Love, Rosie (101 page)

mile
away
.
.
.

Ruby:

Rosie:

Wow
.
.
.
and
they
say
you
have
problems
expressing
yourself
.
.
.

My
point
is
that
they
just
love
going
into
such
irrelevant
detail.
It

shouldn’t
matter
whether
Greg
kisses
me
on
the
forehead
or
on
the

cheek
every
morning;
the
fact
should
be
whether
he
kisses
me
at
all.

Ruby:

Rosie:

Ruby:

So
is
this
bizarre
counseling
having
any
kind
of
a
positive
effect
on

your
marriage?

Not
really,
I
think
Greg
and
I
would
do
better
without
her.

Do
you
think
you
could
both
break
up
with
her?

can’t
see
us
still
being
together
by
the
time
Greg
turns
40
.
.
.

FOR
MY
HUSBAND

HAPPY
40TH

TO
GREG,

HAPPY
BIRTHDAY
SWEETHEART,

LOTS
OF
LOVE,

ROSIE

Rosie:
Ha
ha
that’s
what
it
would
feel
like.
Well
we
should,
otherwise
I

HAPPY
40TH!

YOU
ARE
NOW
UGLIER
AND
OLDER.

TO
GREG,

FROM
KATIE
AND
TOBY

Dear
Alex,

I
think
I’m
going
to
organize
a
search
party.
Have
you
fallen
off
the
edge

of
the
earth?
Are
you
still
alive?

I
called
your
mother
the
other
day
and
they
haven’t
heard
from
you
very

158

Cecelia
Ahern

much
either.
Is
everything
OK?
Because
if
it’s
not,
I
have
a
right
to
know.

You’re
supposed
to
confide
in
me
because
I’m
your
best
friend
and
.
.
.
it’s

law.
And
if
things
are
OK
then
contact
me
anyway,
I’m
your
friend
and
I

need
gossip.
It’s
section
two
of
the
same
law.

Everything
here
is
as
crazy
and
unpredictable
as
usual.
Katie
is
eleven

now
as
you
know
(thank
you
for
her
present).
She
is
so
grown
up
that
she

tells
me
that
she
doesn’t
need
to
inform
me
where
she
is
going
during
the
day

or
when
she’ll
be
coming
home.
Unimportant
information
like
that,
which
a

mother
apparently
doesn’t
need
to
know.
I
thought
I
had
another
few
years

left
until
she
became
a
monster;
saw
me
as
being
in
the
way,
interfering,
and

deliberately
setting
out
to
ruin
her
life.
(OK
so
occasionally
I
do.)
The
child

wears
lipstick
now,
Alex.
Pink,
glossy,
glittery
lipstick.
She
wears
glitter
on

her
eyes,
glitter
on
her
cheeks,
and
glitter
in
her
hair;
I
am
raising
a
disco

ball
for
a
daughter.
I
am
now
under
instructions
to
knock
on
her
bedroom

door
three
times
before
I’m
allowed
to
enter,
just
so
she
can
identify
the

intruder.
(I’m
quite
jealous
because
Toby
only
has
to
knock
once.
However