“What,” he began, clearing his throat. “What does she say?”
“Read it,” Paul said, slipping onto the bench. Paul was right. If it was bad news he had no right to ask his son to break it to him.
“Right.” Dave sat in his chair and, with unsteady fingers, pulled the folded sheet out of the envelope. The letter was short, and apart from apologising for her behaviour did contain nothing to alleviate his fears. What she had to say, however, was heartfelt, and he smiled, trying to hold back his tears.
“I’m beginning to forget what Mum’s voice sounded like,” Paul said after a while.
Dave stared at his son.
“When I read, I can hear Mum’s voice in my head,” Paul began to explain. He lowered his gaze to his hands where he had fanned them out on the scrubbed table. “It’s getting more and more difficult.”
“Paul,” he began, but when he couldn’t find the right words he shifted to sit next to Paul and drew him into his arms. What could he say to comfort Paul when hearing his mother’s voice was so important to him? He wanted to tell him that he, too, was beginning to forget little things about Rita. He’d go to her wardrobe and bury his face in her red dress to remember her scent. But he, at least, had something to hold on to, at least for as long as the material carried her perfume. “When your Gran died the first thing I forgot was her voice. But you know what’s important?”
Paul shook his head.
“It’s okay too, because she’ll always be in your heart, with or without her voice,” Dave said. “I’m starting to forget small things about her as well.” It was true, and admitting that was painful, but he’d do anything for his bairns.
Paul tightened his hold around him and buried his face in the crook of his neck. Dave dropped a kiss on top of his head. Paul had been incredibly strong so far, much stronger than a boy his age should be after losing his mother. Dave held him as he cried.
-:-
On Wednesday morning Dave woke with his heart pounding. It was Rose day, and he couldn’t wait to see her again, particularly after he’d almost fallen asleep on her on Sunday. He’d meet her at Tony’s for lunch after the wedding he’d booked in for the morning. He forwent breakfast, just picking up the thermos mug of coffee Lottie had prepared for him; he had to leave early to pick up his things at the studio before driving out to the country hotel where the happy couple wanted their pictures taken.
It was a gorgeous day and it was a pleasure to work with the couple. The bride was stunningly beautiful and the groom endearingly nervous. Dave wondered if he’d been like that on his wedding day. Time flew by, and since he was so focused on his work, he didn’t think of Rose until his phone chirped in the pocket of his jeans as he packed his equipment away.
“Rose?”
“Actually, it’s Mickey.”
Dave frowned. Then his stomach sank. “Has something happened?”
“No. Yes. In a way. Rose is fine, though. Don’t worry. She’s asked me to call you to come pick her up at the Priory. If that’s okay. It is Wednesday, right?” Mickey said, sounding more than a little uncomfortable.
If anything, Mickey’s question set him even more on edge. “You know about it?”
“She’s my best friend, mate.”
“I’ll be there in a while. Are you travelling?” Dave asked when he recognised the background noise.
“Yeah, we’ll be there in about forty minutes.”
“I’ll see you then.”
It took Dave a lot of effort to concentrate on the traffic, and it was with a sigh of relief that he pulled the key out of the ignition after he’d parked outside the Priory. His heart was hammering and he rushed to the entrance, where Annie, the receptionist, made him sit down on one of the sofas. “Miss Tyler will be upstairs in a couple of minutes, sir,” she said, offering him a drink, which he declined.
“Is she all right?” he asked, but didn’t get an answer because the phone rang behind the desk. He groaned in frustration, his worry taking on epic proportions, sending his imagination into overdrive. He went cold as horrible image after horrible image popped up inside his head.
He hadn’t noticed there was a lift until it dinged and the doors slid open to reveal Rose. He jumped up and hurried towards her, wincing as the sudden movement strained his bruised ribs.
Rose looked a fright. Her clothes were caked in mud, and her hair was dishevelled and matted. She walked with a slight limp, and sported a bandage around her left wrist. Only her face was scrubbed clean as the cuts had needed tending to. When she stepped towards him he saw how exhausted she was.
“Rose! What’s happened? Are you all right?” he asked, reaching out for her in support.
“It’s nothing, I’m okay. Can you give me a lift home?” she asked, smiling weakly.
“Of course. It’s what I’m here for. Mickey called me.”
“Ah.”
“Have you got everything you need?”
“Yeah. Let’s get out of here,” she said.
Rose dozed in the car, and for once Dave was glad that the Glasgow traffic was bad. As much as he wanted to know what had happened he reined in his curiosity until they had reached her house. He took her upstairs and to the bathroom so she could take a shower while he made some sandwiches and tea. When he’d touched Rose she had been cold, despite the warm day, and he thought it best to tuck her up in bed with a hot drink and let her sleep off her exhaustion. Explanations could wait until later.
Rose called out his name after he had put the tray down on the window seat in the bedroom and got distracted by their handprints on the wall. He couldn’t believe she had not painted them over. “Dave!?”
He hurried to the door of her en-suite. “I’m here.”
“Can you help me with my hair, please? The tangles won’t come out,” she said, sounding a bit better but her words were still slightly slurred by her exhaustion.
“Sure,” he said, pushing the door open. Rose had braced herself on the edge of the washbasin, a wooden comb in her right hand, and a towel slung around her body. Dave took the comb from her and guided her to sit on the stool she kept in the bathroom. The comb was wide-toothed and unlike any he had seen Rita or the girls use.
“Be gentle, though,” Rose said, looking up at him. He bent to kiss her tenderly.
“We’ve just had... well, let’s say I’ve done this before,” he said, unwilling to mention the rather gross nit incident.
“Nits?” Rose laughed softly. “Tony has them all the time. Or at least it seems that way.”
Dave started to work the comb carefully through her tangled hair. She had gotten out most of the mud and whatever else it had been, but the knots her vigorous scrubbing had created were just as bad. However hard he tried, he couldn’t avoid tugging a bit too hard on her hair every once in a while, earning him a sharp hiss. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m glad for your help. You’re doing great.”
They stopped talking for the rest of the exercise, and by the time he was done, Rose was half asleep. He led her to her bed and tucked her in. The tea was stone cold.
“Dave?” Rose said, grabbing his wrist with surprising strength.
“Aye?”
“Don’t go, yeah? You can stay, right?”
“It’s Wednesday, Rose. Of course I’ll stay.” He wriggled his hand free to caress her and took the towel from her. When he returned to the bedroom, she had fallen asleep. He sat down in the window seat and ate two of the sandwiches. He hadn’t noticed how famished he was. Then he made himself a fresh cup of tea and brought his laptop to her bedroom to work on the Emptiness Folder. He hadn’t touched the toy car and teddy bear shot since Paul had seen it, and after a couple of minutes he decided not to change anything about it. It wasn’t really necessary, and it was Rose’s shot. He wondered briefly if she’d enjoy some lessons in photography. She certainly did have a good eye.
Dave looked at her where she lay snuggled up beneath her silvery green duvet. Her damp hair wa
s drying, fanned out as it was on the pillow behind her. She had the most beautiful hair, he thought, and seeing it against the soft material of her linen and the pillow made it look entirely different from the way it looked draped over the rough floorboards. Her lips were slightly parted and she looked completely unguarded in her sleep.
He had seen many sides of his mysterious Rose, but this one was new. She was the society girl, the thoughtful young woman, the relaxed and happy cook, the naked model, the creature from the swamp, the businesswoman. But she was always Rose, strong but vulnerable, warm and caring but determined.
He couldn’t help wondering what it was she really did. The Heritage Trust Fund was just the uppermost bit of the ruin buried beneath the soil. She had travelled through time and space. There was no way a woman like Rose would be content with office work. The explosion of the night he had found her and her appearance today spoke volumes. She’d told him she wasn’t with the police, and he believed her. But there was something else, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.
The cuts on her face had darkened, and when she’d slipped into bed, she’d not only sported a bandaged wrist but he could also see that her knee had turned black and blue. She must have taken quite a fall.
“Who are you, Rose Tyler?” he whispered softly.
Eventually he managed to return to his work, and when he reviewed the mirror shots he made a mental note to reread the first of the Potter books. Just like she’d asked, he didn’t remove the scars but experimented with making them stand out a bit more instead.
He was so lost in his work that he lifted up his empty mug several times to drink from it, only to put it down with the intention of nipping downstairs for a fresh one, but of course he forgot until he wanted to take the next sip. In the end it was Rose’s voice that roused him.
“Hey.”
“Hey you,” he said, smiling, saving his work and sliding off the window seat. “Feeling better?”
“Yes,” she said, returning his smile. She reached out for him and pulled him towards her when he took her hand. “Thank you.”
“Are you hungry? I’ve got a sandwich here,” he said, gesturing at the plate on the tray.
“I’d like to make up for sleeping away the afternoon. What time is it anyway?”
“It’s just gone four,” he said, glancing at her alarm clock. “What did you have in mind?”
He sat down on the edge of her bed, unsure of what he was to do with his hands now that Rose had let go of them.
“Well, I am in bed, naked,” she said, tucking the tip of her tongue into the corner of her mouth.
Dave felt warmth rise in his cheeks, but the idea also sent warm shivers down his spine. He was no saint, but following through with the desire he felt seemed like taking advantage of her weakened state and just didn't feel right. “Rose, I’m not sure this is the right time.”
Her wonderful grin disappeared and he realised that he must have sounded more like a father than a lover — and he certainly wanted to make love to her. “You’re hurt, and so am I. It’s obvious you’ve just had a horrible day.”
Rose closed her eyes and cupped her forehead with her hand. “Yeah, you’re right. But can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“If I put on my pyjamas and you made us a cuppa, would you lie with me and just forget the world?”
Dave smiled. “I like the sound of that.”
“It’s from a song.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, but it never came out here.”
Dave slumped slightly. “There are quite a few things that are different, aren’t there?”
“Not as many as you’d think, but it can be a little overwhelming at times. Now, tea!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Before Dave slipped into bed with her a few minutes later he took off his jeans — “I worked outdoors this morning, you don’t want them in your bed” — and gave her a cup of tea. “What happened this morning?” he asked, sipping his tea. Rose had insisted he slip under the duvet to keep warm, and it was surprising how warm her body was next to his. True to her word, she had used the time he was in the kitchen to put on her pyjamas.
“We did some field work and I slipped down a slope,” she said. “I’ll be right as rain in a few days.”
Dave trailed his fingers lightly over her sore wrist. “Did you see a doctor?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m just... I’m worried, is all. What were you doing, out and about? You must have been out for ages? You slept for three hours.”
Rose put her mug aside and turned to lie facing him. “I slipped in the darkness. The battery of my torch died, and that’s when it happened.”
He looked at her expectantly, waiting for more, but she didn’t oblige him. “I can’t tell you anything else, I’m sorry. I would if I could, I really would.” She reached out to cup his cheek with her bandaged hand, and he turned his head to plant a kiss in its palm.
“Okay,” he said, seeing that he had to accept that explanation for the moment, although he couldn’t help feeling a little angry at being called on to help her but not getting any answers in return.
“I’ll tell you when I can, and I’ll answer all your questions. I promise,” Rose said. “Now, tell me. What have you been working on?”
Chapter 24
Early Sunday evening saw the end of a very hot weekend. Dark clouds had started to build up above the sea, and by late afternoon a stiff breeze brought a bit of relief. Rose had opened all her windows to air out the house properly. Dominic had restricted her to office duty after her encounter with the Uggsomegaut on Wednesday morning. Rose had been furious at first, but if she was honest, she was glad for some rest. The past weeks had been wonderful but stressful, and she had to admit that she probably hadn’t taken as much time as she should have to recuperate from her injuries after the accident with the Dimension Cannon. On Friday she had driven her minuscule Italian car to a DIY shop to buy some supplies to revamp her patio. She wanted to make the most of the sunshine, and her garden was pathetic.
The work on the patio hadn’t been so good for her sprained wrist and her twisted knee, but when she was done some time Saturday morning, the patio was clean and shielded from the garden by an array of potted plants. She had bought some furniture as well, and she didn’t leave her new love seat unless absolutely necessary.
The chirping of her phone roused her from a nap. Rose sat up and reached for her mobile, catching the book as it began to slide from her chest. It was Dave’s ring tone, and her heart began to beat a little faster.
“Hey,” she said.
“We’ve cancelled footie practice. Can I come over early?” Dave asked without preamble.
“Why? I mean, why has it been cancelled?”
“Have you looked at the sky recently?”
“Nope. I’ve been reading and napping,” Rose said.
She could hear his smile over the phone. “Looks like a major thunderstorm is moving in from the sea. So, may I pop round now?”
“Of course you may.”
“Just wanted to make sure you’ve thrown out the other guy by the time I arrive.”
“Oh. Him. Yeah. No prob,” Rose retorted.
Dave was silent for a beat. “Aye. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
When she looked at the sky she saw that Dave had been right, and for a moment she contemplated evacuating the patio, but she wanted him to see what she’d done. Rose used the time to fix them a drink based on a recipe she’d charmed off Bertie’s bartender.
Dave arrived with a bottle of sparkling wine, dressed in a white oxford, his leather jacket and what must be his rattiest pair of jeans. Rose stood in the doorway, gaping at him for a while.
“May I come in?” Dave asked, taking off his sunglasses and shrugging out of the heavy jacket.
“Sure,” she said, stepping aside. Dave stole a kiss from her as he passed her. The bottle was slick with condensation and chilly against h
er arm when he touched her with it. Rose yelped.
“How are you?” he asked, trailing his fingers down her left arm until he reached her sprained left wrist. She had taken off the bandage.
“I’m great.” She pushed the door shut, then stepped into his arms after she’d taken the bottle from him and put it on the small hall table. They kissed, losing themselves in each other’s arms for a while.
Bigger on the inside: Space, Time Travel, Alien Criminals (A Space Time Travel Mystery Book 1) Page 26
