The One You Really Want (28 page)

‘
No.
'

‘So he hasn't asked to borrow any money yet?'

Carmen's eyes flashed. ‘Don't
start
that again.'

‘OK.' Rennie shrugged. ‘Why don't they know?'

‘Because Nick and Annie are just people I work with. I've never told anyone at the shelter who I was married to because it isn't relevant.'

‘D'you think they might resent the fact that you're loaded and they aren't?'

‘Nick and Annie? No, of course they wouldn't. They're not like that,' Carmen said defensively. ‘It's just . . . easier this way. Like this morning, Annie was having a moan about their electricity bill, trying to figure out ways to reduce it. At lunchtime we discussed the best cheap shampoo you can buy. And this afternoon we were talking about what we'd do if we won the lottery. You see?' She spread her hands. ‘We wouldn't be able to do
any
of that stuff if they knew I lived in a house like this.'

Rennie nodded. ‘I think you're right.'

‘Blimey, don't say you're actually agreeing with me.'

‘Just this once. Don't worry, I won't make a habit of it.' Reaching into the fridge, Rennie took out a foil-covered bowl of leftover apple crumble.

‘I'll share that with you,' said Carmen.

Rennie looked like an eight-year-old being asked to give away half his sweets. ‘It's fattening.'

‘Good, that's why I like it. If it was a salad,' Carmen told him generously, ‘you could eat the whole lot yourself.'

‘Actually, we've got a bit of an emergency situation on our hands. Our supplier's threatening to leave the country.'

‘What?'

Rennie was busy searching through the cutlery drawer. ‘Rose and I were watching
Gone with the Wind
tonight. When Scarlett said, “I must go home again, to Tara,” Rose said she must go home too. I just thought she was joking. Then when it was finished I said that one of Vivien Leigh's other old films was coming out on DVD next week and we'd have to watch it together.' Turning, he handed Carmen a teaspoon and a small bowl, keeping a dessertspoon for himself. ‘That was when she told me she wouldn't be here, it was time she headed back to Scotland.'

Carmen was shocked. ‘Why?'

‘That's what I asked. She said she couldn't impose on your hospitality indefinitely. I told Rose she wasn't imposing and not to be ridiculous, but I think she's made up her mind.'

Carmen looked down at the tiny bowl in her hands, into which Rennie was doling thimble-sized amounts of apple crumble. She gazed around the gleaming kitchen, ran an index finger along the spotlessly clean cooker top, then watched as Rennie greedily dug into his own, much larger helping of crumble.

‘OK.'

‘OK what?' Rennie spoke with his mouth full.

Carmen knew he was imagining a world devoid of casserole, crumble and crisply ironed shirts. ‘I'll have a word with Nancy. See what I can do.'

Yesterday's torrential rain had given the square a jolly good clean. As Rose made her way through the iron gate leading into the communal gardens, she breathed in the cool fresh smell of damp earth and greenery. All the dust and grime of the city had been washed away overnight; leaves were glossy, the gravel path looked as if it had been varnished with Cuprinol. A pair of squirrels, darting up the trunk of an ash tree, skittered along its silvery branches before leaping intrepidly across to a neighbouring conifer.

Rounding a bend in the path, Rose saw that her bench was already occupied. Oh well, never mind, it was plenty big enough for two.

As she drew closer, Rose recognised the woman sitting rigidly on the bench. A couple of weeks ago she had seen her walking through the garden with her husband, had called out a cheery greeting to them and been pointedly ignored. The pair of them had exuded an air of chilly, haughty disdain, not helped by their rigid posture and long noses.

As she reached the bench, it struck Rose that the woman wasn't looking so haughty today. Her face was drawn with misery, her eyes red-rimmed. Upon realising that her space was about to be invaded, she gathered her Burberry mackintosh more tightly around her chest and prepared to move off.

‘Oh, don't do that,' Rose protested. ‘I don't have leprosy, I promise!'

‘I was just going.'

‘No you weren't. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to drive you away. It's such a beautiful morning I couldn't resist coming out for a breath of fresh air. Isn't it lovely to see the sun again? Please don't go,' said Rose. ‘You'll make me feel terrible.'

The woman, who looked as if she was feeling pretty terrible herself, wearily sank back against the bench. Her thin lips were pressed together and she was twisting a mangled tissue between bony fingers. Having made herself comfortable, Rose took her knitting out of her bag then delved in again for a mini-pack of Kleenex.

‘Here.' She offered them to the woman beside her.

‘Oh. No thank you. Well, OK.' Realising that her long nose was about to drip and that her own tissue was no longer up to the job, the woman took the proffered pack. ‘Thanks.'

‘Don't mention it. You've had some sad news, by the looks of things. What happened, pet, did somebody die?' Rose's years of working in the care home enabled her to ask the question without a hint of awkwardness; she had learned from experience that her elderly residents appreciated the straightforward approach.

The woman next to her shook her head. Tears slid down her drawn cheeks. Recalling the grim expression on the face of the woman's husband as they'd marched through the garden the other day, Rose said, ‘Problems at home, then,' and saw the woman's thin fingers clench the tissue more tightly. This was the reason she'd left her house on a bright but cold winter's morning and come out into the square.

‘You know, I remember how I used to envy other women,' Rose went on easily, her knitting needles click-clacking as she worked on a lilac sleeve. ‘I thought they all must have such happy home lives compared with mine. Although you never really know if they do, do you? Maybe other people envied me.' She paused and shook her head. ‘My husband was a complete waste of time, but of course I didn't go around shouting it to the rest of the world. I only stayed with him for the sake of our daughter. She never knew how unhappy I was, oh no. I made sure I kept that to myself. She still doesn't know, for that matter. What would be the point of spoiling her childhood memories, all these years later? Young people nowadays seem to get divorced at the drop of a hat, don't they? But it wasn't the done thing when we were their age. You made your bed and that was it, you lay in it. For better or for worse.'

A sob escaped the woman next to her on the bench, and Rose knew that she'd been right. For a couple of minutes they sat together in silence - apart from the stifled sobs - and Rose thought how much better the woman would feel with all those pent-up tears out of her system.

Finally the woman said stiffly, ‘I don't speak to strangers on park benches.'

‘You don't have to, pet.' Rose carried on placidly knitting. ‘But sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than someone you know.'

More silence, apart from the birds rustling in the trees overhead and the occasional swoosh of a car bowling down the wet street. A tiny
splat
caused the woman to sit up and exclaim despairingly, ‘Oh,
perfect
.'

Rose, whose attention had been on her knitting, said, ‘What was that?'

‘
Bloody
bird. Thank you
so
much.'

Leaning forward, Rose saw the generous white splosh of bird poo decorating the tip of the woman's expensive-looking brown suede shoe.

‘Don't worry. Here, use one of these.' Having delved into her bag once more, Rose produced wet-wipes. ‘Honestly, these birds pick their moments, don't they? There, that'll get the worst of it off. Leave the rest to dry, then go at it gently with a toothbrush.'

When the woman had finished she handed the mini-pack of wet-wipes back to Rose. She hesitated, as if wanting to speak but unable to say what was on her mind.

‘Go ahead.' Rose gave her an encouraging nod. ‘Ask me anything you like.'

‘I've seen you before. Here on this bench.' The woman's tone was tentative. ‘You live here on the square?'

Rose smiled. ‘In my wildest dreams. No, pet, I've just been staying down here for a couple of weeks, with friends. I'll be heading back home in the next day or two.'

Evidently having picked up on the accent, the woman said, ‘Scotland?'

‘Edinburgh. Back to my own little flat.' Rose experienced a pang as she said it; she
was
looking forward to seeing her flat again, but she knew she would miss Rennie, Carmen and Nancy dreadfully. Still, no need for them to know that.

‘And you live alone? Is that a . . . hard thing to do?'

Tilting her head to one side, Rose proceeded with care.

‘Honestly? It has its ups and downs. I've already told you my marriage wasn't a happy one. When my husband died, a part of me half expected to be relieved. And I think probably a part of me was, but at the same time I still missed him, far more than I'd imagined. We'd been married for so many years, you see. I was used to being unhappy.' Drily she added, ‘Being unhappy and doing a terrific job of hiding it. I thought that was my role in life. But I still grieved when he died.'

‘And now?'

‘Oh, I'm much happier,' Rose nodded. ‘No question about it. I have my dear little flat; it's only rented, not really mine, but everything's as I'd like it to be and there's no one to please but myself. There's a lot to be said for that. I'm happier now than I was then, and I've learned to enjoy my own company.' She paused, picturing the neat-as-a-pin kitchenette in her flat, where only one coffee mug from the matching set was ever used and a two-pint carton of milk invariably went off before it could be finished. ‘But it can still be lonely, at times.'

‘I'm married,' the woman next to her blurted out in despair, ‘and I've never been lonelier in my life.'

Rose reached across and gave the woman's cold hand a sympathetic squeeze. ‘Then maybe you don't have anything to lose. D'you have children, pet?'

Fresh tears sprang into the woman's eyes. ‘A daughter. She has her own life.'

‘Well, so do
you
,' said Rose.

‘I've never lived on my own. Never. Oh God, I can't believe I'm telling you this. If my husband knew, he'd—'

‘Sshh, stop it. He isn't going to know, is he?'

‘He'll be wondering where I am.' The woman wiped her eyes and checked her watch. ‘I should be getting back. I don't suppose we'll meet again.' Shaking Rose's hand, she said awkwardly, ‘Thank you.'

‘I hope everything works out for you, pet.' Rose's smile was warm. ‘Whatever you decide. It's been really nice to meet you.' Realising that they didn't even know each other's names, she added, ‘I'm Rose, by the way.'

The woman said, ‘Marjorie,' and managed a wan smile of her own. ‘Well, have a good journey back to Edinburgh.'

Edinburgh. Feeling oddly bereft, Rose reached for her knitting and said cheerily, ‘Oh, I shall, don't you worry. Bye!'

 

‘Roast beef?' Wandering into the kitchen, Rennie sniffed the air. ‘Roast potatoes? Yorkshire pudding and gravy?' Taking the lid off the saucepans bubbling away on the hob, he looked disappointed. ‘And carrots and broccoli. I'm not really in the mood for a roast.'

‘Aren't you, pet? That's a shame.' Rose dried her hands on a towel and began taking plates down from the dresser. ‘I can do you sausages and fried potatoes if you'd prefer -
oof
.'

‘Rose!' Breaking into an enormous grin, Rennie swung her round in the air. ‘It was a
joke.
How can you think I wouldn't be in the mood for one of your roasts?'

‘Put me down,' squeaked Rose, clutching two dinner plates. ‘You fool, how am I supposed to know when you're joking?'

‘That's what I most love about you.' Lowering her to ground level, Rennie planted a noisy kiss on her forehead. ‘You never do.'

‘Only because you spend your whole life changing your mind about everything,' Rose scolded. ‘Especially girlfriends. One minute they're great, the next minute you're bored to tears with them. Why wouldn't you be the same with roast dinners?'

‘Girls are for fun,' said Rennie. ‘A roast is for life.'

‘Well, this one doesn't seem to be having much fun at the moment.' Rose took a slip of paper from the pocket of her Argyle cardigan and waggled it accusingly under his nose. ‘Poor girl rang five times today. You can't keep your own phone switched off,' she chided, forcing Rennie to take the list of increasingly desperate messages from Nicole. ‘If you don't want to see her any more, you have to tell her. Put her out of her misery, pet.'

As if Nicole were a small furry animal, thought Rennie. It wasn't kind to keep her hanging on when the situation was hopeless. The good thing was, he didn't have to squeeze her into a cat basket and take her down to the vet.

If he wanted, he could do it by text.

UR dmpd.

 

‘Go on then,' said Carmen twenty minutes later. ‘You ask her.'

‘Me?' Rennie was helping himself to the world's best roast potatoes. He raised his eyebrows, double-checking with Nancy and Carmen. ‘Now?'

Startled, Rose realised that they were all looking at her. ‘Ask me what?'