It knocked me for six, and when she said she was going to get changed into something more comfortable last night I had a horrible thought that she would do it again. I was right.
I should be over this by now. I know. But I’m not.
There are things that I have mastered. Come to terms with. Able to sidestep. But every once in a while, something catches me off guard. Like seeing Rosa in my t-shirt, or her making coffee in the kitchen, and the feelings resurface with the same horrific intensity.
I’d been meaning to sort out Michelle’s wardrobe, bag everything up and take it to the charity shop, but I’d been busy with everything else. As the weeks turned into months and the months into years it had faded into my subconscious. I knew they were still there, but hadn’t looked to make sure. Michelle’s parents had said that they wanted to take them but then they couldn’t set foot in the house in the end. In fact, they’ve not been to Oxford since.
I know Rosa wasn’t stirring things up and I’m sure she didn’t mean to upset me, but I was upset. Upset in a way that I couldn’t explain.
You see I’ve been trapped since Michelle passed, the thing helping me survive has been the research. I know it hasn’t been particularly healthy but it’s got me through to this point. If it wasn’t for that, I don’t think I would still be alive.
Rosa is the first woman I’ve seen more than once since Michelle and I’ve fallen for her. In a way that I never dared dream possible.
I can only surmise that is because I never intended to get with Rosa. It just happened. It was evident she didn’t even like me to begin with and although I flirted, I did it mainly to irritate her. It seemed like fair game at the time. An appropriate response to her snobbiness and rude ways.
But she’s not snobby and rude. She is just hurt and damaged by that asshole ex-husband of hers.
Any other date and I mentally prepare beforehand for the post-coital exit and the apologies. I’ve got it down to a fine art.
I awake early and Rosa is wrapped in my arms. Her golden hair spread over my shoulder, the scent of summer meadows a reinforcement of her beauty.
Carefully, I slide my arm from underneath her and go into the other bedroom. The one that has caused this melancholy.
I sigh and throw a spiteful glance across at the cenotaph, wishing it didn’t exist.
Rosa tried to talk to me about it last night but I couldn’t find the words. She didn’t know me back then. She didn’t know Michelle. She didn’t know what we had been through. Those tortuous months. I still loved Michelle when she left me and we were totally in love up until that point.
We’d made promises together, shared dreams and laid out our future and it was all cruelly taken away.
I know other people grieve and I’m not stupid to think that Rosa can’t empathise with my feeling of loss. But I wasn’t expecting to have to talk about it with her. We were supposed to have a fun-filled weekend, one that took her away from all that was stressful and oppressive for her back home.
I should have thought.
I should have known.
But I didn’t and it’s done now.
I go about my usual morning routine and wait in the garden over a coffee for Rosa to awake.
I was supposed to still be in bed with her. But instead I’m here, itching to get back to the safe place where my only focus is on finding a cure for that undeserving disease, where I can unleash my bitterness and revenge.
Rosa appears and takes a seat beside me.
I’ve gone numb.
I’ve pulled down the shutters.
It’s the strategy I’ve deployed after all the one night stands. Polite but distant. Grateful but non-committal. It’s never resulted in my face being slapped nor a follow-up call. So, I’ve taken it as my post-coital ritual.
This is not how this is supposed to be with Rosa but this is what it is.
She tries to broach the subject again and again I apologise and tell her I’m not ready.
I can hear the words coming out of my mouth and into the cool morning air but I’m not curating them, they are coming from that place. That safe protected place that acts of its own accord. That reassures me that I do not need to feel love again, because with love comes pain.
And I’ve sworn never to suffer pain like that again.
She gathers together her stuff and I carry her bag to the station, where we embrace and kiss before I wave her off onto her train.
I don’t feel any of it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rosa
My head is buzzing against the window of the train. The scenery flying by like the film roll down to Oxford in reverse. My thoughts are very different though. On the journey there, I was giddy with excitement, fizzing with anticipation and sexually charged.
Now I’m sated and reflective.
Why can’t Kane be my one true love?
I thought I had been happy with Charles, although I struggle to remember the beginning being as wonderful as my beginning with Kane.
I had thought Charles was the only man I would be with. My life partner. The love of my life. Now I know different.
Love has to be shared and equal. Charles never loved me, otherwise he wouldn’t have put me through the undignified, heart stabbing pain that he did. Making it all fall apart in such a horrible manner.
I thought I loved him but I never thought of him in the way that I think of Kane. Kane is intelligent and kind, strong and caring, vibrant and thoughtful. I love all of Kane and there’s a lot of Kane to love.
Michelle was Kane’s one true love and they didn’t have enough time together for it to fall apart.
He is still in love with her.
Why is life so complicated?
Crimson loves Charles. Charles thinks he loves me. I truly love Kane. Kane… well Kane is still in love with Michelle.
The tea trolley bashes against my ankle, bringing me rudely back to the here and now. I take a coffee and a small pack of cookies, to help see me through the rest of the journey.
I’m not regretful though. I have cherished my time with Kane and am thankful for what he has helped get me through. I just wish it didn’t have to end.
If I was given a choice of either not having known him, or just known him as I have, then I would choose the latter every single time.
I’m a different person now.
I’m Rosa Lawtey with a whole life ahead of me. I’ve got my head around Charles and he is in no way going to feature in my life. He can do whatever he wants with his life, but he’s not having any of my time, energy or thought ever again.
Kane on the other hand?
I don’t know.
We’ll have to see.
My mind drifts back to Charles and his predicament and wondering whether he was just having a bad day when he chose to send me the flowers, because he’s not been in touch since. Maybe he’s worked whatever it is that needed working out with Crimson. Whatever it is, I’m only mildly interested. I’m over him and what he did to me. I actually think it was a blessing and allowed me to spend time with Kane and get to know who I am again. A person I appreciate and love much more.
It’s still a lovely sunny day when I arrive back home. Some thug has punched a hole through the For-Sale sign and it is laying forlorn on the grass verge. It seems that is of no consequence anyway, as there’s a letter from the estate agents in the post box. The Coots have changed their mind and put in an offer for the full asking price.
I’m relieved. Not ecstatic, but glad that there is light at the end of the tunnel. It makes me want to start packing my stuff up straight away. But I don’t, I’m sure it will take a few weeks for the solicitors and banks to do whatever they have to. Which reminds me, I need my solicitor to start pushing on the divorce because the protraction can go on no longer.
I open all the windows as I move from room to room and leave the back door into the garden open. The summer flowers are in full bloom and scent from the rose bushes fill the air. There are plenty
of bees busy collecting pollen and the fledglings are venturing from the hedges and picking up worms from the warm soil.
I sit on a bench in the middle of the herb garden and take a few restorative breaths of basil and rosemary. It all needs watering and I can just see Kane in here now tending to the weeds and sprinkling the beds with the water hose.
I actually don’t think I’m ready to let him go, but I’m not sure what I can do about it. I don’t want to drive him further away.
A quick look at my watch and I work out how much time I have left of today before going back to the drudgery of work. I could quite easily sit here for the rest of the day sipping coffee and watching the bees bounce about on the end of the lavender stems, thinking about what might have been and reliving those precious moments this weekend has brought. But I have stuff to do.
I still need a list even now and there are four things on it this afternoon.
Visit Dad, as I missed my weekly visit yesterday.
Call Poppy, because I need her advice.
Contact the solicitor.
Text Kane.
I text Kane first. I want him to know that I had a lovely weekend and if he wants to talk I’m always there for him. I refrain from telling him that I am missing him, or that I would love to see him again and certainly don’t reveal that I hope above all else that he is the one. Because. Well... because I don’t want to frighten him away.
I then call the solicitor, whose secretary tells me she will call me back. Very annoying.
Then I decide to go to see Dad because if I call Poppy now, it might be too late to visit him afterwards.
I’d forgotten about my new car and was pleasantly reminded when I lift the garage door. I decide to celebrate by filling a travel mug with coffee and placing it in the cup holder, and synching my phone to the Bluetooth in case the solicitor rings while I am driving to the care home.
It’s the little things.
I can even play music while I drive, choosing the Rolling Stones to drive along the country lanes to.
The solicitor calls and I pull over into the entrance of a farmer’s field while I talk to her. The signal is intermittent and I can’t afford for the telephone ping-pong to halt progress on the divorce. I tell her about the offer on the house and she tells me about the findings from the forensic accountant.
It appears he has forged my signature on various loan documents and there is a case for him to be prosecuted for fraud.
I smile.
I have the upper hand.
She advises that we notify the police and demand compensation for the distress and damage caused. She thinks we should throw the book at him, leave him penniless, jobless and shamed.
I ask her to hold off for a while. I need to evaluate her findings before we go back with a response.
At this point Charles doesn’t know what we know. He may have a clue that someone has been sniffing around. He may have a conscience that has been pricked. Or there again.
There is no rush.
I am in the driver’s seat and am enjoying the ride.
Dad seems a little more confused today. The care staff think he has deteriorated over the last week and have asked the visiting doctor to review his medication. I don’t like it and am feeling a little lost with it all. Ever since Dad went into the home a year ago, he hasn’t changed. His condition stabilised and I felt we had made the right choice.
The year before had been full of stressful incidents; hours spent looking for him when he went for a supposed stroll; cleaning the house; shopping to replace the rotten food in the fridge when all he ever seemed to eat was tins of sweetcorn. I never did find out where they came from.
Charles was not helpful during that period, but at least I had someone to moan at about it all. Of course, there was Poppy and I would no doubt give her an update later on, but she was thousands of miles away and had her own family to nurture.
I had no stomach for the Rolling Stones on the way home and choose to drive in silence, taking the bends and the hills with silent grace.
My phone rings when I am just outside of town and I pull up to answer the video call from Poppy.
“Hi Sis, I thought I’d call now for an update. We’re going to see Sky’s parents in a bit so won’t be available later.”
“That’s fine.”
“Is that your new car that you are in?”
“Ahah.” I pan the camera around the car, pointing at the heated seat controls, the cup holder complete with coffee mug and upgraded Bose stereo.
“Lush,” she praises. “Thank you for wiring the money over Rosa. It’s really appreciated and we’re finalising plans for the big move at the end of summer.”
“What’s the end of summer? It’s always summer in Florida.” I joke.
“Anyway, enough of this chit-chat. How was it?”
“Oxford?”
“Duh… yeah.”
“Really nice. We did lots of cool things and you would have died seeing some of the Harry Potter sets at Christchurch and Bodleian.”
“And Kane?”
“Yeah, we had a fantastic time together.”
“Hmm, I sense a but.”
“But… I think I may have put my foot in it.”
She sighs.
“I know Poppy. It’s to do with his ex, Michelle. Do you remember me telling you about her?”
“Vaguely.”
“Well they must have lived together at the house in Oxford and all of her stuff is still there. It’s like a mausoleum or something and he’s quite obviously not over her. I don’t think he’s had any relationships since she died.”
“He probably just needs time to get used to you. There’s bound to be a few hiccups when you’re getting to know each other’s former lives. Take what he’s had to contend with, with your ex, already?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So how have you left it?”
“A bit open ended.”
“He’ll come around.”
I hope so. I tell her about Dad but don’t bother with the update from the solicitor or the house. She has a life to get on with and I can sense by the number of times Sky has appeared in the picture that she is being pressured to go.
With nothing further on my list, I drive home, stopping at the convenience store for the bottle of wine that I feel I need to open tonight.
Kane hasn’t text back. Not that I expected he would. I just fired a place marker at him, one that he could respond to whenever and however he chooses.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rosa
I could do with a break from life. I mean seriously, the boss has come on to me at work and my curtailment of his advances have left me with little option but to leave.
My dad is getting gradually worse, despite the medication change or maybe because of the medication change.
I haven’t heard from Kane. At all.
And Charles is a pain.
It started with our counter proposal to his solicitor. Accept or else.
Unfortunately, he chose or else and it wasn’t a nasty ‘I want more’ or else. Oh no, it was much more complicated and damaging than that. It was a ‘I’m stopping the divorce. We are still legally married and I want you back as being my wife’.
I had a hint of this before my trip to Oxford. The flowers. The calls. But he’s now taken to camping outside the house. The first time I saw him, was as I arrived home from work. I didn’t stop and drove right by, hoping he wouldn’t recognise my new car and give up. The second time he gave chase, which was remarkably scary and the third time I had to get the police involved.
It was all so unnecessary and childish, on his part anyway.
My solicitor has now filed for an injunction but he is still following me. To the supermarket, to the care home, to work. It’s beyond a joke.
I can’t sleep, waking up in the middle of the night picturing him at the foot of my bed. I have to set the burglar alarm when I go upstairs now.
The sale of the ho
use is still going ahead despite his protestations and his solicitor has all but said that he is in the wrong.
It’s just tiring.
So tiring.
Today I’m going to the care home again straight from work. I just feel like I need to spend every minute I can with Dad and have warned Poppy to prepare for bad news. It’s been two whole weeks since I left Oxford, and while I think about Kane often, and many a time have opened up the text string to type a simple’ hello’, I don’t. Although I swear, once, I saw the three little dots fading in and out as if he was texting to me. But nothing ever came through.
~~~~~~
The call comes in the middle of the night and I rush over to the care home straight away. Dad is lying peacefully in his bed, but I am too late to see him leave this world and hope he was still asleep when he did. I hate to think of him taking his last breath awake and alone. The nursing staff try to reassure me that he was asleep when they did their late evening rounds, but miss the point of my concern.
I bend over to kiss his smooth forehead now free of all the frowning wrinkles that he so often wore from the confusion that tore at his soul.
I then sit for a while, until I feel that it is just his body that I am keeping company and not the man.
The formalities are explained and I leave the care home for the last time.
Instead of going back to bed, I sit in my garden, wrapping my cardigan around my arms and chest, letting the symbolism of the dawn wash over me.
My little friend, the robin, is the first to chirp out his song, followed by the rest of the garden birds. Like nature's version of the church bells. I only move into the house once the sound of commuters racing to get to their pointless jobs changes the energy of the day.
I call up work and leave a simple message on the answer machine. They can do without me today, and they will have to get used to it, because I’ve handed my notice in and will be leaving for good very soon.
I’m alone again but I don’t feel lonely.
It’s a long wait until I can call Poppy and break the news to her. Like me she has been expecting it and we both cry, for each other, and for the shift our lives are about to take. The anticipation of change and the loss of being daughters.
Into the Light Page 17
