A plan had begun to take shape for the pregnant kid Sheila. With the help of the Peter McVerry Trust, they had formed solutions for both emergency housing and pre-natal and post-natal care for Sheila and the baby. But Bones sent the plans crashing to the floor like a deck of cards in the wind, when he shuffled up to Tom and said, ‘She’s not coming back. Bobby went mad when she told him about you.’
Tom felt like he’d let the girl down. He should have handled things differently. Taken her to the Rotunda Hospital last night and insisted she see someone there and then. He was so lost in recriminations he didn’t hear Ruth’s arrival until she said, ‘I thought a picnic lunch might be nice.’
He felt light-headed with a sudden burst of happiness. He brushed down his hair with his hands as he moved to make room on the bench for Ruth. Bette Davis yelped in excitement, too.
Ruth pulled out a tea towel from a large black tote bag. She laid it on the bench between them, then placed a flask in front of Tom, unscrewing the plastic cup. ‘I had to guess how you would like your coffee. I made it strong and black, but I have milk and sugar. If you tell me how you like it, I will make it that way the next time.’
The next time! Tom felt tears spring to his eyes. Damn it. What is wrong with me? ‘I drink it exactly as you have made it, Ruth. Thank you.’
She then unwrapped a tin-foil bundle of sandwiches, made in white bread with the crusts cut off. ‘I made chicken. I hope you are not a vegetarian.’
‘I’d be a vegetarian if bacon grew on trees,’ Tom joked. Thirty years ago he made Cathy snort with laughter when he told her that joke on the first day he met her, in the deli aisle of Tesco …
Cathy had reached inside a cold fridge to grab a ready meal.
Tom lied and said, ‘I was about to get the same.’
‘Oh, wow you’re a vegetarian, too?’ She waved a tofu lasagne at him. ‘I would have thought you were more of a steak-and-chips guy.’
Tom licked his lips and protested no, who didn’t love a good tofu?
She laughed, seeing straight through him. That was her superpower. She threw back her pack, then picked up a steak and some oven chips with a side of petit pois. ‘My favourite dinner for one!’
‘Oh thank God. I’d be a vegetarian if bacon grew on trees,’ Tom said, and when she laughed he knew he loved her.
‘Dr O’Grady?’ Ruth’s voice brought him back to the bench, to her. ‘You were miles away.’
‘Sorry, I got side-tracked. I was thinking about Cathy.’
Ruth passed him a napkin with two sandwiches enclosed.
Tom said, ‘The day I met her, I made the same joke about bacon. It made her laugh.’
‘I thought it was without any comedic merit, as it happens,’ Ruth said.
‘My humour has always been dubious! But Cathy laughed and that was the beginning of the end for us.’
‘I do not understand what you mean by that. Can you explain?’ Ruth asked.
Tom closed his eyes again and there she was, his Cathy, tumbling curls escaping from her ponytail, dark-brown eyes that were brimming with humour, her cheeks red from her last-minute dash and the echo of her voice, which trailed off singing along to the Spice Girls’ ‘Too Much’.
He opened his eyes and said, ‘When I looked at her, I felt a sudden hit of recognition. I’d never met her before in my life, but I knew her. This was it for me. I never understood what it was before, but once I felt it, understanding floored me.’
Ruth watched him, her sandwich held mid-air, as she was captivated by his words. He articulated how it was for her with Dean. A weekend when she felt the same way. A weekend when she knew that the person in front of her was her future.
‘I understand now. Thank you,’ Ruth said.
‘This is a damn fine sandwich. If I had a death-row meal to choose, chicken would be included,’ Tom said. He poured coffee into his plastic mug, sniffing the roast in appreciation. Ruth took a carton of milk out of her bag and poured some into a second plastic mug.
‘I used to play “the last meal you ever ate” game with DJ when he was small. He loved choosing his favourites, especially when it meant he could have chocolate for a starter, main course and dessert if he so desired,’ Ruth said.
‘Sounds good to me! What would you choose?’ Tom asked.
Ruth answered without hesitation. ‘I would start with a cauliflower-and-brie soup. No garnish. With one slice of white crusty baguette, salted butter. Full fat. Then I would like a chicken risotto, al dente, followed by a banana-cream pie.’
‘Nice,’ Tom said in approval. ‘To drink?’
‘A vanilla milkshake.’
‘That’s a fine choice, Ruth.’
‘I have given it some thought over the years. And I believe it to be the best option. What would you order?’ Ruth asked.
‘Vegetable soup. With a dollop of cream in it. Then Cathy’s roast chicken, with her famous crispy skin and home-made stuffing. All the trimmings. No one could make a roast dinner like the way Cathy did. Her gravy …’ He put his fingers to his mouth and blew a kiss of appreciation.
‘I shall have to take your word for that.’ Ruth shuddered at the thought of brown congealed sauce covering any of her food.
‘I still have the blindfold you gave me,’ Ruth said. ‘It has been used many times over the years.’
Then they finished their sandwiches in a companionable silence. It surprised them both, considering it had been a decade since they had been in each other’s company. Bette Davis nudged Tom with her nose, reminding him that she needed food, too. Tom broke off part of his sandwich and gave to her.
‘Have you seen Sheila today, or Mr Bones?’ Ruth asked.
He shook his head. ‘Bones came by earlier. She’s not coming back.’
Ruth was disappointed for her. ‘I really wanted her to give herself a different ending.’
‘Maybe she will change her mind again. Bones said he’ll keep an eye on her and try to get her to see sense. Surviving on the streets is a full-time job, and Sheila, I suspect, is not thinking straight. She’s found some level of “safety” by living with her boyfriend, Bobby, in that derelict building, away from the harsher realities of her previous life. I’ve seen it before many times.’
‘How bad it must have been at home that she would choose to live like that, rather than go back,’ Ruth said.
‘Was DJ surprised that we knew each other?’ Tom asked.
‘He was astounded. I still cannot quite believe we are sitting here, right now.’ She looked at her watch. She would need to make her way to collect DJ from school in twenty minutes. Would he be any happier this afternoon than he was this morning?
‘DJ does not smile any more,’ Ruth whispered.
Tom looked at her in surprise. He thought about the handful of times he had been in DJ’s company and realised that he’d only smiled a few times.
‘His life now is either commuting back and forth to school or being cooped up in a small hotel room. Already I can see our new normal is sucking the joy out of him,’ Ruth said.
‘A child needs space,’ Tom said.
‘And it is the autumn, so if the evenings are wet, like last night, I cannot allow him to go out. He was angry with me that he could not come here to see you.’
‘I went to the Peter McVerry shelter last night,’ Tom said. ‘I usually do when it rains. Tell him that, if it helps.’ Tom felt happiness nip him. He liked that DJ wanted to see him. ‘And do you have things to smile about now, Ruth?’
‘I am the adult. It is my job to take care of DJ. My smiles are of no matter. And right now I am letting my son down.’
‘You are doing your best. And from where I am sitting, that is more than a lot do.’
‘Did you have a happy childhood, Tom?’ Ruth asked.
‘Yes, as it happens I did. My parents were older when they met and married. And I always knew that I was considered a blessing in their lives. I had a charmed childhood. They told me often that I was a loved child. And because they showed me with their actions, I believed them.’
‘I am worried that the memories of this difficult time will be the ones that stay with DJ. The good ones will be squashed out of his brain by the mess we are in here.’
‘He’ll remember the happy times,’ Tom said.
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Because every night I lose myself in my happy memories,’ Tom replied.
‘Do you ever think about the bad stuff too?’ Ruth asked.
He shook his head. ‘Not if I can help it.’
‘Sometimes all I can think about is the bad stuff,’ Ruth said.
He thought about that for a moment, taking a sip of his coffee to buy time. ‘I think that by remembering it all, the odd time, you can see how far you’ve come. The trick is not to get lost in the bad stuff. Don’t let it become the dominant voice in your head.’
As if bidden by their conversation, one of the bad memories came to visit Tom. The thundering silence when Cathy was lost in her private hell. Unable to speak. Unable to connect with anyone. He pushed it aside, refusing to let it take root. Some things were best left in the past and right now, he wanted to enjoy the present, with Ruth.