When Archie Met Rosie

by Lynda Renham

She dabbed at herself with the tissue and peeked nervously at it. There was no blood. Maybe she was okay after all. She was so sore it was hard to sit up without wincing.

  ‘Should you smoke in your bedroom?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, I do what I like. Shall we get something to eat? I think there’s some pizza in the fridge.’

  ‘No, I should get home,’ said Holly.

  She just wanted to get out of her clothes and into a warm bath. Maybe she’d feel better after that. She wished she could ask someone if this was okay and if it was alright to be so sore afterwards. Maybe she’d text Destiny later. Destiny had slept with loads. She would know, and she wouldn’t breathe a word. She was alright was Destiny.

  ‘Please yourself,’ said Bradley. ‘I’m having some.’

  Holly buttoned her blouse and picked up her coat. She was waiting for him to kiss and cuddle her. She’d just given him her virginity after all. But he didn’t. He checked his phone, laughed, sent a message and then jumped off the bed.

  ‘Come on then,’ he said and left the bedroom.

  Holly fought back tears and followed him downstairs. The house was a tip. She hated coming to Brad’s. It smelt of fried bacon and tobacco smoke. There was always piles of dirty dishes in the sink and cat litter trays in the hallway. The smell now made her feel sick and she hurried to the front door.

  ‘See you,’ called Brad from the kitchen.

  Holly wiped away her tears and left the house. It hadn’t been at all what she’d imagined. She’d thought that Brad would at least have given her a big hug. She hoped he wouldn’t tell his mates. She would tell Destiny but no one else. She couldn’t imagine ever doing it again. Not ever.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sam

  Sam looked down at his cholesterol-laden lunch. He really ought to make himself a packed lunch, but it was so easy to pop to the chippy for sausage roll and chips. The sausage roll had a curry taste about it. Sam grimaced and put it to one side and opened a tube of Pringles.

  ‘Alright if I get off?’ asked Joe, wiping his oily hands on a duster. ‘I’m taking Rita for lunch at Wetherspoons. I’ll be back in an hour.’

  ‘Yeah, no worries,’ said Sam, pouring coffee from his thermos flask. It was cold in the workshop and for the hundredth time Sam considered buying another heater.

  ‘I hear your mum had a big win at the bingo a few weeks back,’ said Joe.

  Sam shrugged.

  ‘It weren’t much.’

  ‘Really,’ said Joe. ‘I ‘eard it was about ten grand.’

  Sam widened his eyes and laughed.

  ‘Ten grand? Where did you hear that?’

  ‘Tom down the pub said. His missus was there that night apparently. It was the night your dad got knocked down weren’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, well it was about five hundred, not ten grand.’

  Joe studied himself in the workshop’s cracked mirror and drew a comb through his hair.

  ‘I said to Rita it couldn’t have been that much. She’d be well away from Tradmore if it had been. How’s she coping?’

  ‘She’s alright,’ Sam said and considered whether she really was.

  ‘Everyone likes your mum. She’s a good sort. It would have been nice if she had won a fair bit …’

  ‘Well, she didn’t,’ said Sam, the words coming out more sharply than he meant them to.

  ‘Okay, no need to snap my head off. I’m only saying what I heard.’

  He gestured with his head.

  ‘Oh, hold up, looks like someone else has heard too. Here’s your ex.’

  Sam followed Joe’s nod to see Maureen standing at the entrance to the workshop, a look of distaste on her face. Sam stifled a groan.

  ‘I’ve got me new Debenhams coat on,’ she said. ‘I’m not coming in. I don’t want oil all over it, so you’d better come out.’

  ‘Best of luck mate,’ said Joe quietly. ‘See you later.’

  ‘Alright Maureen,’ he said as he passed.

  The radio blared out Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody and Sam switched it off.

  ‘I’m really busy, Maureen,’ he said.

  He looked at Maureen’s over-made-up face and raised his eyebrows. She pulled up her coat collar, flashing bright red fingernails at him.

  ‘Jeff and I are going to Spain for Christmas.’

  ‘That’s nice for you both,’ he said.

  ‘We offered to take Michael, but he doesn’t want to come.’

  ‘I don’t blame him. Costa del Sol isn’t his thing.’

  She wrinkled her nose and then pulled on a pair of furry mitts.

  ‘It’s going to take you forever to pay me that ten thousand pounds,’ she said, eyeing him for his reaction. ‘You’ve got to pay it, the court said so.’

  ‘You’re getting your payment every month.’

  She sniffed.

  ‘I heard your mum had a big win on the bingo.’

  He laughed.

  ‘Oh, so that’s why you’re here. Well, you heard wrong. It was five hundred and it went on my dad’s funeral. Thanks for coming by the way.’

  ‘No one wanted me there.’

  ‘You could have sent some flowers. Michael would have liked it.’

  ‘Anyway, I heard it was a few grand she won.’

  ‘Like I said, it was five hundred.’

  ‘Well, all I’m saying is, if she did, you could give me my ten thousand and cancel those monthly payments.’

  ‘I’ve got to get back,’ he said, throwing the last of his coffee into the street, narrowly missing her shiny shoes.

  ‘It’s only fair. The court decided,’ she said, checking her shoes.

  He turned on her.

  ‘You left me for some smarmy computer engineer. He’s alright for money. It’s just greed with you. You don’t need that new coat and all that make-up. That perfume you’re wearing smells like cat’s piss by the way.’

  ‘It’s Hermes, not that you’d know.’

  ‘Who gives a toss if it’s Herpes?’

  ‘Hermes,’ she corrected through gritted teeth.

  ‘If Mum won some money, then it’s hers not mine.’

  ‘She could help you out.’

  ‘Go off back to your poncy boyfriend, Maureen.’

  He took a closer look at her.

  ‘Or are things not working out? Is that why you’re worried?’

  She tossed her hair back.

  ‘I’m not the one on my own,’ she said.

  She turned, and he watched her walk along the street, her hips swinging.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Alfred

  I had to mess the house up a bit today, otherwise there wouldn’t have been anything for Rosie to do. I only live in the two rooms. Maybe Moira’s right. Perhaps I should give the place up. But I’m not giving it to her and Harry and that’s that. I’m a stubborn mule. The more you poke me the worse I am. I don’t want Rosie to stop coming. I can tell she needs the money and I’m enjoying the company. I bought another angel cake as she seems to like that. It’s been nice talking to someone about books and programmes on the tele, that aren’t silly soap operas. She’s intelligent is Rosie. I don’t know why she’s cleaning houses. I want to ask her about her husband, but I don’t want to pry too much.

  There’s the sound of a key in the lock and then her cheery voice.

  ‘It’s only me Archie.’

  It’s no good me telling her my name is Alfred. She’s got it in her head that I’m Archie and that’s that.

  She walks into the kitchen and I feel my spirits rise.

  ‘It’s freezing out,’ she says. ‘It’s lovely and warm in here though.’

  ‘I’ve turned the heating up,’ I say. ‘Do you want a cuppa before you start?’

  ‘Lovely, I’ll take it with me as I work.’

  She pulls on her apron and smiles.

  ‘Shall I start downstairs?’

  ‘Honestly Rosie, there isn’t much to do upstairs but if you could clean out the fridge tha
t would be great.’

  The truth is Moira came and cleaned that out at the weekend. She had her usual moan about what was in it and said she’d bring some dinners round. She hasn’t, but then I’m pleased as I can’t stand her fancy cooking. I’ll only be constipated for a week.

  ‘Ooh that reminds me,’ says Rosie suddenly. ‘I left something in the car. I won’t be a minute.’

  She dons her coat again and hurries outside, returning a few minutes later with a casserole dish in one hand and the paperback I’d lent her in the other.

  ‘I made you a shepherd’s pie,’ she says placing it on the kitchen table. The savoury fragrance wafts up towards me and I feel my stomach rumble.

  ‘That’s nice of you Rosie,’ I say.

  I’m chuffed.

  ‘Well, I keep seeing all those TV dinners of yours and as I was cooking anyway I thought I’d make one for you too. It’s not good eating that processed rubbish every day. My Sam does too and I’m always telling him …’

  She trails off and her face darkens.

  ‘Anyway, it’s only mince but there are plenty of carrots and mushrooms in there.’

  ‘There’s loads here,’ I say. ‘That’ll do me several dinners.’

  ‘Good,’ she says but she seems distant now.

  ‘Everything alright?’ I ask, clicking the kettle on.

  ‘Oh yes,’ she says but I can tell it isn’t.

  She busies herself cleaning the kitchen and then says suddenly,

  ‘He’s a bit cross with me.’

  ‘Who is?’ I ask.

  ‘My Sam.’

  She sprays cleaning liquid into the sink.

  ‘I won some money. It was a few weeks back and I told my Sam it was only a few hundred, but it was a few thousand actually.’

  ‘It’s your money,’ I say angrily, thinking of Harry and Moira. ‘Flipping kids; they expect far too much …’

  ‘Oh no,’ she says looking taken aback. ‘It isn’t that he wants it. He just didn’t understand why I told him it was less than it was. I didn’t deliberately do it. It’s just I didn’t want it getting around and I suppose I got so used to telling everyone that it was less and …’

  I pop teabags into the mugs.

  ‘I hope you won’t stop cleaning,’ I laugh.

  She sighs, and I realise it isn’t a joke for her.

  ‘The day I stop work will be the day I pop my clogs.’

  ‘Here, have your cuppa,’ I say putting the steaming mugs onto the table.

  ‘I’ll drink it as I work,’ she says leaning forward to take it.

  ‘No, take five minutes,’ I say.

  I touch her arm and we both start. I’m taken aback at the effect touching her has on me. How stupid. I’m seventy-three and recently widowed. It’s not possible to have a connection with someone so soon is it? But then again, Jack down at the bowls club was married again within the year after his wife, Barbara, died.

  ‘If you’ve been with someone half your life, it’s hard to be alone,’ he’d said. ‘Anyway, Barbara always said she didn’t want me to be alone.’

  Cath had said the very same thing.

  ‘Don’t go being all maudlin if I go before you. If I’m not here to keep you company, don’t go being lonely.’

  I was lonely. I miss having someone to chat to in the evenings, or simply to watch the tele with. I got one of those Saga brochures come through the door the other day. Cath and I used to laugh at those. But I’ve been really tempted to go on one of their group holidays. I just want to get away. But who wants to holiday on their own? Ridiculous that is. If I’m going to be on my own, then I might as well be on my own in my own country and in my own house.

  Rosie’s cheeks turn pink.

  ‘Just five minutes,’ she says.

  ‘I’ll cut some angel cake,’ I say, mostly for the want of anything better to say.

  ‘I finished Rebecca,’ she says, pushing the book across the table.

  ‘Did you enjoy it?’

  ‘Oh yes I did.’

  ‘There’s a film of the book, you know. I’ve got it on DVD. You can borrow it if you like.’

  She looks embarrassed again and wipes her hand on her apron.

  ‘I don’t have a DVD player.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say surprised.

  Who doesn’t have a DVD player these days? Even I’ve managed to keep up with those, although our Holly keeps telling me no one uses them now.

  ‘Everyone streams these days,’ she says. ‘Anyway, haven’t you heard of Netflix?’

  I’ve not heard of streams or Netflix. Everyone can stream if they want. I’m happy with me DVDs thanks very much.

  ‘We did have one,’ explains Rosie, looking uncomfortable. ‘But Frank, that was my husband, he broke it and we never bothered to get another.’

  ‘That’s a shame. You’d enjoy it.’

  She smiles and gets up.

  ‘I’ll start on the living room,’ she says.

  She wants to get away from me. I hope she doesn’t think I’m a dirty old man.

  ‘Yeah, great,’ I say, opening my newspaper.

  She grabs her cleaning materials and disappears out of the room.

  ‘Stupid idiot,’ I mutter. ‘You’ve scared her.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Rosie

  I like going to Archie’s. Emerson Park is a lovely part of Essex. It’s a million miles from Tradmore. You don’t get women standing outside their houses puffing on roll-ups and cursing like fishwives here. I bet kids named Paris and Romeo don’t live around here either. I’ve been looking at some flats in the area. There are some for rent. I asked at the estate agents. What a fool I am. I actually thought maybe I could move now that I have some money behind me and plenty of work. But the truth is I won’t be able to do all these jobs, not now I’m sixty. My hip is creating and I’m so knackered at the end of the day that I barely have the energy to make myself dinner. I’m not sleeping well either. Some idiot’s car alarm keeps going off in the early hours and someone in the flat upstairs keeps playing rap music at gone midnight. The rent is high in Emerson Park, and then of course I’d have to find the deposit. I need to hang onto Waitrose, just in case the murders dry up. Well, let’s face it there aren’t murders every day and thank goodness for that. This is Essex, not the Bronx. I saw a lovely place in Hornchurch. It’s a converted house. An elderly lady lives on the ground floor. She’s not going to be playing rap music at midnight, is she? But then again, who knows? I said I’d go back and take another look at the weekend. I’ve got the deposit and I should just be able to make the rent and bills if I keep Archie’s cleaning job, Waitrose and the cinema. I’ve paid the back rent on the Tradmore flat and there are Frank’s debts to pay each month but that won’t last forever. It might be hard the first few months but I’m seriously thinking I could do it. Sam will always take care of the car if I have problems.

  I like this job. I especially like cleaning the living room where all the books are. I don’t want Archie thinking I’m being too familiar. I won’t have any more tea or angel cake with him. Maybe I shouldn’t borrow any more books from him either. After all, I can get them from the library. I’ll just make a note of the titles that are on his bookshelf.

  ‘Rosie.’

  I spin round at the sound of his voice.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ I ask.

  He fidgets uncomfortably.

  ‘I didn’t mean to offend you in the kitchen. It’s just my way.’

  ‘Oh, I know,’ I say quickly.

  ‘It’s just I see us as friends, you know.’

  I bow my head. Oh dear, this is awkward. I don’t think Becky wants me being best mates with the clients. But he is lovely, is Archie.

  ‘I … I just don’t want Becky getting cross …’ I trail off.

  He looks confused.

  ‘Why should she get cross?’

  ‘She might think I’m not doing my job properly.’

  He scoffs.

  ‘You
do a brilliant job. Even Moira admires it.’

  I raise my eyebrows.

  ‘She does?’

  ‘Anyway,’ he continues. ‘It doesn’t matter what she thinks. I’m happy with what you do, and I look forward to you coming. I don’t talk to no one these days, so I enjoy our little chats, what’s wrong with that? It’s nice to talk to someone who knows a good book from a trashy one.’

  ‘I enjoy the books,’ I say with a smile.

  ‘Right, that’s settled,’ he grins. ‘So, you won’t take this the wrong way then, will you? Why don’t you pop back this evening and have some of that shepherd’s pie with me? There’s far too much there for one and then we can watch Rebecca. I’ll see you back home. All proper and above board, after all, you’ve only recently lost your husband and me my wife.’

  I’m taken aback, I don’t mind admitting.

  ‘People might talk,’ I say stupidly.

  ‘Huh, let them. I’ve never worried about other people and I’m not going to start now,’ says Archie, looking me in the eye. ‘What do you say?’

  ‘I would like to see Rebecca,’ I say.

  I’m all timid. How ridiculous for a woman my age. I wonder if Archie has guessed my age. I hope not. It will be nice to sit somewhere quiet and eat my dinner for a change.

  ‘So, we’re on. Great,’ he says slapping his thigh.

  ‘I can bring popcorn,’ I say. ‘I work at the cinema and I get loads.’

  ‘I haven’t had popcorn in years. Yes, bring some.’

  I turn back to the vacuum cleaner.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ says Archie, leaving the room and closing the door.

  Who’d have thought it, me, having shepherd’s pie and watching a DVD in a fancy house in Emerson Park? I won’t know myself.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Rosie

  ‘We’re all going to the bingo,’ says Doris over the phone. ‘Do you want to come? You’re our lucky mascot now.’

  ‘I can’t,’ I say. ‘I’m going out.’

  ‘Oh,’ she says surprised. ‘Out where?’

  ‘I’m going to a friend’s house to watch a DVD.’

  There’s a few seconds of silence.

  ‘You going to Crabbers then?’