CHAPTER THREE

Ruby

Ruby had to go to the bathroom to calm down. She was so furious with Orla for dumping Robbie on her again. It wasn’t fair. She kicked the wall of the school toilet and locked herself into a cubicle to cry.

Mondays were the worst day in Ruby’s week. First of all, the weekend was over and she had to go back to school, and second of all, when she got home, she had to give Robbie his dinner while her mum went to yoga. It was the only time her mum had to herself. The doctor said she had to have some time to herself or she’d break.

Ruby wasn’t supposed to know about this, but she’d heard her mum and dad talking about it. Her dad had said, ‘Fiona, if you fall apart, we’ll all go down. You have to take time out for yourself. The doctor said so. He said you’ll break otherwise.’

A week later her mum had signed up to yoga classes in the local church hall and she’d been doing them now for six weeks. So every Monday, Orla and Ruby were supposed to take it in turns to feed Robbie while Mum was out.

But so far, Ruby had done it five times and Orla only once. Ruby had hoped her mum would notice, but when she got home on Mondays her mum was always standing at the door in her tracksuit, dying to get out. She’d say a quick hello and then rush past Ruby down to the town hall.

Ruby wanted to complain, to give out about Orla, to say it wasn’t fair, but she didn’t. Mum needed this break and Ruby didn’t want to ruin it by causing trouble or complaining.

She had said it to her dad last week and he said he’d have a word with Orla, but then Robbie had spiked his finger with a fork and screamed the house down. It had been a tiny cut but when he saw the blood he had freaked out.

Dad had forgotten after that and Ruby didn’t want to bother him. Not bothering Mum and Dad was what Ruby tried to do, all the time. It was also what everyone told her to do – constantly. ‘Don’t bother your mum and dad,’ her granny said, the occupational therapist said, the speech therapist said ... Everyone was very clear that she was not to bother her parents.

But it was hard sometimes. Really hard. Last week she’d needed help with her maths for her weekly test, but she couldn’t ask her dad because he’d fallen asleep on the couch. After Mum had had to give up work to look after Robbie, Dad had to drive the taxi way more than before and he was always tired these days. He had black rings under his eyes. But Ruby had really needed help. So she went to her mum.

‘Not now, Ruby,’ she’d said. She had been reading Robbie his favourite book – The Gruffalo – and she couldn’t stop, or he’d have a tantrum.

So she’d tried Orla.

‘Forget about your stupid maths. Put this on my back.’ Orla had handed Ruby a mitt and a bottle of fake tan.

‘Orla, I need help. I failed my test last week and I’ll fail again this week.’

‘Who cares? Maths is boring and it’s not as if you’re going to be a maths professor or whatever. Don’t streak my tan – rub it in evenly or I’ll kill you.’

Ruby had sighed and rubbed the tan into her sister’s back.

She had failed her maths test again. Miss Ingle had taken her aside and told her that she really needed to ‘pull up her socks’. Ruby had bitten her lip really hard to stop herself crying.

Miss Ingle must have noticed because her voice then went all gentle and she’d said, ‘I know things are difficult at home, but you must try to really focus on your maths this year.’

Ruby had been afraid to open her mouth in case a big sob came out, so she’d just nodded and hurried out of the classroom.

Safa was waiting in the bathroom when Ruby came out of the cubicle. She didn’t ask her if she was OK or anything, just silently handed her a tissue and patted her on the arm.

‘Denise told me Robbie is your brother and he has some problems, is that right?’ Safa said.

Ruby felt her face redden; she hated talking about Robbie. ‘He has learning disabilities and he uses a wheelchair,’ she muttered.

‘That must be difficult for you.’

Ruby wiped her eyes with the tissue. ‘Yeah, it is, but he’s very sweet sometimes too,’ she added.

She always felt she had to add that part. It was true too. For all the times Robbie was really annoying, he could be sweet too. And it wasn’t his fault he was born that way. He didn’t get enough oxygen in his brain and that was why he was different.

When he was calm, Ruby read him books or watched his favourite TV shows with him. He loved Peppa Pig. Ruby found it really boring and thought Peppa and all her squeaky-voiced friends were so annoying. But Robbie liked it, so she watched the episodes over and over and over again. When the theme song came on, Ruby would oink and snort along and Robbie would smile and shake his legs and arms. Moments like that were when Ruby liked her brother, loved him even.

Safa looked at Ruby with her big brown eyes but said nothing. It should have been awkward but for some reason it wasn’t. Ruby could see that somehow, Safa ‘got it’. There was nothing to say, so she didn’t fill the air with pointless words or comments.

‘We better get back to class,’ Ruby said.

Safa followed her out. They walked in silence and then Ruby said, ‘We have gym after lunch – did you bring in your shorts?’

Safa stopped. ‘What is gym?’

‘It’s gym class. Sports.’

Safa frowned. ‘What sports will we play today?’

‘Well, this term it’s football.’

Safa looked relieved. ‘I like football. I learned how to play it in the refugee camp in Greece. We had a good coach. She was from Somalia and she was very good at football.’

‘Cool. Mr Kowalski is mad into his football. He really wants us to win the cup this year.’

‘But I can’t wear shorts.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I must be covered.’

‘Shorts do cover you.’ What was Safa on about?

‘My legs and arms must be covered.’

‘But you’ll be boiling! We’re playing in the gym hall because it’s raining.’

‘I’m used to being warm.’

‘But it’s silly. Just put on a T-shirt and shorts like all of us.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s against my religion. I’m not supposed to play sport in front of men either, but Mama said that because we live here now I can as long as I’m covered.’

‘But you live in a boiling hot country – how can you go around in long sleeves and trousers all the time? That’s just mad.’

Safa shrugged. ‘It’s what Muslim girls do. We also cover our heads with a hijab, but Mrs Roberts said I could only wear it coming to and from school but not inside. I am finding that very difficult.’

Ruby looked at Safa’s long, thick, shiny black hair. Why would she want to cover it? It was gorgeous. ‘What’s a hijab?’

‘It’s a scarf that covers your head.’

‘I don’t get it! Why would you have to cover your hair? It’s amazing.’

‘It’s what Muslim girls do. It’s part of our culture and tradition.’

‘So, you’re telling me that you have to go around with a covered head and body all the time?’

‘Not all the time. When I’m at home, I can uncover my head and wear what I want.’

Ruby didn’t understand. Safa was gorgeous. She had amazing hair and beautiful brown skin. She should be walking around in shorts, swishing her hair about all the time.

‘Look, you have customs that are different to mine. When you make your communion and dress up in a big white dress and a veil – that seemed very strange to me when I saw the girls dressed up in May. They looked as if they were dressed like mini brides.’

Ruby had never thought about it that way. She’d hated her communion dress. It was Orla’s old one and was too tight and was all poufy and flouncy. Ruby had wanted a long, straight dress and no veil. But Robbie was in hospital with a lung infection and Mum was too stressed to take her shopping and besides, money was tight, so she’d just shut up and worn Orla’s poxy dress and veil and pretended she didn’t mind, although she really did mind, a lot.

In the pictures Ruby did look like a little bride. It was a bit strange if you thought about it. ‘Yeah, but that’s only for one day, and believe me, I never wanted to wear the dress or veil again. You have to do this every day.’

Safa shrugged. ‘It’s just what we do. It’s my “normal”. Like for a lot of girls in Ireland, wearing fake tan is normal. This also seems very strange to me. Why would you want to paint your body brown every day?’

Ruby did think that all the fake tan Orla used was ridiculous. She overdid it and often ended up looking kind of orange. But all her friends did it too. All teenagers seemed to. ‘I guess we all do things that seem weird to each other.’

Safa gave a little smile. ‘My father always used to say, “If we were all the same, life would be very dull.”’

‘Your dad sounds clever.’

‘He is.’

Ruby could sense a sadness when Safa mentioned her dad. It was the way she felt when she said Robbie’s name. ‘Is your dad here too? You said it was just your mum and you, so ...’ Dammit, maybe he’d been killed in the bomb at her school that she mentioned. Oh no, she shouldn’t have asked. What if he was dead? Please don’t let him be dead in a big bomb.

Safa’s eyes clouded over. ‘No, he is in Greece. He couldn’t get a visa to come here. But we’re hoping and praying that he will come soon.’

‘Do Catholic prayers count? Like, if I pray will it help?’

Safa smiled. ‘All prayers count. Thank you.’

Ruby wasn’t sure about God any more. If God was all kind and loving, why was Robbie the way he was? When he was first born, four years ago, Ruby had prayed every day that he’d get better. But he didn’t. Still, it was worth a few prayers to try and help Safa get her dad back. She’d try her best.

When Ruby got home, her mum was waiting at the front door.

‘He’s watching Peppa Pig. There’s twenty minutes left and then his dinner is in the oven. Make sure none of the peas roll down and touch the chicken.’

‘OK. Have a good time.’

‘Thanks, love, you’re a good girl.’ Fiona bent down and gave Ruby a hug. It was the first hug she’d had in a while.

Mum was always either with Robbie or falling asleep all over the house. Ruby had once found her asleep on the loo! Since Robbie arrived her mum and dad were constantly exhausted. Before he came along, they used to do loads of stuff together. Now ... well, now they had no time and no energy. Whenever they’d tried a ‘fun family outing’ it always ended up with Robbie freaking out or breaking something or shouting the place down. Mum and Dad would get really stressed and they’d all have to leave the restaurant, cinema, park – wherever they were – and go home. They never really bothered any more. Sometimes, on special occasions, her mum would take her out to the café down the road for a hot chocolate and a bun, but they were always rushing to get back or the phone would ring and Dad would say Robbie wanted Mum NOW.

Mum turned around when she got to the end of the little path outside their house. ‘Wasn’t Orla supposed to look after Robbie today?’

‘Yeah, but we swapped. It’s fine.’

‘OK, well, make sure she does next week.’

‘Sure,’ Ruby said. She was delighted that her mum had actually noticed, but she knew that by the time she got back from yoga she’d have forgotten all about it.

Ruby put her backpack down in the hall and went in to see Robbie. He was strapped into his wheelchair and was humming along to the Peppa theme tune. At least he was calm.

Ruby went in and sat down on the couch beside him. She watched his little face light up as Peppa jumped in a muddy puddle. She sat back and hummed along with him. Not too loudly, though; you had to get the volume just right. Orla had joined in once and sang too loudly, which had led to a massive meltdown that had lasted almost two hours.

As the episode finished Robbie said, ‘Again,’ which was one of the only words he could say. He could also say, ‘Kank you’, ‘Peese’, ‘Bye’, ‘No’ (which he said a lot), ‘Es’ and ‘I dove you.’

Suzie, the speech therapist, was very happy with Robbie’s progress in speaking, but Ruby had heard her dad say, ‘Fifty quid, three times a week for a year, and he has about five words!’

But Mum had shushed him and told him that Suzie was the ‘best in town’ and that any words at all were progress. The fact that Robbie could communicate at all was kind of a miracle, Mum said. ‘Remember, Frank, the doctors didn’t think he’d be able to speak at all.’

Dad hadn’t looked convinced, but he’d dropped the subject and handed over the fifty euro to pay Suzie the speech therapist.

‘We’re going to have dinner now, yum,’ Ruby said to her little brother.

He shook his head from side to side. ‘No. Again.’

‘Mum made you chicken, rice and peas, your favourite.’ Ruby knew she had to try to gently persuade him to eat. You had to tread very softly with Robbie.

‘No. Again.’

‘OK, dinner first and then Peppa, OK?’

‘No. Again!’

Robbie’s hand began to twitch. Ruby took a deep breath. She had to stay calm. ‘Come on, Robbie, we’ll get your Peppa Pig sippy cup and your Peppa spoon, OK? I’ll put the purple juice you like in your cup,’ Ruby said.

Robbie looked at her and blinked. He didn’t say no. So, very slowly, Ruby turned his wheelchair around and wheeled him into the kitchen. Everything had to be done slowly and carefully or Robbie could fly off the handle.

She pushed the chair up to the kitchen table and filled his Peppa cup with Ribena. ‘Now, there’s your juice and I’ll get your dinner.’

Robbie grabbed the handles on the sides of the cup and sucked noisily. Ruby got his plate from the warming drawer under the oven and placed it carefully on the table.

But just as she put it down, a pea rolled sideways and touched the chicken. Robbie stared at it and then he began to scream.

Within seconds his legs and arms were thrashing about, his dinner was upside down on the kitchen floor and his sippy cup had been flung across the room.

‘It’s OK, Robbie, calm down. It’s OK.’

‘No no no no no no no!’ he yelled.

Ruby bent down to pick the food up and then got a cloth to wipe the floor while Robbie had his tantrum. There was no calming him down when he was like this. He had to tire himself out.

Eventually, after Ruby had cleaned the floor and wiped down the walls that were covered in Ribena, she turned back to him. ‘Do you want sweeties, Robbie?’ she asked as he paused in his shouting to catch his breath.

He wasn’t really allowed sweets. Sugar made him hyper, but right now Ruby didn’t care. She just wanted him to put something into his mouth and stop freaking out before her mum got home. She knew that if Mum saw Robbie upset, she’d never go to yoga again and Ruby really, really didn’t want her mum to break. She wanted her to go to yoga and have her time out.

Ruby shook a mini-packet of Skittles in front of Robbie. He stopped shouting. She poured a handful onto the table. He looked at the colours. He popped a purple one into his mouth.

Ruby watched as the sugar soaked into his tongue. He slowly began to smile. ‘Yum yum,’ he said.

‘Yes, yum yum.’ Ruby smiled back as relief flooded through her body. It was going to be OK.

She’d just have to pretend that Robbie had eaten his dinner and hide it at the bottom of the bin. She’d hide the Skittles packet too.