Dearest Rose (20 page)

‘I do not,’ Rose said. ‘I do not wish to be sexified, whatever that is, and sexy Ted is not interested in me and I am not interested in him.’

‘I am the definition of sexification, and I’m on a mission to spread the love,’ Shona said, pulling her own top down so that
her
bosom spilt over the top of it. ‘And you know what, it’s all your fault. You’ve inspired me to let myself go a bit. Maybe I will pull another bloke tonight; maybe I’ll start again, just like you.’

‘I’m not really starting again,’ Rose reminded her. ‘I’m more sort of hiding. Being sexy, that’s not really me. Not the old me, not the new me. I’m not … well, it’s just not me.’

‘It should be you,’ Shona said determinedly. ‘Just because you’ve spent too long being married to the world’s most unattractive creep, doesn’t mean you have to spend the rest of your life as a dried-up old maid. You did your mental stalking Frasier thing and I admire you for it. You came all this way on a wing and a prayer and you got closer than anyone thought you would. Now it’s done, it’s time to move on to the next thing, and I’ve decided that the next thing on your list is to shag Ted.’

‘Shona!’ Rose hissed, worried there was a very real possibility that Jenny had a glass to the bedroom door. ‘Just stop it, will you? The very last thing I want is …
that
. I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to joke about, so just, please … leave it, OK?’

‘OK,’ Shona said slowly, frowning. ‘I was only joking, mate. Didn’t think it’d get you so rattled. Anyway, all you need to worry about is finally telling Dickhead where to get off.’

‘Why are you always so good at giving advice and not taking it?’ Rose said, still a little rattled by Shona’s insinuations.

‘I could say the same for you,’ Shona said. ‘But you’re right, I know. And I’m just wondering, if you can do it, if you can finally get Dickhead out of your life for good … then maybe I can do the same with Ryan too.’

‘Really?’ Rose asked her, touched that her friend had so much
faith
in her that it made her see her own life differently. ‘Really, you’d thinking about ending it with Ryan for good?’

‘Yes,’ Shona said, with about as much determination as she had ever mustered over this point. ‘Well. Maybe, anyway. Now let’s go and find ourselves some country totty.’

Maddie had pretty much ignored her as she kissed her good night on the way out, and Shona’s ensemble was quite enough to distract Jenny from any further thoughts of her son’s interest, real or imagined, in Rose.

‘There’s no red light district in Millthwaite!’ she called out as they finally escaped out of the front door, giggling like a pair of teenagers trying to sneak their short skirts and eye-liner past Mum.

‘I’ve never done this,’ Rose said, the realisation hitting her hard.

‘What, gone to the pub?’ Shona replied, as if she wouldn’t be in the least bit surprised.

‘No, I mean gone out, dressed up, done the stuff young women normally do. Before Mum died it never felt like I could go out and have fun, knowing that she would be back at home sitting on her own in the dark with a bottle of gin. And then after, even when we were first working together, I know you took me under your wing, but I never really did
this
. I never really had a proper laugh, like you and the other girls did. There I would be, sitting meekly in the corner, dressed in black, just watching everyone else. And then –’

‘And then there was Dickhead,’ Shona said. ‘Well, now you are off the leash, we are in the middle of nowhere, no one knows us and babe, what happens in Millthwaite stays in Millthwaite! Let’s be outrageous!’

Which was when Rose stopped outside the pub, filled with sudden apprehension.

‘I don’t know if I can be outrageous,’ she said. ‘I don’t know that I’ve got fun and outrageousness in me.’

‘Mate, you’ve run away from home, cut off all your hair, and your dad is a legendary party animal. It’s in your genes! Just relax, just for tonight. Let’s celebrate one night of getting to be us, for a change.’

The pub was crowded, packed full of people of all ages, but mostly on the younger side, the majority of them girls. Gig night had to be a big deal locally, because Rose was sure that most of the people crammed into the bar weren’t from the tiny village. She hadn’t seen more than three of them before as she walked around the frequently deserted-looking green. There was a small platform, made of what looked like upturned beer crates, where the pool table usually stood, stacked with a battered-looking PA, a microphone, and a drum kit crammed up against the wall, on which someone had tacked a hand-painted banner reading ‘The Cult of Creation’.

‘Fuck this bar queue, we’ll be waiting all night for a drink,’ Shona said, grabbing Rose’s hand and heading towards the snug. ‘Let’s go backstage and be proper groupies.’

‘I’m not really sure if we should,’ Rose attempted to make herself heard over the din. ‘I mean, do you think the band are really going to want a couple of mums gatecrashing?’

‘We’ve got VIP passes, haven’t we?’

‘Not completely sure that beer mats strictly count,’ Rose muttered under her breath, but it was too late, Shona had
already
shoved open the door to the band’s inner sanctum, or as Ted usually referred to it, ‘the old man’s bar’, the snug.

‘All right?’ Shona said, swinging in through the door and immediately picking up two bottles of lager, one of which she handed to Rose. ‘Got anything stronger?’

‘Shona, Rose … Rose!’ Ted stopped short when he caught sight of Rose lurking behind Shona. ‘Bloody hell, your hair! It looks amazing!’

Ted stepped over a beer-bottle-strewn table to greet her. ‘Wow, man. Radical! I love it!’ Rose couldn’t help smiling as he took her hand and led her in front of his band mates, one of whom was far too engaged in some athletic kissing with a girl of about nineteen to be bothered to look at her.

‘This is my friend Rose, you know, who I was telling you about,’ Ted said, without letting go of her fingers. ‘Oh, and this is her friend Shona.’

‘What, I’m not your friend too?’ Shona said, striding across the table and sliding into the vacant seat that Ted had left, grinning at a rather alarmed-looking young man who turned out to be Andy the drummer. ‘So, handsome, who are you? Ever done it with a MILF?’

‘Want something stronger?’ Ted asked Rose, leading her out of the bar and into a small bottle store a little way down the corridor, before she could answer. ‘I got my secret stash of vodka in here. I try not to get too loaded before a gig, and anyway, I’m driving later, so you have one.’

Rose’s eyes widened as he took her beer bottle and topped it up with a slug of vodka, but she took the bottle back anyway, taking a tentative sip.

‘God, I can’t stop looking at you. The hair, wow! Brave move,
Rosie
. Most girls think long hair makes them pretty, and for some of them it does, but you were born to have hair like this. It’s wild. You look like a proper rock chick!’

‘Are you sure you’re not drunk,’ Rose said, unable to resist being flattered by his enthusiasm.

‘Not on booze, anyway …’ Ted moved a fraction closer to her and Rose was sure that he was intent on kissing her. Just as she was frantically working out a way to outmanoeuvre his lips, Andy stuck his head in through the door, eliciting a dirty look from Ted for his troubles.

‘Where’s the voddy? This Shona chick wants it and we’re on!’

‘Right, OK, well, I’ll see you out the front, yeah? Right by the stage.’

‘I’ll try,’ Rose said. ‘But you know at my age, married, a mother and everything, moshing isn’t exactly up my street.’

‘Moshing.’ Ted grinned fondly. ‘You are
so
cute.’

Rose couldn’t exactly say that she was a fan of The Cult of Creation. Their music was very loud, and she had no idea what the lyrics were, although she had to concede that Ted had a great voice and real stage presence – or upturned-beer-crate presence, anyway. Although she remained at the bar for the set, Shona, who had had rather more vodka than Rose, gyrated in amongst the throng of mainly young women who seemed to be devoted to the band, pouting menacingly at Andy. Throughout, it was impossible not to notice that Ted didn’t take his eyes off Rose, singing directly to her the whole time, which might have been exciting if she’d had any idea what he was singing about. And it was impossible not to concede that Ted really was very attractive, from any point of view, even hers. It was more than
a
little curious that Jenny was right, Ted did seem to be setting his cap at her – because she was different, new perhaps, or because she was older, Rose genuinely couldn’t fathom the reason – but for someone like him to give someone like her any attention at all was more than a little flattering and exhilarating, not to mention apparently enviable, as a young woman in her twenties elbowed her way past Rose after several minutes of failing to get Ted to notice her, muttering viciously, ‘What the fuck have you got that I haven’t, you old bag?’

And apart from anything else it was soothing salve to her pride that had been damaged so badly when she’d realised Frasier’s kind indifference was simply that, and the hour that had meant so much to her was, for him, simply another hour lived and let go of.

For one daring, dangerous moment, Rose thought that if Ted tried to kiss her she might let him. After all, she had brought herself and Maddie here, looking for something that she knew didn’t really exist, found the courage to face her father and had even met and hugged Frasier McCleod. It was as if she’d checked off things on a wish list that she was only just starting to know existed. What if she let Ted be the second only person in the whole wide world to kiss her? What if she gave in to that twinkle in his eye and saw what happened? Hardly anybody in the world knew that she was here, she was lost in time, floating free from her house, her routine, her husband, the permanent state of suspension that he tried to keep her in. Perhaps, just perhaps, it would be OK to let this handsome young man kiss her, even if it didn’t mean anything, even if she was still hopelessly attached to her idea of Frasier. What would be the worst that could happen? Rose checked her thoughts, feeling a tight belt
of
anxiety grip her chest. No, no, she wasn’t that person. No, as much as she might wish it, she simply wasn’t a person who could let a man kiss her, just to see what happened. Once, perhaps long ago, Rose had been that carefree girl, but not any more. Loving, wanting Frasier was safe. He was an impossible dream, one she would never have to cope with making a reality. But the possibility of kissing Ted was very real, and it was one of which Rose was absolutely terrified, and besides, she’d all but promised Jenny she wouldn’t. This was the beer, and Frasier’s tacit rejection of her; this was her father and his odd lopsided efforts at friendship, and most of all her own confusion. But, Rose reminded herself, just because she didn’t know where to turn next, it didn’t mean she should turn to Ted.

‘Having a good time?’ Shona appeared at her side, her T-shirt clinging to her damp skin. ‘This lot are bloody brilliant, that Andy thinks I’m well fit, I can tell, and young Ted’s been giving you the eye all night!’

‘I noticed,’ Rose conceded uncomfortably.

‘Did you? That’s a bloody first!’ Shona exclaimed. ‘Well then, what about it, you me, Andy and Ted after the show? We can snog in a bale of hay or some shit.’

‘No, no, I’ve got to tell Ted to back off,’ Rose said, her seriousness lost on her sparkling-eyed friend. ‘Would you really kiss Andy, even though you’ve only just met, even though …’ She refrained from mentioning Ryan’s name out loud, as if it might somehow evoke him.

Shona bit her lip, her eyes widening. ‘I think I bloody might! What about you? You sure you don’t want to kiss Ted?’

‘Yes!’ Rose snapped, shaking her head firmly, looking up at Ted just as the band finished their set, being swamped by a
crowd
of girls at least ten years younger than her as he made his way back to the snug, infuriating most of his fans by gesturing to her to follow him. He was obviously used to girls falling at his feet; he could have his pick. Why would he want to pick her unless … unless he could see something in her that made him think she would be a pushover? Rose shuddered.

‘It wouldn’t be right,’ she said, meeting Ted’s eye. ‘It would be terribly irresponsible.’

‘Why?’ Shona pressed her, sensing something that was remaining unspoken. ‘And don’t tell me it’s because of Dickhead?’

‘No, not really. I’m a mother, he’s Jenny’s son. I’m still in love with Frasier – that will take a while to wear off – and Ted is, well, he’s Ted. We are the last two people who should be gallivanting.’

‘Gallifuckingwhat?’ Shona laughed. ‘Maddie’s safely tucked up in bed, Jenny is safely watching telly, before indulging in some sort of kinky shag with Brian in one of her porn nighties, and Frasier is out on the town with his girlfriend. These are all the reasons why you
should
be getting off with Ted. And besides, what happens in Millthwaite stays in Millthwaite, remember?’

‘You don’t understand,’ Rose said.

‘Only because you aren’t telling me what’s really going on,’ Shona said.

But before Rose could reply Shona was swept up in the crowd of girls, elbowing her way towards the snug, beckoning for Rose to follow.

‘So what did you think?’ Ted asked her the moment she came in through the door. He was glowing with sweat and adrenalin. ‘Impressed?’

‘Very,’ Rose said. ‘The crowd loved you!’

‘Yeah, to be honest they love anything round here. The real test will be when we go down to London, you know, to try and get a deal.’

‘London! When are you going?’ Rose asked him, reassuring herself that no man could be more different from Richard than Ted.

‘Don’t know, when we’re ready,’ Ted said, non-committal. ‘Anyway, come on, I’ve something to show you.’

‘Oh, yeah, I’ve heard that before,’ Shona said, as Ted took Rose’s hand, pulling her out of the room, through the pub kitchen and into the warmth of a thankfully dry night.

‘What, where are we going?’ Rose asked him, alarmed. ‘Ted, I don’t want to go. Where are you taking me? What do you think is going to happen?’