Ruth was never late for an appointment. If she made a commitment to be somewhere, you could rely on her. Even with the unscheduled stop for the old man and his dog, Ruth and DJ were waiting outside the front entrance of Parkgate, ready to see the council, five minutes early. At 10.01 a.m., Ruth began to feel agitated.
She willed the door to open, wondering how many steps there were between the door and their scheduled appointment. When the door swung open moments later, she said to the brown-lace-up-loafer man, ‘You are two minutes late.’
‘Not by my watch, missus,’ the man replied, not one bit put out by her comments.
‘Excuse me? Are we in the 1950s? I am neither Mrs, Ms, nor Miss. I am Ruth.’
His bewildered face gave DJ a fit of the giggles.
Ruth and DJ picked up a black sack each, balancing it on top of a suitcase. Then they wheeled them into the hall following the signs for the Central Placement Service. One hundred and two steps. Ruth and DJ placed their bags against a wall on their left, which seemed as good a place as any to leave their worldly goods. Then they settled down to wait. From previous interactions with the council, Ruth expected that to be at least thirty minutes. She came prepared and placed her headphones on, hoping Westlife’s harmonies would block out the hundreds of horror stories she’d read online in support forums about other families who were in the same predicament as her. They were difficult to silence and over the past twenty-four hours had been, lingering inside her head.
I slept in my car for nearly two weeks. Gas thing is, I woke up at three o’clock every morning, at the exact same time. The cold woke me, or the nightmares, maybe both.
Laoise
We left the kids with my mother. She doesn’t have room for us all. But I can’t have them in the hostel. It’s not right. Not for anyone but definitely not for them.
Jude
They can’t find us emergency accommodation. Hotels won’t take our family of six. We’re too big. They want to separate us. But without each other, what’s the point of anything?
Gerry
I gave away all our clothes and possessions, except for one bag each. Not because I didn’t want them any more. But because I had nowhere to put them.
Ursula
The desperate words of these families kept her awake at night and haunted her during the day.
Plan B was one she could not contemplate. Could she do it? Ask her family for help? Which of them? Her mother, her father or Mark?
Pop, pop, pop.
‘Mam.’ DJ nudged her, unease pinching his face. ‘You’re crying.’
She wiped the tears away, surprised to feel their wetness on her cheeks.
‘Ruth Wilde,’ a voice called out.
They stood up and turned to look at each other. DJ’s head now reached her breastbone. He was getting tall and she surmised that within a few years he would overtake her. But despite his physical appearance, despite the fact that his emotional intelligence was far older than his years, he was just a kid. And she was letting him down. Shame on you, Ruth. Shame, shame, shame.
‘It’s going to be fine, Mam,’ DJ said, sensing her anxiety.
‘Ruth Wilde?’ the voice shouted again.
Not everyone is cut out to be a mother, Ruth. That’s what her mother had said. Had she been right all along?
Eight steps till she reached the counter, and with each one Ruth vowed to make this right for DJ. But as she walked, she looked around the small waiting room that was now almost full. She felt the eyes of the room follow her, judging her, questioning her story. She wrung her hands. Ruth felt blinded by an imaginary spotlight, one that was focused on her inadequacies.
Shame. Shame. Shame.
She wanted to run. Run, leaving behind her suitcases and black sacks. Leaving behind her shame. DJ moved a step closer to her and she felt the warmth of his hand on her back, steadying her. She was not alone. For her son, she summoned every ounce of strength and she focused on the job at hand.
They each took a seat side by side in front of the clerical officer. Ruth looked at the desk in front of her and saw a photograph of a family, taken at a child’s First Holy Communion. Mum, dad and two smiling kids, one of them dressed in white. The woman in the photograph beamed and her hands rested on the shoulders of her two children. She had a kind face and she was a mother. That had to be a good sign. Because right now this stranger in front of them held their fate in her hands.
DJ’s hands covered hers as Ruth began popping her knuckles one by one. She unflexed her hands reluctantly. If I just get through this interview, I can go home and be myself in private … The thought hung unfinished in her mind. She no longer had a home to go to. She forced herself to look up at the woman in front of her and silently begged her to help them. The woman’s eyes were locked on her computer screen and she hit the keyboard a few times, before looking up at them both and smiling.
‘Good morning! I’m Gillian. Nippy out there today, isn’t it? My car nearly skidded on black ice when I left our estate. Put the heart across me!’ She spoke fast, her smile bright and honest, reaching her eyes. Ruth had not been expecting a summary of Gillian’s journey to work and was thrown by it. She had rehearsed what to say all morning and this had not been part of any scenario. So she ignored Gillian and repeated her rehearsed statement in one long breathless sentence.
‘I have a job I always pay my rent on time but our landlord has evicted us as he is selling our flat I have tried everything in my power to find another home for us but there is nothing in my price range we have nowhere to go we are homeless I have a job that I am going to lose if I do not have a home and I have a son who needs a home.’
‘It’s OK,’ Gillian interrupted. ‘Breathe.’
‘I am breathing. I would be dead if I were not.’
Gillian could not work out if Ruth was joking or not. She decided that she was. ‘Good one! Well, don’t worry, I’m going to help you. OK?’
Ruth nodded, looking closely at the woman in front of them whose face only showed sympathy and kindness. She could not see her shoes and that disappointed her. She guessed she was a black-mid-heel-court type of woman. She decided she could trust her.
‘Do we get a house with a garden?’ DJ asked.
‘I can’t guarantee that, I’m afraid. But I’m going to do my best to make sure you have somewhere to go today, until we find you something more permanent. And we need to ensure that you don’t lose your job, Ruth. Let me just double-check that your information on file is still correct.’
‘I cannot lose my job I have worked very hard not to lose this job.’
‘I’m sure you have. You work from home as an online customer advisor?’
Ruth nodded.
‘Your annual salary is 18,000 euro.’
Another nod.
‘You are a single mother. You have one child – DJ, who is aged ten. You do not receive maintenance from his father. All correct?’
Three nods in a row. Ruth felt like one of those nodding dogs in the back of a car.
‘And there’s no family you can call on for help? Somewhere you can stay until your name comes up on the housing list?’
Her family. What would this woman think if she knew the truth about her mother?
‘I