ‘I can’t come today,’ Ruth said, hardly able to believe herself.

  Mr Craze turned off the television, and Mrs Craze straightened up from packing food into the cardboard box.

  Paul stopped whistling and playing with his toast. In fact, amazingly, the kitchen went quiet all over again. Ruth turned her back and filled the sink with water, aware that they were all looking at her.

  ‘What did you say, Ruth?’ Mr Craze asked.

  ‘Sorry, I forgot. I can’t come today,’ Ruth said calmly, only half-turning around. Her heart was hammering in her chest. What would she say now?

  ‘Why not?’ Marcus was outraged.

  ‘I completely forgot that I have an arrangement with Lou’s family.’

  ‘An arrangement with who?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Ruth!’

  ‘And I can’t get out of it,’ Ruth blundered on. ‘Look, I would have told you before. I just forgot. This has taken me by surprise too.’

  ‘What kind of arrangement?’ Mr Craze asked, openmouthed.

  ‘Lou’s grandfather had a massive heart operation yesterday,’ Ruth said, squirting some detergent into the sink. ‘He’s in intensive care. Lou wants me to come and stay with her while her parents go and sit with him all day at the hospital.’

  Ruth could feel her family staring at her back.

  ‘I’m a … close family friend.’ This last part was true in a sense. Even though she and Lou had fallen out, Lou’s parents still probably loved her. Ruth knew they thought she was a good, steady influence on their little princess.

  ‘But, Ruth,’ her mother said, bewildered by this sudden turn of events, ‘why wouldn’t Lou want to be with them at the hospital?’

  ‘Her parents think hanging around the hospital is … damaging,’ Ruth said. She had no idea where any of this was leading. But the memory of hanging around hospital waiting rooms when Mary Ellen was sick had floated up from nowhere. It had been mind-numbingly boring as well as heartbreaking.

  ‘Damaging?’ Mrs Craze spluttered.

  ‘To Lou’s young psyche,’ Ruth said, nodding seriously.

  ‘Her what?’ Mrs Craze shook her head. ‘Where in heaven do you get such terms? Why didn’t you tell us?’

  ‘I just told you, I forgot,’ Ruth said, turning around.

  They were all staring at her blank-faced.

  She decided to go for broke. ‘Ring them if you want to check.’

  Mr and Mrs Craze looked at each other, then at Marcus and Paul and then back at Ruth.

  ‘But I’m going to feel pretty mean if I have to let them down at this late stage.’ Ruth turned back to wash the first few plates, trying to look unconcerned. She usually went to great pains to tell the truth, even when it made everyone else feel uncomfortable. She was stunned with herself, as well as a little scared. What if they found out that she was lying?

  3

  ‘Well, goodness me,’ Mr Craze sighed. ‘I guess we’ll just have to rope in somebody else when we get there.’

  ‘I guess you will,’ Ruth murmured.

  Luck was on Ruth’s side for once. Her parents and brothers were in such a hurry to get away they didn’t bother calling Lou’s parents to check her story.

  She stood on the front path to watch them leave and once the car disappeared around the corner a wave of pure relief broke over her. Yes. She was free for a whole day!

  There would be no shouting brothers, no raucous sports shows on television, no radio replays of boring football matches! No parental voices bossing everyone around. No loud explosive burps or unexpected farts followed by hoots of ridiculous laughter.

  She finished the washing-up, wiped down the benches and swept the floor. Then she got the washing in from the line because it looked like it might be going to rain. The whole day was in front of her. It was only a matter of deciding what to do with it. First things first; breakfast had been ruined earlier, so … she would make herself a little feast.

  * * *

  Ruth piled her six slices of peanut-buttered toast with jam onto a plate, then poured herself some milk with loads of drinking chocolate, and took it all into the front room. This was by far the best room of the house. It was lighter and bigger than the others, and although most of the furniture was worn there were a few nice things that had belonged to Mary Ellen – the big shiny wooden table with matching chairs, the deep-blue leather lounge suite and the antique sideboard. Ruth loved her aunt’s stuff even though it didn’t go with the other battered bits and pieces. Actually, she loved it because it didn’t fit in. Ruth put her plate and glass down carefully on the table and went to turn on the heater.

  There was a collection of family photos on the wall above the sideboard. Some were properly framed and others were simply pinned or taped to the peeling wallpaper. Ruth sat, eating her food and looking at them. There was a big schmaltzy one of her parents looking into each other’s eyes on their wedding day.

  They were both vaguely normal-looking in the photo. How things change, Ruth thought. Then there was a formal family portrait of the five of them together: Mum and Dad, Marcus, herself and Paul as a baby. There were a few smaller ones of grandparents and Ruth’s mother with her two sisters when they were young. Even at thirteen, Mary Ellen looked by far the most interesting of the sisters.

  Most of the photos were recent, though. Marcus holding up the bike trophy he’d won the year before. The next was one of Marcus with Paul on his shoulders at the beach, both of them grinning wildly. Ruth was in the background staring with admiration at them both. She could remember that day. It was weird now to consider how she used to think that Marcus was wonderful and Paul utterly cute.

  Then there was a collection of Paul shots: looking sweet playing in the sandpit at kindergarten; another taken on the first day of school. All in all, there were at least a dozen family snaps featured on the
wall, but only one of Ruth by herself. It was a small black-and-white photo at the edge of the collection.

  She got up, took the photograph off the wall and lay down on the floor in front of the heater, staring hard at herself. She liked this photo. The confident, easy way she was staring into the camera reminded her that things hadn’t always been so bad. Someone, she couldn’t remember who, had caught her standing against the back fence, squinting into the camera. Rodney was poking out from under her arm as if he knew what was going on and didn’t particularly approve. Ruth smiled. Rodney had often looked like that. Annoyed and disapproving.

  The words Ruth and Rod were written in pencil underneath with one of her mother’s big exclamation marks at the end. Ruth sighed heavily. Trust her mother to get his name wrong. Rodney was never Rod! Never in a million years

  * * *

  Ruth remembered so clearly the day that she’d brought Rodney home. While Mary Ellen chatted with her mum in the kitchen, Ruth had slipped past them, past her little brother practising handstands and up to her room.

  The rat was lying right at the bottom of her backpack under her night things. She didn’t want to risk Marcus or Paul or even her parents catching sight of him until she had a chance to at least get a feel for him in her room.

  Ruth shut her bedroom door behind her and looked around. Where would be the best place? She unpacked her pyjamas and toothbrush, her spare undies and her books. She pulled Rodney out of her bag, marvelling at him all over again. She loved his sharp little claws, long pointed nose and spiky fur now. On her bed seemed wrong somehow. What about on the little rickety table near her bed? But there was hardly room for her lamp and her book. No room for a large rat. There was the bottom drawer of the dresser. She could pull him out whenever she wanted to play. But that didn’t feel right either. Putting him away wouldn’t do. He was no ordinary toy.

  In the end, she put him on top of the bookshelf, next to a pretty vase that Mary Ellen had given her the year before. He looked comfortable sitting there with his tail hanging over the edge.

  She sat on her bed and stared up. He looked so wise and humorous. It was going to be such fun waking up every morning and having him up there peering down at her. She lay back with her hands behind her head and wriggled her toes with pleasure. He looked as if he’d been there forever.

  ‘Ruth!’

  ‘Coming.’

  Ruth smiled at the rat and gave a wave as she went out the door. She had the odd feeling that he inclined his head as she walked out, but knew that she was most probably imagining things.

  For the rest of the day, Ruth had felt a rush of happiness whenever she thought of the rat waiting for her in her room. And that feeling continued into the next day and then the next. She felt truly and utterly lucky.

  Even when Mary Ellen had got so desperately sick Ruth knew that it was just a matter of time before she got better. Miracles happened all the time, didn’t they? There were a million stories on television about people beating cancer. Those pessimistic doctors didn’t know what they were talking about. That was why Rodney was there. He was special and he would bring them luck.

  For the most part Rodney stayed in her room. He was the first thing Ruth saw every morning when she woke up and the last before switching off the light at night. She took to telling him about her day as she got into bed. He didn’t talk back to her in any formal sense, but it didn’t matter because she was almost sure that his expression changed. Sometimes he was amused, at other times angry and disapproving; occasionally she could have sworn he was totally bored by her! They had an understanding that if she went somewhere interesting she would take him with her in the bottom of her bag.

  Meanwhile, Mary Ellen got sicker and sicker and sicker.

  * * *

  Ruth got up from where she’d been lying on the floor and tried to shake off the sadness as she put the photo back on the wall and picked up her cup and plate. Rodney was gone now. The way she’d lost him still rankled. Better to just accept the facts, her parents had told her. Other wonderful things will come into your life, Ruthie, just you wait and see! But what did they know? Not so long after she’d lost the rat, Mary Ellen had died and then only a few weeks later she’d lost all her friends in one fell swoop.

  Not only that, her former-best-friend Lou spread around so many stories about her at school that no one else wanted to be friends with her either. So what wonderful things had come into her life to replace all that she had lost? Absolutely zilch! She was nearly twelve and her life was emptying out, not filling up.

  Ruth ran up to the bathroom to clean her teeth. She had a free day in front of her and she didn’t want to waste it being miserable. She rinsed out her mouth and straightened up and looked at herself in the mirror; she was still tall and skinny and plain. Too bad! She decided then and there that she had to do something completely out of the ordinary. Something wild and dramatic that she would remember all her life, the way people did in books. If only she could think what exactly.

  She toyed with the idea of heading into the city. If she stacked on the make-up and found some different clothes she might just pass for fifteen and be able to get into an MA movie. Afterwards she could sit in a café and wait for someone exciting to come along and talk to her. That had happened to her aunt when she was in Paris once.

  Ruth closed the bathroom door behind her, wishing she was in Paris and that her mother had some fashion sense so she could rifle through her clothes.

  Just then, the front doorbell rang. Strange! It was still very early. Who would be calling at eight o’clock in the morning?

  4

  It was Howard Pope standing on her doorstep, a little out of breath, holding something in a black plastic bag. Howard Pope, the oddball who’d arrived at school in the year before, who nobody much liked, was standing there looking dirty and slightly off-the-planet, as usual.

  ‘Hi, Howard,’ she said. How did he even know where she lived?

  ‘Craze,’ he replied with a sharp nod, no smile. ‘Can I come in?’

  Howard tended to call people by their surnames, which Ruth found kind of interesting. When she nodded he pushed past her into the hallway. Ruth shut the door and they stood in the hallway looking uneasily at each other for a moment.

  ‘What is it?’ Ruth asked bluntly, pointing at what he was holding.

  ‘A camera.’

  ‘Did you pinch it?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Howard frowned thoughtfully, looking past her down the hallway towards the kitchen. ‘But I’m not sure I got … everything,’ he mumbled.

  ‘What do you mean, everything?’

  ‘Might need batteries and a cable. I don’t know.’

  ‘You want to check it out in here?’ Ruth turned to open the door into the front room, but he didn’t follow.

  ‘You got anything to eat?’ he asked in the odd scratchy voice that always caught Ruth’s attention in class.

  ‘Sure.’ She led him down to the kitchen, wondering if it was the theft of the camera that made him seem so agitated.

  ‘Was it scary?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ He gave her a hard look.

  ‘Pinching it? Did you nearly get caught or anything?’

  ‘Nah.’ He sniffed and stared at the ceiling, then walked over to the window and looked out. ‘Nothing easier.’

  Ruth pulled out a chair for him and went to the fridge. He had his back to her now, and she could see that he was trembling. There was not much in the fridge except some cheese and tomatoes.

  ‘Are you cold?’

  ‘Nah,’ he grunted.

  ‘So how come you’re shivering?’

  Howard didn’t answer but lifted up both legs of his jeans to the knee. Big red stripes like burns crisscrossed the white skin. He stood there and said nothing, letting her look.

  ‘My old man went ballistic.’

  Ruth was shocked. ‘When?’

  ‘Last night.’ He nodded thoughtfully, as if he was finding it hard to believe it himself.r />
  Ruth went to the cupboard above the sink and pulled down the zinc-and-castor-oil cream – her mother’s answer to every skin condition known to humankind – and handed it to him.

  She indicated the chair again and noticed the way Howard winced when he sat down. He unscrewed the lid of the plastic tub, scooped out some cream with his finger and began to rub it over his legs.

  ‘Use it all,’ Ruth told him. ‘We’ve got more.’

  Howard nodded and kept applying the cream.

  ‘Sandwich okay?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Howard said. He finished with the cream and started fiddling around with the camera on the table in front of him, frowning.

  Ruth pulled out the bread and quickly threw together a couple of big cheese and tomato sandwiches and put them under the griller, trying to think what to say. Behind her, Howard sighed a couple of times.

  ‘Needs batteries and another lead!’ he said, exasperated. ‘Should have taken the box as well.’

  At school, Ruth had heard of Howard Pope before she’d even spoken two words to him. Within a week of him arriving at the school, Lou’s phone had gone missing and was eventually found down the bottom of Howard’s bag under his smelly socks, along with Justin Appleton’s PSP and Melissa Todd’s iPod. The fact that all these items were banned wasn’t the point. Howard had stolen them and then left them at the bottom of his bag!

  Ruth found that rather intriguing, even though she had pretended to be outraged like everyone else. It had made her wonder about the quiet new kid with the thick glasses and solemn face. Why would he steal something and not use it? After that incident, everyone was wary of Howard Pope, but that didn’t seem to bother him too much. Or stop him. Two months later, the police were up at the school looking for missing items from the local electrical shop. A toaster, a milkshake machine and an electric kettle were found in Howard’s locker. Crazy! Why would an eleven-year-old want those things?

  He was also known to have unbolted the window to the tuckshop, stolen a tray of doughnuts and fifteen Mars Bars and then shared them around with anyone game enough to partake.