A Song in the Night (4 page)

“If I wasn’t so crazy about my Dan, I’d snap your hand off for him,” Mel drooled. “Did you smell that aftershave? He must get showered in it.” A look of satisfaction spread across her features. “Well, Rosie, all that worrying for nothing, eh? I reckon you owe me.”

Rosie smiled weakly. “Alright, so he’s good-looking. He still might be a lousy creep. I haven’t exactly had chance to get to know him yet.”

Mel shook her head and gazed across at the bar. “No. I can tell by his eyes. You could swim in those eyes, Rosie.”

Rosie didn’t bother to argue. She needed to save her strength for the evening ahead. But one word summed up the way she was feeling right now. Inadequate.

Mel seemed to sense her struggle. “You look fabulous tonight, Rosie. You two’ll make a beautiful couple. Move over Posh and Becks, that’s what I say.”

Rosie appreciated her effort and forced as warm a smile as she could manage. Just then, Dan and Gavin arrived back at the table.

“So, you don’t drink then, Rosie?” Gavin’s voice sounded smoothly curious as he handed her the tomato juice.

Rosie took a sip. “Not when I’m working next day.”

“Ah right, I see.” Gavin sat down and leaned back in his chair with controlled confidence. “And where’s work?”

Rosie took another sip. What was wrong with her?
Get a grip, girl. This guy can’t possibly be perfect.
She tried to convince herself but, looking at the Armani-clad Adonis, it was hard to believe he wasn’t. “I work at the same day nursery as Mel – in Streatham.”

“Ah …
children
.” Gavin nodded slowly.

He made no further comment. For a moment, Rosie felt slightly disconcerted.
Ah children?
What was that supposed to mean? Maybe she should have lied and told him she was into cabbage farming. She looked at him directly. “And where’s work for you?”

His face seemed to brighten. “I’m a fitness instructor, at the Apex Health Club. I do quite a bit of teaching around London too. Y’know, personal health and fitness regimes – that kind of thing. And in my spare time, I’m training up in computer programming. Fancy another string to my bow. But at the moment it’s mostly the fitness scene.” He picked up his glass and chinked it against hers with a grin. “I don’t drink either. Orange juice. Much better for the waistline.”

Rosie wasn’t sure how to respond. Should she tell him a few anecdotes about physical activity sessions with the kids at the nursery? At this stage, she couldn’t think of anything else they might have in common. Thankfully, at that moment, Dan broke in with a question for Gavin, and soon Dan’s conversation had spread like an umbrella over the four of them. Rosie was relieved. Gavin wasn’t nearly so intimidating when shared with friends. The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. From time to time, Rosie would catch Gavin looking at her. Each time their eyes met, he would smile; a cool, confident smile which she found slightly unnerving. Whatever hard times this guy had been going through, they certainly didn’t show up on his face.

Later on, as they were saying their goodbyes, Gavin took her hand. “I’d like to see you again, Rosie.” He paused for a moment as his eyes searched hers. “I can’t make it till after the weekend. Away on a course, I’m afraid. But I should be home Sunday evening. I’d like to call you when I get back, if you’re okay with that.”

Rosie found herself struggling to meet his gaze. “Yeah, that’d be nice. I’ve enjoyed tonight.” She wasn’t entirely sure whether she meant it, but it seemed the right thing to say.

Gavin looked pleased. “Great! I’ll be in touch then.”

Feeling her cheeks beginning to warm, Rosie returned his smile. “I’ll look forward to it.”

The following evening, just after eight, the phone rang.

“Hi Ros, it’s me!” Beth’s voice bubbled over the line. “Just ringing to see if you’re doing anything this Saturday. It’s just that Emmett’s starting us on rehearsals next weekend for our Christmas concerts, so this is gonna be my last free Saturday for a while. Not got anything planned with Mel, have you?”

“Not very likely. She’ll be off somewhere with her new bloke.”
As for my new bloke, he’ll be off somewhere finding out how to make himself more beautiful than ever.
“Why, have you got something in mind?”

“I rather fancied a drive into Kent. Ciaran says I can have the car. We could wind up at Whitstable for fish and chips later on if you like. Just thought it might be nice to get out into the country while the weather’s still okay. What d’you think?”

Rosie thought it sounded great. She liked the idea of getting out of the city for a day. It appealed to her rustic roots.

“Brilliant! Shall I pick you up about nine o’clock? That should get us off to a decent start.”

They agreed the time and said goodbye. Rosie came off the phone quietly uplifted at the prospect of a day out. No doubt Mel would be busy. Gavin certainly would be. But now she had something planned too. It was a nice feeling.

“Rosie’s okay for Saturday,” Beth confirmed to Ciaran as they went to bed that night.

“You’re still planning to go into Kent?”

“Yeah, I think so. Unless you have any objections – and I know you wouldn’t dare.” Beth’s voice was teasing, but she noticed that Ciaran looked thoughtful. “What’s the matter? D’you need the car or something?”

Ciaran hesitated for a moment and stroked her hair. “You feeling alright, Bethy?”

Beth straightened up. “Why? What makes you ask that?”

“I noticed you threw most of your dinner away tonight. And I know it’s not the first time.”

Beth inwardly squirmed as she remembered the few mouthfuls of spaghetti carbonara she’d managed to swallow earlier that evening. So, Ciaran was onto her, was he?

“You been spying on me then?” She pinched him playfully, her heart quickening as she debated whether this was the right time to say something.

Ciaran laced his fingers through hers. “Just an observation, Bethy. It’s my job to look after you, me being your personal minder and all that.” He smiled, his dark eyes fixed on her. “You know,
Beth Maconochie – hottest thing on the classical music scene …
?” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

Beth’s thoughts began to race. How would he take it? He’d be pretty shocked, she knew that much. But then again –
would
he? A wave of panic went through her. What was so hard about telling him anyway? He wasn’t the kind of guy to throw a wobbly when life didn’t go quite according to plan. Looking into his face, she suddenly felt bad. Ciaran wasn’t the problem. Deep down, she was pretty sure he’d be thrilled to become a dad, once he’d made the initial mental adjustments to the idea. No; Ciaran wasn’t the problem at all. She lowered her head as the realisation lodged itself obstinately in her mind. The problem lay with her. Life was just beginning to pay off, and she wasn’t ready for anything to interrupt that. The phone rang out shrilly, making her jump.

“Who the …?”
Ciaran paced across the bedroom and picked up the extension. “Oh hi, Matt. No, you’re okay – we’ve only just come upstairs.”
Pause.
“I’ll just nip down and look in my diary. I think the number should be in there. Hang on.” He shot Beth an apologetic glance. She smiled.
Take as long as you like for me. I wasn’t enjoying the conversation anyway.
When Ciaran had gone downstairs, she settled under the duvet and closed her eyes. She had to sort this thing. She’d been feeling off it for weeks. Up to now she’d blamed the stress of practise, the rubbish food, the pressure of translation from first violins to solo. She still nursed a vague hope that it might be just that. But she had to face the possibility …

Ciaran’s gentle face floated across her thoughts. She hated not being honest with him. She made the decision; she would give it another fortnight. Try and put the whole thing out of her mind. Eat as well as she could; certainly be more crafty about slinging stuff away when Ciaran was around. And then, if her system still hadn’t settled down by that time, she’d just have to face facts. She’d buy a test.

____________

Miles away, in a little Blean village in Kent, it was almost eleven thirty. In the kitchen of the small cottage he shared with his wife, Thomas Frederick switched on the kettle for his bedtime cup of tea. He popped his head round the doorway of the sitting room. “You having one, Mary?”

But Mary had fallen asleep in the chair, her knitting needles poised mid-stitch in her plump, satin-skinned hands. He went over and tried to gently wake her.

“Come on, love. You need to be in bed,” he said softly, easing her out of the chair. “I’ll bring you up a cuppa.”

Mary put the knitting away and padded sleepily across the room to the bottom of the stairs. Just as her foot touched the bottom step, she turned as though remembering something. “Forgot to tell you – a lady rang earlier, Tom. She left a message. I wrote it down on the pad. See you in a bit, love.”

Thomas went over to the phone. As his eyes perused Mary’s scribbled handwriting, a smile crept over his lips.
Interesting, very interesting.
Thoughtfully, he made his way back into the kitchen as the kettle clicked off.
So,
she’ll be dropping them off
Saturday morning, eh
? Well, he’d look forward to that.

____________

Saturday was bright and crisp. Beth drew up just after nine and Rosie climbed into the car.

“I told Ciaran I wanted to take you exploring.” There was a glint of humour in Beth’s eyes as she adjusted one of the side mirrors. “I’m pretty sure he thought
exploring
was a euphemism for shopping. I saw his face starting to go pale.”

Rosie grinned as she snapped her seatbelt on. “Where are we going then?”

“I’d like to try and find an old church I visited years ago,” Beth suggested as she pulled out onto the road. “A group of us from music college went there to do a special charity concert once. I was part of the string quartet. But that’s quite a while back. To be honest, it’s a bit of a blur. All I know is that the church was in some little village in the Blean Woods near Canterbury. Lovely place as I remember. Just fancied seeing if we could find it.”

Rosie smiled to herself. The thought of the two of them propped up in a pew looking all angelic didn’t sit easily in the imagination. “Is the vicar expecting us then?”

Beth laughed. “Let’s hope he won’t be there. I hear they’re pretty choosy in that neck of the woods. He probably wouldn’t let
you
anywhere near the place.”

“Funny, aren’t we?” Rosie bent over to flick on the CD player.
Enya
floated serenely into the airwaves like a soothing mist, and Beth began to sing along quietly. They chatted as they travelled; about the orchestra, the nursery, the delectable Gavin. Beth said she was dying to meet him. Rosie felt a twinge of guilt that she didn’t feel more enthusiastic herself. They laughed as they went along. It was easy to put the world to rights on a day like this. The sky was seaside blue and the stunning scenery of the Kent countryside was bathed in rich, golden light.

After about an hour and a half, Beth pulled over to the side of the road. “Reckon we’re nearly here, Ros.” She spread a map over her knees and looked at it for a moment. “Here it is – Applemarket. I’d guess we’re about ten minutes away. Told you we’d find it.” She hummed with triumph as they meandered down sleepy country roads towards their destination. Ten minutes later, they pulled into the village of Applemarket. Beth found a small car park next to a cricket club and parked up. They decided to have a look around the place before lunch. As Beth was pulling on her jacket, something caught her eye. “Hey, isn’t that the necklace Mum sent you for your twenty-first?”

Rosie instinctively reached for her neck. “Yeah. Thought I’d wear it, seeing as we’re having a day out.”

Beth peered closer. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Really unusual. She’s got a good eye for things, Mum has.” Hanging from the slender curb chain was a pendant in the form of a bird, finely worked in filigreed silver.

“It was really nice of her to send me a present. I wasn’t expecting it.” Rosie’s mind went back to her birthday at the beginning of that month. Ciaran and Beth had spoiled her rotten; taken her out shopping, treated her to a slap-up meal. ‘Not every day you’re twenty-one,’ Beth had said when she’d tried to protest. It had been the best birthday Rosie had ever had. Her own mother’s card had arrived from Leicester the following day with a ten pound note and a short covering message.
‘Couldn’t think what to get you. Buy something nice.’
Rosie had used it to top up her phone. There’d been nothing from her father – for the fifth year running. ‘It’s my twenty-first, for crying out loud,’ she’d grumbled to Ciaran. ‘You’d think he’d remember this one at least.’ Ciaran had responded with a stoical shake of the head. ‘Forget it, Ros,’ he’d said bluntly. ‘He didn’t send me one either. He might be dead for all we know.’

Beth’s voice broke into her thoughts. “She thinks a lot about you, y’know.”

Rosie felt momentarily disorientated. “Who? Who does?”

“My mum, you dope.” Beth grinned. “She thinks a lot about you.”

Trying to recover herself, Rosie concentrated on fastening up her jacket. “Yes. I can tell that she does.”

Though fairly small and compact, the village of Applemarket was a gem to explore. There was an unspoiled rural charm about it, yet, at the same time, several quaint gift shops and tea houses peppered its neat little lanes, making the visitor feel immediately welcome. The two girls spent quite a while trekking round the different shops, looking at craftwork and trinkets, and sniffing at various scented delights. In one gift shop, Beth found a tall, apple-patterned coffee mug which she fancied as a souvenir for Ciaran.

“At least if he’s going to OD on caffeine, he can do it in style now,” she joked as the assistant gift-wrapped the present. On leaving the shop, they were about to return to the car when Beth suddenly spotted something. “Hey, Rosie – over there! There’s a little second-hand bookshop. Come on, we’ve got to take a look!”

Rosie groaned, but she knew better than to argue. Beth had a passion for books. Ciaran had once remarked that Beth took in old books like some people take in stray cats.