The Seven Secrets of Happiness

by Sharon Owens

  ‘Yes, I don’t expect she’s aware of what a gift she just got. She seems the simple type, you know? She just goes with the flow. She won the Lotto and now she’s shopping up a storm. If I won the Lotto, I’d be scared stiff of gangsters following me home and so on. But she’s like a child in a toyshop, isn’t she? I’d like to be more like that myself in a way. Easy come, easy go.’

  ‘Huh. People like her shouldn’t be allowed to buy Lotto tickets,’ Jasmine said bitterly. ‘There ought to be a screening system.’

  ‘Oh, Jasmine, that’s a bit extreme,’ Ruby smiled.

  ‘I bet she goes to live in some lovely place,’ Jasmine said then. ‘A millionaire’s paradise. With an outdoor seating area and a massive swimming pool. And staff to clean up after her. And she’ll have nothing to do all day but shop and gad about in a chauffeur-driven car. Like a proper WAG.’

  ‘Some WAGs never look all that happy to me. It must be hard living with the pressure of being in the public eye. And a thick husband.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘Anyway by the looks of all that shopping Becky was doing she’ll be broke in two years’ time,’ Ruby said wisely. ‘A stretch limo and two bodyguards just to go shopping? And maybe that Jimmy of hers is a lying, cheating gold-digger? He has two kids, she said. Well, that’s not a good sign, is it? If he’s going to leave his children behind and move abroad with Rebecca? A decent man would never move that far away from his kids…’

  ‘Oh, Ruby, you can always cheer me up – thank you. Jimmy was a bit of a boozer too, as I recall. By the time he was thirteen he could neck four pints of strong cider and still drive a car in a straight line. And he used to spit a lot. I never could stand boys that gobbed up on the street. I still can’t. The dirty fuckers.’

  ‘There you go then. He’ll buy flash cars and party his way through Becky’s money like there’s no tomorrow probably. I mean, it’s normal to be a bit jealous of Lotto winners, but I think you’re overreacting, that’s all. You’ve got a good life, Jasmine.’

  ‘Yeah, I work in a clothes shop in Belfast and spend all my wages on the rent for a tiny flat,’ Jasmine murmured.

  ‘Or another way to look at it is, you have a nice easy job near your home and your boss is lovely to you. And your family all adore you and you live in a luxury flat with a balcony and tons of built-in storage,’ Ruby said solemnly. ‘And you’re lovely-looking too. Becky’s all hair and teeth really; she’s not a patch on you.’

  ‘Sorry, Ruby. You’re so kind.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Just one more thing,’ Jasmine sighed.

  ‘Name it,’ Ruby smiled at her.

  ‘Please don’t ever call me Jazzy,’ Jasmine said softly.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Or, even worse, Jazzy babes.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dare,’ Ruby said, smiling.

  Three weeks later Ruby heard on the local news that Lotto winner Rebecca McCann’s fiancé, Jimmy White, had stolen two million pounds from their joint account and fled the country with it. The police had then foiled a kidnap bid on Rebecca’s parents when three masked men approached them in the Homebase car park at Galwally. Guns had been brandished and Mrs McCann had fainted and cut her head on a heavy-duty trolley. The three of them were now in hiding at an undisclosed address in England. Jimmy’s abandoned kids were pictured in the papers under headlines such as COME HOME, DADDY. WE LOVE YOU A LOTTO.

  ‘Poor old Becky,’ Jasmine said when Ruby showed her the latest edition of one paper. ‘I do actually feel a bit sorry for her now. Stupid bitch that she is.’

  And she did seem genuinely sympathetic, Ruby thought to herself. There was barely a twinkle in Jasmine’s blue eyes when she said again how very sorry she was to hear about Becky’s terrible run of bad luck.

  15. The Flower Show

  June arrived at last and the sun was beaming down from a perfectly blue sky. After weeks of depressing drizzle and damp weather, it seemed that the sunshine had decided to bless the city with a surprise visit.

  ‘I can’t believe I let you talk me into wearing this ludicrous dress,’ Ruby muttered under her breath, as she stood beside Jasmine in the very long queue. They’d been waiting impatiently outside the first annual Belfast Flower Show for about an hour.

  ‘Shut up, you look lovely,’ Jasmine soothed. ‘It’s just because you haven’t been out and about in so long you’re a bit nervy. Come on now and settle your old head, there’s a good girl.’

  ‘Not possible, Jasmine. Not when I look like Nora Batty on HRT or something, God rest her soul, as the saying goes… Are you sure these dresses are only A-line? My skirt feels as flappy as a circus tent. Jasmine, tell me the truth. Have you hired these frocks from a fancy-dress place?’

  ‘Would you stop talking utter nonsense, woman,’ Jasmine whispered back, trying hard not to laugh out loud and spoil their sophisticated image. ‘You look good enough to eat. We both do. Full-circle skirts are so in this year. And these floral tea dresses are the absolute height of summer fashion.’

  ‘So is caramel cashmere,’ Ruby hissed, smoothing down the creases on the front of her red and orange dress. At least the pattern was relatively small, she told herself, trying desperately to calm down. Jasmine’s frock had giant black and blue daisies on it, with a large black bow on the front of her waistband. And she’d decided to wear electric-blue shoes as well. ‘As if nobody was going to notice you in the dress alone,’ Ruby fretted, staring down at Jasmine’s pretty feet encased in bright blue sling-backs.

  ‘Ruby, will you try to relax a little bit, please? We’ll be in through the gates soon and then nobody will even notice us when they see all the lovely flowers and… stuff.’ Jasmine was craning her neck to check for any celebrities going in by the side gate.

  At this last remark Ruby began to giggle nervously. Jasmine knew nothing whatsoever about gardening and she didn’t even have a garden to go with her luxury fifth-floor apartment at the Bell Towers. Just a balcony with a couple of pots and a tiny chair on it… But Jasmine Mulholland was obviously determined not to sit at home growing old and boring like Ruby, not when there were so many new events being added to the Belfast social calendar every year. And Ruby couldn’t blame her for that. In fact she totally admired Jasmine’s spirited personality. She just wished they could have worn something more low-key, that was all. What if there were TV cameras roaming about! Actually there were bound to be TV cameras roaming about. Ruby began to perspire heavily under her flawless make-up.

  ‘You do look very nice, to tell you the truth,’ Jasmine said suddenly. ‘That luminous face powder seems to be working well at any rate. You’re positively glowing right now.’

  She could have said she was so nervous she was actually sweating, but Ruby just sighed. She had made her point about the dresses. The queue moved forward slightly. It seemed as if their tickets were finally about to be checked and stamped.

  ‘Thank God for some sign of movement in this bloody queue,’ Ruby whispered gratefully. ‘I’m dying to stretch my legs. Oh, I hope it doesn’t rain. At least the weather looks promising. Seeing as we’ve only got these so-called shrugs of yours to keep us warm.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Jasmine said brightly, determined not to let Ruby’s fussing spoil the day for them. She threaded one arm through the crook of Ruby’s elbow and propelled her friend forward. ‘Look. There’s Jimmy Nesbitt! Oh my God, is that his wife? Isn’t she pretty? Her coat is fabulous! Honestly, Ruby, I think the two of us are underdressed if anything. We should have worn the fascinators like I suggested.’

  At that Ruby began to giggle again, even though she was feeling very anxious about the sheer volume of people gathering to get into the flower show. But perhaps when they were all in through the gates and beginning to disperse a bit she would feel better. The show was laid out over a generous site. It couldn’t be too claustrophobic, could it? And she could always walk home if there were no taxis available afterwards. It wasn’t all that far to Ravenhill, not rea
lly. She’d sneaked a comfortable pair of pumps into her handbag just in case the red shoes started to cut into her heels.

  ‘Hooray and we’re in,’ said Jasmine as the queue surged forward again.

  But as the two friends finally squeezed through the narrow entrance gates and tried to take in the general layout Ruby spied her mysterious Christmas-tree supplier, Tom Lavery himself, sitting in the driver’s seat of his very old, very battered-looking Land Rover. He was sipping from what looked like the lid of a tall, tartan flask. His large hands were black with dirt and even his long brown hair was streaked with patches of dust. He looked almost as fed up as Ruby felt. Attached to the back of his vehicle was a huge trailer full of empty flowerpots and the remnants of dozens of compost bags. He must have been here for ages already setting up an exhibition of some kind, she thought to herself. Ruby began to forget how nervous she was and instead wondered where Tom’s exhibition was located and what it might contain. But she said nothing to Jasmine who was already spotting more celebrities sipping champagne in the VIP tent. And wishing aloud that she’d remembered to bring an autograph book.

  The two women set off along the designated path and soon they were happily taking in all the different sights and sounds of the flower show. There were endless beautiful summerhouses on display. There were also some very pretty patios, modern-style water features, classic statuary, whimsical topiary and lavish flowers of every description. And there was lots of room to meander about, Ruby noted gratefully. She’d feared she’d be crushed up against the side of a lorry or something for, ever since moving into her dainty flat above the shop, and not having to even walk up the road to work any more, she’d become slightly phobic of large crowds.

  ‘It’s just like Chelsea only far better,’ Jasmine declared happily. ‘Lots more room. Hey, anything they can do, we can do better! I told you this would be a good day out. Now there’s the peasants’ refreshments marquee. What say we have a little snack to revive us?’

  ‘We’ve only been here for forty-five minutes,’ Ruby protested.

  ‘But if we hang about any longer they’ll run out of the nicest buns. I see they have triple-layer puff-pastry lemon things on the poster. Come on, quick, or there’ll only be plain scones left,’ Jasmine said urgently. And so in they went through the rather grand doorway which was decorated with pink and lilac bunting. A brass band started up on the other side of the site and a polite smattering of applause rippled round the grounds. Ruby found a quiet table near the entrance to the marquee and Jasmine grabbed a tray and began loading it up with forks, paper napkins and plates. Soon they were sipping pink champagne and attempting to eat two very large fresh-cream pastries with as much dignity as possible. Jasmine spilt some lemon curd on her dress, but Ruby convinced her nobody would notice it amidst the giant daisies. Ruby cheered up and they even managed a little girly gossip about a friend of Jasmine’s who was gradually selling off all her good jewellery and hiding the money in a foreign bank account because she feared her husband was planning to divorce her.

  ‘So when she finally gets the solicitor’s letter she’ll be good and ready for him,’ said Jasmine approvingly. ‘She’ll have her nest-egg safely tucked away. And she’s just going to say she must have accidentally thrown her jewellery wrap in the bin when she was decluttering… The two-timing weasel! What is it about some men? Why isn’t one woman enough for them? Or are they all creeps, I wonder?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Ruby said absent-mindedly, tidying up the table and leaving a tip for the waitresses.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Ruby. I know your Jonathan wasn’t like that,’ Jasmine said quietly.

  ‘Shush, that’s okay. But don’t talk about him please or I’ll only cry. He’d have enjoyed all this. He once said he’d like to do the back garden up a bit. Even though it was only small. Even though he wasn’t much of a gardener.’

  ‘Are you all right, Ruby? You do look a wee bit wobbly.’

  ‘I’m fine. It’s just I haven’t been sleeping very well these last few months for worrying about my mum and dad.’

  ‘I’m not surprised, really. And they haven’t kissed and made up yet – isn’t it ridiculous?’

  ‘I can’t believe we still don’t even have an address for her in New York.’

  ‘God, it’s just awful. You’ve got the mobile number though?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s never on.’

  ‘Oh, Ruby, you should ring them again, both of them,’ Jasmine said carefully.

  ‘I know I should. But every time I lift the phone I feel so angry with them… and yet I know they can’t help being the way they are. Stubborn! And I can’t help being a very practical person. So I’d only suggest counselling again and that would go down like a lead balloon, do you see? And I don’t trust myself to be tactful with them. And then I can’t ring them after all, because I don’t know what to say to them any more. My father might have a heart attack if I start pushing things again. He’s a very heavy smoker these days, I think. Judging by the way he was getting stuck in to the cigars, the last time I saw him. Smoking like a chimney, he was. And if Mum thinks we’re on her case she might take off even further afield. Maybe to some bizarre place we’ve never even heard of…’

  ‘Okay, I understand,’ Jasmine agreed. ‘Let sleeping dogs lie, huh?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ruby sighed. ‘There’s a lot to be said for letting sleeping dogs lie.’

  ‘Fair enough. Shall we get on with the rest of it then?’

  ‘The sooner we complete the circuit of exhibitions the sooner we can get out of here,’ Ruby smiled.

  ‘Okay,’ Jasmine said again, collecting her handbag and shrug and dusting some icing sugar off her daisy-covered knees. ‘Come on.’

  And so they went strolling along the temporary pathways, stopping to admire each new display and occasionally having a short chat with some of the exhibitors. Jasmine bought a round, fat cactus covered with long, deadly spines and decorated with glittery glass beads that she said reminded her rather spookily of Rebecca McCann. The two women laughed heartily at that and Ruby was almost glad she had agreed to come to the flower show after all.

  Then Ruby’s heart gave a tiny wobble as she noticed Tom Lavery again, standing beside the very last display area. A miniature box maze with perfectly flat sides and tops, and dotted with moss-covered statues of angels and fawns. It seemed to have been put together in short sections, which looked as though they had been grown in long flat troughs. People were flocking to go for a walk round it. But because the maze was only about thirty-foot square they had to go exploring in small groups of three or four. Tom seemed quite ill at ease, Ruby thought to herself, as she observed him pushing a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. He’d washed his hands and changed into a smarter jacket by this time, but still he seemed very reluctant to be there. He was handing out leaflets and trying to organize the people going into the maze, and also selling box clippings by the dozen.

  Ruby looked around for an alternative exit in order to avoid having to speak to him, but there was no other way out. They had to pass Tom’s exhibit directly to leave the show via the main exit or else go all the way back to the entrance gates. And so all she could hope for was that he wouldn’t remember her. But somehow she knew that he certainly would remember her. And suddenly she felt very excited… But with Jasmine walking here beside her she couldn’t possibly talk to him.

  In a flash of inspiration Ruby remembered she had a pair of sunglasses in her bag and she quickly fished them out and slipped them on. Jasmine had bought them for her especially for the occasion. They were ridiculously large and round. With white plastic frames! She would look absolutely daft in them, like a poor man’s version of Paris Hilton, but never mind. She would be able to slip past this strangely compelling man and not add to his embarrassment by forcing him to make polite conversation with her. With poor Jasmine salivating with curiosity on the sidelines.

  But eagle-eyed Jasmine had already spotted Tom.

  ‘Oh, Ruby! R
uby, don’t look now, but there’s your Christmas-tree guy,’ Jasmine squeaked excitedly. ‘What’s that sign say? THE BOX MAZE AT CAMBERWELL HOUSE. Do you want to stop and say hello to him? Oh, go on!’

  ‘Jasmine, don’t you dare say hello to that man. And we’re not going into the maze either. We’re just going to nod briefly and keep on walking, right? We’re nearly finished here.’

  ‘Right, Ruby, you’re the boss.’

  But as Ruby was slinking discreetly past Tom’s information table Jasmine suddenly realized she had a stone in her shoe.

  ‘Stop walking,’ she said abruptly, grabbing Ruby’s elbow and hopping around on one leg. ‘Pebble in my shoe! Pebble in my shoe!’

  ‘Wait till we’re out the gates at least,’ Ruby murmured.

  ‘I can’t wait. I’m in agony,’ Jasmine replied.

  ‘You conniving wee witch,’ Ruby muttered.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There’s no pebble, is there?’

  ‘Yes, there is,’ Jasmine grinned back at her.

  And so Jasmine had to stop, wriggle off her shoe and shake the imaginary stone out of it. And as she held on to the table for support while Ruby stood seething silently beside her, Jasmine said hello to the ruggedly handsome Tom Lavery and began to show a bit of interest in his exhibit.

  ‘That’s a fine old maze you have there,’ she said boldly.

  Ruby could have reached for her friend and slapped her, but there was nothing she could do, short of storming off in a sulk like a hormonal teenager.

  ‘Well, isn’t this all very nice? Love the statues there! Cute! Now you don’t know me but I’m Jasmine Mulholland and this here is my friend Ruby O’Neill,’ Jasmine was saying.

  ‘Yes, I remember,’ Tom said, looking shyly at Ruby.

  ‘That’s right. You two have met already, haven’t you?’ Jasmine said with a wide grin.

  Ruby kept her sunglasses on and prepared to say cheerio, but Jasmine wasn’t quite finished.