Change of Life by Anne Stormont

you home.”
    I could hear the children clumping up the stairs.
    “Sorry about them,” Ruby said as she came back into the room. “I had Gail’s kids overnight. He’s waiting to take them home.” She gestured vaguely towards the back of the house – where I assumed her husband must be.
    I apologised for disturbing her Saturday. She shook her head and dismissed my apologies as unnecessary. I refused her offer of tea.
    “So what is it, Rosie? What brings you here?” she said kindly, as she settled back in her large pink armchair.
    I’d intended to keep it brief. I’d intended to tell her calmly that I was ill, that I was going away for treatment and to ask her to do some extra hours. But I found that, as with Evelyn, the whole story came spilling out. While I talked, Ruby came to sit beside me. She put her hand on mine. I gripped it. “I hope you don’t think I’m being selfish and I hope you’ll be able to help.”
    “Don’t be daft, lassie!” Ruby replied. “You’re not selfish enough – that’s your trouble. I told you the other day you do too much for them all. I knew you weren’t well. I said, didn’t I? I said you were looking pale.”
    “Yes, you did. So will you keep an eye on things for me – at the house – keep an eye on Max especially?”
    “Of course I will. And Max can come over here, as usual in the holidays, when Neil’s staying.”
    “You’re a saint – I don’t know how you do it all – your jobs, the grandchildren…”
    “Oh, I’m no saint,” Ruby said, “But I do have St Anne and St Monica to help me.” She got up and went over to a recessed glass shelf in the corner of the room. On it were two china statues, along with some candles and several rosaries. She picked up the statues. “These are my ladies, my helpers – this is St Anne, patron saint of mothers and this is St Monica, she looks out for married women. They get me through – never let me down. He gave me St Monica actually – after I ran away from home.” She turned to replace them on the shelf.
    For a minute I thought she meant that God had given St Monica to her, but then I realised she meant her husband. My bemusement must have shown on my face.
    “No, not Him – him – Ray.” It was the first time I’d heard her say her husband’s name.
    “Oh, right – Ray,” I said, “and what do you mean - when you ran away?”
    “It was years ago, before I knew you.” Ruby laughed. “I left them - him and the bairns - went to my sister’s. I’d had enough – doing everything for everybody – six teenagers and him. So, one morning, I decided that was it. I packed a bag, left a note and went.”
    “Ruby!” I was aghast. Ruby, who seemed so sorted, so grounded, so family orientated, had walked out, just like that.
    “I know – but it was the making of them and it saved my marriage. They all had to get on and manage without me.”
    “How long were you away for? What made you come back?”
    “Oh, I was away about a month - and I always intended to come back – I’m a good Catholic girl and I believe in the vows I made when we got married. But that doesn’t mean I’d sit back and be taken advantage of. He came after me – brought St Monica with him – said he couldn’t cope without me – came out with all that romantic stuff that made me fall for him in the first place – daft, sweet-talking, Irish bugger. Anyway, it made us stronger as a couple – me going away, and it didn’t do the kids any harm either. And, if I’m honest, I missed them all like crazy. I drove my sister mad going on about how great they all were . I was about to give in and come home when he showed up! Of course, I didn’t tell him that.”
    “Oh, Ruby,” I laughed. “You’re a tonic – you really are.”
    “It’s good to see you laughing, lass,” Ruby said smiling. She came back and sat down and took my hand in hers, her smile gone. “I’m so sorry – about the cancer and about Tom and this lad –