Rosie (22 page)

. . . coarse in growth and rather thorny . . .

‘W
hat are you doing here? I thought you’d gone.’ Alex’s surprise was mixed with irritation. She had almost managed to get Paul out of her mind. It had been a struggle, not least because Victoria had kept asking about him, but she told herself that she needed to move on – that she was allowed to. Some days were better than others. But when pangs of guilt at being a single parent assailed her, she assuaged them by convincing herself that Paul had gone anyway. It seemed she had been fooling herself.

‘Not till tomorrow. I was delayed. I came to say goodbye to Vicks.’

‘She’s at school. She’ll be home any minute.’

‘Can I come in and wait?’

‘No. No you can’t. Look, we’ve been through all this. We’ve said all we had to say.’

‘I just want to say goodbye to her, that’s all.’

A woman walking down the street turned in their direction. ‘Look . . . oh, come in – but just for a minute.’

She closed the door behind him, then backed away to stand behind an armchair. She needed to distance herself from him, physically as well as mentally. ‘This really isn’t fair, you know.’

Paul nodded. ‘I’m sorry, but they delayed me for a couple of weeks and I didn’t want to leave without seeing her.’

‘But you know it will only upset her. Last time you saw her it was supposed to be for the last time. She had nightmares for days afterwards, Paul.’

‘Don’t exaggerate.’

‘I’m not. It’s not that she doesn’t love you, it’s just that . . .’

‘What? What is it then?’

‘She’s frightened of you.’

‘But that’s ridiculous. I’ve never touched her.’

Alex tried to sound sympathetic. ‘I know that, but she needs stability. She can’t cope with this whirlwind who descends on the house, rows with her mother, then takes off again. Can’t you see that?’

‘So it’s all my fault, is it?’

‘Of course not. But try to see it from her point of view. It’s taken me ages to get her settled. She’s only ten.’

‘Going on eighteen.’

‘That doesn’t mean she feels things like an adult. Just because she’s old for her age doesn’t mean that she’s emotionally equipped to handle it. It doesn’t mean that you can dump on her.’

‘I’m not dumping on her. I know she’ll understand that I need to say goodbye properly.’

‘
You
need to?’ His arrogance made her fume. She looked at him, standing there with his hands in the pockets of his well-cut suit. He was six feet three, darkly good looking and immaculately dressed. His self-assurance had once attracted her but now she found it repellent. Ridiculous, even. It wasn’t simply the old excuse that they had ‘grown apart’. They had grown to realize that they were, fundamentally, different in outlook, always had been, but they had put it to one side and allowed the physical attraction to carry them along. Now she could not imagine why she had thought it a good basis for marriage, but at the time she had been overwhelmed by it. More fool her. The similarity between her original physical attraction to Paul and now to Nick crossed her mind. But only fleetingly. There was no comparison between them. Not in the slightest. Where Paul was brutish, Nick was gentle. Where Nick was considerate, Paul was oblivious. She wasn’t imagining it, was she?

She shook her head and blurted, ‘No, I’m sorry, you’ll have to go. It’s really not fair on either of us.’

‘Can’t we be grown-up about this? Try to be reasonable.’

‘I’m trying to be both. But I don’t see why you should play around with our emotions – mine and Victoria’s.’

‘Oh, so it’s you as well now is it? Not sure that we’re doing the right thing?’

‘Oh, please! You really are the limit. Of course we’re doing the right thing. It’s over, you know it is. Don’t start those games again.’

Paul shrugged. ‘What games?’

Alex moved towards the door. ‘No. I’m sorry. I’m just not going to do this, Paul. It’s all been said and sorted. You’re going and we’re staying.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘No. There are no buts. I need a fresh start. You know you can see Victoria – we’ll arrange all that, she’s your daughter as well as mine – but right now she just needs to get her mind round the fact that her mother and father don’t live together any more. Just give her a bit of time.’

Paul leaned against the wall. ‘So that’s that, then?’

‘Yes. That was that three months ago – three years ago.’

‘Oh, don’t bring all that up again. She’s not coming with me.’

‘Only because someone else is.’

‘Who told you that?’

Alex shook her head. ‘You’re so obvious, Paul. And you should have known better than to tell your friends and think it wouldn’t get back to me. I wish you wouldn’t treat me as though I was stupid as well as unimportant.’

Paul looked away.

‘Go on. Go and bury your head in the sand. Go to America. You can see Victoria when you come back.’

He turned to face her. ‘It didn’t have to be like this, you know.’

Alex sighed. ‘Oh, it did.’

He walked away without a backward glance. Alex closed the door behind him, then burst into tears.

Rosie was sitting up in bed, her lipstick freshly applied, holding out her hand as a manicurist varnished her nails.

‘I thought this was a hospital, not a beauty clinic,’ Nick said, as he arrived beside her.

Rosie looked up at him and beamed. ‘Hello, love! I’m just having my nails done.’

‘So I see.’

‘They come once a week. Useful, isn’t it?’ She nodded towards the girl in the pink nylon overall who was bent over her right hand. ‘This is Clare. She’s come to get me ready for my trip.’

‘Trip?’

‘To Henry’s.’

‘Ah, yes.’ He nodded at Clare and smiled.

Clare, evidently aware that a family heart-to-heart was about to ensue, packed away her varnishes and emery boards then bustled off with a nervous smile.

Nick sat on the edge of the bed.

‘Don’t do that. They’ll tell you off. You’re not meant to sit on the bed.’

He moved to a chair, then asked earnestly, ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Certain. I heard the nurse tell someone off yesterday when they perched on the bed.’

Nick laughed. ‘No. I mean, are you sure about moving in with Henry?’

‘Oh, I’m not moving in with him like
that
! We’re not – what do they call it? Co-something.’

‘Cohabiting.’

‘Yes. I’m not doing that.’

‘Well, you’ll be under the same roof.’

‘Not in the same bed, though.’

Nick spluttered. ‘I should hope not.’

Rosie looked at him with a serious expression on her face. ‘Would it be so terrible if we were?’

‘Rosie!’

She shook her head. ‘You’re all the same.’

‘Who are?’

‘People your age. Always imagining that sex is something for the under-fifties.’

Nick glanced around apprehensively. ‘Will you keep your voice down?’

Rosie grinned. ‘You don’t suddenly stop, you know, when you’ve had your children.’

‘I don’t want to think about this.’

‘No, but I do.’

He shot her a warning look.

‘Only joking,’ she said. And then, rather wistfully, ‘Chance would be a fine thing.’

Nick leaned back in his chair. ‘Are you trying to shock me?’

She looked him in the eye. ‘Maybe.’

‘Mmm. Well, it worked.’

Rosie smoothed down the bedcovers and patted her hair into place. ‘Trouble is, when you’re in here you have too much time to think. If only I hadn’t slipped on that deck I wouldn’t be in this pickle.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘And I didn’t have much choice about letting you go, did I?’

‘No,’ she agreed ruefully.

‘Well, thanks for being honest, at least.’

Rosie leaned back on the pillow and closed her eyes. ‘I’m tired.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

She opened her eyes. ‘But I’m happier. I’ve got something to look forward to now.’

Nick paused, more serious now. ‘Look, don’t you think you’d be better off where they can look after you properly?’

‘Henry can look after me properly,’ Rosie insisted.

‘But he has a gallery to run.’ Nick took her hand.

Rosie looked indignant. ‘Are you saying I’ll get in the way?’

‘All I’m saying is that I don’t think Henry knows what he’s letting himself in for.’

Rosie squeezed his hand. ‘Shall I tell you something? I know he doesn’t.’

‘You’re a wicked old lady!’

‘I know. But it’s more fun that way!’ She grinned.

Nick sighed. ‘How do you do it?’

‘Bloody-mindedness, love. Sheer bloody-mindedness. Don’t let them grind you down.’

Nick laughed, relieved that her old spirit was back.

‘I’m going to stay with Henry,’ Rosie continued. ‘I mean, what’s the worst thing that can happen? He’ll find me too much for him and decide after a few days that I’d be better off in a home. He likes the prospect of looking after me, but it will wear off. I’m ready for it, though, so I’ll take the chance.’

‘Do you take more chances now?’

‘Heavens, yes. Some don’t – I’ve watched them. They get in a rut. Look at Mr and Mrs Stevens next door to us in Cheltenham. Same routine every day. Same piece of fish on a Friday. Bed at the same time every night. It would drive me mad.’

She saw his face and smiled. ‘I know I’m odd, and your granddad found it wearing – he was happy to do the same things every day, bless him. But I can’t. Too many things I’ve not done, and not much time left to do them. If you can do something every day that you’ve never done before you can remember every day and it’s special.’ Then she said, pointedly, ‘It’s in my blood.’ Then came the expected question: ‘Have you found anything out?’ she asked. ‘About my parents?’

‘A tiny bit,’ he said, ‘but nothing very helpful.’

Rosie pushed herself up in the bed a little. ‘Well?’ She was wide-eyed, like a child expecting a bedtime story.

Nick explained the difference between marriages with members of sovereign houses, and morganatic marriages, and told Rosie about the true heir to the Russian throne.

‘So we’re not in line, then?’ she asked evenly.

‘No.’ He paused. ‘But you knew that, didn’t you?’

Rosie was silent for a moment. ‘Yes.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Because I wanted you to find out for yourself. I wanted you to be curious about your family history.’

‘Is there anything else you know that you haven’t told me?’

‘That’s all. I still don’t know who my parents were. The Internet couldn’t help me there.’ She smiled guiltily.

Nick said nothing, just looked at her lying back on her pillow, eyes a clear forget-me-not blue, skin soft and smooth, lips perfectly made up. She was, he had to admit, the eighth wonder of the world.

‘And what about you?’ she asked.

‘What about me?’

‘Alex. Is it going well?’

‘I think so.’

‘Don’t want to rush it? Is that why you’re not seeing more of each other?’

He nodded, looking preoccupied.

‘Mmm. Well, don’t wait too long,’ she said sharply.

‘It’s not as simple as that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, she’s still married – separated, but not divorced – and there’s Victoria to think about.’

‘Oh, those things will sort themselves out.’ Rosie was dismissive.

‘You seem very sure.’

‘Stands to reason. If she wants you as much as you want her then the first one needn’t be a problem, and Victoria – well, she’s nobody’s fool, and I think she knows a good man when she sees one.’

He sighed. ‘Oh, it’s all so complicated. I mean, how fast to take it. Where do we live? What happens—’

‘Stop! Why all the questions?’

‘They’ve got to be answered.’

‘Yes, but not all at once. Take things a day at a time. You know where you’re going but you can’t get there in one big step. Just . . . well . . . you know . . . chill out.’

‘What?’

‘Chill out.’

Nick laughed.

Rosie looked concerned. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘You are.’

‘Why?’ She was indignant now.

‘Nothing. It’s nothing.’

‘Some days I worry about you,’ Rosie told him.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘And some days I worry about you. Though for the life of me I can’t imagine why.’

He sat with her for another hour, and when he left he felt strangely confident. As though a weight had been lifted from him, as though he could do anything, conquer any situation. He knew it wouldn’t last, but for the moment he would enjoy it.

The rain that had been threatening all day was now falling, that fine rain that soaks you to the skin. He had already put up the hood on the MG, and drove home with the inefficient wipers doing their best to clear the windscreen.

He made a dash for the veranda, and as he slipped his key into the lock he heard the telephone. When he answered it, it took him a moment to recognize the voice at the other end of the line.

And then he identified the caller who was gasping out seemingly disconnected phrases between the sobs: ‘Paul . . . goodbye . . . Victoria . . . school . . . missing.’

 
 
25

. . . fading to almost white.

W
hen he could finally make sense of what Alex had said, the seriousness of it sank in. Paul had been to see her. He had asked if he could say goodbye to Victoria. She had refused. Victoria had not come home from school. She thought it likely that he had taken the child with him.