Journey’s End

Coffee Break Tale

Ryan stomped up the hill, his face burning, his hands clenched in his pockets so tightly that it hurt.

He’d had to get out of the house before he said something he’d regretted. They’d all been sitting there around the table. His mother chatting to his aunt, his brother doing one of those endless product reviews he did online.

His family had never been one to bother about mobile phones at the dining table. Even on birthdays. Even on his birthday.

Ryan wished there was a website where you could upload reviews on birthdays. He’d have given his a zero score. A website where you could review presents would be good too.

◆ One hand-knitted, lopsided sweater in an uncool shade of green – 1 star.

◆ A bar of dark chocolate. Surely his family knew he only liked milk! – 1 star.

◆ A two-for-one voucher for a cream tea in the village hall – zero stars.

◆ A new case for his phone. Actually that had been pretty cool. At least it had fitted. Thanks, Mum. Four stars.

Out of breath, at the top of the hill he paused to gulp the gorse-scented air. From this vantage point you could see the town far below. The houses were distant specks and although you could see the cars crawling along ribbon-like roads, you couldn’t hear them. The wind on the exposed hillside took care of that.

Ryan sat in his favourite spot, a sheltered hillock in the lee of the hill. It was where he came to think or sort things through in his mind. It was where he’d come when his grandad had died. Where he’d come when he’d lost his beloved dog, Whisky. Where he’d come when his dad had upped sticks and left.

All of these things had happened in

the last two years. As his heartbeat slowly returned to normal, Ryan plucked a tuft of grass out of the hillside and thought that maybe he was angrier about these huge losses than he was about a bunch of naff presents.

It wasn’t as though he’d been expecting much. He knew none of them had any money.

Loopy Auntie Cass always did home-made stuff for presents. It was just a pity no one had ever thought to give her a knitting lesson for one of her birthdays. Or maybe someone should just tell her. “You can’t knit, Auntie Cass. Give it up. Try pottery.”

His brother could surely have done better than a two-for-one voucher that hadn’t cost him anything, but then Tom was notoriously tight.

On the path a few feet to his left, a small snail was crawling. Ryan watched it for a while. It looked as though it was heading for the summit. That was going to take forever!

Suddenly thoughts of his grandpa – who’d been passionate about his allotment – swept into his head.

We’ re all on a journey, Ryan. Be nice to everyone you meet because everyone has some sort of problem.

Grandpa was full of little sayings like that.

You’ ve got to develop an attitude of gratitude. That was another one.

Ryan wondered if the snail needed any help with its journey. Probably not!

He was starting to get cold. He’d been so intent on getting out, he’d forgotten to pick up a coat.

His mind flicked back to his family. He supposed Auntie Cass had done her best. She didn’t have any spare money either. Since their dad had gone, Tom gave most of the money he earned doing product reviews to their mother. It wasn’t as though he spent it on himself. Maybe he could see his way to forgiving Tom for the voucher and the wrong type of chocolate!

Ryan stood up. Right at this moment, he’d have been quite glad of that green jumper too. It was freezing up here.

He’d go back in a minute. He’d thank his family for making an effort, and maybe offer to help with the washing up.

Oh yeah, Grand ad, and I’ ll try to be nice to everyone too–for there st of the day atleast!

He was a long way from gratitude, he thought wryly. But like the snail, he was getting there – inch by inch.