Rosie Meadows Regrets...

by Catherine Alliott

  ‘Phew, thank God for that,’ said Miles. ‘That’s enough Yuletide spirit to last me a lifetime. ’Night, Alex. See you on Christmas morning, Rosie.’

  ‘G’night!’ we called after him as he made off for the car park.

  We peeled off in the other direction and set off up the hill to Farlings. Vera was baby-sitting while Martha had her girls’ night out, but I’d promised to take over and stay the night when I got back from the pub. I snuggled down into my coat, pushing the collar up against the cold and enjoying the sensation of the freezing air on my flushed cheeks. We trudged through the snow in silence for a bit. Then I smiled at Alex sideways.

  ‘You knew it was going to be like that, didn’t you?’

  ‘Like what?’ he said innocently.

  ‘Like a proverbial goldfish bowl. I felt like I was on display or something, one of my own dishes of the day. Do all those people have a vested interest in your personal life or something? Do they get free drinks when you appear at the pub with someone of the opposite sex? I’ve never seen so much winking, I thought some of them were in danger of dislocating their eyelids.’

  He chuckled. ‘I told you, it’s nothing personal, they’re just bored witless that’s all, and if it looks like there’s going to be a romance between the emotionally retarded vet and the beautiful young widow from London they’ll all hold their breath. Anyway, they probably think I need fattening up and reckon you’re the girl to do it. It’s their chance to view a real-life soap opera, you see.’

  I snorted. ‘God they must be hard up if they think my life is going to entertain them. I’m only sorry to disappoint them.’

  ‘Does that mean you’re going to disappoint me, too?’

  I looked up sharply. ‘What d’you mean?’

  He thrust his hands deeper in his pockets and gazed down at the snow. ‘Only that I like you. Is that allowed?’

  ‘Of course it’s allowed,’ I said quietly.

  There was a silence.

  ‘It’s just –’

  ‘No, me first,’ he interrupted. ‘Hear me out, before you start telling me it’s too soon and you’re not ready for anything heavy yet, etc., etc.’

  I shrugged. ‘Okay.’

  We walked on a bit. At length he cleared his throat. ‘The thing is, Rosie, you’re the first girl I’ve met for a long time that I haven’t – well, that I haven’t compared to Amanda.’

  ‘Is that good?’ I ventured.

  ‘Well, I think so. I think it means … that I’m getting over her. That I like you irrespective of her. I don’t find myself thinking, is she as pretty, or as funny, or as clever, or as anything, as her? For what it’s worth, the last few weeks that I’ve been coming up to the house and spending time with you have been the happiest I’ve spent for a long time.’

  ‘Well, I’ve been happy too, Alex,’ I said carefully, ‘but that doesn’t mean I want to – well, to leap into anything again.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Why not? Well because I’ve only just buried my husband that’s why not.’

  He shook his head. ‘Doesn’t count.’

  ‘What d’you mean it doesn’t count? Of course it counts!’

  ‘’Fraid not. You didn’t love him, did you?’

  ‘Well, not at the end, no, but –’

  ‘And not for a year or two before that, either. Not since just after you first got married, when the rosy glow of the wedding and the honeymoon wore off, am I right?’

  ‘Well, maybe we did have a bit of a strained relationship but –’

  ‘And then you discovered you were pregnant, which wasn’t so bad because when Ivo was born you had someone else to transfer your love to.’

  ‘I don’t know about that, I –’

  ‘And it was only later on that you woke up with a jolt and discovered you positively loathed the guy, and that you’d always loathed him, and then the dawn came up with a vengeance.’

  I halted in the snow, rounding on him. ‘You’re very sure about all this, aren’t you? I’ve only known you a few weeks, what makes you so convinced you know my life story?’

  ‘I don’t, but like I said in the pub, I’m just trying to get you to be honest. I think it’ll help you.’

  ‘Well I don’t need help, thank you!’ I said warmly. ‘I’m not looking for therapy.’

  ‘I don’t mean you need help, don’t get in a strop, but I’ve observed you over the last few weeks, Rosie. You’re not mourning this man, you’re glad to be shot of him, but my God you feel guilty about that and it’ll screw you up completely if you’re not careful. And why should you feel guilty? It’s not your fault he’s dead and the fact that he is dead doesn’t canonize him, you know. It doesn’t make him a saint. God, you’re the bloody saint for putting up with him for as long as you did.’

  We were on the doorstep of Farlings now. I turned to look at him. His eyes were intent, persuasive.

  ‘Forget him, Rosie, forget that life you had. Try something else. Try a little happiness for a change.’

  I put the key in the lock and gave a wry smile. ‘You mean try you for a change.’

  His face creased into a grin. ‘Well, maybe I do! Is that so dreadful? Is that such a crime? I like you, I’ve told you that, so are you going to leave me freezing to death on this cold doorstep or are you going to ask me in for a coffee?’

  ‘Ah, coffee. That old euphemism.’ I pushed on through the door.

  ‘God, you’re a suspicious old bag,’ he chuckled, following me in. ‘I said I liked you, I didn’t say I fancied you rotten and wanted to shag you senseless on the – oh, hello, Vera.’

  ‘Ah good, you’re back.’

  Vera, ensconced on the sofa by the fire in the hall on the grounds that it was the cosiest room in the house, happily didn’t seem to have heard Alex. She began winding in her knitting like a demon.

  ‘Thought you were never coming,’ she grumbled, rolling up her Family Circle and stuffing it in her string bag.

  ‘Sorry, Vera, I think we found the pub that never closes.’

  ‘Ah well, that’s all right. Does you good to have a nice time now and again, it’s just that he’ll be frettin’ and wanting his Horlicks if I don’t get back soon.’

  ‘Well, thanks so much for coming over. You were right, it did do me good to get out.’

  She paused, smiled as she buttoned herself up to the chin in her coat. ‘You’re all right, luv. I’m glad you had a good time. See you anon.’

  ‘Yes, thanks. Goodnight.’

  I opened the door for her, and in a flurry of overcoat, woollen hat, gloves and knitting bags, she was gone.

  All of a sudden the hall seemed very quiet, very still and very empty. Alex threw his coat on a chair and moved across to the fire. He stood with his back to me for a moment, then turned, smiling slightly, watching me.

  I moved over to the tree that Martha and the children had decorated that afternoon. I fingered a bauble.

  ‘Right, coffee?’ I said brightly, for some reason feeling unaccountably nervous.

  ‘Not for me, thanks. Keeps me awake.’

  ‘Oh. Right. Whisky then?’

  ‘Puts me to sleep.’

  ‘Ah.’

  Our eyes met with a deafening crash.

  ‘Come here.’

  I didn’t, but that didn’t deter him. Two seconds later, and in the same number of strides, he was over the Persian rug and into my corner. The next thing I knew, I was in his arms.

  ‘Look, Alex, the thing is, I’m not sure if I’m ready for – mmmmm!’

  Down I went in a tango-esque, back-breaking embrace; mouth to mouth, head in the Christmas tree, pine needles up the nose. It was quite a while before I surfaced, and when I did, I appeared to be panting. It was a long time since I’d been kissed like that, but something inside me, something parched and withered, began to unfurl, remembering. Coloured fairy lights danced in front of me, but Alex’s eyes seemed to be generating more energy than all of them put together. This was going to be
hard to resist.

  ‘Now look, Alex,’ I gasped, rationally enough, ‘let’s just take this thing slowly, shall we? Let’s not – whooops!’

  Blimey, I was flat on my back on the sofa now – this man didn’t wrestle pregnant ewes to the ground for nothing. His silken tackle had me prostrate and drowning in one lengthy, mesmerising kiss after another. On and on they rolled, and the terrible thing was that far from resisting, I appeared to be collaborating now. If my heart wasn’t in it, something else was, and the more it went on, the more it seemed to be habit forming. My arms were wrapped wantonly around his neck, I seemed to be in the grip of a hormonal impulse – oh God, was I giving up the fight? No no, I’ll fight again in a minute, I thought desperately, his tongue hypnotically warm in my mouth, really I will. I’m just mustering forces, playing for time, in a minute I’ll –

  ‘Ooaah!’ I squeaked as a furtive hand snaked up my jumper. ‘Alex, wait!’ I gasped. ‘I really think –’

  ‘Too much thinking, my love … listen to the old bod … that’s better … now, if you just … there … God, you’re beautiful, so mind-blowingly beautiful it’s unbelievable …’

  Well, that did it, that really did it. Back in the dark mists of time I suppose someone, somewhere, might just have referred to me as beautiful, but we’re talking ice ages here. We’re talking pre-Harry, pre-Rupert-the-lumberjack, pre-anyone of any consequence, and even then never mind-blowingly beautiful. And never followed up with the observation that this beauty was unbelievable. Truly. I’d have remembered. Well, I was putty in his hands. I went with the current. I went with all the arid, dried-up, pent-up emotions of the last few years and – ping! – so did my bra strap. Above his head the tree lights flickered, tinsel glistened, and baubles danced, but I shut my eyes as I caught sight of two large purple balls hanging pendulously together. I didn’t want any lewd associations to spoil the moment. Instead, I settled back to enjoy it, because frankly it was all over bar the shouting now, wasn’t it? My bodice was ripped and he was gaining ground like Stormin’ Norman, marching across the plains, going into the foothills, except – oh God – wait! No, it couldn’t be a total walkover, not here in the hall, not with the children just upstairs! Because what if they came down? Suddenly my mind flashed up an over-sentimentalized picture of a clutch of small, pyjama clad children on the stairs, clutching teddies. Emma, wide-eyed, lisped ‘Rothie, why have you got no clothes on? Oooh, you rude girl!’

  ‘No!’ I shrieked, sitting bolt upright. Then, ‘Mmwmmwrm!’ as I was jack-knifed down again, silenced by his lips.

  Only this time he meant business. Although I was struggling now, he didn’t seem aware of it and anyway he was bigger than me. In fact he was so huge and so all over me I thought I must be suffocating, and I didn’t hear anything other than the roar of hot breath in my ears. Didn’t hear the crunch of tyres on the gravel outside. Didn’t hear the car door slam, or the footsteps crunch through the snow and on up the steps. Didn’t hear the key turn in the latch or the front door open. All I felt was the sudden, sharp gust of wind in my face and on my bare midriff. Alex’s head shot back. Over his shoulder, framed in the doorway in a long dark coat and with a face like stone stood Joss. Standing beside him, wrapped in full-length camel cashmere, and with bright, scarlet lips, was the most beautiful, dark-haired, doe-eyed creature I think I’ve ever seen in my life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I leapt off the sofa in dismay, and not a little disarray. ‘Joss!’ Clutching desperately at my clothes I pulled down my jumper. ‘I – we didn’t expect you until tomorrow!’

  ‘Evidently,’ he said drily.

  ‘I’m – I’m baby-sitting for Martha.’

  ‘So all is revealed. Good evening, Alex.’

  Alex, having eased himself upright, seemed about to hold out his hand, then thought better of it. He raked it through his rumpled hair instead and grinned sheepishly. ‘Joss, Annabel,’ he nodded to them as he tucked his shirt in.

  ‘Alex just popped in,’ I said quickly.

  ‘So I see,’ drawled Joss. ‘Caught in flagrante delicto. You really should be more careful you know. Rosie, I don’t believe you’ve met my wife. Rosie Meadows, Annabel Dubarry.’

  Annabel held out her hand, her dark eyes dancing with amusement. ‘I say, what a hoot! No, we haven’t had the pleasure, I’m awfully sorry if we’ve put a stop to yours!’

  ‘Of course not,’ I muttered, blushing furiously. ‘We were just, I mean we weren’t flagellating or whatever Joss said, we were just –’

  ‘Snogging,’ finished Alex unabashed, with a grin. ‘And very pleasant it was too. How was your flight then, you two? Good trip?’ God, he was cool, wasn’t he? Anyone would think we’d just been nibbling cucumber sandwiches or something.

  ‘Pretty shitty, thank you, and I need a drink.’ Joss made for his decanter on the desk. ‘There are two ways to fly the Atlantic, I’ve discovered. One is to drink nothing and arrive feeling lousy, and the other is to drink heavily and arrive feeling lousy. I chose the former this time which was a huge mistake. Will you join me or have you already helped yourself?’

  ‘I haven’t, as it happens, and actually I’d better be on my way. I’ve got to be up early tomorrow. G’night all, ’night, Rosie.’ Alex turned to me, took my face in his hands and kissed me full on the lips before I could move a muscle. I stood rooted to the spot, crimson with shame and embarrassment.

  ‘Goodnight,’ I muttered, thinking, just go. Just go, damn you.

  A moment later he was gone. The door slammed and we heard his footsteps crunch away down the drive. Joss turned back to his desk to pour some water into his whisky. I could hear my heart pounding. I could also see a bit of grey bra peeking out of the top of my jumper. I quickly poked it back down, but not before Annabel had caught my eye and smirked. I turned to Joss, my face on fire.

  ‘Joss, I’m so sorry, but Martha needed a break so I filled in for her.’

  Joss turned back, swirled his drink around in his glass and regarded me levelly. ‘Yes, well, sorry to surprise you, Rosie, but the airport called to say there’d been a cancellation at the last minute, so we took the tickets. I tried to get a message through this morning but there was no one here.’

  ‘As a matter of fact we didn’t think it would be a problem,’ purred Annabel in a transatlantic drawl. ‘After all, we do live here.’

  ‘It’s not a problem,’ I mumbled, wishing the ground would swallow me whole. ‘And it’s not really what it looks like either. Alex and I had a drink that’s all and – well, I don’t know why he kissed me, I expect we’d both had too much.’

  ‘Well that’s understandable at Christmas,’ she said, ‘but you do see, don’t you, that if the kids had come down and found you like that, clothes strewn everywhere, naked flesh romping around –’

  ‘There was no naked flesh and I can assure you that was as far as it was going,’ I said, trembling with humiliation and embarrassment.

  ‘Oh, I’m pleased to hear it, because you know, Rosie, with small children around one has to be so careful. They really are so impressionable, and although it was kind of you to baby-sit you really mustn’t use it as an excuse to christen our sofa you know.’ She raised her eyebrows despairingly at Joss.

  ‘All right, Annabel, take it easy,’ said Joss quietly. ‘I’m sure Rosie’s got the message.’ His face showed no emotion but I’d seen enough of the anger and irritation on his face in that fleeting second in the doorway to know how disappointed he was in me. My misery knew no bounds. I felt as if I’d run headlong into a brick wall. Thus far I hadn’t been able to look him in the eye, but I knew I had to now, even though my face was flaming.

  ‘I’m sorry, Joss.’

  He looked at me carefully. ‘It’s okay. We’ll say no more about it.’

  ‘But don’t let it happen again!’ added Annabel in a schoolmarmy tone, wagging her finger. Her brown eyes were laughing at me. I wanted to kick her in her pert little pants.

  She laughed merri
ly. ‘Oh, don’t look so embarrassed, Rosie, I know it’s hard because, after all, Alex is terribly attractive, and in your position it must be awfully difficult to resist someone like that, but please, do try to keep a hold on your libido, at least while you’re in our house, hmm? Lord knows, we couldn’t give two hoots what you do in the privacy of the cottage, you can have him any which way you like down there, can’t she, honey?’

  ‘There’s nothing happening in the cottage,’ I spluttered. ‘I told you, it’s not like that, he just –’

  ‘Oh save it, will you?’ Joss interrupted angrily. ‘I’m dog tired and this is all I need to come home to. Stop baiting her, Annabel, for Christ’s sake. I’m off to bed.’ He drained his glass.

  I took this as my cue to go. ‘Yes, well, goodnight.’ I turned shakily and made for the stairs, but Annabel’s husky voice stopped me in my tracks.

  ‘Um, correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you live in the cottage, Rosie?’

  I turned, my hand on the banister. ‘Yes, I do, but my little boy’s asleep upstairs. I’m just going to get him.’

  ‘Oh, okay. Well don’t hang around. It’s awfully late and we want to get to bed, don’t we, hon?’

  I gritted my teeth and made to move on but she stopped me again.

  ‘Just one thing, Rosie.’

  I paused.

  ‘Have you been smoking?’

  ‘I don’t smoke.’

  ‘Ah, so it must be on your clothes. I can smell it at twenty paces. It’s something I absolutely abhor.’ She smiled. ‘Just so’s you know.’

  I stared at her. She really was incredibly beautiful with her brown, almond eyes, pouting cherry lips, dark waist-length hair and tiny petite figure. I’d have given anything to look like that. She reminded me of a girl in Hot Gossip who I used to dream of looking like, lying on my tummy, chin in hands in front of Top of the Pops. And here she was hurling insults and casting aspersions when I’d been kind enough to baby-sit her children, and somehow, because of the way she looked, it didn’t seem outrageous at all. I could quite see how beautiful people got away with so much. I cleared my throat and tried to think of a crushing response, but actually, I was too tired.