Rosie Meadows Regrets...

by Catherine Alliott

  I stared at the paintwork for a moment, then turned, rather dazed, and went back down the drive for my car. Bloody hell, that was a bit rich, wasn’t it? I’d never bought condoms in my life before, let alone for someone else; in fact the only time they’d made a brief, and rather hilarious, appearance in my life was so long ago they’d been called something completely different. Oh well, I reasoned, as I snapped Ivo into his car seat, it could be worse. It could be haemorrhoid cream or something, although I doubted if someone as glamorous as Annabel would be caught dead with piles. One of the perks of the childless, of course. How odd, though, I mused as I drove off along the snowy lanes. I could have sworn I’d spotted a look of triumph in her eyes as I’d read that list of hers. A sort of yes, deary, that’s exactly what I’ll be doing tonight, okay? smirk. Now why on earth would she want to pull that kind of one-upmanship with me?

  I sighed and swung the car into the supermarket car park, joining a long queue of ordinary mortals without an ounce of cashmere between them, who were all bracing themselves to crowbar their way into an already overflowing store. It had been shut for two days, and it was a bit like entering the Gaza Strip. People were already three abreast in the aisles doing serious battle with elbows and trolleys, but I put my head down and went for it with the best of them. Finally I staggered out, exhausted but triumphant, a glowing Ivo – who always enjoys a scuffle – on one hand, four pints of fresh orange juice dangling from the other, and bundles of fresh figs, prunes and bran clenched firmly between my teeth. Either this woman had a huge problem with her bowels or she was going to have one soon, I decided, as I threw it all unceremoniously on the front seat. ‘And may it keep you enthroned upon the lavatory for days on end!’ I muttered, as I slammed the door shut. I dusted off my hands and jumped in. Right. Home. I headed off, but then spotted a chemist’s on the outskirts of town and screeched, rather creatively, to a halt. Damn, I’d almost forgotten. I hadn’t bought Annabel the wherewithal to get her organic oats. Leaving Ivo sleeping peacefully in his seat, I hurried inside to acquire the more personal items on her list.

  Ding-dong, went the 1950s-style door chimes as I stepped inside. I blinked in the gloom, as to my surprise I found myself in a dark time warp of a chemist’s shop. It was the kind of old-fashioned place where dark mahogany drawers lined the walls, going right up to the ceiling, and one could almost imagine a white-coated apothecary lurking in the background, brewing up potions.

  ‘Hi, Rosie.’

  I peered through the gloom and made out, not an apothecary behind the counter, but Lenny, Mrs Abbot’s son from the village store. He was tall and rather good-looking in a blond, loose-limbed sort of way. I had no idea he worked in here.

  ‘Oh, hi.’

  ‘Need any help?’

  ‘Er … no. No, I’m fine, thanks.’

  Damn. Lenny. That was all I needed. I prowled around the silent, empty shop looking for the bloody things, then approached the front counter, feeling his eyes on me as I scanned it. God, why weren’t they here where they were supposed to be, among the cough sweets and the vitamins? I began to feel a bit hot and his eyes didn’t leave me, so I wandered to the back of the shop and picked up a hairbrush. Oh, for God’s sake, Rosie, you’re not going to do the classic teenage thing of buying everything in the shop except what you actually want, are you? You’re a grown woman, for heaven’s sake, just go and ask. Right. Absolutely. I put the hairbrush down and marched determinedly to the counter, but at the last minute chickened out and grabbed some toothpaste. I waved it triumphantly.

  ‘Found it,’ I assured him confidently. ‘Oh, and a packet of condoms too, please.’

  ‘They’re over there, bottom shelf in the corner,’ he said, pointing. ‘Here, I’ll show you.’

  Oh no, please don’t, I thought hurrying after him, I’ll find them, really. But it was too late, he was already crouching down, and I had no choice but to crouch – a little too chummily for my liking – next to him. I gaped in amazement at the vast range spread out before me. Red ones, black ones, ribbed ones, gold spangly ones …

  ‘Blimey, spoiled for choice,’ I muttered.

  ‘Yeah, I know, they come in different sizes too.’

  ‘Really? Oh well, they’re for someone else, I’ve no idea what size he takes.’

  ‘Size of pack,’ he said suddenly. He stood up, blushing.

  I swivelled back to the shelf. Size of pack? My eyes confirmed this undeniable truth. Three, six, twelve, twenty-four, etc. – not, Rosie, small, medium, large, extra large, abnormally large, can’t-tuck-it-in-your-trousers-it’s-so-large. Ah.

  Feeling a deep blush unfurl, I grabbed a pack of twelve and hastened to the counter where Lenny was already waiting, head bowed.

  ‘I’m sure those will be fine,’ I muttered, as I counted out my change. ‘As I said, they’re not for me, so …’

  Lenny didn’t answer. He was silent as he took my money, silent as he rang it up on the till, and he was very, very careful not to look me in the eye as he handed me the receipt, put my goods in a bag and completed the transaction. I turned and hurried from the shop to my car.

  ‘Oh God!’ I gasped as I flopped down with relief into the driver’s seat. Ivo woke up with a jolt behind me. ‘Oh, Ivo, what a nightmare!’

  I crunched the gears and set off at speed, feeling faintly giggly now. I snorted. Rosie, you fool, who d’you think’s going to go in and ask for the extra small ones then? Who the hell was that going to impress on the bedside table – ooh, great, a tiddler! No, no, they’d all swagger in asking for carrier bags, and then everyone would wonder why there’d been such a huge population explosion. I laughed to myself, and Ivo, delighted, joined in.

  ‘Mummy laugh!’

  ‘Yes, Mummy laugh. Is that so unusual, my darling? It’s either that or I’ll go completely bananas.’

  ‘Bananas,’ he decided firmly.

  I grinned, and like a magician produced one with a flourish from Annabel’s fibre-providing fodder beside me.

  ‘Want one?’

  ‘Yeth!’

  I peeled it down and passed it over. He grasped it eagerly. I smiled as I watched him in my rear-view mirror. Oh, what the hell, I thought, watching him fondly. Whatever happens, whatever life wishes to toss at me, whatever people think of me, Lenny, Annabel, Joss, I’ve still got him. I smiled as he unashamedly threw the peel on to the floor. I’ve still got my boy. He caught my eye and grinned back.

  As I turned into Farlings’ drive, I spun deftly round the side and parked at the back by the kitchen door. It was a wonderfully bright but chilly day, and aside from a few rolling clouds threatening from the east, the sky was clear and blue, throwing the dark green countryside into glorious relief. I wondered if the children would be out playing in the garden on a day like this, I’d have loved to have seen them.

  Vera opened the back door as I got out. She bustled over and kissed me warmly.

  ‘Merry Christmas, luv, and thanks ever so much for the soap, it was such a treat.’

  ‘Merry Christmas, Vera. Are the children about?’ I asked, peering in at the windows as she helped me unpack.

  ‘Haven’t strayed from the television set since she got back,’ she said, jerking her head backwards. ‘She bought a whole heap of them videos back with her and she’s ’ad them plugged in ever since. Says it’s educational but the plain fact is she don’t want them running about making a racket.’

  ‘Can I pop in and say hello?’

  She made a face. ‘Best not, my duck. She’s got the hump over some video or other that’s been turned down by them TV people again. She’s on the phone nonstop giving them merry hell, ragin’ and screaming an’ that. She asked me to tell you to deliver the goods to the back door – and them were her words, if you please.’

  ‘Did she indeed,’ I said grimly.

  ‘Oh, and she left you a fiver.’

  ‘What!’ I exploded, as she reached in her pocket. ‘Vera, you can tell her to –’

  ‘Quite righ
t, luv,’ she said stuffing it back hastily, ‘but she’ll be gone in the morning. It’s best left.’

  ‘You’re right, Vera,’ I said, giving her a hug. ‘She’s not worth it.’

  When Ivo and I got back, the fire had warmed the cottage and the low sun was streaming in through the windows on to the patchwork quilt on the sofa. I threw another log on and a rosy glow seemed to prevail.

  ‘Well, Ivo,’ I said later, as we sat side by side on the sofa eating a late picnic lunch of ham sandwiches, crisps and satsumas. ‘Another year.’

  ‘Yeth,’ he agreed solemnly.

  ‘And it’s New Year’s Eve soon, did you know that?’

  ‘Yeth, I did,’ he affirmed, without the faintest clue what I was talking about but happy to have a conversation.

  ‘And shall I be partying, d’you think? Shall I be boogieing on down till dawn?’

  ‘Don’t know, Mummy,’ he replied gravely, picking a piece of fat off his ham and placing it affectionately on my knee.

  I smiled. ‘No, I’m not sure I do either.’ I sighed. ‘Still, no harm in having a little company, is there?’ I wiped my knee and looked out of the window. Another year. And somehow I didn’t want to see it in alone. There was Alex of course, I knew I could see it in with him, he’d made that much perfectly clear on the telephone, when he’d somehow managed to get hold of me on Boxing Day at my parents’ house.

  ‘Sorry for ringing over the holiday season, my love, but I wanted to apologize for pouncing on you like that. Hope you weren’t too fearfully embarrassed in front of Joss and Annabel, but what can I do when you drive me wild with desire?’

  I grinned. His unabashed lust was quite disarming in a way. ‘Control yourself springs to mind, Alex,’ I said sternly.

  ‘Ah, but you see I can’t, that’s the problem! Tell you what, keep New Year’s Eve free and we’ll pick up where we left off, eh?’

  ‘We’ll see. I’m not quite sure what I’m doing yet.’

  ‘Oh God,’ he groaned, ‘you’re not going to go all coy on me, are you? Not going to play hard to get? You’ve no idea how that turns me on, Rosie! Keep this torture up and I’ll be taking cold showers and chewing the curtains! I’ve got this thing about rejection, you see.’

  ‘Idiot,’ I giggled.

  ‘I have! Oh, and incidentally, I loved it when you denied flagellating me the other night, gave me no end of a laugh on the way home. I had this wonderful vision of you astride me in leather, brandishing birch branches, giving it what for. Had to walk around in the snow a bit longer to cool off. I say, what did you think of old Annabel then? Quite a stunner, isn’t she?’

  ‘In more ways than one,’ I said grimly. ‘I feel like I’m seeing stars every time I have a conversation with her, she’s got all the charm of a sledgehammer. What is her problem, Alex?’

  He laughed. ‘Well, I agree, she’s not exactly a girl’s girl. Not the sort to have a natter with over the Daily Mail and the Hob-nobs of a Monday morning, but she’s okay really. Trust me, she’ll grow on you.’

  ‘Yes, like bindweed,’ I said sourly. ‘I can imagine her getting quite a stranglehold actually.’

  ‘I can see you’re not convinced,’ he laughed, ‘so enough of her, and back to me. Back to New Year’s Eve.’

  ‘I think not, actually,’ I said firmly. ‘Let’s meet again on a less heady night of the year, shall we, Alex?’

  There was a tremulous pause. ‘You don’t trust yourself with me,’ he said, a note of excitement creeping into his voice. ‘Oh God, this is too thrilling for words, you’re frightened you’ll get carried away! One sniff of my manly scent and you’ll be putty in my hands!’

  I laughed and assured him that this was not the case, but that should I have a dramatic change of heart, I’d ring and succumb to his manly whiff pronto. Finally I managed to put the phone down.

  No, I thought, looking out of the window as the skies darkened around me, no, I didn’t want anything as fresh and thrilling and upfront as Alex. Not yet anyway. Come January, come a new beginning, well, who knew how upfront I might feel, but right now, at the end of the old year, I just wanted friends. Old friends. Would it be too much to ask for Alice and Michael to come for supper? I wondered. And maybe Philly and Miles? Yes, why not? Impulsively I reached for the phone and punched out Alice’s number.

  ‘Hello?’ She sounded dispirited.

  ‘Alice? It’s me! Happy Christmas.’

  ‘Rosie!’ she rallied. ‘Darling, how lovely, and the same to you, I’ve been trying to reach you.’

  ‘I’ve been at Mum and Dad’s.’

  ‘I thought as much. Grisly?’

  ‘Moderately, but Mum was quite amusing, if a little alarming.’ I giggled. ‘She’s gone all psychic on us, Alice, summoning up spirits, tuning in to the Beyond and all that sort of wacko stuff.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Oh yes, it keeps her and Marjorie frightfully busy. Apparently there’s no end of ectoplasm on the Other Side demanding their attention, namely – and get this, Alice – Harry, who Mum claims to have an exclusive hot line to.’

  She giggled. ‘Oh God!’

  ‘Yes, and by all accounts he’s a totally new man. You and I wouldn’t recognize him now. He goes to the gym, keeps fit, and simply loves common people, terribly caring and sharing and New Labour.’

  ‘God, how killing!’

  ‘I know, but it’s keeping her happy and Dad thinks it’s absolutely marvellous. Not only does she go to badminton on Monday nights, but she’s off at Cosmic Marjorie’s on Tuesdays too now. He’s got the house to himself.’

  ‘While she’s off with another man. I always suspected she had the hots for your husband, Rosie.’

  ‘Oooh, yuk,’ I shuddered. ‘That’s too revolting to contemplate. Anyway, enough of them. New Year’s Eve.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘Would it be too boring to come to supper? I thought I might ask Philly and Miles too.’

  ‘Oh Rosie, you’re sweet, but Michael’s already going to a party. An agency do, would you believe, quite near you actually, in Cheltenham.’

  ‘And you mean you’re not?’

  ‘Well, I’m invited of course, but you try getting a baby-sitter on New Year’s Eve, and apart from anything else, do I really want to grin and bear it as I bop around the clock with Michael’s colleagues? Knowing all the nubile young secretaries are thinking, golly, she’s a bit fatter and frumpier than I thought she’d be. No, thank you. I’m looking forward to a poached egg on toast and a quiet night in with Clive James.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you come down anyway? Bring the girls,’ I suggested doubtfully, realizing I didn’t have anywhere to put them.

  ‘And put them where? On the roof? No, darling, you know as well as I do that cottage is simply not viable, and incidentally, apart from anything else, I know you mean well and want all the people you love to love each other, but with the best will in the world your sister and I have never seen eye to eye. I always feel like a scruffy schoolgirl when I’m with her, she’s so scrubbed and efficient and apple-pie perfect. I always get the impression she looks down on me for being chaotic and messy and – oh, I don’t know. You know what I mean.’

  ‘No,’ I said huffily, knowing exactly what she meant. Then I sighed wearily. ‘Okay, maybe you’re right. Perhaps I’ll just see it in with Clive too. I don’t fancy just having Philly and Miles on their own, they’re a bit niggly at the moment.’

  ‘Don’t tell me the ice maiden cracketh?’ she said sarcastically. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she added quickly, ‘I didn’t mean that. I’ll tell you what, we’ll both make a determined effort to get absolutely plastered, and then if we’re not being sick into our respective buckets at midnight, we’ll ring each other and have a pissed and emotional confab and do our own rendition of “Auld Lang Syne”, okay?’

  I laughed. ‘You’re on.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  True to her word, Annabel left at the crack of dawn the following morning and I popped up to
the house to see the children. They were a disaster area. Toby was zombified by too much television and walked around looking as if he was on drugs, and Emma and Lucy were spoiled and petulant, surrounded by far too many Christmas toys, none of which they seemed to play with. Sensing drastic action was called for, I surreptitiously sneaked most of the toys off to a cupboard to be rediscovered in the Easter holidays, and took the fuse out of the television plug. There. I brushed off my hands and looked around, just as Joss came in.

  ‘Oh, Rosie, thank God. Martha isn’t back yet, her dad’s no better and I have this darn commission to finish – my dealer’s going crazy. Would you do me a hell of a favour and take charge of the kids for a bit? Martha’s promised to be back by the time I go to Cologne – and I hope to Christ she is – but even then I reckon she’s going to need a hand. Would you help me out here? I know you’ve got your job at the pub but I’d pay you a decent whack and you could still do your cooking up here, couldn’t you?’

  I looked into his harassed, hazel eyes and found myself saying, ‘Of course, Joss, it’s not a problem. And actually I’ve been using your kitchen for weeks now, so I reckon I owe you something.’ I grinned.

  ‘Yeah.’ He gave a slow smile. ‘I figured as much. We’ll call this the quid pro quo then, shall we?’ And with that he disappeared to his workshop.

  Still smiling at this little exchange and wondering about how much ‘a decent whack’ would be – churlish to ask – I in turn went off to get half a ton of beef bourguignon under way, and to take over the somewhat frayed and tattered childcare reins.

  I didn’t see Joss again until about four o’clock that afternoon, when he reappeared, looking grey and haggard, covered in dust, demanding to know how one went about getting some damn food in this place? ‘Jesus, you’re cooking for the multitude anyway, aren’t you? One plate’s not gonna be missed, is it?’

  It didn’t matter how much I told him, I’d sent Emma down at half-past twelve, Lucy at one o’clock and bellowed like a fish-wife myself out of the back door at half-past one that lunch was ready, he still didn’t believe me. So the next day I took his lunch down to his studio and plonked it on a slab of marble. Dish of the day happened to be Hungarian goulash, and since he chipped away at the same time as absently picking at things, it proved disastrous. He burst back into the kitchen, bawling like a child that he’d got sauce all over his goddam wide-eyed nymph and where the hell was the Jif? In future, I decided, I’d give him chicken legs and sandwiches. ‘Finger foods,’ I muttered to Ivo as I shut Joss’s workshop door softly behind me, having retrieved his empty plate. ‘For babies like you, darling, who can’t cope with a knife and fork.’