The Cornish Village School – Breaking the Rules

by Kitty Wilson

  Rosy finished her glass in one.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Matt stood nervously outside Rosy’s door, orchid in hand. He wasn’t sure why he was here; the lights weren’t on and her car wasn’t in the drive which suggested, strongly, that she wasn’t home. However, he had been pacing up and down in his own house for a while now, practising his speech about how he wanted to use today to explain how he felt and so on and so on, until he was compelled to knock and see if he got to deliver his speech in person.

  Angelina was driving him potty at home, moping about and throwing herself into Victorian heroine poses all over the furniture. He hadn’t realized that not having a Valentine was even more traumatic than having Scramble eat her shoes.

  Hence his standing on the doorstep of an empty house on a kind of dry run, just to quell his nerves a bit. He had always seen himself as an alpha male, maybe not a death-defying lorry-leaping James Bond, but certainly a man who knew his own mind, managed his love life easily and wasn’t daunted by anything. He wasn’t liking this change in personality very much.

  Still on the doorstep and dithering, he scolded himself, Who are you? Just ring the bloody doorbell. A mixture of relief and disappointment flooded him as he did so and nothing happened. Of course she was out; it would add credence to his boyfriend theory. What the hell was he doing standing on a doorstep like a moping teenager, reluctant to go home? She wasn’t suddenly going to appear, all single and full of smiles and cooing over his orchid, perfect ribbon or not. If he didn’t pull himself together he’d soon be sporting greasy hair, acne and a notebook full of badly written poems.

  He tried one more time, just in case, and then wandered back down the path and home again. As he entered the living room he found Angelina had managed to dress herself in something far too expensive for a quiet night in and had a very determined glint in her eye. Wishing he had stayed pining on Rosy’s doorstep, he knew this signalled the beginning of something he absolutely was not going to want to do.

  And he was right. It wasn’t long before he was being dragged at full tilt by his sister into some sparkling Cornish mansion, thrumming with people and noise, looking like it had been decorated by Hollywood and crammed full with both the overdressed and people in jeans who looked like they hadn’t seen a shower in days. He suspected he fell into the latter category. Noticing a gentle four-piece band in the corner, he glanced at his watch and then flashed a smile at a passing waitress as he declined a glass of pink champagne. Angelina grabbed two, knocked one back and then cast her eyes around the house with her this-is-where-I-belong look on.

  ‘Happy now?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Mattie, I’m always happy. Although admit it, it was perfect timing meeting Marion yesterday otherwise we’d both be at home, and frankly your moping was beginning to bring me down!’

  ‘My moping? I don’t know how to begin to—’

  ‘Ah, there she is. Marion, Marion.’ Angelina stood up on her tiptoes and waved as her friend from the night before weaved unsteadily through the crowd, wearing some kind of sequinned bodycon dress, hair and make-up slightly askew.

  ‘Darling, hello, so glad you’re here, I’ve got so many people ready to meet you! But first of all do say hello to Richard. Oh, and Matt, dear man, how good of you to come. We have such a lot to talk about!’ She squeezed his arm so tight he was amazed it didn’t pop out of its socket, although the tingling indicated there was a good chance she had managed to stop the circulation. ‘And Rosy’s here somewhere, I’m sure she’ll be pleased to see you.’

  ‘Rosy’s here?’

  ‘Ugh, for God’s sake, don’t mention Rosy to him. Do you know he got her a plant—’

  ‘Did you say Rosy is here?’ Matt asked again, attempting to cut his sister’s stream off and shake some feeling back into his arm.

  ‘Yes, yes, darling. I think she was outside last time I saw her.’

  Matt turned and headed for the vast glass doors that opened towards the garden, ignored by Angelina and Marion, who were still talking ten to the dozen about him as he left.

  ‘…and I said to him, women only respond to diamonds, decent handbags and holidays. A plant, for goodness’ sake! There’s no hope for him at all.’

  The professional in him had to admit that the garden was stunning; as he wandered through he couldn’t see a single thing he would have done differently. As at Penmenna Hall everything was in bud, bar the camellias which were in full bloom. It was as busy out here as inside, with groups of people chattering, giggling and swaying. Many were gathered around a violinist playing in the depths of the garden. He was beginning to suspect there would be a harpist in the bathroom.

  His eyes lit upon an old horse chestnut, its trunk as thick as three burly men, with lights strung around the very lowest hanging boughs. And there, at its base, on a wooden slatted seat, sat Rosy. He felt his heart still for a second before galloping at runaway-train-on-a-steep-hill speed. She looked perfect, a smile on her face, the lights casting a glow that made her look as if she were framed by starlight.

  His feet sped towards her, halted by another man reaching her first. Insufferably good-looking and impeccably dressed, he had features that wouldn’t be out of place in one of those men’s magazines, all blond and tall like a cartoon hero. He might look like he’d be far more at home in a manicurist’s chair than an old bench in a garden but it didn’t seem to stop him sinking down with ease as he handed Rosy a champagne saucer and received an intimate smile in return.

  Balls! What should he do? Matt couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away, and felt a muscle in his thumb pounding. Then his cheek joined in. This was no good. The two looked to be deep in conversation already. His feet felt stuck but there was no way he was slinking back into some bushes. Having already had the man or mouse conversation with himself once today, he knew man had to be the answer. It was just that to approach the two of them, heads together, felt more like masochist than man, a self-flagellating medieval priest kind of madness.

  Getting closer he saw that whilst their body language seemed synchronistic, and their conversation was flowing animatedly, there was no overpowering sexuality to their interaction. You could tell when people were sleeping together and his radar was beeping a loud ‘no’ at this point. Even if he was wrong, and he admitted he could be, he doubted these two were a forever match. He might be back in the game! His face relaxed again, the smile returning to his lips. Maybe Matt the scruffy gardener was more her type after all; she could be left cold by cartoon princes with perfect nails. It seemed there was a distinct lack of spark here, whereas when he and Rosy were in the same space there was a magnetic field compelling them together, sparks electric blue and whippet-quick flying around their every interaction.

  Talking of whippet-quick, Rosy’s head whipped around, the bond between her and Cartoon Hero instantly dashed. Matt couldn’t help but grin so hard that his cheeks hurt and his ears stretched. Rosy leapt to her feet – could this be it? Would she realize how daft she had been last night and hurtle headlong towards him? She was looking a tad hurtle-y actually, swaying a little and raising her right hand and pointing at him. That didn’t look like a look of love. In fact, now dead close, his face froze as she raised her hand up again, resting her fingers on her forehead and her thumb just below her lip, her jaw set rigid and her chin jutted slightly. The specific emotion she was feeling was just outside his reach, but whatever it was, it was making him feel less than positive. What had he done now?

  He had no choice but to take a couple of steps closer, his grin now fixed and insincere. He may be used to full-on barrages of abuse from Angelina but this was something else. The square set of Rosy’s face and silent stare laid heavy on his shoulders. Then, as finally they stood face to face, a few feet apart, the thought of greeting her with a kiss on the cheek was as ridiculous as snow in June.

  ‘Rosy?’

  She withdrew her hand from her face; she was no longer static, her arms were sweeping furiously, eve
rywhere, taking in the whole garden, violin, canapé trays and all.

  ‘All three, Matt, all three! Home, then work and now, now this. And today of all days. What is wrong with me? Why do I do this? Why are you doing this? Huh? What is it about you? Why did you choose me to do this to? Surely, the law of averages, it can’t be me again, it just can’t!’

  ‘Rosy, I’m sorry, I don’t… here… let’s sit down—’

  ‘Oh no, don’t even think about touching me! Do not think about it!’ She shook herself, slapping at his hand. ‘You haven’t left me a single place… you’ll be popping up at Lynne’s next. Should I give you the name of my GP, my dentist? Make it all a bit easier for you. Just accept it as a fait accompli?’

  She was shouting now and Cartoon Hero had moved forward, next to her, shoulders drawn tall in warning to Matt but also shooting looks of complete astonishment at Rosy.

  ‘Rosy, really I—’ Matt tried again.

  ‘Just stop! Don’t say anything. I can’t believe I could get it so wrong again. The bloody Rule, I should have kept The bloody Rule.’ Her voice was breaking now and whilst this made no sense at all, Matt just wanted to draw her in and wrap her up, stroke her hair and make it all right. But her anger was clearly directed at him, and common sense dictated that as much as every bone of him wanted to stay, he needed to leave for her sake.

  Her shoulders started to convulse and Hero hovered no more but decisively moved in and wrapped his arms around her whilst looking across to Matt.

  ‘I think you’d better go, buddy.’

  ‘This makes no se—’

  ‘Go! Just go, Matt!’ Rosy was now outright sobbing. Shaking and sobbing.

  Silently he turned – what choice did he have? – and headed back to the car, passing the guests in the garden who managed to pretend they hadn’t been listening whilst shooting him sympathetic looks – those that didn’t look at him as if he was a serial killer.

  He had no idea what had just happened, what had provoked such irrational distress, but his heart was breaking for Rosy.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Rosy sank into Chase’s arms, inhaling the deep lemon scent of him and trying to calm her breathing, rapid-fire gulps slowly morphing into something less frenzied. She watched Matt as he walked away, heavy-footed and with his head down. She wasn’t sure what had possessed her as she saw him standing in front of her, but it had sure felt like a least a decade full of rage and fear, and a refusal to be played with again.

  ‘I did it,’ she murmured into Chase. ‘This time, I did it.’

  ‘You certainly did something.’ His hands were stroking her head, as one would to calm a feral cat and this, combined with the sudden feeling of strength she had, was enough to get her to step back and smile at him.

  It was as if some tremendous storm had passed, one that had caught her up and whirled her about until she had no sense of where she was. She looked around her and saw, as she re-grounded herself, that she was in his garden, surrounded by a multitude of people, many of whom were staring at her before hurriedly looking away.

  Her knees suddenly felt trembly, and without being aware of speaking she realized there was a sound coming from her lips.

  ‘Ooooh… oooooh… ooooh.’ A long sound, a succession of them, as it dawned upon her that she may have thrown off her shackles of fear but had done so in front of many witnesses, and that the story of Rosy Winter, held-together headmistress extraordinaire, melting down so very publicly would be around the village quicker than a dose of smallpox.

  ‘Oooh… oooh…’ Her sounds were quicker now, higher pitched and she felt herself leaning back into her protector.

  ‘Rosy, Rosy, it’s OK. Here, come with me.’

  He took her by the hand and led her away from the eyes all around her. She followed him across the garden and down a hilly, stony scrabbly path until she could breathe the salt tang in the air and feel the sand filling the top of her shoes.

  ‘Now breathe deep,’ he instructed, his American lilt sounding at odds with the patter of the waves rippling on the shore. And as he spoke he held her hand firmly, but put distance between their bodies until they were both standing upright and square, facing the sea with her copying his breathing patterns, in and out, in and out, until she began to feel the shaking diminish and her breath come back to normal. Rosy wasn’t to be fooled twice though and looked around, all around, to ensure that no one was here witnessing this other than Chase. She could hear the murmur of the party a little way up the hill, but here on the beach it was just her and this most unusual man she had met but a few hours ago.

  ‘There. Better?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘Well then, let’s sit.’ He did so, smoothing the sand next to him, ridding it of the scrunched-up bits of seaweed that were littered all over the beach. ‘Now, I’m no professional, but it looks to me like something just happened there that you probably need to talk about. I know I don’t know you well, but sometimes a stranger is better than a friend…’

  Rosy looked him up and down and the words came tumbling out.

  ‘It was just the final straw, him showing up here and on Valentine’s Day. I didn’t know you knew him.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘You mean he came here uninvited?’ Even she could hear the heightened pitch of her voice.

  ‘Woah, woah.’ Chase rubbed her shoulders. ‘I’m about seven steps behind you right now, but if that is Matt, the man you were talking about earlier, I should say that when you described him to me you left out the bit about thinking he’s a psychopath…’

  ‘I didn’t say he was a psychopath, but you have to admit, it does look a bit like it, him turning up here uninvited.’

  ‘You know him better than me, but didn’t Marion text Angelina and invite her here, when we were all in the garden? And he is her brother, so she—’

  ‘Oh my God! Angelina brought him.’

  ‘That would be my guess.’

  ‘But still, he’s displaying all the signs, Chase… he’s moved in next to me, then got involved in the school and then turned up here, where I didn’t even know I’d be, and heads straight for me.’

  ‘Why don’t you start at the start.’ Chase smiled in such a way that Rosy didn’t feel mad, or judged or embarrassed and, as she sifted the sand through her fingers, she started to tell him the story of Matt moving to the village and the friendship that they had shared. She talked and talked and Chase wordlessly listened, sculpting pictures in the sand alongside her until she had finished.

  He fixed her with a stare and, holding her eyes with his, responded to all that she had told him.

  ‘Look, don’t hate me, but from all you’ve told me, he sounds like a pretty normal bloke, who you have a lot of fun with, who wants to help you win your battles at work and you both seem attracted to each other. Like I said, I’m no professional but there doesn’t seem to be a whole host of signs of psychopathy so far. Not once did you mention pulling the wings off butterflies, or a sudden up-spike in the disappearance of all the local cats. There’s something else going on here, Rosy, and no one is forcing you into anything, but everything you’ve said, well, I’m trying to marry it with your reaction to him and it just doesn’t quite add up.’

  Rosy took a deep breath in and looked at the man in front of her. ‘It’s Josh,’ she said and sat back to see his reaction.

  ‘I don’t know what that means but I think it’s going to make a lot more sense. Tell me about Josh.’

  ‘I met him at university – he was living in the room next to me at halls. He was so so handsome, dark curly hair, sparkling eyes and a way of lighting up a room when he walked in.’ She quickly sneaked a peek at Chase, who was smiling and nodding. The world hadn’t exploded. She had never told a single soul in Cornwall any of this and it actually didn’t feel frightening, right here and now, more like it was something she needed to do. ‘I couldn’t believe that he was interested in me, plain little Rosy Winter.’ Chase didn’t interru
pt with the whole ‘no, you’re not’ thing, he just kept nodding, his silence encouraging her to continue.

  ‘It didn’t take long before we were completely intermeshed, I was so in love, or thought I was.’ She couldn’t stop the little harrumph that escaped her lips at this point. ‘I was so stupid.’

  ‘You were eighteen, away from home for the first time and fell in love. Honey, that’s not stupid – that’s learning about life.’

  ‘No, in this case it was stupid. Although I did learn a little, I’ll give you that. Anyway, we did everything together, he even dropped his course and started mine, in the very first half term. All the friends I had made within the course and in halls were suddenly his. It wasn’t until years later I realized that should have been a red flag, that it’s not normal not to have friends of your own…’

  ‘But you were young and in love, and you wanted to share your world with him.’

  ‘Yes, yes, that was it exactly. I was so happy. I couldn’t believe that life could be this great. He would come everywhere with me. I didn’t know what I had done to deserve such huge affection. He wouldn’t even let me lift a shopping bag, he was devoted. Or that’s what I thought. I didn’t even think it was weird that he would drive me to and from work – I was tutoring school kids privately just to top up my student loans – and he would come too, introduce himself and wait in the car until I had finished. It didn’t take long before the parents would be inviting him in for coffee whilst I would be dividing fractions and teaching simultaneous equations. At that point I felt so lucky, so blessed, to have this movie star of a boyfriend that everyone adored because he was so charming, and so invested in me.’