Rosie Meadows Regrets...

by Catherine Alliott

  ‘Please don’t wait,’ I muttered as I mounted the stairs. ‘I’ll see myself out.’

  Behind me I heard Annabel sigh, and then in a voice fully intended to travel, ‘God, these single girls. Aren’t they just the end? What is it about them these days d’you think? One sniff of trouser and it’s – whooomph! Fasten your seat belts!’

  I didn’t wait to hear Joss’s reply. I just stumbled down the dark passageway to Ivo’s room, picked up my sleeping child and raced down the back stairs, through the kitchen and out into the night. Oh God, how awful. How desperately, horrendously, unbelievably awful! I was furious with myself. To be caught like a teenager in such a stupid, compromising position. Tears of rage and humiliation stung my eyes – God, I could kick myself! And her, Annabel, with her supercilious beauty, smirking nastily at me the while, delighted, it seemed, by my humiliation. I hugged Ivo to me as I slithered down the icy hill. But it was Joss that hurt the most. Joss’s eyes, his obvious disappointment at my juvenile behaviour. I’d let him down. He’d trusted me, and I’d betrayed that trust. And I’d betrayed myself too, I knew that now. I’d let loneliness make me reach for the wrong kind of intimacy. Not the kind I’d wanted at all. And that in itself made me realize that my position here was untenable now. I had no choice. I couldn’t stay in his cottage when – well. When he’d seen me like that. I’d go to him tomorrow, apologize, offer to give it up. It made my eyes flood to think of leaving this place, and leaving the children too who I’d grown so fond of, but I had to give him a way out of this. It was what he’d want. And it wouldn’t work anyway, I thought as I let myself into the cottage, not now I’d met her. I went up and put Ivo down in his cot. No, not now I’d seen her. As I gazed at my son my eyes filled with tears. Yes, it had all changed now, it was all … so different somehow. I lay down on my bed, exhausted, and finally, I must have slept. Fitfully, but I slept.

  The following morning I was woken by a sharp rapping at the cottage door. I looked at my clock. Seven o’clock. Seven o’clock? Good grief! Who could this be? Was it Joss coming to evict me already? I got dressed hurriedly and leaving Ivo sleeping peacefully, raced downstairs. Halfway down though I paused, my hand frozen on the banister. There, sitting at my little gate-leg table, looking absolutely immaculate in a cream Joseph Tricot ensemble, was Annabel, my fountain pen, I noticed, poised in her hand.

  ‘Ah, Rosie,’ she purred, ‘I hope you don’t mind but I let myself in. I was just through leaving you a note.’

  ‘Oh?’ I said nervously.

  ‘Yes, you see Martha’s just called, her father’s had to go into hospital again. A secondary tumour’s been diagnosed apparently.’

  ‘Oh!’ I sat down abruptly on the stair. ‘Oh God, poor Martha!’

  ‘I know, dreadful,’ she swept on, ‘but the thing is, Rosie, this is such an incredibly busy time of year and I did wonder if you might pop up and give me a hand. Martha mentioned how well you got on with the kids and I’ve got such a lot to do today. Of course I’d make it worth your while. Joss told me all about how your husband left you destitute, you poor, poor thing.’ Her face was all consternation.

  I reddened. ‘Well I’m not exactly in the poor house if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘No no, of course not, but a little extra always helps doesn’t it?’

  I swallowed, and as I did my pride went down with it. I wasn’t cooking for the pub now for a few days which meant my income dropped dramatically. She was right. Needs must, even if it was Christmas Eve.

  ‘All right. I’ll come up and give you a hand.’

  She was instantly on her feet, business completed, smoothing down her cashmere. ‘Excellent.’ She made for the door. ‘I haven’t seen the kids yet but I imagine they’re still in bed so if you wouldn’t mind getting them up and feeding them and then clearing the kitchen – I simply must do an hour’s meditation and yoga today if I’m going to feel even halfway human. I’ll be in my room if you need me – but I’m sure you won’t,’ she added quickly.

  I watched her go. Yes, well, how the mighty have fallen, eh? A lack of staff had almost made her grovel there. Almost. I sighed. Actually, after last night’s fiasco I felt positively indebted to Joss, so once I’d got Ivo ready we went quickly up to the house. There was no sign of life so I got the children up and dressed and we made our way down to the kitchen. As we passed by Annabel’s door on the landing I heard a low chanting.

  ‘What’s that?’ I whispered to Toby.

  ‘She’s saying her mantra.’

  ‘Oh!’ I listened.

  ‘Hummin-puu … Hummin-puu …’

  ‘Human poo as far as I can make out,’ he said with a perfectly straight face.

  I suppressed a smile and then when we’d all had some breakfast, took them out for a walk.

  When we burst back through the kitchen door about an hour later, the children glowing, their hats and coats dusted in a fresh fall of snow, Joss was sitting at the kitchen table in jeans and a black jumper. His tawny hair was wet and swept back and he looked about as attractive as a man can look whilst munching cornflakes.

  He glanced at me. ‘Thanks, Rosie,’ he said. ‘Annabel finds them one hell of a handful even at the best of times.’

  Even as he spoke, Lucy and Emma launched themselves at him like an Exocet missile.

  ‘Daddydaddydaddy!!’

  ‘Hello angels!’ He hugged them hard, snowy coats and all, and gave them both a smacking kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Hi, Toby!’

  ‘Hello.’

  Toby inched forward, shyly almost, but Joss reached out and pulled him to him, squeezing him and kissing him squarely on the forehead. Toby smiled.

  ‘Daddy, have you brought us presents, haveyouhaveyouhaveyou!’ demanded his sisters, almost weeing with excitement.

  ‘Certainly I have, but they’re all staying firmly under the Christmas tree where they belong until tomorrow morning when,’ his eyes grew large and mysterious, ‘all will be revealed!’

  This caused Emma to squeak hysterically and clutch anxiously between her legs.

  ‘And anyway,’ Joss went on, mercilessly building up the suspense, ‘the real presents are up to Santa Claus, aren’t they?’ He frowned, looked perplexed. ‘Now. Santa Claus. Any idea when he’s coming?’

  ‘Tonight, tonight!’ shrieked Emma, twisting her legs into knots, clearly in grave danger now. ‘And Rosie’s made mince pies so he can have one and we’re going to put a bucket of water out for the reindeer and all sorts!’

  ‘A bucket of water, eh? Hope there’s a large brandy for the man with the sack.’

  ‘Yes! There is! And Rosie’s made Christmas cake as well!’

  ‘Really?’ He looked over her head at me quizzically. I blushed under his gaze. Our first real encounter since the horrors of last night.

  ‘Oh well, it’s not much,’ I said quickly. ‘I was cooking it for the pub anyway so I just made some extra. I wasn’t sure if Annabel would have time to do it all.’

  Toby snorted with derision.

  ‘Er, no, I guess not,’ agreed Joss, his mouth twitching as he considered this. ‘That’s very kind, Rosie. Annabel will be … delighted.’

  At that moment, Annabel herself swanned into the kitchen. I noticed she’d changed and was now wearing a crisp white shirt with black jeans, her dark hair flowing in waves down her back. She looked drop-dead gorgeous but far from delighted.

  ‘Who the hell decorated that Christmas tree in the hall? It looks like someone’s thrown up on it!’

  ‘We did! We did it!’ squeaked the twins.

  ‘Which is precisely why I’ve told you not to. God it looks so hideous! And tinsel too, so unbelievably tacky! Rosie, when you’re through cleaning up in here, would you please root around in the basement for the proper decorations? I think we’ll have the white and gold theme this year, bows and stars, the box should be labelled. I have to go up and look for my damn lipstick now, someone has seen fit to remove it from my dressing table and I can’t find i
t anywhere!’

  She exited left, and at that point it occurred to me, as perhaps it did to everyone present, that this was the first time she’d set eyes on the children for nearly a month, and apart from barking about a naff tree, she hadn’t even so much as acknowledged them. There was a small silence. Then a moment later, the thought clearly having crossed her mind too, she was back, smiling from ear to ear.

  ‘Darlings!’ she breathed huskily, crouching down between them, ‘how lovely to see you!’ She kissed Toby’s cheek who stood like stone and gathered the twins to her, who reluctantly left their father’s side.

  ‘Angel babies, have you been good? Did you miss us?’

  ‘We thought you were staying in America,’ said Toby sullenly.

  ‘I was, darling, but at the last moment I felt so horribly homesick and missed my chickens so much I simply had to get on that plane and see you all!’

  I raised my eyebrows into the washing-up at the sink.

  ‘Did you bring me a present?’ demanded Lucy shamelessly.

  ‘I did, my chick, and the biggest, most gorgeous-iest pressie it is too, all bows and frills and – careful poppet, I’ve just ironed this shirt.’

  ‘Really? Can I see it now?’

  ‘No, angel, tomorrow.’ She neatly disentangled herself and stood up, smoothing down her shirt. As she did, she gazed about her despairingly. She sighed. ‘Joss, honey, we really must do something about this kitchen. I’d forgotten how totally grim it was in here. Look, even the plaster’s coming off the walls now.’ She picked away at the pink powder with a razor-sharp red nail. Joss didn’t answer, his head deep in a newspaper. ‘You know,’ she went on, ‘I was flicking through one of those dreary “wifey and homey” magazines out of sheer boredom on the plane on the way back, and as a matter of fact I did see something rather attractive. It’s called a Shaker kitchen apparently, if one’s sad enough to follow these trends. Lots of elegant cream wood with round, chocolate brown knobs on the doors.’

  ‘Oh yes, I love those big brown knobs,’ I enthused.

  ‘Don’t we know it, honey,’ purred Annabel, quick as a flash.

  Joss and Toby burst out laughing. I flushed miserably. Emma stamped her foot in the midst of the mirth. ‘What?’ she cried. ‘What! Tell me!’

  ‘A knob’s a willie,’ Toby informed the twins helpfully. ‘So Rosie likes big brown willies.’

  ‘Oooh, Rosie, you naughty girl!’ Emma shrieked with laughter, clutched her mouth – then froze suddenly, legs crossed. ‘Shit!’ she squeaked. ‘I’ve wet myself!’ She gazed down aghast, as sure enough, a large puddle appeared between her feet. Then she burst into tears.

  I grabbed a roll of kitchen towel, thankful for the diversion, and sank down and hid my flaming face in her knees as I set about de-bagging her, reaching out with my other hand to fish around in the laundry basket under the table for some clean pants and jeans.

  ‘Shit, eh?’ murmured Annabel, raising her beautifully arched eyebrows. She stepped round me to reach for the telephone. ‘Some choice language you’ve picked up from somewhere since we’ve been away, young lady. Who’s been teaching you words like that, I wonder?’

  Down on the floor, down in my place among the stinking, soiled undergarments, I damn nearly sank my teeth into her elegant little ankle. I watched it hungrily like some rabid terrier as it stood next to me in its handmade shoe.

  ‘Now,’ she went on in her ghastly mid-Atlantic drawl, ‘if everyone could just be quiet for one single moment while I ring this restaurant – Emma, do stop snivelling – I’ll confirm the reservation for all of us tomorrow. Where in the hell has the phone book got to?’ She began picking things up despairingly from the dresser, then dropping them down in a heap. ‘Look at all this garbage!’

  ‘It’s there,’ I said, pointing under her nose where it was always kept. ‘You mean – you’re going out tomorrow? On Christmas Day?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Oh! Martha ordered a turkey for you.’

  ‘A turkey?’ She gazed down at me in astonishment, as if for all the world I’d said she’d ordered her a dog turd. ‘Oh the silly girl. She must have forgotten, we always go out for Christmas lunch. I don’t touch meat, processed sugars or animal fats and I have an absolute horror of preservatives, so we always go to Le Forbergère where I can at least get a decent nut rissole.’

  ‘Oh, right. Sorry, I didn’t realize, I’ll cancel it, I just thought –’

  ‘No no, don’t worry, I’ll cancel it.’ She waved me away with her hand, sighing wearily, as if she had more than enough to do already. ‘No doubt someone will want it.’

  Oh yes, I thought grimly, tucking Emma’s shirt into clean jeans and wiping her tear-stained face. Someone will. Some poor, dreary fool who works their fingers to the bone in an effort to treat their loved ones to Christmas in the traditional style will pounce on that turkey delightedly. Hug it to their poor overworked breast. Some dull little wifey in their dull little homey.

  ‘Now, what’s that darned butcher called,’ she muttered, riffling through the phone book.

  ‘Parsons,’ I muttered back.

  There was a pause. ‘Ah. Yes of course.’ She turned slowly. Her dark eyes flickered briefly over the now immaculate draining board, then rested on me. ‘Thank you so much for all your help, Rosie,’ she purred, ‘but I’d say you’d be wanting to get off soon, wouldn’t you? Only this is very much a family time, isn’t it?’

  I gritted my teeth as I straightened up. Right, so I really had just been a convenient dishwasher hadn’t I. ‘Yes, I’m going back to my own family actually,’ I said, turning my back on her. ‘But I just wondered – could I have a quick word with you first, Joss.’

  ‘Of course.’ He got to his feet immediately, putting down his paper. He went quickly out to the hall.

  I was startled. Oh, God, right. Well, he was obviously keen to speak to me too then. I scurried after him, as, damn it, did Annabel. He frowned at her as she scuttled into place next to him by the fire, but she didn’t move from his side. Hadn’t she got anything better to do? Wasn’t there some antelope carcass she should be hovering over? Or even a nut rissole.

  ‘Well,’ I began, as I stood before them, feeling about fourteen, twisting my fingers about nervously. ‘It’s just that – in view of last night, I wanted to give you the opportunity of cancelling my lease. I sort of imagined that’s what you’d want.’

  Annabel pursed her lips and nodded. ‘Very sensible. Yes, I think under the circumstances that might be the answer, don’t you, darling? Although,’ she puckered her pretty little brow, ‘the trouble is if Martha’s not going to be around …’ She bit her lip, clearly torn between wanting to see the back of me and not wanting to be saddled with the children.

  ‘Don’t be silly, it’s out of the question,’ snapped Joss. ‘There’s no question of you leaving. What happened last night was regrettable but hardly outrageous. Your love life is your own affair, and as far as I’m concerned you’re staying. I had a long talk with Vera on the telephone this morning and I happen to know you’ve been one hell of a help to Martha. Vera says you’ve really taken her under your wing and not just helped her out with the cooking but with the kids too. Frankly I’m worried sick about that young lady. She’s got far too much on her plate at the moment, but I’m damned if I’m going to sack her if I can possibly help it, and if I know she’s got someone across the way who she can turn to when the going gets tough then frankly that sets my mind at ease. Vera says the girls are crazy about you and even Toby gets on with you which is a first. No, I won’t hear of it, Rosie, to tell the truth you’re doing me a favour by staying put. Of course, if it’s all been a perfect nightmare and you can’t stand another moment living cheek by jowl with this godawful family then you have my sympathies and fine, you must go. But as far as I’m concerned you’re staying.’

  Oh God, was I? Blimey, talk about forceful. I gulped. ‘No it hasn’t been a perfect nightmare and I’d love to stay,’ I heard myself whis
per. Er, hang on, Rosie, what was all that last night about your untenable position? And how you’d have to go on principle? Oh, bugger the principle, I thought, gazing into his lion’s eyes and thinking how unbelievably handsome he looked with that piercing stare and that sculpted jaw line.

  ‘Good. That’s the end of it then.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Now, if it’s all right with everyone I want to take a quick look at my studio and then I’m going to take those kids tobogganing. See you after Christmas, Rosie.’

  ‘Righto,’ I croaked, as he left the room.

  That left me and Annabel. She folded her arms and smiled, pseudo-sweetly.

  ‘Now then, Rosie, it seems you have a reprieve. Don’t abuse it, will you?’ And with that she turned haughtily on her heel, and exited the hall using the other door.

  Which left me. I sighed, and choosing the front door as my own particular mode of exit, picked up my child and went home to pack, to load up the car, and thence to return to the bosom of my own, pretty peculiar family, for Christmas.

  As I drove along the narrow lanes a short while later, banked up on either side with huge blue-white snow drifts, I felt both sad and relieved to be out of that house. Sad, because I’d had all the build-up of Christmas there – the children stirring the pudding, opening their Advent calendars, decorating the house with holly – and now I’d miss the big day, miss them opening their presents. I’d also miss the twins’ birthday which was on Boxing Day – yet another obscene pile of presents was growing daily in the cellar – but on the other hand, part of me felt hugely relieved to escape. For all his medal pinning commendation of my services to Martha, I couldn’t forget Joss’s face the previous night and I wanted to distance myself from it, in the hope, I think, that by removing myself, he might forget it too. I also wanted to distance myself from Alex for the time being. I wasn’t at all sure how I felt about that man, but it was something of a relief to know that for a few days, at least, he wouldn’t be able to stick his head round the back door and walk into my life unannounced. And there was the charmless Annabel to consider too. I’d really have to bite my tongue if I was going to live next door to her, but if I was, and it looked very much as if that’s what I’d decided on the spur of the millisecond back there, I needed to retrench and decide how I was going to deal with her. Decide whether I was going to chortle along with the rest of the gang the next time she slung gratuitous insults at me, or whether, in fact, I was going to up and biff her on the nose.