Love, Rosie (109 page)

been
there
you
would
have
seen
your
old
man
cry.

168

Cecelia
Ahern

It’s
funny
how
life
goes.
I
spent
forty
years
working
for
them,
remem-

ber
my
first
day
like
it
was
yesterday.
I
was
just
fresh
out
of
school,
all

eager
to
please.
Wanted
to
start
making
money
so
that
I
could
propose
to

your
mother
and
buy
us
a
house.
In
my
first
week
of
work
we
held
a
party

in
the
office
for
one
of
the
old
guys
retiring.
I
didn’t
give
much
notice
to

him.
People
were
making
speeches,
giving
him
gifts,
talking
about
old

times.
But
all
I
cared
about
was
the
fact
that
they
were
making
me
stay
late

at
work,
unpaid,
when
all
I
wanted
to
do
was
get
out
of
there
to
propose
to

your
mother.
The
old
guy
had
been
there
all
his
working
life,
he
had
tears

in
his
eyes,
was
really
upset
about
leaving,
took
him
a
lifetime
to
make
the

speech,
thought
he
would
never
shut
up
so
I
could
leave.
I
had
the
engage-

ment
ring
in
my
pocket.
Kept
sticking
my
hand
in
my
trousers
to
make

sure
the
velvet
box
was
still
there.
I
couldn’t
wait
for
that
guy
to
finish

talking.

Billy
Rogers
was
his
name.

He
wanted
to
take
me
aside
and
explain
a
few
things
to
me
about
the

company
before
he
left.
Seeing
as
I
was
a
new
boy.
I
didn’t
listen
to
a
word

he
had
to
say.
He
talked
and
talked
like
he
never
had
any
intentions
of
leav-

ing
the
damn
office.
I
rushed
him.
The
company
wasn’t
that
important
to

me
then.

He
kept
on
coming
back
to
visit
us
in
the
office
every
week.
Would
hang

around
our
desks
annoying
all
the
new
guys,
some
of
the
old
guys
too,
giv-

ing
advice
and
checking
up
on
things
that
were
no
longer
his
business.
We

just
wanted
to
do
our
jobs.
He
lived
and
breathed
for
that
place.
We
all
told

him
to
find
himself
a
hobby.
Keep
himself
busy.
Thought
we
were
helping

him.
Only
suggested
it
out
of
the
goodness
of
our
hearts,
that
and
the
fact
he

was
really
starting
to
get
up
his
pals’
noses.
He
died
a
few
weeks
later.
Had

a
heart
attack
on
the
golf
course.
He
was
taking
our
advice
and
having
his

first
lesson.

I
hadn’t
thought
about
Billy
Rogers
for
almost
thirty
years.
Had
com-

pletely
forgotten
about
him,
to
be
honest.
But
that
night
and
since
I
haven’t