She had come to a decision – and there was no turning back now
THE END Steve Cain
Ruth Dawson prided herself on being organised and focused, meticulous and precise in everything she did. Indeed, these traits had made her decision to branch out on her own so much easier to plan.
She sat at the kitchen table, poised and filled with inner calm, on the brink. Finally, there was nothing to stop her, no interruptions. No meals to be cooked, no confusing phone messages to be taken, remembered and passed on, no sports kits to be washed and ironed, no suits to be collected from the dry-cleaners. No more fitting in with everyone else’s plans at the expense of her own.
This was it. She was about to become a liberated woman at last. But it hadn’t been easy.
It’s funny, Ruth mused, it wasn’t until they had shared that romantic weekend in Paris together that she realised she needed to make the change – if only to stop herself being completely consumed by her family’s demands and losing herself totally.
Three blissful days of strolling along avenues lined with boutiques, bistros and buskers, and two perfect nights spent sipping champagne under clear starlit skies was the epiphany that triggered the realisation that, somewhere along the way, she’d unwittingly sacrificed her dreams for drudgery. How had it taken her so long to notice that she’d morphed into a person with an identity crisis and become merely a series of labels?
She recalled first being aware of it after her mother’s fall. Ruth was at the supermarket checkout one day when the cashier suddenly stopped scanning her groceries and stared at her.
‘Aren’t you Mrs Gordon’s daughter? I was very sorry to hear about her nasty accident. Such a lovely lady. How is she?’
Ruth smiled. ‘She’s recovering nicely, thanks for asking.’
Later the same day, it happened again...
‘Hi, there! Have I got it right? You are Daniel’s Mum, aren’t you?’
A pretty, young blonde girl stopped on the pavement in front of her, smiling nervously. ‘I can’t get hold of Daniel,’ she said. ‘His mobile must be switched off, and we’re going to the cinema later. I hope he hasn’t forgotten. Would you remind him, please?’
‘I don’t think Daniel will have forgotten,’ Ruth smiled reassuringly. She was absolutely certain of it. After all, her son had insisted that he needed his best designer jeans and smartest shirt washed and dried, ready for the big night. ‘He’s probably in a lecture. Keep
