The Seven Secrets of Happiness

by Sharon Owens

  They did three further laps of the park, pointing out flowers and plants they liked. Stopping here and there to admire an early rose or some unusual exotic bloom. At no point did they stop holding hands. Then they left the park and Tom drove her home and said he would call her the following day.

  ‘Yes, that would be nice,’ she smiled.

  ‘You’re sure?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, nodding firmly.

  ‘Okay then. I’ll call you tomorrow evening. Bye, Ruby.’

  ‘Bye, Tom,’ she said.

  He drove off, waving through the rear window. It was chilly even though the sun had shone brightly all day. Ruby inhaled deeply, savouring the familiar smells of old Belfast. Ancient brick dust, the nose-tingling scent of hyacinths, the omnipresent traffic fumes and the aroma of freshly poured lager and stout. She was almost afraid to step out of her bereavement bubble and go forward into the unknown. But she knew she had no other alternative. Tom had promised to call her the next day. And Ruby had no doubt that he’d keep his promise. Smiling and hugging this new feeling of optimism to herself, Ruby unlocked the door to her little flat and traipsed happily up the stairs.

  23. The Sixth Secret

  That evening, Ruby took a long hot shower, got her photograph albums out and went to bed early. She looked at dozens of pictures of her late husband, marvelling again at how handsome he was. Those cheekbones, those lovely soft eyelashes of his… Was she being terribly disloyal to Jonathan’s memory now? she wondered. Would he have started seeing someone else within two years and six months of her death, if he’d been in her shoes? Indeed was it fair to give Tom Lavery false hope? Or was she already developing real feelings for him? Beyond fancying him like mad, that is. And did she fancy him not only because he was tall and rugged and deliciously shy, but also because he was heartbroken himself? Because it would be easier for her to love someone who was as damaged as she was? Because it’d be easier to love Tom than to keep up with some other happier, non-bereaved person?

  She lay back on the pillows then and pulled the covers right up to her chin, just resting and thinking. She thought of her parents and their bizarre trial separation. Her father sitting fishing off a small wooden pier at the lough’s edge. Almost hidden behind the reeds. Seeing hardly anyone all day long. Her mother counting out the change in dollars and cents to strangers with American accents. Actually the customers probably had vastly differing accents from all over the world, Ruby mused. Was her mother completely daft or was she only now discovering that she was an adventurous soul at heart? Ruby wondered. Would the pair of them ever be able to fall in love again? Would her mother meet another man in America?

  ‘Oh my God, I never thought of that,’ Ruby said out loud. ‘Not really. What if she has a ridiculous fling with another man while she’s out there? Poor Daddy!’

  But there was no answer to that question so Ruby forced herself to calm down and focus on Tom and herself again. The thought of Tom Lavery kissing her was much less frightening than, say, her mother kissing another man over the baguette tray.

  Am I afraid of falling in love again? Ruby wondered. She didn’t want to grow old alone in this apartment, however pretty and cosy it was. She knew that much. And Tom was a gentleman and he understood her grief and he was pretty sexy in his own way. She smiled and then reached for another photo album.

  This one contained pictures of Ruby when she was a very young child. There were pictures of her showing off a new Barbie doll, wearing various garish party frocks, sitting proudly on a new bicycle, icing a lopsided birthday cake for her father. There were pictures of her going in through the school gates for the first time, waving goodbye to her parents and giving the camera a nervous thumbs-up. And there were some pictures of Ruby and her dad at a Halloween bonfire in the town, pointing up at a shower of orange sparks.

  And suddenly Ruby had an epiphany: her parents had done their best to bring her up well. They may not have been the best parents in the world lately, but they had definitely done their best during her formative years. Ruby felt a single tear well up in her eye, and then it went rolling down her cheek.

  I’ve been so blinkered, she thought. I’ve expected them to be there for me always. When I know now that they’ve had major issues of their own. They’ve lost their way, the two of them. They’ve simply drifted off course and they don’t know how to get back. Well, I’ve got to think of some plan, some way of getting them to be at least friends again.

  Ruby sighed, packed away her albums and switched off the lights. She lay very still in the darkness, thinking of the past and how her childhood hadn’t been nearly as bad as she remembered it. The glossy Barbie doll in its brightly coloured box, the old school gates, the shower of Halloween sparks floating up into the night sky. Only little things, yes, but they’d been beautiful in their own way. So the house had been a bit stuffy and less than welcoming. And perhaps her parents hadn’t been so great with the hugs and kisses and the words of encouragement over the years. But they’d always tried to buy her the most fashionable toys when she was little, and they’d also remembered to bring her to the big fireworks display in Enniskillen town every October. She decided she would call her father in the morning and tell him how much she loved him. And her mother too. She would try to find a list of the bakeries in Manhattan and she would ring them all until she found the one her mother was working in. Then she’d post her out a velvet evening bag. Just as a goodwill gesture… The red one! She’d send her mother the red bag. Red was her mother’s favourite colour. And maybe she’d put a small photo of herself and her dad inside it. And a tiny box of handmade truffles into the parcel too, or something.

  The doll, the school gates, the Halloween sparks…

  ‘See the beauty in small things,’ she told herself. ‘That’s the sixth secret of happiness. I must try harder to see the beauty in small things.’

  24. The Secret of the Maze

  ‘Now, if you tell anyone else the secret of the maze, even Jasmine, especially Jasmine, I could get into major trouble,’ Tom said, laughing. ‘And I do mean major trouble. I could maybe do time for this.’

  They were standing at the arch-shaped entrance to the box maze. The early morning sun was shining brightly and there was nobody else about. The day trippers would not be arriving for another hour or two at least.

  ‘I swear on my own life I won’t tell another soul,’ Ruby began. And then she felt a bit silly and overly dramatic. Plus, swearing on lives was a bit insensitive given both of their personal circumstances.

  ‘Okay then, maybe not major trouble,’ Tom conceded. ‘But if word gets out I might have to re-lay some of the paths in the maze.’

  Ruby looked down at her feet, at the pebbly path laid out before her in sweeping swirls and long graceful curving patterns of egg-shaped white stones interspersed here and there with smaller, rounder blue and grey ones.

  ‘Ah, so there’s a secret pattern in the pathway?’ she said. ‘A secret code?’

  ‘You’ve got it,’ he smiled. ‘It’s as easy as pie when you know what to look for.’

  ‘Don’t tell me, I’ll work it out,’ Ruby said happily.

  ‘You won’t be able to work it out,’ Tom told her. ‘Unless you spend days and days getting to know the maze itself. And most people only venture into it once or twice. It’s easy to lose your bearings when you get further in. Plus, sometimes the sun casts long shadows and then it’s harder to see the pebbles.’

  ‘Okay then, tell me,’ she begged, eager to be allowed into Tom’s exclusive club of dark green right-angles and neatly clipped archways. ‘Was the pebble path your idea?’

  ‘No, would you believe it was designed over two centuries ago? The maze was planted, but for some reason the path was never laid. And then, over the years, the hedges got overgrown and it all sort of died off. You have to keep the maze in top repair or the light can’t get in. I replanted it years ago and laid the paths bit by bit when I had some free time.’

  ‘How
fascinating,’ Ruby breathed.

  ‘More of a folly, some people might say,’ Tom said, smiling sheepishly.

  ‘Yes, but it’s so lovely.’

  ‘Yes,’ Tom said quietly. ‘Anyway, let’s get started, shall we?’

  ‘Okay,’ Ruby said.

  They walked slowly into the maze, the light dimming noticeably as they passed beneath the first archway. The walls of the maze were too thick and tightly packed for any rays of sunshine to penetrate at such an early hour.

  ‘How do the shady sides of the hedges get enough sunshine?’ Ruby asked suddenly. But Tom only laughed and told her she was a very philosophical kind of girl.

  ‘I’m serious,’ she said.

  ‘Well, as I said, we just do our best to keep the whole thing well trimmed and fed,’ Tom said calmly. ‘The sun moves round during the day; the maze seems to be managing well enough on the bit of sun it does get.’

  And then they came to the first fork in the path. Ruby looked downwards to see if she could notice any difference in the pebble pattern between the two options. One path had a small but perfect star in the centre and the other one had a small but equally perfect crescent moon.

  ‘The moon or the star?’ Ruby asked excitedly.

  ‘The star,’ Tom smiled. ‘But it’s not the star that’s significant. See the blue pebble in the centre there? Well, the correct path to the centre is marked with blue stones. The wrong turnings always have a grey pebble. It’s not an obvious colour difference, especially when it’s been raining. But if you look really closely you can see what I mean.’

  ‘Wow, so I just follow the blue stones all the way to the bench in the centre?’ Ruby said, hurrying towards the next junction.

  ‘Yes.’

  In no time at all they were standing by the willow bench.

  ‘It’s just amazing,’ Ruby said happily. ‘The day Jasmine and I got lost in here it never crossed our minds to think of a secret code. Yet when you know the secret it seems so totally obvious.’

  ‘Yes, it’s a lovely bit of topiary, really. Did much better than we’d expected. I enjoyed bringing it back from the brink,’ Tom admitted.

  ‘Thanks, Tom.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For sharing this with me,’ she said, smiling up at him.

  ‘That’s okay,’ he said simply.

  ‘It doesn’t seem quite so claustrophobic any more either. Now that I know how to find my way out again.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true enough.’

  ‘Shall we have that fry-up now?’ Ruby asked. ‘I’m starving. You did promise me a full Irish breakfast.’

  ‘Why not?’ Tom laughed. ‘But I must warn you that Mrs Kenny is dying to meet you, Ruby. She’ll be hovering close by, I’m sure.’

  ‘Oh Lord, I forgot about Mrs Kenny. What have you told her about me?’ Ruby said giddily.

  ‘Just that you’re a very good friend,’ Tom admitted.

  ‘Okay then, I’ll do my best to behave as a very good friend should,’ Ruby said.

  And they set off back towards the café, finding their way out of the maze in less than two minutes flat.

  25. The Talkers

  ‘It’s very, um, cosy in here,’ Ruby said cheerfully.

  Noah stood right beside her, wagging his tail excitedly. He wasn’t used to seeing visitors at the cottage.

  ‘It’s a bit of a dump compared to your place,’ Tom grimaced. ‘Noah, sit!’

  The dog immediately sat down and bowed his head sadly. Tom laughed and patted him on the back.

  ‘Look at him, playing for sympathy,’ he said. ‘Clever dog!’

  ‘No, it’s lovely and full of character,’ Ruby smiled, indicating the room once more.

  They both surveyed the worn armchairs, the frayed rugs and the sagging bookcases lined with well-read books in the sitting room. The yellowing skirting boards could have done with a lick of fresh paint. There was a big plastic bag of coal sitting crookedly beside the fireplace. One touch and it might have spilt its sooty contents all over the floor.

  ‘You’re so polite sometimes, Ruby,’ Tom laughed. ‘It’s so nice of you to even try to compliment this bedraggled heap of junk.’

  ‘Oh, Tom, it’s fine really,’ she protested. ‘Rustic simplicity is all the rage these days. And it’s very… charming.’

  ‘Well, thanks… It’s impossible to keep any place perfect when there’s a dog in the house. Especially when it’s an old house like this one, with carpets on the floor instead of tiles. You know, when there’s a dog, and nobody at home during the day to tidy up? A woman’s touch is what this house needs. I mean, not that it has to be a woman’s touch. Anybody at all could do it. Though women are usually so much better at having ideas for nicer homes, aren’t they? God, that sounds so sexist. But I always seem to be too tired to sort it all out.’ Tom scratched his head and began to sweep out the ashes from the grate. ‘Okay, that’s enough of my rambling. I can’t defend this lot, Ruby. Not even to myself. It’s a dump.’

  ‘Tom, it’s fine ,’ Ruby said again. ‘It’s getting dark outside anyway. No room looks at its best at dusk. I always think rooms can look quite melancholy at this time of day. The light in them is all blue and cold. Must be the Irish climate.’

  ‘But I’ve seen your home, remember? Both of them,’ Tom said quietly. ‘Like something from a magazine, both the house on Ravenhill, and now the flat.’

  ‘Yes, well, it’s my chief hobby reading decorating magazines and then pottering about the shops looking for nice things. I enjoy clearing everything out and starting again from scratch. Lots of lamps and candles to add warmth and atmosphere. A psychologist would probably say I have unresolved issues or something.’

  ‘Haven’t we all? Um, listen, it’s getting cold. I’ll light the fire,’ he said then.

  Ruby sat down on the edge of the sofa and folded her hands in her lap, waiting for him to set the fire and get it going. After a few minutes, the small pile of sticks and coal began to spark and crackle into life. Tom stood up and dusted himself down.

  ‘I’ll make us some tea and toast,’ he said next.

  ‘Can I help?’ Ruby offered, not quite wanting to be left alone with Noah. She was nervous of dogs, especially large ones with very bright eyes.

  ‘I’ll put Noah in his room,’ Tom said, picking up on her worries. ‘He wouldn’t harm a fly but then again you never know. He’s had me all to himself for over six years. He’s not used to visitors coming to the cottage.’

  ‘Thanks, Tom,’ Ruby said, standing up again.

  Tom shooed Noah down the corridor. The dog stepped neatly into his basket and Tom patted him on the head. Then he closed the door and came back to the sitting room, looking slightly unsure of himself.

  ‘Thanks for a lovely day showing me round the gardens,’ Ruby said then. ‘I really have enjoyed myself.’

  ‘Have you, honestly?’

  ‘Of course I have. Just because I own a dinky shop in the city doesn’t mean I’m too good for a stroll around the daffodils, you know? I’ve missed having a garden since I sold the house, to tell you the truth. Even though our little patch on Ravenhill was about as small a garden as you could get. But it was big enough for a table and two chairs and a pot of flowers in the summertime. We used to sit there for hours, getting quietly pickled.’

  ‘I know you still miss him,’ Tom said as Ruby wiped a tear from her eye and turned to look out of the window at the stars twinkling high above them.

  ‘God, yes, it still hurts so much,’ she admitted, her voice catching with emotion. ‘I never thought much about bereavement before it happened to me, Tom. I used to see old widows at church thumbing through their prayer books and I never actually thought of them as human beings. As women who were young girls once, full of dreams and hopes and silly notions. I never thought about growing old myself. I never really thought about anything that might upset me. Now I seem to be fighting off profound thoughts morning, noon and night.’

  ‘Yes, I unde
rstand,’ he nodded. ‘Me too.’

  ‘And widowers too, of course. God love them, they must find it so hard being on their own, especially coping with the housekeeping. Not that I was referring to you, Tom… Though there’s usually far fewer widowers than widows,’ Ruby added thoughtfully. ‘Or maybe they just blend into the crowd better.’

  She shrugged her shoulders hopelessly.

  ‘About that tea?’ Tom smiled.

  ‘Yes, the tea!’

  Together they went through to the kitchen. Ruby was pleased to see that this room was large and bright and very clean. It was painted a soft white, with a tiled floor and a smart Roman blind at the window. There were big willow baskets for storing the firewood and old newspapers, and even one for carrier bags. She felt a little more relaxed now. Ruby was a bit doubtful of people who let a house go completely to rack and ruin. Surely any reasonable person could pick up a sponge and a bottle of cleaning spray, she sometimes thought to herself, when they showed those awful neglected houses on the TV.

  ‘This room is lovely,’ she announced, taking in the neatly stacked crockery on the sideboard.

  ‘Mrs Kenny comes in once a month to give it all a decent going over. And she got me organized with the storage baskets and such. But I do my best in the meantime, you know? I can wash up and do my own laundry,’ he added proudly. ‘I used to pull my own weight even when Kate was alive. She worked long hours, you see. She was a vet. Mind you, we lived in a very nice house in Hillsborough and we had a full-time housekeeper to take care of all the domestic stuff. I didn’t want to live there by myself when Kate died so I sold it. The new owners kept the housekeeper on, which was very good of them.’

  ‘Yes, that was very kind.’

  ‘She was a good housekeeper though.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure she was.’

  A small but friendly silence descended.

  ‘I love the flowers,’ Ruby said suddenly, pointing to a row of fragrant blue hyacinths coming into bloom on the windowsill.