Rescuing Rose (58 page)

In any case Theo's very busy. I know that from Bev. She said he's doing publicity for his book, and sorting out his flat and writing a pilot for a new series,
Star-Struck
, on Radio Four. But I'm not busy myself—far from it—because Ricky heard my phone-in last week.

'Well… ' he said, as I sat in his office the following morning. 'Well, well,
well
! He lightly bounced the tips of his fingers against one another other. 'That was quite a little performance last night. '

'Yes, ' I said quietly, 'I know. I'm… sorry, Ricky. I was in, ' I sighed, '… a bit of a state. ' And I waited for him to tell me to remove myself and my belongings from the building forthwith. But, to my surprise—and relief—he didn't.

'I'm not going to sack you, ' he said with uncharacteristic sympathy. 'You've done the
Post
too much good for me to do that. But you're clearly having some kind of a crack-up, so I suggest you take three weeks off. '

I was only too happy to oblige as I hadn't taken any leave for fifteen months. And with all that's happened—and with my looming birthday—I've been glad to have time to think. So Beverley's been looking after the column, with the help of a temp, and she's been doing the phone-ins too. I tuned in on Thursday and she was brilliant. I imagined her sitting there in the studio, with Trevor, both wearing headphones, both making notes, as Betrayed of Barnes or Balding of Brighton phoned in to have a good whine. I imagined Henry listening too, dressed in velvet and high heels, beaming with partnerly pride. Henry and Bev. Bev and Henry. How come I never spotted that? But then, as I've discovered recently, there are lots of things that I've missed.

I haven't decided what I'll do next: Ricky says we'll talk when I go back to work. But while I reflect on my future I've been decorating the house—nothing radical just a paint job—and I've been doing the garden as well. I've had the patio repaved, and I've bought some terracotta pots and I've put in a pergola and some new plants. I've been to a few exhibitions, and some films and plays and I've been reading a lot. Yesterday, in between coats of paint in the sitting room, I read
A Brief History of Time
. And I was thrilled because I actually understood it—or at least I think I did. Did you know that if you were to get sucked into a black hole you'd get 'spaghettified, ' all the atoms in your body stretched into infinite strings? And if you were to survive that, it's perfectly possible that you'd get sucked through a wormhole at the bottom and find yourself in another universe. Because our universe might not be, well, the centre of the universe: I mean, it might not be the only one. There might be a multiverse, like a honeycomb, or like adjoining bubbles in the bath. For all we know there might be as many universes as there are stars in the sky, each with its own physical laws. So I've been contemplating the cosmos in this way, and chatting to Rudy, and trying not to think about my mother or about the fact that I'll be forty next week. Four.
Oh
…

I used to think of forty as being a bit like Tierra del Fuego. One knew that it was there, on the map somewhere, but that it was a very long way off. And now, to my surprise, there I am.

'What are you going to do?' asked Bella a few days ago as I wandered around Mothercare with the twins. Her bump's just beginning to show now.

'What do you mean, what am I going to do?'

'Well you've got to do
something'
said Bea.

'You should celebrate it, ' said Bella as she looked at tiny sleep suits for newborns.

'What's to celebrate?' I said.

'Forty's only a number, Rose. '

'Rather a high one, ' I pointed out bleakly.

'It could be a lot worse. '

'Yes, ' said Bella as we looked at soft toys. 'It could be fifty, for example. '

'Or sixty. '

'It could be eighty-three. '

'Hm. That's true. '

'Forty's nothing these days, ' said Bea confidently. 'In fact forty's the new twenty. '

'No, it's the new thirty, ' Bella corrected her.

'It's the new twenty now, actually. I read it in
Vogue'

'It is not. '

'It
is
!'

'It
isn't
!

'It is!'

'Don't argue, ' I said. 'Forty's still
forty
as far as I'm concerned. '

'We'll be forty next year, ' said Bella blithely as she picked up a white bunny, with a blue ribbon round its neck, 'and we won't mind at all. We'll tell everyone our age, and we'll have a
huge
party, won't we, Bea?'

'We certainly will. '

'We'll invite at least a hundred people. '

'No, that's too many. We'll have fifty. '

'A hundred. '

'Fifty. '

'But
I
want a hundred!'

'Fifty's plenty, ' said Bea vehemently.

'Oh all right then, fifty it is. '

'You
must
have a party Rose, ' they said, in unison.

'Why?'

'Because we say so. '

'But there isn't
time
. My birthday's next Saturday—who'll come at such short notice?'

'The people who love you, that's who. Have a party, Rose, ' said Bella.

'Have a party, ' added Bea.

'Have a party, Rose, ' they chorused.

I looked at them. 'Okay. I will. '

So I am. I'm having a small drinks party, or rather a 'Fortification'. I've e-mailed fifty people about it, of whom over half have said that they'll come. Then I thought I'd better get in caterers but they're all already booked up—or they're too expensive— so I'm going to have do the cooking myself. When I say 'the cooking, ' I don't mean proper cooking—I mean heating up. Canapes. Bought ones for speed, and two crates of champagne, and several gallons of Pimms. And we can all spill out into the garden if it's not raining—the twins are right. One shouldn't ignore one's fortieth—one should face it with fortitude.

Yesterday morning, I received a couple of early birthday cards and, to my surprise,
Sky and Telescope
magazine too. Theo's mail has been redirected, but this had clearly slipped through the net. As I scribbled in his address I wondered about putting a friendly note on. But I couldn't bring myself to do it, and in any case there wasn't room. Theo clearly doesn't want to talk to me, because if he did, he could easily have called me or e-mailed me or dropped me a line. And he hasn't.

I'd like to have invited him to the party, but I just can't face him: it was so awful when he left. I keep thinking how tactless he was—and how vile
I
was—it makes me cringe; and that's why I haven't been sleeping well, although, for some reason, last night, I did. Because when I woke and put on the radio, I expected to hear the
Today
programme, but instead it was the end of
Excess Baggage
. I glanced at the clock. It said ten-thirty; I'd been asleep for eleven hours. Given my recent insomnia I'd have been glad about this but I had
so
much to do. All the food shopping, for example. I'd left it until that day as I don't have a very large fridge. I shot out of bed, pulling on the first things to hand, without even showering, then set to work. I frantically hoovered and dusted, then tidied the garden, then drove to the big Sainsbury's on Dog Kennel Hill.

Being Saturday, it was heaving of course, and there was no-one to ask where the party food was and when I did eventually find the right section, which was about two miles away, the shelves had run desperately short. Then I had to look for someone to go and get me some more cocktail sausages and mini-roulades, and they took an
age
to come back: and then the queues for the tills were interminable and the woman in front had a problem with her switch card so that took twenty minutes to sort out. So by the time I staggered out with my sixty-two carrier bags, it was already five past three. And then I had to go to the off licence to get the booze and the glasses, and by the time I'd finished there it was four, and my guests would be arriving at seven. So I phoned Bev as I drove back to Hope Street and asked her whether Henry might be able to help.

'No, ' she said.

'What?'

'No. He can't. Sorry. He's busy. He's terribly busy this afternoon and he can't help you. '

'Oh. Well, it's only for an hour or so, just to lend me a hand; or maybe you could come a bit early, Bev… ?'

'No. I'm sorry. I can't. You see, I'm very busy too. '

'What about Trevor?'

'He's busy as well. He's out shopping. '

'Oh, ' I sighed. 'Right. Well, see you later, ' I said, hoping the brightness of my tone masked my hurt and disappointment, then I phoned the twins. It was engaged, so I had to try three times before I got through.

'Twins!' exclaimed Bea gaily as she picked up the phone.

'Listen, it's me. Could you come a bit early tonight? I've got myself in a mess timewise and I'm in a complete panic'

'I'd love to, ' she said.
Great
. 'But I can't. '

'You can't?'

'I'm really sorry, Rose. But I'm busy. '

'Doing what?'

'Working. '

'On a Saturday?'

'Yes. '

'Oh. Well, can Bella help then?'

''Fraid not. '

'Why?'

'Well… because she's… working as well. '

'But I'm in a state, ' I said. 'In fact I'm frantic'

'Oh
dear
. But I'm afraid we're both working and so we both can't help you. '

'But this party was your idea! And I've got
all
these people coming and I've only just done the shopping!'

'Don't worry, Rose—you'll
be fine
. Happy birthday, by the way, ' she added cheerily. 'See you later! Bye. '

'Well
thanks
!' I hissed as I took out my earpiece. 'What a
useless
pair. ' I parked the car in my usual space, then opened the boot and took out the bags. I scooped them up—they went all the way up both arms—then, with the key between my teeth, and turning it with the tips of my fingers, I just managed to open the front door.

'Shit, shit,
shit'
, I said crossly as I staggered into the hall, arms about to snap off.

'Welcome to
Weekend Woman's Hour!' I
heard Rudy say in Jenni Murray's voice. As Rudy burbled away about female circumcision I kicked shut the front door then looked at the telephone table. Great. The post had arrived. Better late than never, I thought, as I surveyed the pile of cards. I'd open them later I decided; then I suddenly stopped. Hang
on
a mo… How, I wondered, had the letters managed to jump from the doormat onto the hall table and neatly stack themselves up?

'Serious health and human rights issues… legislation needed… ' And why was Rudy still talking about female circumcision? And what on earth was that noise? And why could I smell cheese straws? It must be Henry. Of course it was—the sweetheart—he
was
going to help me. It was just Bev's little joke. I stood in the kitchen doorway and gawped.

'Happy birthday, Rose, ' said Theo brightly. My heart did a triple somersault and five flick-flacks. 'Many happy returns. You've picked a nice, sunny day for it, ' he added warmly.

'… resistance to infringing the mores and traditions of another culture… ' I looked at Rudy. He was asleep. It really was
Woman's Hour
—the radio was on.

'What are you doing here, Theo?' I enquired coolly. He was wearing his
Astronomers Do It At Night
! tee shirt.

'What am I doing? I'm making cheese straws. '

'That's not what I mean. '

'I thought you could do with some vol au vents too. About, what, eighty? That would be two each wouldn't it—you're expecting over thirty people aren't you?'

'What I mean is… '

'And I reckoned you ought to have something sweet too so I made you these… ta da!' He opened the fridge with a theatrical flourish and I could see rows of filled brandy snaps.

'Theo, ' I said as he turned off the radio. 'How long have you been here?'

'About an hour and a half. '

'Did you break a window?'

He looked offended. 'What do you take me for?'

'Then how the hell did you get
in
?'

He put his right hand in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a bunch of keys. 'I forgot to give you these back when I left. Didn't you notice?'

I shook my head. 'No. '

'I only found them yesterday, when I unpacked my last box of books—they'd fallen in. That's why I've come, ' he explained. 'To return them. '

'Well, thanks very much. '

'I didn't like to post them, of course. Far too risky. So I thought I'd better deliver them personally. '

'Uh huh. '

'And I was wondering whether you'd bite my head off, or blaspheme at me so I took Bev's advice. '

'Oh—and what did she say?'

'She said that it was her opinion that you probably wouldn't. She also mentioned that you were in a panic about the party so I thought I'd better help you out on the catering front. '

'I see. '

'She said she thought you wouldn't mind if I just let myself in. '

'Oh really?'

'In fact she said she thought you'd be quite pleased. '

'She did, did she?'

He came up to me and took the carrier bags out of my hands. 'Hello, Rose. '

'Hello, Theo. ' Here he was again—the Milky Way kid.

'I see you've been missing me, ' he said breezily as he began to unpack the shopping. I stared at him.

'What makes you think that?'

'Male intuition. It's unerring. There are things we men just…
know
. In any case it's obvious that you've been finding it hard without me, ' he added as he opened the fridge again and put in the smoked salmon.

'Really?'

'All the redecorating you've been doing for example. It's classic displacement activity. '

'Is it?'

He nodded knowledgeably. 'Oh yes. I see you've been busy in the garden too. Which reminds me, I've got you a present. Hold on. '

He went over to the kitchen table, picked up a carrier bag and handed it to me. I looked inside.

'A rose for Rose, ' he said as I pulled it out.