The Seven Secrets of Happiness

by Sharon Owens

  The estate agents agreed to conduct the viewings while Ruby was out at work. She was simply feeling too emotional to do it herself, she explained. There was nothing valuable that anybody could pocket when the agents weren’t looking, she told them. Ruby had already put all her most precious keepsakes into three sturdy wicker hampers and Jasmine was currently storing them at her apartment in the Bell Towers. The only items left in the house were a few tasteful props. Some pale church candles sitting in the various grates and a set of pretty white china on the kitchen dresser. The agent was convinced Ruby’s house would sell quickly despite the increasingly difficult market conditions.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ he said, shaking Ruby’s hand as she handed over a spare set of house keys. ‘The nicest house we’ve had on our books in several years.’

  As expected, the house was sold to a couple of well-heeled first-time buyers within a week and Ruby discovered that she had made enough money to buy the shop outright. The paperwork went through without a hitch so that was an added bonus. There weren’t too many sales going ahead in the city that year and all parties concerned wanted to seal the deal as soon as was humanly possible. So Ruby packed up her everyday clothes, stored them in four cardboard boxes in the kitchenette at the shop and that was that.

  On the day that Ruby handed over the keys to the new owners she had to have a little glass of red wine in a nearby pub first to steady her nerves. She could have let the agent arrange the handover for her, but she felt it would be good for her rather fragile self-esteem to do it herself.

  ‘I can’t imagine why you’d ever want to sell this absolutely amazing house,’ the young woman said when Ruby showed her and her husband into the hall that afternoon, delight beaming like sunshine from their faces. ‘But we loved it from the minute we walked in the door.’

  Ruby studied their happy expressions and didn’t want to spoil this great day for them by telling them that her husband had died nine months previously. And that she had to get out of the house now or else she would spend the rest of her life in it, sobbing over what might have been and the unpredictability of life in general. The young couple were university graduates just starting out on life’s journey and it wouldn’t have been fair on them. He was a handsome dentist in navy chinos, with athletic arms and perfect teeth. And she was a pretty blonde primary-school teacher in a pastel sheath dress and matching cardigan. They had worked hard at college for several years to be able to afford such a big mortgage (though a handy legacy had provided half of the asking price, the estate agent had told Ruby) and they deserved a cheery word from Ruby now. The estate agent had obviously also decided not to tell them Ruby O’Neill had recently been widowed and they didn’t recognize her from photographs in the local newspapers. Perhaps they’d been away on holiday at the time, Ruby thought to herself.

  ‘Let me just assure you I was very happy here,’ Ruby said breezily. ‘It’s a great house in every way, isn’t it? But now I’m starting my own business and I need to downsize a little. And I simply won’t have the time to enjoy these lovely big rooms any more. Still, I hope you’ll look after the house for me? It’s a dear old place and it deserves to be treated well.’

  ‘Rest assured we’ll take very good care of it,’ the young man said. ‘We aren’t going to change anything structural or even redecorate. It’s all so fabulous and clean and nicely done. We love the blinds and the carpets. And thanks for giving us the wardrobes and the other bits and pieces,’ he added politely. ‘We really do appreciate it.’

  ‘You’re very welcome,’ Ruby smiled, swallowing back her tears. ‘The furniture won’t fit into my new place so you might as well have it. It was hard enough getting those bigger pieces moved from room to room when the new carpets were being fitted. I daren’t even think about how difficult it’d be to get them down the stairs. Now, the wardrobes haven’t got woodworm or anything. So please remember to check for woodworm if you buy any antiques, won’t you?’

  ‘We will indeed.’

  They all smiled warmly at each other. A sudden burst of strong September sunlight lit up the fireplace in the sitting room. Ruby could tell they were anxious for her to leave now. They wanted to go running from room to room, kissing and hugging and deciding which to make into a study or a nursery or a dressing room. She looked at her watch to let them know she would soon be departing.

  ‘Could I just go round the house one last time, please?’ she asked them shyly in the hallway. ‘Just to say goodbye to it?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ the young man said right away. ‘We’ll go out to the little garden at the back and enjoy the spot of sunshine. Just let us know when you’re ready to go.’

  ‘I will, thank you.’

  And so Ruby went up to the top of the house and made her way slowly down again. Stopping for one short moment in every room, just remembering. Something Jonathan had done or said… Some little memory of him that she would treasure forever. That time he’d kissed her ankles tenderly when she was halfway up a ladder dusting the picture rails in the master bedroom. The other time he’d brought her breakfast in bed and hidden weekend tickets to Prague under the butter dish. As she was glancing out of the bedroom window for the last time she was surprised to see a little robin redbreast perched on the windowsill. It was looking right up at her with its head to one side.

  ‘Hello there,’ Ruby said, smiling down at him. ‘What are you doing there? I’ve got no crumbs for you today, I’m very sorry to say.’ The bird continued staring up at Ruby for another few moments and then suddenly it took off and flew towards the park on the other side of the road.

  ‘Oh, Ruby O’Neill, you’re getting fanciful in your old age, talking to birds!’ she said to herself.

  And then it was time to go down to the kitchen again via the other reception rooms and wave out of the window at the new owners and let them take over the running of the house for her.

  ‘I’ll be off now,’ she said brightly, laying the keys formally on the kitchen dresser.

  The young couple just nodded and waited respectfully in the kitchen as Ruby let herself out through the front door.

  ‘Cheerio, and the best of luck to you both,’ she called back over her shoulder.

  ‘Bye, Mrs O’Neill. And thank you.’

  As Ruby pulled the front door closed, a wave of grief threatened to overwhelm her. But she thought of her little shop and of Jasmine’s constant friendship and of all the great changes she was going to make to the business. And so she turned her face towards the sunshine and went strolling briskly up Ravenhill Road as if it was a perfectly normal autumn day like any other.

  7. The Shop

  Ruby was almost glad the renovations at the shop had taken so long and caused so much noise and dust. And that the meetings with the planning people and the insurance people seemed to have gone on forever. Because she was so bone tired each night her head barely touched the pillow before she was out for the count. Some evenings she thought she would fall asleep while she was still standing at the bathroom sink brushing her teeth.

  She’d moved into the rooms above the shop and was spending her nights sleeping on a mattress on the floor while the new layout was completed and the entire building rewired. Jasmine had offered Ruby the use of her fancy suede-effect sofa bed umpteen times, of course. But Ruby knew she was only being polite. Anyway, she thought it was actually kind of cosy lying there each evening beside her portable telly, with a kettle perched nearby on a biscuit tin. And living on fish and chips from the takeaway nearby had put a few much-needed pounds back on. It felt a bit like a camping holiday, in some ways. There was hardly any housework to do. And, besides, she had grown used to her own company in the evenings. It was lovely chatting to Jasmine constantly about anything and everything, of course. But they had all day to do that. Then at night Ruby would gratefully embrace the solitude and the silence.

  Jonathan would have been very proud of her. She knew that. He wouldn’t have wanted her to go on living in that big five-bedroom
house all by herself for another forty years. This way she would always have something to do. Seasons and special occasions to plan for in the shop, endless customers to chat to and of course Jasmine for company. For as long as Jasmine decided to go on working with her at any rate. To this end, she was still paying Jasmine’s wages even though the shop had been closed for a few weeks. Yes, this way there was just a small chance she might not actually go crazy with loneliness. The doctor had offered her anti-depressants, naturally, especially during the empty days just after the funeral. Everybody was on them nowadays according to Jasmine, who seemed to know half the city. But Ruby had said no, thank you very much. She preferred to deal with being a widow the old-fashioned way. By keeping herself busy during the day and then crying herself to sleep at night.

  And whenever she felt out of her depth or remotely tearful Ruby would sit down with the cute little sewing machine that she’d bought in her student days and just zone out for a few hours. Forcing her mind to concentrate on her stitching and on creating neat seams instead of thinking of other sadder things. Her sewing became quite a valuable distraction for Ruby, in fact. She had completed seven soft velvet evening bags in the months since Jonathan had died. Nothing she might ever have any use for really. Just pretty things in their own right, because Ruby loved pretty things. The bags were all neatly packed away in the wicker hampers in Jasmine’s apartment to save them from the omnipresent dust in the flat.

  Keep busy, she kept telling herself. I must remember to keep busy.

  However when all the building work was finally finished after six long weeks and the plaster and paint had dried, the little place did look rather splendid. Especially the flat upstairs with the recessed spotlights in every room that Jasmine had recommended. Or rather that Jasmine had insisted upon.

  ‘I’m telling you, Ruby, those miserable old dust-catcher pendants are so last century,’ she’d said firmly.

  And some soft, cream carpets completed the look.

  Ruby totted up the final cost of the new décor and wrote out some basic calculations on the back of an old envelope. Just to remind herself exactly how much money she needed to make in the shop each month to keep ticking over. With no mortgage to pay and only one member of staff on the books it didn’t seem an insurmountable figure. She was glad she’d chosen a pale pink shade of paint for both the inside of the shop and the flat above it, because the newly revamped premises looked positively glowing with light and freshness. The old display cabinets in the shop had been spruced up with a few coats of duck-egg blue and then rubbed back at the corners to look antique. She’d had the shop floor-tiles professionally cleaned and a fancy new awning fitted over the front window. With her very own name printed on it: Ruby O’Neill, on a classic background of elegantly narrow pink and white candy stripes.

  She didn’t have much furniture in the flat yet, but she decided to keep that little project on the back burner for the time being. Some day when she was really ready to face the world as a confident single woman she would go hunting for some nice cabinets and curios for her new home. A fat floral sofa or two, and some pretty cushions and rugs. But for now it was neat and tidy and strangely pretty in a monastic sort of way. With only a café table and two chairs in the small kitchen, a modern white sofa in the sitting room and a bed piled high with plain white pillows in the bedroom. She had a nice tasselled standard lamp by the bed to read by. And she had her clothes hanging on a chrome rail she’d rescued from the old stockroom. Yes, it would do for now. The main thing was the shop and it did look heavenly. Even Ruby with her modest and self-effacing nature had to admit that her shop was easily the prettiest one in the city. And Jasmine agreed with her.

  ‘Ruby O’Neill, I have to tell you in all honesty I’ve never seen anything half as beautiful. In all my life, really!’ Jasmine cried when she turned up for her first full day back at work after the renovations. ‘I mean, I knew you could do it, certainly I did. But this is even better than I thought it would be. Isn’t it great to see the back of all that dreary beige? Dear Theodora, she was a great one for beige, wasn’t she? And all those wobbly old rails have been replaced by pretty wardrobes, oh my God! And I love the new awning. So shiny and swish! It looks like something you’d see in Paris. It’s really dinky! I could see it from half a mile up the road.’

  ‘Thanks, Jasmine,’ Ruby laughed. ‘That’s the general idea. I thought it would be a bit of free advertising for us. And it’ll be even nicer when the flowers start to bloom in the window boxes next summer.’

  ‘Yes, yes… Now, Ruby, please don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but do you think it’ll look so nice and maybe so expensive that people will be afraid to come in?’ Jasmine asked thoughtfully. ‘I don’t want to sound like a wet blanket or anything. And I did promise not to be negative. Because all of this is absolutely to die for! But you know what Belfast folk are like. They tend to shy away from anything too OTT in case they can’t afford to buy the stuff once they’re in the door. Because then they’d be mortified.’

  ‘Possibly, yes. It will look a tiny bit intimidating at first. But when people see some of the things I’m going to put in the window they’ll be reassured that we aren’t the sort of shop where only millionaires are welcome. I’ll have little coin purses in there and nice fluffy bedroom slippers and padded hangers. You know? Little luxury trinkets to tempt the impulse shopper.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And then they’ll come in and see that our prices are actually quite reasonable and that the clothes and shoes are really high quality… They’ll last a lifetime.’

  Jasmine nodded in agreement. She decided not to ask Ruby if the shiny awning was insured against vandalism. Now really wasn’t the time to sound like a doom-and-gloom merchant. Hopefully the shop would look so lovely and serene that even the young hooligans of the city would be afraid to come near it. And, besides, Ruby had lost enough in her life so far. Surely lightning could not strike her for a second time.

  ‘It’s all so terribly exciting, really it is. You know what? I just adore the smell of fresh paint in the morning,’ Jasmine sighed, taking it all in. ‘My apartment felt like this for about six weeks, as I recall. There’s just something about the smell of fresh paint that makes me think of new beginnings.’

  ‘Let’s drink a toast to new beginnings then! I’ve got a bottle of bubbly on standby,’ Ruby said happily, thinking of the small bottle of champagne she had in the fridge in the doll-sized kitchenette at the back of the shop. ‘I mean, let’s drink a toast after we’ve got the shop ready for opening.’

  ‘But aren’t we going to have a big glossy relaunch?’ Jasmine asked, slightly puzzled.

  ‘No, Jasmine. I’m sorry, but we aren’t. I don’t want to tempt fate by getting ideas above my station. Do you understand? I know it sounds daft, but I’m going to try to sneak this little adventure under the wire. I don’t want to set myself up for any more bad luck. No, I thought we would simply reopen and just let the new shop grow on people. You know? Let the legend spread by word of mouth? Like the Harry Potter books.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘We’ll still have a little celebration though, just you and me on our own,’ Ruby said brightly. ‘We’ll go out to dinner tonight, the pair of us. Yeah?’

  ‘But, Ruby, you haven’t been out for dinner since Jonathan died,’ Jasmine said quietly. ‘You said it would feel like you were betraying his memory if you went out for a nice meal in a restaurant without him.’

  ‘I know, I know. But we’ll go somewhere that’s nice and friendly and not too brightly lit or stuffy, yes? What about that big Italian place on Malone Road? They were always lovely and easygoing in there. I’m sure they wouldn’t throw me out on the street if I started sobbing into my garlic chicken.’

  ‘Okay,’ Jasmine agreed, and gave her friend a little hug. She understood how hard it would be for Ruby to overcome the reclusive pattern she had fallen into since losing her husband.

  ‘We’ll ch
oose a table near the door and then if I do start welling up we can simply ask for the bill and make a quick getaway,’ Ruby announced. ‘I’ll bring cash so it’ll be even quicker to pay. My treat, by the way! And we’ll have a couple of cocktails too.’

  ‘Sounds perfect.’

  ‘Brilliant! Now let’s get these boxes open and the new stock out on display,’ Ruby said with a determined burst of enthusiasm in her voice. ‘And let’s group the outfits together by theme and by colour and not by size like we used to.’

  ‘Shall we put all the old stuff down the back on the sale rail?’ Jasmine asked. ‘Or should I say, the sale wardrobe?’

  ‘Yes, but let’s also hang it nicely by colour,’ Ruby suggested. ‘So it doesn’t look too haphazard. And we’ll not put the big sign saying sale back up either. We’ll just attach new price tags and keep it all very discreet.’

  ‘Right. We can just tell customers about the bargains if they ask?’

  ‘Yes. And I got these nice new bags made. No more beige plastic carriers for us, Jasmine.’

  Ruby carefully opened a large cardboard box and lifted out a batch of pink and white striped paper carrier bags with black cord handles. All bearing Ruby’s name in black curly writing on a pretty white oval-shaped label. Two sizes: one little, one much larger.

  ‘Wow, what fabulous bags. Were they terribly expensive?’ Jasmine couldn’t help asking.

  ‘Not really. Okay, they were a little bit expensive. But I think they’ll be worth it in the end. So every customer gets a bag even if they’re only buying a purse or a bangle, okay?’

  ‘Okay. Just one last thing?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Is anyone allowed to sit on that amazing armchair?’ Jasmine pointed to a huge overstuffed pink floral handmade designer armchair that’d come all the way from London by recorded delivery.

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Ruby reluctantly. ‘But definitely not if they’re drinking tea or coffee. In tribute to dear Theodora and her obsession with Health and Safety! And may the sun shine on her in her retirement years.’