A Song in the Night (3 page)

A flash of guilt seized her. She shouldn’t be thinking this way. Her mind went back to the morning she’d sat with her mother in a doctor’s surgery, just a few weeks before her wedding to Ciaran. Her periods had always been few and far between; one year she’d only had three. Dr Meluish had warned her gently that she might struggle to conceive. She’d cried that day, all her girlhood maternal aspirations cluttering her throat in great sobs. Now, as she remembered, she felt bad. She instinctively hugged herself and leaned forward on the sofa. There was no doubt about it; she’d definitely thickened up in the old waistband department. She hadn’t said anything to Ciaran yet. No point in getting him in a lather –
or
getting his hopes up. Distractedly, she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. She couldn’t imagine quite how he’d take it. They’d always hoped it would happen in the future, but it certainly wasn’t something they’d reckoned on right now.
Now
of all times.

The thought of it scared her. She pulled herself up with a start. She was probably being premature. Perhaps it was all the junk food she’d been living on these last few weeks. Yes, that could account for it. Junk food and stress; a lethal combination for any girl. It was a desperate straw to cling to, but by the time Ciaran came in with the drinks, Beth had managed to push the subject neatly into a corner of her mind. This
was
her big night after all. She should be savouring the moment, not speculating as to whether her career might be about to take an unexpected nosedive. She forced a smile as Ciaran set the tray down.

I’ll keep an eye on things. He doesn’t need to know anything yet.

Rosie was feeling exhausted. She’d been into work extra early that morning and now it was catching up on her. After briefing her housemate, Mel, about the concert, she went off to her room. She had to be up early again tomorrow, sightseeing with Beth’s family.
Beth’s family – what a bunch.
She yawned. Without warning, a picture floated across her mind. A picture of a man and a woman, a young lad and a little girl, sitting on a seaside promenade, posing for a photo. The breeze was pulling at their hair and their faces were wide with smiles …

For a moment, the memory held her motionless. A sudden knot gripped her stomach. The old pain, the one she thought had gone away. She shook herself and ran some water into the sink. Splashing her face, she blanked the picture from her head.
That’s the trouble with burning the candle at both ends,
she chided herself.
Time you were asleep, girl.

Going over to the window, she opened the curtains slightly so that she could see the moon from her bed. A shaft of pale light fell across the covers and, as she lay in the stillness, Rosie’s mind went back to the image of Beth on the concert stage. As her eyes grew heavy, the lark sung its haunting, silvery melody and serenaded her to sleep.

____________

The next few days were spent showing Beth’s northern relatives the sights. It had been Beth’s suggestion that Rosie try and get a few days off work to join them. They visited all the usual spots and, to Rosie’s amusement, acted like complete tourists much of the time. She noticed that Ed and Beth’s brother, Ben, kept making hasty pencil sketches of various scenes.

“Nobody’s told them about the invention of the camera,” Beth joked in a low voice. Rosie laughed, but secretly she admired the snatched drawings; there was something immediate and personal about them. Ed noticed her interest.

“Do you do any drawing yourself, Rosie?” They had stopped by the Jewel Tower and Ed was doing a quick outline of the Houses of Parliament.

Rosie shrugged. “I like doodling. Never done anything impressive. Well, only once perhaps.”

“Oh, and what was that?” Ed squinted as he flicked his pencil across the page.

Rosie was dismissive. “Just something I did at secondary school.”

Something from another time, another place,
she thought wistfully. Something so far removed from her present life, it was tempting to wonder if it had ever really happened at all. She tried to focus her attention on Ed’s sketchpad. But her eyes saw something altogether different.

An early summer morning in County Wicklow. Sitting on a hillside still damp with dew, gazing down into a steamy, golden valley. Ciaran pointing out insects to her and quietening her to listen to the sound of a blackbird.

The world had seemed brand new back then. To her childhood eyes, that valley had been the beginning and end of it. Many years later, after moving to England, she’d made a sketch of the memory. She’d turned it into a painting and shown it to the art teacher at school. To her embarrassment, it had been put on display for the rest of the year. Mr Retford had said she showed real talent, even talked about further education. At that time, her only ambition in life had been the thought of escaping to London. Now, as she watched Ed’s deft pencil movements, she couldn’t help wondering if she’d missed something along the way.

On the Thursday, Beth’s family had to go back to Yorkshire. There were tearful scenes at the station as everyone exchanged hugs and promises to see each other soon. ‘Don’t leave it too long!’ and ‘Come up before Christmas!’ they yelled as they piled onto the train.

Just before she boarded, Cassie took Rosie’s arm and spoke into her ear. “That means you too, Rosie. You’re very welcome to come and stay with us anytime you’d like to. You
remember
that.”

“Thanks –” Rosie faltered, “I will.” She felt oddly moved by the gesture. Though they didn’t see each other often, Cassie always treated her with a maternal care which Rosie found strangely unfamiliar.

As the train began to pull away, tears streamed down Beth’s face. As it snaked into the distance and the waving arms of her family grew smaller, she stood like a lost child, staring up the line. Ciaran slipped his arm around her. “Come on, princess,” he whispered, kissing her hair. They all walked slowly up the platform towards the exit.

Beth dabbed her face with a tissue. “I never get used to the goodbyes,” she said between sniffs, “no matter how many times we do it.”

____________

The following Saturday morning, Rosie went round to catch up with Beth. Ciaran was just on his way out. “See you, sis. Gotta go – late for a lesson.” He ruffled her hair and dashed off.

“Gets no better for keeping, does he?” Rosie grinned as she took off her jacket.

Beth was looking through a magazine. “Honestly! Have you seen this?” She thrust the page in front of Rosie’s face. They read the article together. It was a glowing piece. The columnist had reviewed Beth’s violin performance in lush, poetic tones and ended with the enigmatic question,
‘What next from the angelic Beth Maconochie?’

“Who writes this rubbish?” snorted Beth, but Rosie could tell she was pleased. She went to make them both a coffee, leaving Beth still mulling over the review.

“So … what
does
somebody with your new iconic status do next?” Rosie placed the drinks on the table as she shot Beth a teasing half-smile.

“Very funny. I carry on doing my job. What else?”

Rosie took a slow mouthful of coffee. “Must be great doing a job you really love.”

Beth shrugged. “Well, it’s hard work and it doesn’t pay that well; so yeah, I guess I must love it. But anyway, what about you? I thought you were happy working at the nursery.”

Rosie was quiet for a moment. “It’s okay. I mean, I’m not
unhappy.
But sometimes you wonder, don’t you?”

“Wonder what?”

Rosie shook her head with a slight laugh. “Oh, I dunno. Sometimes you ask yourself, if I could do anything in the whole wide world, what would it be? Somehow I don’t think I’d be working at the nursery, that’s all.”

“So what
would
you do?”

Rosie paused as she pondered the question. “To be honest, I’ve absolutely no idea.”

Beth grinned. “I feel some real angst coming off you all of a sudden, Ros. Trying to find ourself are we …?”

Rosie felt a flush of embarrassment. She’d been too open. Straightening up, she forced another laugh. “Go on then, Mrs Maconochie. What would
you
do?”

“Oh, that’s simple.” Beth threw her head back with easy confidence. “I
know
what I’m going to do. I’m going to start working on my own compositions. It’s a thing I’ve fancied doing for a while. I reckon it’s a good way forward for me now that I’ve broken into solo. You watch, Ros. I’m gonna write something that’ll take the world by storm. Tour all over performing it. Make enough money to come back home and write some more – and so on. I’ve been planning it all out this morning.”

“That article’s gone to your head, hasn’t it?” Rosie smirked.

“Absolutely!” Beth beamed. “Well, at least I can dream, can’t I?”

____________

It was Tuesday evening. Rosie and her housemate, Mel, were in the middle of London, making their way, as quickly as Mel’s stilettos would allow, towards a wine bar. Rosie glanced at her watch.

“You nervous?” Mel smiled tentatively.

“Nah –” Rosie lied. “Do I need to be?”

Mel shook her head. “No, Dan says he’s a really nice guy. He’s just been going through a bit of a hard time recently.”

Rosie turned on her. “You never told me
that
bit. What’s he looking for – a shrink? Oh boy, why did I ever let you talk me into this?”

Mel patted her arm consolingly. “Don’t be daft, it’ll be fine. It’s only for a few hours. If you don’t hit it off you don’t have to see each other again. I just thought it might be a nice idea. You’ve been single for a while after all.”

“Being single isn’t a disease, Mel.” Rosie’s voice was gloomy. “Anyway, have you ever met
this
–
this –
what’s his name again?”

Mel thought for a moment. “His name’s Gavin. And no, I haven’t met him.”

Rosie rolled her eyes with a look of mock menace. “I’m warning you, sunshine. If he’s got a face like a bear’s backside, or I get the remotest hint that he’s having therapy, I’m outta there.”

Mel pretended to look hurt. “Is that all the thanks I get for trying to do you a favour?”

Rosie grimaced.
Favour? That’s the thing about you, Mel. You and your endless quest for love. Does it ever occur to you that some girls are quite okay to be on their own from time to time?
“I’m just letting you know, that’s all. In case you suddenly see me legging it out the door.”

Mel nodded sympathetically. “Okay, I understand. But this could be your lucky night, Rosie. Didn’t you ever watch
‘Blind Date’
when you were younger? Some of them ended up getting married.”

Rosie screwed up her face in disgust.
Yeah – and some of them nearly ended up in casualty with heart failure when the screen went back …

All of a sudden, she really
did
feel nervous. She hadn’t been on a date for a while. Okay, so what if this guy was alright? What if he simply didn’t like
her
? As the wine bar came into view, she tried to picture herself in the mirror back home. Slim, a good height; not too small, not too tall. Dark, wavy hair, very dark eyes. Ciaran always said it was the Celtic genes. All in all, passable. She thought about Mel. Blonde, blue-eyed, Barbie-doll figure Mel. A girl so stunningly naïve, Rosie was amazed she hadn’t had her heart broken in a million pieces already. Mel, who believed that Prince Charming was lurking in every bar and bistro in the city. Rosie sighed. She’d never had much success on the dating front herself. Oh, there’d been a few guys – some of them really quite okay. But somehow she never seemed to click with them. Mel assured her she was gorgeous; even fixed her hair and helped her rustle up killer outfits whenever a new date was on the scene. But it didn’t make much difference. ‘Perhaps you need to loosen up a bit, Rosie,’ Mel would say helpfully. ‘Let them know you’re enjoying their company.’ That was the problem. Most of the time she wasn’t. Most of the time she felt awkward, uneasy. It was okay for Mel. These days,
she
was so in love with the idea of getting hitched, her requirements were pretty basic. All she looked for in a guy was a cute face and a decent wallet. No brain required, all conversation kept to a minimum. Sooner or later Mr Right was bound to come along. But for Rosie, the idea of settling down didn’t have quite the same appeal. Her mind instinctively threw up an image of her mother. She tried to push the troubling thought out of her head.
That
was enough to put a girl off for life. Anyway, none of the men she’d dated so far had inspired her to want to spend a weekend with them, let alone a lifetime.

“Here we are!” Mel’s excitable voice broke into her thoughts. “De Souza’s Wine Bar. Haven’t been here before. Looks a nice place.” She shot Rosie an anxious smile as she opened the door. They stepped inside. As they scanned the room, Mel caught sight of her latest boyfriend, Dan, sitting at a table by a window. He was deep in conversation with another young man who had his back to them. At that moment, Dan looked up. He quickly said something to his friend and the two of them stood to their feet as the girls approached the table.

“Good evening, ladies!” Dan grinned broadly and popped a kiss on Mel’s cheek. Mel huddled closer to him, a besotted smile spreading over her face. Dan turned to his friend. “Ladies, this is Gavin. Gavin, this is Mel. And
this
–” he gestured towards her as he spoke, “this is Rosie.”

For a moment, Rosie was speechless. Her eyes tried to take in the vision standing before her. Gavin was a tall, muscle-bound hunk of suntanned perfection, his mid-brown hair streaked with blond, his teeth impossibly white as he stood smiling at her. Rosie instinctively held out a hand as she tried to collect herself. Gavin shook it, his grip more gentle than his biceps would have suggested.

Dan seemed pleased with the introductions. “Right girls, we’ll go and get the drinks. What will you be having?”

Mel gave him her order, giggling as she did so.

“I’ll have a tomato juice, please.” Rosie felt mortified at the quiver she heard in her own voice. Dan and Gavin headed off towards the bar and the girls sat down.

Mel was almost beside herself. “Rosie! He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” She looked deeply impressed, and if Rosie hadn’t been so taken aback herself, she would have found the whole thing highly amusing. As it was, she felt distinctly uncomfortable. This guy looked like he’d just stepped off a catwalk. Suddenly, everything in her told her she was way out of her depth.