by Pamela Fudge
‘That looks wonderful, Aunt Ellen,’ Roz didn’t have to invent the enthusiasm that showed in her voice. ‘I can see you haven’t lost your touch.’
‘Of course not, I’m not in my dotage yet. I can still knock up a batch of scones with the best of them.’
‘Better than most - you can still beat that neighbour of yours hands down,’ Sam informed her with a twinkle, knowing, just as Roz did, of the rivalry that had always existed between the two guest houses.
‘Well, she tries, you know, but she’s getting on now, poor soul,’ said Aunt Ellen sympathetically, completely ignoring the fact that she could easily give the woman several years.
The ensuing laughter lightened the atmosphere and Roz’ heart, as she told herself stoutly that Aunt Ellen would go on forever. Of course she would. How old was she after all? Roz was ashamed to say she really had no idea because the subject was never discussed. If she stabbed a guess she would have to place her aunt well into her eighties – but surely that made her a mere youngster in a day and age when everyone was fitter and living longer. She really was worrying for nothing. While she was here though, Roz vowed, she would insist on helping out, over-ruling all of her aunt’s usual objections to do so.
Aunt Ellen had always been far too independent. You only had to look at the way she’d made a single-handed success of the B and B. She was a business-woman long before such a thing was generally accepted, making a name for herself and her ‘bed-and-breakfast-with-optional-evening-meal’ establishment in the seaside town of Brankstone through sheer hard work and determination.
It was hardly a surprising thing, in Roz’ admittedly biased opinion, that the same people returned year after year to sample her old-fashioned hospitality and home cooked meals. Without exception the guests happily forgave the fact that Sea View lacked even a glimpse of any such thing and, indeed, was actually a long walk or a short car ride away from the nearest beach.
Roz was pretty sure that the meagre staff Ellen allowed herself during the busiest times would probably be happy to work for nothing – or at least very little. Her great-aunt was a tough but fair employer, expecting them to work every bit as hard as she did herself, but never demanding of them anything that she wouldn’t do herself, either.
When it came to her great-niece, however, Aunt Ellen showed herself up for the traditionalist she really was. She tried to hide it, but it was quite obvious she was disappointed that Roz had grown up with the same independent streak she herself demonstrated. It would obviously have suited Ellen so much better if her beloved great-niece had settled into an early marriage with someone local and concentrated on the raising of a brood of children.
It was partly the awareness of her great-aunt’s wishes that had prompted Roz into the farcical engagement with Sam, and now - she sighed gustily at the thought - she was going to have to remind him, yet again, of the promise he had made at the time - and hold him to it.
Somehow, the rest of the day was gone with a speed that left Roz wondering what had happened to it. She should have remembered, she mused ruefully, that there was rarely a quiet moment in the house with guests continually in and out, and most of them eager to chat. There hadn’t really been a convenient time to insist on discussing a matter that was becoming increasingly urgent - at least as far as Roz was concerned - with Sam.
Finally alone in the room that had always been hers – her sanctuary in a busy household - Roz pressed the heat of her forehead against the cool glass of the window pane. She stared out across the darkening garden with a troubled expression on her face and a troubled feeling in her heart.
She was making excuses, and she knew it. There was nothing at all stopping her from marching down the landing, right that very moment, knocking on Sam’s door, and refusing to leave until the whole thing was sorted out to their mutual satisfaction.
It sounded so easy and it really should have been. They would merely be ending an arrangement that had suited them both for a time, but the very fact that Sam had brought her all the way home for a face to face confrontation convinced Roz that it was going to be anything but.
She sighed deeply. As a child, she had always put off doing anything distasteful until the very last minute, and now here she was at twenty-six years old, doing the self same thing.
CHAPTER TWO
Roz leaned back and stared at the image reflected back at her in the bedroom window pane, mirror-like against the black of the night outside. Her eyes grew dreamy as the years rolled back.
She saw again the child who had first been given this room all of twenty years ago. She saw the bright hair, neatly braided, the snub nose that always seemed to be running, and the tears on the freckled face.
The sole survivor of the mangled wreckage of a minibus caught up in a motorway pile up, in one fell swoop Roz had lost not only her parents, but both sets of grandparents, too. She had turned, then, to the woman who was the only claim to family that she was left to her. Beneath the cloak of her great-aunt Ellen’s kindness and patience, all those years ago, Roz had rediscovered the kind of caring, nurturing love she had thought lost to her forever.
‘I can never take the place of any of them,’ Aunt Ellen had explained gently, ‘and I would never try.’ She had taken the young Roz in her arms, ‘But I hope we can be of comfort to each other. I love you dearly, Rosalind, and I’m very happy to have you live with me.’
As young as she was, it hadn’t taken Roz long to appreciate that her great-aunt had lost her family, too, in that crash. It wasn’t only a case of Roz needing someone, but of them needing each other. After that, she had settled into her great-aunt’s large house and way of life with surprising ease.
Gradually, over the years, she had learned more about Ellen’s past, and the explanation for how a woman on her own had come to be living in a house that was far too large for one person. The reason had nothing to do with commercial enterprise or ambition either, as Roz gradually discovered.
Harry and Ellen - Roz’ maternal grandmother’s only sister – had only been married and taken out a mortgage a short time before the Second World War broke out. They had chosen their future home intentionally for its size and seaside location. Both coming from small families, they were keen to have a large family themselves and considered the Brankstone area had a lot to offer a growing family.
The couple had refused to contemplate the fact they might never have a future together and the letters they sent were full of their hopes and dreams but, like so many others, Ellen’s young soldier husband had never returned.
She was already living in the house alone, and refused absolutely to sell it and buy somewhere smaller. She had never married again but, instead, she had filled the rooms with paying guests, and made the house she cherished into a career that had brought her many friends and a good income over the years.
It was watching the way her great-aunt had managed her life so successfully, with no help from the opposite sex that had made Roz determined to do the same with her own. That there was more to life than marrying young and starting a family, she had no doubt at all. Like her aunt, Roz had a knack when dealing with people, quickly setting them at ease in her company.
After trying various other avenues, she eventually decided to put that knack to proper use in the field of human resources. Since making that decision she had been gaining qualifications and steadily climbing the ladder toward her own personal goal of managing an HR department, possibly within a multi-national company.
Roz became aware while she was still in her teens that, despite quite early successes in her chosen career, this was not what her aunt desired for her, despite the example she’d set and the support she willingly gave.
‘It wasn’t my choice to spend my life running a business alone,’ Aunt Ellen had pointed out. ‘If Harry had lived, my life as a wife and mother would have been very different. As it was, fate decreed that you became my family, and it was always wonderful for me to have you here. Times are different now, and you can
have it all, my love, a career, a man to love, and a family.’
It was hard for the teenage Roz to explain to the aunt that she adored that the future Ellen had mapped out for her didn’t appeal at all. What she wanted was to be in charge of her own destiny - her own, and no-one else’s. Maybe she would settle down eventually, but there was certainly no hurry. Meanwhile, she had a busy life and a happy one that she wasn’t inclined to change any time soon.
It was hard to explain, and so she never did, but allowed Sam to convince her that a fake engagement was the answer for them both. As he pointed out, it would stop constant and annoying speculation about him regarding non-existent romances and allow him to concentrate on his music, while also keeping Aunt Ellen from fretting that Roz was missing out on a future family life.
What neither of them had considered, was just how cruel it was to let the older woman go on hoping for the great-great-nephews and nieces they would never give her - let her go on waiting for Roz to settle down the man of her dreams - when Roz and Sam knew that Sam wasn’t that man. In fact, Roz was firmly convinced such a man did not exist.
An involuntary heartfelt sigh that came from deep within her brought Roz back to the present and to the young woman she was today - a woman whose reflection stared back at her with wide green eyes, and a solemn expression.
Gone now were the freckles, as long as she stayed out of the sun. Her complexion these days was kept creamy and clear with the help of expensive cosmetics. Her nose no longer turned up, but was still small and straight. All in all, a pretty face, always expertly made-up to suit her professional image, and usually smiling. The braids had long since been banished in favour of a series of modern hairstyles, the latest of which was the very short and carefully tousled mop that suited the thick, bright red waves, and the slim features beneath it.
Roz considered with approval that she - in her smartly cut, navy suit - looked exactly what she was, a city girl through and through. It was only right that she should marry someone who belonged in the city too. Someone who understood her hectic way of life, someone who understood the fact that there was no such thing as set hours in her job and, above all, understood the fact that she had no intention of trying to juggle babies and other family commitments with demanding career. Not for a very long time, if ever.
Andrew had all of those qualities. He was the ideal partner for Roz and had taken some finding. Theirs would be a marriage of two like minds, between two totally fulfilled and very ambitious people. Yet, somehow, although that sounded wonderful to Roz, she was convinced that Aunt Ellen would not be impressed.
She shook her head dolefully and sighed. Her window pane image did the same. No, Aunt Ellen would not be impressed at all because she had her heart set on a happy ever after for Roz – as Sam’s wife.
After a good night’s sleep, however, Roz managed to convince herself that if she could only bring Sam around to her point of view, it would only be a matter of time before, between them, they could get Aunt Ellen to do the same. She had always set great store by everything Sam said and did, though heaven only knew why. He wasn’t family, after all, just someone who came to stay once upon a time and never really went away.
Roz found herself dressing, rather self-consciously, in a way that she knew he would like. Discarding another smart suit and silk blouse in favour of close fitting denim jeans and a baggy, bright yellow sweatshirt she found in the back of the wardrobe she went downstairs.
‘Why you look like Spring, itself,’ Aunt Ellen approved, before coaxing, ‘Take these breakfasts in to the guests for me, will you, love? It’ll start their day a treat to be waited on by a bright young thing, instead of someone as long in the tooth as me.’
Roz dropped a kiss onto the crown of frizzy white hair that her aunt never quite managed to tame, and lifting the loaded tray she turned towards the door and came face to face with Sam coming in.
Obviously fresh from the shower, judging by the way the sleek dark hair curled damply around his ears, he looked, as always, just too disturbingly handsome for his own good. Since he had a voice to match his looks, it was hardly surprising that he was so much in demand with the ladies who made up the bulk of his audiences, or that his career had recently taken off with surprising speed.
In the tiny pause before she walked past him, Roz didn’t miss the appreciation in the gaze that swiftly took in her appearance, nor could she halt the tide of hot colour that swept up over her jawbone and right up into her tousled hair in response to that look.
Why on earth he should be able to affect her like that she really had no idea. He was just a man and, for all his good-looks, not her kind of man at all and he never had been. Sam was, and always had been, absolutely fine as a friend, but nothing more. Oh, no, nothing more.
Roz was far too busy serving breakfasts to stop and ask herself just why she was so vehement about that. By the time she returned to the kitchen she had forgotten all about it, but not about her intention to get Sam securely on her side as soon as possible.
‘Good morning, Sam,’ she wished him belatedly, positively beaming at him, ‘what can I get for you, coffee, black and strong, just as you like it?’
The tawny eyes peered at her suspiciously over the paper he was perusing. If he was surprised at this sudden change in her attitude he managed to hide it very successfully, only saying mildly, ‘That would be very acceptable, thank you, but I can easily get it myself.’
‘I don’t mind this once,’ Roz smiled, adding under her breath, ‘but I don’t intend to make a habit of it, believe me.’
She poured coffee, made freshly scrambled eggs on the slightly burnt toast that he always favoured. With growing impatience Roz allowed him to devour it at his leisure, and with every appearance of enjoyment, before enquiring, very politely, into his plans for the day.
‘Why do you want to know, Roz?’ he couldn't keep the curiosity from his voice, ‘What did you have in mind? You do have something in mind, I take it?’
She shrugged carelessly, ‘I just thought we might do something together.’
He glanced at her beautifully manicured, bronze painted fingernails, before saying in a wry tone and making no attempt to hide his amusement, ‘I was going to weed the garden and do a bit of pruning, but you’re very welcome to join me.’
He was laughing at her. Laughing right up the sleeve of that damn checked shirt, she realised furiously. He knew they had to talk. It had been his own idea that they get together for that very purpose, and now he was intentionally making it as difficult for her as ever he could.
Roz swallowed her chagrin and fury with the greatest of difficulty, realising, even as her temper steadily rose, that it wouldn’t do to get on the wrong side of him. He could make things even more awkward for her than they already were, and she was well aware of it. She still determined, there and then, that he wouldn’t get the better of her, no matter how hard he tried.
‘I’d like that,’ she smiled sweetly, and hid a grin when he couldn't keep the look of surprise from his face.
‘Gardening?’ Aunt Ellen had obviously been ear-wigging, and now she bustled to the table, setting her old brown teapot down with a bang, ‘Gardening?’ she repeated indignantly, ‘On your first holiday here for months? Oh, no, I won’t hear of it. I shall get round to it, just as I always have.’
‘And just why should you get all the fun, Ellen?’ Sam interrupted, ‘when you know how I love to garden.’
You couldn’t help but admire him, Roz allowed reluctantly, as Aunt Ellen gave in gracefully, totally convinced by his easy and persuasive manner that she really was actually doing him a favour.
‘But you won’t get Rosalind out there,’ Ellen shook her head emphatically, ‘She’s having you on, my lad, she’s always hated gardening.’
‘I need the fresh air,’ Roz insisted quickly, ‘and I shall be out there just as soon as I’ve helped you clear up in here.’ She wanted to ask if there were gardening gloves she could borrow, but couldn’t quite f
ace the derision from Sam that such a request would bring.
‘I’ll get the tools ready and make a start then.’
Sam swallowed the last mouthful of his coffee as he rose from the table in one fluid movement. Roz couldn’t help watching him as he stretched like a supple cat before strolling leisurely from the room. It was only with great difficulty that she turned her attention to the loading of a brand new dishwasher that sat, gleaming whitely, totally at odds with the rest of the old-fashioned kitchen.
Her aunt had always been dead against such modern appliances, but its arrival was explained away – when Roz asked - as a present from Sam that she didn’t have the heart to refuse, followed by a confession that it was proving very useful. Slightly miffed, Roz wished she had thought of it but, on reflection, she doubted she’d have managed to get her aunt to accept it so easily.
With Sam out of the way, Roz enjoyed a comfortable chat with her great-aunt, as they worked efficiently, side by side. She was just wishing that she could have been more of a companion to the woman who had given her so much, more the sort of person her great-aunt might have wished her to be, when her thoughts were scattered asunder as the older woman spoke.
‘I can guess why you’re home,’ Ellen suddenly said knowingly, the lined face creasing into a pleased smile, ‘and it’s about time this was sorted out, too, if you ask me.’
She knew! Roz stared at Ellen in amazement. She had always known that her great-aunt was shrewd, but that she should have guessed... Well, either that or Sam had done the decent thing and broken it to her gently himself.
Relief flooded through Roz, until she felt quite weak, and exceptionally light-headed at the thought that Ellen might even have guessed there was another man in Roz’ life. It was going to be all right. There was no need for the lengthy explanations she had prepared, over and over, in her head, because Aunt Ellen somehow knew. It was obvious from her manner that she understood the engagement had run its course and it was time for them to call it a day.
