The Seven Secrets of Happiness

by Sharon Owens

  ‘I’m very sorry about that, Ruby. I wanted to come, but I knew I’d be no use to you with my prayers and my beads and my silly old sayings. I knew you’d see me as more of a hindrance than a help.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have, Mum. I’d have loved you to come to Belfast. You could have come to see me when the weather eased, a few days later. You could have stayed with me for a few weeks and helped me to get back on my feet. I was in pieces, Mum. Jasmine’s mother was here. She was here for the funeral; she was making sandwiches for a whole day. She was here on Christmas Day itself, bringing me something to eat. Where were you, Mum? I missed you so much.’

  ‘I told you I was sorry,’ Ruby’s mother said sadly. ‘I’m no good with people, even with my own family. Everything I do and say is wrong; it was always wrong. I was suffocating in that house. You’ve no idea what it was like.’

  ‘Okay, Mum. This is silly; it’s just going round in circles. You say you love me, but then you run away when the going gets tough. Families should stick together when things go wrong; that’s what makes them a family. Don’t you get it?’

  ‘I’d better go now, Ruby. I’m tired.’

  ‘Okay. But just before you go let me say this: I’m going to advise Dad to sell up and move to Belfast. He’s very lonely all by himself in that big house and honestly, sometimes, I think you intend to stay in America forever.’

  ‘He’ll never leave that house, Ruby. He’s a Fermanagh man through and through.’

  ‘We’ll see about that. I think he’s coming to a crossroads in his life. He’s not as passive as he once was. It’s time he got out and about again. He’s been a bit depressed too, you know? I think the two of you have been a bit depressed for years. Do you think I’m right, Mum?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Will you please have a think about it then? Dad needs to know where he stands. You can see that, surely? He needs to make plans.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll be in touch again soon.’

  ‘And we both love you very much, Mum,’ Ruby said gently. ‘I hope you know that. No matter what happens in the future. We both love you and we want you to come home. It’s not too late for us to be a proper family.’

  ‘Okay, pet. Thanks.’

  ‘Mum, you will take care of yourself, won’t you?’ Ruby whispered.

  ‘I will, Ruby. I will. Dorothy’s been keeping me out of trouble. She knows New York like the back of her hand.’

  ‘Okay. Love you, Mum.’

  ‘Love you too.’

  And then the line went dead. Ruby looked at the phone for a few moments. As if she might somehow be able to understand what’d happened to her mother. To make her run away like that, like a teenager high on angst and rebellion. But all she felt was an empty longing in her heart for the sort of cosy relationship with her mother that Jasmine said she had with her mother. Was that why she had clung to Jonathan so much, she wondered, because his love had always been more than enough for her? Because he had always made her feel so utterly loved and so wanted?

  Well, it was time to stop this silly hankering after things she couldn’t have. Wasn’t it? Ruby knew then that her mother was a distant and restless personality and that she always had been. And that her father had become used to it, but also quite depressed over the years. And that Jonathan was really dead and that he was never coming back.

  ‘Time to grow up,’ she told her basket of white flowers.

  Then Ruby called her father to see if he’d heard from his runaway wife yet. If he hadn’t, she’d be able to reassure him that Emily was at least willing to have a good long think about her next move. And she was also going to tell her father that she’d be home for Christmas dinner. She’d be home first thing in the morning. So he’d better tidy himself up and also tidy the house. And the two of them were spending the day together, every blessed minute of it and that was final.

  19. Camberwell House

  It was getting on towards the end of January. Ruby and her father had spent a lovely Christmas together. Tidying and cleaning the house from top to bottom and then going out to a fancy hotel for lunch and drinks by the fire. And Ruby had gently but firmly forced her dad to admit that he’d been the one driven to depression by his wife’s restless nature over the years. He’d been depressed for so long he hadn’t even noticed himself becoming a virtual recluse. They’d talked it all out over the holidays. He wouldn’t go to the doctor, he said. What would be the point? The doctor wouldn’t be able to give him back the last forty years. And anyway he didn’t regret getting married because his marriage had given him Ruby.

  But he’d promised he would make more of an effort to socialize in future. Join the local church choir for one thing. Take up sailing or fishing maybe. And he’d hire a cleaning lady and a gardener to make sure the chores got done properly. He’d drawn the line at moving to Belfast, however. Saying he was a Fermanagh man through and through and that he couldn’t live without seeing the loughs every day. Overall Ruby felt he had turned a corner. He still hadn’t heard any detailed plans from Ruby’s mother. He still didn’t know if his wife was ever coming home to him or not. But somehow he was okay about this.

  ‘I’m used to the silence now,’ he’d said thoughtfully. ‘It’s a different kind of silence when the house is truly peaceful. And it’s not the same as when your mother and myself were not on speaking terms, if you know what I mean? It’s a restful silence now. Just me pottering about on my own. And the sun coming in through the windows, and the shadows flickering on the walls. And a nice bit of a roast in the oven for my dinner.’

  ‘Yes, Dad,’ Ruby had said, nodding her head sadly. It didn’t sound like much of a life to her, but what could she do about it? He sounded happy enough and that was better than nothing. And at least they were chatting at least once a week now on the phone… and that was the main thing.

  So now Ruby was back to her normal routine in Belfast. Though today the shop was closed and Jasmine was dragging her to Camberwell House in a dubious bid to beat the January blues. They were travelling by taxi as Ruby’s car was in the garage for a service.

  ‘And by the way I’m only going with you on this crazy, so-called Girl’s Day Out to prove to you that Tom Lavery is a happily married man who doesn’t know I’m alive. And also to prove to you that I am not on the prowl for another husband,’ Ruby muttered quietly, her hands knotted nervously together. ‘I must be mad, really, to be doing this.’

  ‘Oh, shush, you’ll enjoy it, you will surely. And, you never know, I might meet a nice guy myself. A lovely, country chap!’

  ‘Jasmine love, it’s an old house full of oversized antiques and cracked chamber pots and sagging four-poster beds. How on earth are you going to find a handsome and available man amidst that lot?’

  ‘Well, I haven’t managed to find one in the bars and cafés and gyms of Belfast in recent years.’

  ‘What about your man? Gary?’

  ‘He was okay, but a bit soppy for my liking. Still living with his mother. And him thirty-three years of age! I reckon he’s just lining up a substitute cleaner for when his old lady kicks the bucket.’

  ‘Oops!’

  ‘Yeah… So I’m casting my net a little wider, that’s all. Maybe there’s a bit more eye-candy on offer in the countryside. Some undiscovered treasure, hopefully.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘And maybe the country boys will be a bit more grateful for a stylish catch like myself. And they might even be a bit fitter in bed? You know, what with all that potato digging and such? Your Tom looks pretty good on it.’

  ‘God love you, Jasmine Mulholland. I don’t know why you bother sometimes.’

  ‘Sure why not? Where there’s life there’s hope I always say. The shop is closed today and we both have nothing else to do. It’ll be a laugh.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘Anyway it’s good that you agreed to come with me at long last. I must say you’ve changed your tune.’

  ‘I haven’t changed any sort of
tune,’ Ruby said, feeling puzzled.

  ‘Yes, you have. Has your mother’s phone call frightened the wits out of you?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Yes, it has, admit it. You’re scared stiff that you might turn into a moaning old banshee like her one of these days, aren’t you? Mentalist! Slagging off everything under the sun and driving everybody up the walls with misery. And then going off the deep end with her bakery nonsense.’

  ‘Jasmine, I know my mother isn’t exactly full of the joys of spring, but could you please stop putting her down so much? She can’t help it. She was brought up in a different era.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It was all poverty, and religion, and people being hanged for stealing an apple and flogged for having impure thoughts… Newspapers for tablecloths… She probably can’t help being a bit unstable. Her own youth must have been a nightmare.’

  ‘Ruby, would you listen to yourself! My parents are ancient as well, but they’re still pretty cheerful. You said to me about a hundred times last week that you were fed up with your mother and her antics of late.’

  Ruby closed her eyes.

  ‘I know I did,’ she admitted sadly.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry if I sounded bitchy about your mum. It’s just that you can’t see it yourself, but your mother depresses the hell out of you.’

  ‘She does not.’

  ‘She does. Look at your father. Poor bugger is that confused he doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.’

  ‘Maybe he was depressed, but he was with her all the time. Years and years of it! I’m not married to her, am I?’

  ‘She does depress you, Ruby. Even from a distance.’

  ‘How does she?’

  ‘You’re always weird for days after you talk about her, or even think about her. And I know when you’re thinking about her because you always bite your top lip. Face it, Ruby, the woman was never cut out for motherhood. Quite a lot of women aren’t, you know? It’s the last great social taboo: reluctant mothers.’

  ‘Well, now you mention it, she never did seem overly delighted to be a housewife.’

  ‘No, she didn’t. And could you blame her? That’s why men have always tried to keep women under their thumbs, I reckon. Ever since humans started walking upright and what have you, because men know that we women got the raw end of the deal. And they also know what would happen if women gave up trying to keep the world turning. And just behaved as they do. Well, like most of them do. Boozing and fighting and sleeping around. It would all go to hell in a fucking handcart.’

  ‘True… What about wars though?’ Ruby countered absent-mindedly. ‘Men suffer terribly during wars.’

  ‘All wars are voluntary acts of aggression,’ Jasmine said firmly. ‘Men have a choice in whether or not they start a war.’

  ‘What about conscripts?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘Don’t spoil a good argument, Ruby. Come on, most of them can’t seem to get enough of war, whereas childbirth and housework and PMS are just facts of life. And it all sucks! And your mum has just taken herself off for a while to make a point. This is her teenage phase obviously, even if it is fifty years too late.’

  ‘Oh, whatever,’ Ruby sighed. ‘I’m far too tired to think about it any more today.’

  ‘Yeah, me too. Let’s not over-think the situation, okay? She’ll come back when she’s good and ready.’

  ‘Yes.’

  The two women sat back silently in the black taxi and contemplated Jasmine’s wise words. And Ruby had to admit, if only to herself, that Jasmine had made some very valid points. Mrs Emily Nightingale was a bona fide wet blanket. There was no denying that. She’d never had any time for anything that was remotely modern or fun. Yet she complained all the time about life being dull. She always seemed to spend her days waiting for the angels to come and take her home, as she put it. She’d even told her husband not to let the doctors revive her if she got ill and fell into a coma. Not that they’d notice much of a difference in her personality, Ruby thought sadly. Emily Nightingale had wasted her whole life being torn between wanting attention and also running away from it. Ruby only hoped she was happy there among the marble ryes and the giant pretzels and the pastel cupcakes.

  The taxi slowed down and indicated that it was about to turn off the main road. A short, meandering drive through mature trees and shrubbery led them out into a small clearing. They could see the magnificent house just a few yards away.

  ‘We’re here!’ Jasmine said excitedly. ‘That was pretty quick. It’s only about ten minutes away from the city really, if there isn’t any traffic. Fancy that! And we’re just in time for the last guided tour of the afternoon…’

  ‘Come on then,’ said Ruby quickly, clambering out of the taxi and adjusting her long woollen jacket. This time she was wearing her comfort-zone outfit of high-waist flares, a round-neck T-shirt and a long embroidered jacket made of the softest wool. All in regulation caramel! And flat suede pumps to match. And a large handbag containing a telescope umbrella, a notebook and pen, a packet of headache tablets, a packet of tissues, two mobile phones just in case one broke down, a pair of gloves, fruit-flavoured sweets for any possible sugar-dips and a small framed photograph of Jonathan.

  ‘You know, I’m actually looking forward to this,’ Jasmine said brightly.

  ‘Are you really?’ Ruby asked, mystified. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  ‘Sure I am. Think about it! Because after this tour of dreary old spiders’ webs, mothballs and dead flies I’ll be even more in love with my gorgeous apartment. The minute I get home I’ll switch on my coffee machine and the central heating and I’ll take a power shower under the recessed spotlights. Ah, bliss…’

  Ruby rolled her eyes, smiled and the despondent mood was broken. Then the two friends went traipsing carefully across the neatly raked gravel and up to the main door to join the other ‘gawpers’.

  As it transpired, the tour was fascinating. All sorts of important historical figures had graced the four-posters and indeed the chamber pots of Camberwell. There were locks of hair from long-dead kings, carefully labelled in a large glass case in the main hall. And not a speck of dust or a dangling cobweb to be seen anywhere. Ruby and Jasmine had a lovely meal of beef stew followed by cream cakes in the pretty café behind the house and after that it was off to the gardens for a wander about. It was a bit cold, but there was still plenty to see. The huge box maze, of course, was the main attraction. There was no sign of Tom Lavery, unfortunately. Jasmine looked for him everywhere, but Tom didn’t oblige them! When they got to the maze, however, Ruby wasn’t quite sure she wanted to venture into the massive, dark green structure.

  ‘What if we get lost?’ she asked dubiously. ‘There’s only an hour or so until closing time.’

  ‘It says here we just take a free whistle from this dish and then use it to summon help if we get lost,’ Jasmine said brightly. ‘How exciting! To be rescued from a real-life maze by a hunky gardener type. It’s like something from a Jane Austen novel!’

  ‘Oh God, Jasmine, do you ever relax?’

  ‘No. Hey, let’s take a whistle each in case we split up. And it says there’s a love seat in the centre. We’ll take a photo of each other on the love seat, shall we? Come on, look lively.’

  ‘I’ll give you love seats,’ Ruby muttered grumpily.

  ‘Let’s go!’

  And with that Jasmine went tearing into the tall and perfectly clipped though rather dark and mysterious maze, with Ruby tripping after her, clutching a shiny shrink-wrapped tin whistle she prayed she’d never have to use.

  Forty wondrous minutes later, Ruby and Jasmine sat posing awkwardly on the willow bench as a German tourist kindly took a snap of them with Jasmine’s tiny camera.

  ‘Isn’t it gorgeous?’ Jasmine sighed after the tourist had said goodbye and left them alone there. ‘Don’t you wish we could go back in time to an age where nobody used swear words? And where people didn’t treat other
people like dirt?’

  ‘I think a large percentage of people have always treated others like dirt,’ Ruby pointed out. ‘It’s just that most people didn’t live long enough to get upset about it. They were too busy dying in childbirth or some ridiculously stupid battle instead. Anyway, you enjoy swearing.’

  ‘Well, at least they had nicer clothes back then,’ Jasmine persisted. ‘No baggy leggings and sweaty tracksuits. Women could hide their big bums under those lovely, billowing ball gowns.’

  ‘They did have leggings, Jasmine. Or at least the men did. And I’m sure they were pretty baggy as well. Not many tracksuits though. Definitely not, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘Hey, wouldn’t you like to see all the cheeky chavs nowadays forced to wear cloth caps and tweed suits? The wee lads in shorts! Wouldn’t be so cocky with their knobbly knees on display, would they?’

  ‘Come on, Jasmine, let’s go home. I think I remember the way out. It’s two left turns and then three right turns and then a left again. And then five right turns… If we’re really quick, we might just get a look around the souvenir shop before closing time. I saw some very stylish white mugs in the window.’

  ‘Right. I’m just going to make a wish first. Shush!’ Jasmine said.

  ‘You can’t make a wish here. There’s no wishing well.’

  ‘I’m making one anyway.’

  ‘It won’t work if there’s no wishing well,’ Ruby muttered.

  ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Now will you please shush?’

  Ruby checked her watch again as Jasmine made a wish.

  ‘Little amuses the innocent,’ Ruby added.

  ‘Would that be the sort of thing your mother used to say?’ Jasmine asked, winking crookedly.

  It was indeed. Ruby instantly changed the subject. ‘Come on, you, let’s go home,’ she sighed.