Careful What You Wish For

by Maureen McCarthy

  ‘It’s time to get on with things,’ her mother had told her about a week after the funeral. ‘We have to move on … even though it’s so hard.’

  ‘Maybe you do!’ Ruth had replied savagely.

  ‘You’re not the only one who misses her, Ruth,’ her mother had replied.

  Ruth knew this was true, but she hated her mother for saying it.

  They were travelling through countryside now, soft green paddocks with cows and sheep huddled together under trees. The rain continued, light but relentless. They passed over a bridge and Ruth caught a quick glimpse of a brown river. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, blew her nose and looked around. The man behind her was asleep and the older couple two seats up were leaning into each other talking. A couple of women a few seats behind her were chattering quietly about shoes.

  ‘Like one?’ It was the girl opposite. She leaned across the aisle with a wide smile and held out a packet of Ruth’s favourite mints. ‘I’ve got heaps.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Ruth shook her head nervously, ‘but thanks anyway.’

  ‘Sure,’ the girl said cheerfully and turned around.

  Ruth sat back rigidly. She should have been friendlier. She shot a furtive glance at the girl and her mother. The woman was asleep, her head lolling against the window, and the girl had her arms crossed over her chest as though she was thoroughly bored and fed up. One of her long suede boots was sticking out into the aisle, bouncing. Ruth knew that pose. It was how her friends used to look so much of the time. Totally bored with whatever was happening. Flicking their hair, pouting and crossing their legs impatiently, bouncing one foot up and down as though they were practising at being actors on a television show. Lou particularly. Ruth took another quick look at the girl. But there had been that nice smile, and Lou would never offer lollies to a perfect stranger. Not in a million years. Dare she say something?

  But just as she’d almost got the courage up, the bus stopped and the girl and her mother got off. Ruth stared out the window at them crossing the road. The girl must have sensed Ruth’s eyes on her, because when she got to the other side she turned back to the bus, smiled at Ruth and waved. Ruth waved back, watching them both walking away along the street, wishing that she could go with them and slide unobtrusively into their lives. The woman looked like the sort of mum who could cook beautiful food like oysters and … whatever else French people eat! And that girl could show her how to wear clothes and put make-up on and get used to every rotten thing that had happened.

  If only she could.

  Never again would she have to set eyes on Lou and Bonnie or Katy and Susie. At the new school there wouldn’t be any kind of gangs or social hierarchies. Ruth stared out the window, hardly noticing that the sky had become a watery blue, with barely a cloud to be seen. She was thinking about the way the girl had briefly put her arm around her mother’s shoulders as they’d walked away from the bus. The woman had turned her head and they’d smiled at each other like … best mates. How would that be?

  Ruth felt Howard shift a bit and realised that he was awake; she turned to him, and then laughed because he looked a mess. His hair was flattened on one side and standing up all over on the other, and he was still groggy with sleep.

  ‘Who was she?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t know.’ Ruth was thoughtful. ‘Just met her.’

  ‘I heard her in my sleep,’ Howard said.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I always hear what people say when I’m asleep.’

  ‘Do you?’ Ruth stared at Howard and smiled.

  Howard had the grace to shrug. ‘Well, sometimes I get it wrong,’ he said ruefully.

  ‘What were you dreaming about?’

  But Howard only shrugged again as the bus pulled out from the kerb.

  * * *

  They got off the bus outside a service station and looked around. It was a question now of finding that back road. It had looked easy on the map, but now they were at the town neither of them really had a clue which way to walk to find it. The air was chilly, but at least it wasn’t raining.

  ‘You kids waiting for someone?’ A heavy woman with short dyed-blonde hair, dressed in tight dirty jeans and a man’s T-shirt, had walked around the corner from the garage. She stood with folded arms, scrutinising Ruth and Howard suspiciously.

  Howard closed down immediately. Ruth could feel it. He was like a snail retreating into its shell. He mumbled something, shook his head and began to wander off.

  ‘Howard!’ she called after him. How come he was leaving this weird-looking woman to her?

  He stopped a few metres away but only half-turned around, and stood looking at the ground, kicking stones as if nothing had anything to do with him.

  ‘We’re not waiting for anyone,’ Ruth said to the woman. ‘Except, could you tell us please which way is Henderson’s Lane?’

  The woman looked from one of them to the other. ‘What you going out there for?’ she asked eventually.

  ‘I’m … we’re going to … Happy Chance Bridge.’

  ‘Why?’

  Ruth had a mad impulse to chuck something at her and make a run for it. What did it have to do with her? On the other hand, why were they going out to the bridge? Their mission to find Rodney seemed more ridiculous by the minute.

  The woman grimaced and gave a snotty sigh when she saw that Ruth wasn’t going to answer her.

  Howard bent down to pick up a few stones and began to throw them at a Coke can lying some distance away in the gutter. With every hit, a little rush of elation went through Ruth. She liked the fact that he was a good shot and, even more, that he was ignoring this horrible woman. Howard threw one more stone, dropped the rest back on the road and began walking away again. Ruth shrugged and then followed.

  ‘Head out to that intersection there and turn left,’ the woman called after them.

  Ruth turned to see one massive arm pointing right. ‘That road will get you straight onto Henderson’s.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Ruth called back, then grabbed Howard’s shoulder and turned him in the right direction. ‘Come on, this way.’

  ‘My bet is you’re both up to something,’ the woman called. ‘So before you try any funny business … just remember I’ve seen you!’

  Neither Ruth nor Howard said anything or even turned around. Ruth walked stiffly behind Howard along the quiet street, not noticing her surroundings she was fuming so much. But when she caught up to Howard she saw that he was smiling to himself.

  ‘What’s funny?’

  Howard gave one of his short laughs. ‘Remember I’ve seen you!’ He mimicked the woman’s tone, making Ruth laugh too.

  By the time they got to the intersection, they had begun to entertain each other with stories about who the woman really was under her grimy T-shirt. A spy? A policewoman in disguise? They got their biggest laugh imagining her dressed up as a fashion judge at the races.

  Howard was a weirdo. But she liked him.

  After a few blocks, the paving gave out and they were walking along a narrow, winding dirt track. There were trees on both sides but it wasn’t dense bushland and Ruth could see the small farms and houses that were dotted here and there. After the cramped bus ride and the unpleasant conversation with the woman at the service station, a spurt of energy seemed to hit them both and they quickened their pace. The smells and sounds of the country were making Ruth feel as if a plug had been pulled out from the top of her spine. She smiled to herself. Something was loosening knots in her backbone. Smile, Ruthie! they were always telling her. Get the frown off your face. She looked across at Howard, about to tell him about the way she was always being told to lighten up, but he seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts, so she kept quiet. She pushed her shoulders back and kept on walking.

  ‘No one knows where I am,’ Ruth said suddenly, more to herself than Howard.

  ‘Except me,’ Howard said.

  They smiled at each other.

  ‘Did you see your aunt dead?’ he asked
abruptly.

  ‘No.’ Ruth was surprised by the question, but didn’t mind it. She’d been thinking about Mary Ellen and the way she liked walking at night. Sometimes when Ruth stayed over they went walking at night after dinner for ages. Traversing the inner suburbs, along back roads and through parks. Ruth loved it, especially in winter, when it was dark and n o one else was about and her aunt would tell her things.

  ‘But I saw her really sick,’ she offered.

  Howard nodded.

  ‘Have you ever seen a dead person?’ Ruth asked curiously.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I was in a car accident where someone … died.’

  ‘You were there?’ Ruth’s head filled with a mess of chaotic images, but she couldn’t imagine what it would be like.

  He nodded.

  Then she remembered hearing that Howard’s mother had died in an accident. This was before she’d got to know him at all. She didn’t know if the story was true. A lot of stories about Howard bounced around that school. For someone so quiet with no friends, he’d certainly made a weird impact on a lot of people.

  ‘Did your aunt talk about the rat after she gave him to you?’ Howard asked.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Ruth laughed.

  * * *

  The world Ruth and her aunt had developed around Rodney had started well before Mary Ellen got really sick. In fact, it started the week after Ruth brought him home. Mary Ellen had dropped by to bring back some dishes she’d borrowed. When Ruth’s mother was out of the room, Mary Ellen had asked Ruth in a playful whisper what she thought the rat might get up to when they were all asleep. It had ballooned out from there. Sometimes the two of them had arguments about what the rat might think about this or that, or whether he was really angry about something or maybe just faking it. It was a game, but a serious one all the same. Oh, I wonder if Rodney would be interested? her aunt might say as she flipped through the paper and came across an article on facial-hair reduction. What do you think, Ruthie? Will we cut it out for him? So much fun they’d had! Ruth and her aunt would try to guess the rat’s views on everything from climate change to high heels – Just had a word with him, darling … he takes a dim view of them – and explode with laughter. Ruth loved the sparkle that would rush into her aunt’s eyes when she was pretending to be Rodney. Well, what else would you expect from a … rat! she’d sigh, and Ruth would start giggling.

  Of course, half the fun was that no one else was in on the joke. It was theirs. Ruth’s mother would shake her head as though she didn’t even want to understand because it was all too ridiculous. But occasionally Ruth had the feeling that her mother was jealous. For goodness sake, Mary Ellen, stop it! she’d said once. You’re a grown woman! The girl’s imagination is fiery enough without you encouraging her!

  ‘No girl’s imagination is ever too fiery,’ Mary Ellen had whispered to Ruth when her mother was out of the room. ‘Never forget that, Ruthie. Keep it stoked now, won’t you! Keep it as fiery as hell!’

  * * *

  ‘You used to hang out with those girls at school,’ Howard said suddenly.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  Ruth shrugged. It was as if she didn’t know how to go about friendship anymore. All the secrets and intricacies eluded her. She’d burnt her bridges the day they all came over to go shopping with her, to cheer her up. An involuntary shudder went through her as she remembered. After that day, hanging out on her own had become virtually her only option; in fact, it had begun to seem increasingly normal.

  8

  Mary Ellen had organised the vouchers from her hospital bed.

  ‘Sweetheart, I want you to have a heap of nice new clothes,’ she’d explained as she handed over the envelope. Ruth’s heart soared. Everything she had was old and unfashionable.

  ‘Go on, open it,’ Mary Ellen had prompted.

  Ruth gulped when she saw that her aunt had given her a thousand dollars. ‘But I can’t …’ Ruth stumbled on her words.

  ‘You can and will,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘I want you to have some nice things. Your mum knows about it. It’s to be spent on clothes and shoes. Maybe a little makeup, if you like. Nothing else, okay?’

  ‘But it’s too much,’ Ruth whispered.

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Mary Ellen said emphatically. ‘You’re growing up. You need a few nice things. Start off with a coat and nice boots. You’ve got great taste. Take your time and only buy things you love.’

  ‘Thank you so much!’

  ‘You’re welcome, darling,’ Mary Ellen sighed thoughtfully. ‘You either love clothes and fashion or you don’t. Your mum and Faye were never interested and that doesn’t make them inferior in any way, but if you are interested, as I know you are, it actually hurts not to have nice things!’

  ‘Yes,’ Ruth said quietly, brushing away tears with the back of her hand.

  ‘Your mum is the best, Ruthie, but she doesn’t really understand, does she?’

  ‘No.’ Ruth shook her head.

  ‘And money is tight. They’ve got three kids and they have to spend on essentials. That’s why I’m arranging things for you … in advance.’

  A chill went down Ruth’s spine.

  ‘Please … don’t … go anywhere.’ Ruth was overwhelmed by all she wanted to say. ‘Don’t … go away or anything.’

  Mary Ellen took her hand and squeezed it. ‘You’ll be fine. I know you will.’

  None of the conversation had seemed real at the time; even the vouchers Ruth held in her hand seemed like they were part of a dream. But she didn’t know how to begin to tell her aunt any of this.

  After the funeral was over, Ruth’s mum wouldn’t leave her alone about the vouchers.

  ‘Ruthie, when are you going to buy your things with Aunty Mary Ellen’s money?’

  ‘Soon.’

  ‘It’ll lift your spirits to go shopping.’

  ‘I’m okay, Mum, really.’

  ‘You need some new things. And you have the money now.’

  ‘I know. I’ll go.’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

  ‘No!’

  Her mother had looked hurt, but said nothing.

  Ruth shuddered. The very idea of going into those cool shops with her mother was the stuff of a nightmare. But the truth was she was terrified herself. She had no idea what she should buy first. To have so much money was scary.

  Then one Saturday morning her mother broke the news that she’d organised a shopping expedition behind Ruth’s back.

  ‘All the girls will be over soon,’ Mrs Craze informed Ruth gaily, as she sat at the kitchen table finishing her breakfast.

  ‘Who?’ Ruth asked warily. Apart from Lou, who’d been over once – and what a disaster that had been – none of her other friends had ever even seen her house, so she had no idea who her mother meant.

  ‘Your friends, darling. Lou and Bonnie and Katy and who is the other one? I’ve forgotten.’

  ‘What? ’ Ruth stared at her mother in horror.

  ‘I met Lou’s mother down the street,’ Mrs Craze chattered on proudly. ‘She told me that all your friends were concerned when they heard about Mary Ellen. Why didn’t you tell them, I wonder? Anyway, we got talking and decided that you should go shopping with your girlfriends.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘Oh, darling, please.’ Her mother’s cheerful expression took on an anxious edge. ‘I thought you’d love it. Going shopping with your friends will do you good.’

  ‘But you don’t know my friends!’ Ruth spluttered.

  ‘I met Lou that time,’ her mother said reproachfully, ‘and I met her mother at the parent–teacher night last week and we ran into each other again, so …’

  ‘You shouldn’t talk to other parents when you go to those things!’

  ‘Oh, Ruth.’

  ‘I don’t want to go shopping.’

  ‘It’s already arranged.’

  ‘But it will be so embarrassing! Besides, they’ve got better t
hings to do.’

  ‘But they’re your friends. Lou’s mother said they’re all lovely girls and would be happy to come.’

  All your friends are concerned for you. Since the funeral, Ruth knew she hadn’t been herself. Her friends didn’t know what to make of her and Ruth didn’t know what to make of herself. It was as if she’d forgotten how to play the game. She came out with opinions that the others didn’t like and laughed in the wrong places. Her friends would raise their eyebrows or give the odd deep sigh to let her know she’d made another mistake. Most of the time she felt they were putting up with her. But it went the other way too. Sometimes when she was with them, Ruth only just managed to hold herself there. Part of her wanted to back away and start screaming … ‘So when are they coming?’

  ‘This afternoon,’ her mother sighed. ‘Try to be nice.’

  Ruth gulped and felt a fresh spasm of nerves hit her gut.

  ‘Do they want to come?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t they?’

  Where to begin? Ruth looked pointedly around the messy kitchen, the strips of paint hanging from the ceiling and her brothers’ cereal-encrusted dishes, but her mother’s back was turned so she didn’t see.

  ‘You just don’t get it, Mum, do you?’ Ruth whispered.

  ‘What was that, love?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Ruth. ‘So, Lou and who else?’

  ‘All the gang,’ her mother said brightly. ‘Bonnie and Katy and … Susie!’

  The gang? Ruth’s jaw began to clench. There were some things adults should never say. She walked out of the room without another word. Just the idea of having all her friends in her house made her feel faint with terror.

  ‘Now try to be nice, Ruth!’ her mother called after her.

  * * *

  ‘Ruth! Your friends are here!’ Ruth got up from where she’d been lying on her bed and walked down to the kitchen.

  Lou, Katy, Susie and Bonnie were standing in the middle of the room in a tight group, looking around suspiciously at the greasy wallpaper and battered fridge. Mrs Craze had made an effort, and for that Ruth knew she should be grateful. There was no mess on the table and the washing-up was done. Newspapers had been piled into the far corner along with her father’s boxes. It was well short of anything her friends would be used to, but it did look better than usual.