A Thousand Roads Home. Carmel Harrington

      ‘When Brian hears that someone has stolen our food again, he’s going to lose his shit. There should be cameras in here to catch the thieving bastards,’ Ava said. ‘I wouldn’t mind but I used extra-lean mince in that lasagne. It was bloody lovely.’

      Aisling turned to Ruth and said, ‘I wish I could say it’s not like this every day. But …’

      Ruth felt like she had stepped into an episode of a bad daytime soap. And she did not like it one bit.

      Aisling continued, ‘I’m sorry if I sounded snappy when you walked in. It’s just I’ve left my daughter, Anna, on her own. We’re in room 127 down the other end of the corridor. Her asthma has been playing up this week and I don’t like leaving her.’

      Ruth could not imagine what that must be like, dealing with a sick child on top of everything else. She felt Aisling’s eyes on her, waiting for a response. She looked up and quickly scanned the room. Damn it. They were all staring at her. She had forgotten DJ’s advice.

      ‘Hello hello hello hello,’ Ruth burst out in one breathless sentence to each of them, one by one. She looked down at the floor again and hoped they would stop talking to her.

      ‘Hello, hello, hello, hello to you, too,’ Kian said. The room swelled with merriment and Ruth felt her skin prickle with heat.

      She was messing this up, like she always did.

      But to her surprise Aisling moved a little closer to her and said with warmth, ‘I won’t be long. I’m only frying up a few sausages for Anna. Her favourite, and you’d give them the world when they’re sick, wouldn’t you?’

      Ruth nodded to Aisling’s pretty pink pumps. She had small feet, dainty. Which looked at odds with her large frame.

      ‘Here, Aisling, I’ve finished with the second hob. You can cook beside me.’ Ava shuffled over to make room for the woman. Aisling pulled a frying pan out of the cupboard beside the cooker and stuck it on the heat. She sprayed the pan with Frylight, coating the base. The sausages sizzled and spat as soon as they hit the pan. The smell made Ruth nauseous and reminded her of Saturday mornings when her mother cooked the full Irish fry-up for them when all she wanted was porridge.

      Ruth was two seconds away from breaking rule number six and running out of the kitchen and down the corridor back to their room. They could eat rice cakes for their supper, with bananas on top. She felt the eyes of the kitchen on her. She wished she had left her sunglasses on, ignoring DJ’s advice. She could not win. You got looks from people if you wore sunglasses indoors; you got looks from people if you preferred to keep your eyes to yourself. People were tricky. People passed judgement all the time.

       People are fierce judgemental. To hell with people, that’s what I say.

       Ha! You’re funny, Odd.

       I’ve been told that once or twice before.

       Me too …

      Kian and his son, Cormac, stood up, the sound of their chairs scraping the floor bringing Ruth back from her chat with her imaginary friend.

      ‘Will I do the dishes, Da?’ Cormac asked.

      ‘Do, son,’ Kian replied, then they both sniggered some more when Cormac threw their paper plates into the bin.

      ‘A regular double act, those two,’ Ava sniffed, keeping her back to them. ‘I queued for an hour yesterday to use this oven. And the large lasagne I made was supposed to last for two days’ dinner.’

      ‘Did someone take it off yer?’ Kian asked, his face a picture of innocence.

      Ava ignored him and said to the others, ‘It’s not good enough. I’ll be sending an email of complaint to the council and Erica when I get back to my room. Some people have a bare-faced cheek.’ She thumbed towards Kian, who whistled as he walked out of the room, his sidekick right behind him.

      ‘Did you see the cut of them both? The fecking bastard! I know it was him,’ Ava spluttered out. ‘We’re eating in our room tonight. And so help me, if there is any leftovers, it’s going in the bin.’

      ‘They looked a bit shifty all right,’ Aisling reluctantly agreed. ‘I’ve seen Cormac running in and out of here a lot, checking to see if the kitchen is empty. I gave up leaving yoghurts in the fridge months ago. Always swiped. He’s a divil for those.’

      Ava nudged Aisling as she turned the sausages over, nodding towards Ruth. ‘You don’t say much.’

      ‘Hello,’ Ruth said again. They continued to stare at her, so she added, ‘I am not here to steal anyone’s food or to skip any queues.’

      Aisling and Ava laughed in response and Ruth breathed a sigh of relief.

      ‘My son and I arrived at 12.07 p.m. today,’ Ruth answered. ‘It has been quite the day.’

      Aisling reached out to touch Ruth’s arm in a gesture of support, causing Ruth to jump back and knock one of the chairs onto the floor.

      ‘Sorry,’ Aisling murmured. The room went quiet, except for the sound of water as it reached boiling point and the splash of pasta as Ava threw it into the water with a slosh. Steam filled the air around her. ‘It’s fresh, not dried, so I’ll be done in a jiffy.’

      ‘Fresh pasta is 3.45 times more expensive than dried,’ Ruth stated.

      ‘Well, I like fresh. And for the sake of a few cent …’ Ava said.

      ‘Assuming you eat fresh pasta twice a week, then your saving per meal for two people, is 0.94 euro. Over a year that will be just under 98 euro,’ Ruth replied, eyes still on the ground.

      Ava and Aisling looked at each other, then back to Ruth again, a little startled by her quick maths.

      ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if, for once, we didn’t have to be thinking about things like the cost of every little thing we need to buy?’ Aisling said. ‘I spent a day yesterday trudging around Penney’s, Heaton’s and Tesco, comparing prices on a tracksuit for Anna. And everywhere I looked I saw all these cute outfits in, ready for Christmas. I’d have given anything to buy her a whole new wardrobe.’

      ‘Anna always looks beautiful,’ Ava said with kindness.

      ‘Hand-me-downs. Thank God for my friend. She sends down a bag of clothes every six months or so. It’s like Christmas for Anna.’ Tears threatened to spill from Aisling’s brown eyes as she flipped her sausages again. ‘Just once, I’d like her to have her own outfit. Brand new with labels. Chosen just for her.’

      Ava squeezed Aisling’s arm in sympathy.

      Ruth wanted to say to them both that she knew what it was like to juggle her finances so that she did not have ‘too much month at the end of her money’. She wanted to tell Aisling that she needed to do a similar exercise to find DJ new tracksuit bottoms and trainers. But the words were getting jumbled in her head again, the way they did. She was making a terrible first impression but she felt powerless to change it. They would see her continued silence as an insult and she did not want them to think she was rude.

      Tell them you are shy. Be honest. People always respond well to honesty. This advice was given to her over a decade ago by her doctor and it often popped into her head. Funny how some words stick while others disappear into nothing. Maybe it was time to take this advice.

      ‘I am shy, not rude,’ Ruth blurted out.

      ‘Ah, I’ve a younger sister like that,’ Ava said, nodding in understanding. ‘Crippled with shyness, has been ever since she was born. She spent most of her childhood hidden behind Mam’s skirts!’

      ‘And there I was, thinking the cat had your tongue! I’m sure it’s been a tough day for you,’ Aisling said, smiling.

      ‘I never thought I would end up in a place like this. In this situation,’ Ruth said.

      They