Rescuing Rose (48 page)

Ed stood in the hall, gingerly cradling his right arm while I refamiliarised myself with the house. The large, square hallway, the kitchen leading off to the back, the sitting room on the left, the wide staircase, the deep red dining room off to the right. I felt like Jane Eyre with a broken Mr Rochester as I settled him on the sofa with a cup of tea.

'If only I were ambidextrous, ' he said. As he lifted the cup awkwardly to his lips I realised, sinkingly, that he'd need help with everything—dressing, washing, bathing, shaving, writing, shopping—the works. What he really needed was an assistance dog, I realised, idly wondering if Trevor had any mates.

'How's the pain now?'

'Bad, ' he groaned. 'Especially my ribs. It hurts to breathe. '

'I'll give you another painkiller. Here. '

'I want two. '

'You can only have one, they're very strong. Now do you need to call anyone?'

'Yes, my mum. '

So I brought him the cordless phone and dialled her number. And as he spoke to her, I went into the kitchen to make lunch. I glanced out of the window into the large walled garden, and at the purple wisteria coming into full flower, and I remembered my dream again. In it I'd hurled crockery at Ed— I'd really wanted to hurt him—but now here I was looking after him like the proverbial ministering angel, all passion spent. I imagined the grass covered with feathers from the slashed duvet, and the fragments of Wedgwood strewing the path. Now I imagined Mary-Claire standing at this very window, looking out. But she'd gone and it was as though she'd never existed, and now Ed wanted me back.

Lying on the grass was the ladder, so I went outside, retracted it and put it back in the shed, and when I got back inside Ed was still on the phone. I opened the fridge and saw a box of eggs, and some smoked salmon. Good, that would do for lunch. As I shut the door something in the tone of Ed's voice made me pause.

'Mum, don't give me a hard time, ' I heard him say, his voice rising. 'I've just broken my arm for God's sake… Look, we've been over this and you know my feelings… I'm sorry, but that's how it is… No, I can't bring myself to do it… Because I
can't
. He'll just have to try someone else. ' He was obviously talking about Jon. Perhaps he wanted another loan. He'd borrowed some money from Ed six years before, and he still hadn't paid all of it back. That was the cause of their rift I think, though I'd never liked to ask. But from the tone of the conversation I could tell that his mother was trying to build bridges. 'Yes, Rose is here, ' I heard him add. 'Yes. Maybe, Mum. I don't know. ' I heard him ring off so I went and got the phone.

'Is your mum okay?' I asked. 'She must be so relieved it's not worse. '

'She's… fine, ' he replied. But he clearly didn't want to say any more about the conversation and I wasn't going to probe. I replaced the handset and began cooking lunch.

'Scrambled eggs and smoked salmon okay?' I asked.

'Sounds lovely. But will you cut mine up?'

'Of course. I'll bring it to you there if you like, on a tray'

'No, it's okay. I'll come in. ' So I helped him out of the sofa then we went into the kitchen and sat there eating quietly, looking out.

'Just like old times, eh, Rose?'

'Well, not quite. '

'No. Not quite. And it's not quite as good as Venice, is it?' I smiled. 'Never mind, ' he added. 'We can go when I'm better. '

'Hmm. '

'And where are you going to sleep?' he asked as I cut up his smoked salmon.

'In the yellow room. '

He smiled ruefully. 'Not with me?'

'No. '

'Pity, ' he said.

'Sensible. You have three broken bones apart from anything else. '

'You're very severe, Nurse Costelloe, ' he said with a disappointed air. 'And how long are you going to stay?'

I explained that I'd be there for at least a week. 'You'll probably be back at work not long after that, won't you, Ed?'

'Yes, ' he sighed. 'I probably will. Thanks for helping me, Rose. ' He took my right hand in his left one and lifted it to his lips. 'The pain's worth it if it means I have you here with me. I hope you'll stay with me always. ' My heart turned over at his affectionate words, and I thought, yes. Maybe I will…

I was surprised by how quickly Ed's house felt familiar to me again. I'd cook for us both, using Theo's recipes—although the Aga took some getting used to—and I'd help him change for bed. I'd get him up in the morning, and cover his cast with a plastic bag as he got in the bath. I'd scrub his back and wash his hair, and I'd hold up a towel for him as he stepped out. I'd put toothpaste on his toothbrush and shaving foam on his cheeks and I'd make his bed. I felt like Trevor must feel with Beverley. I found the sudden intimacy of it all disturbing when I'd been so distant and guarded before. Seeing him naked again was unsettling, but I told myself that I was simply his carer. Except I wasn't. I was his wife.

On Monday night I went back to Camberwell. I wanted to check on things in the house and collect my laptop. Theo was out, but on the kitchen table were sheaves of estate agents details. He'd circled some of the properties in red ink—a small house in Kennington, a garden flat in Stockwell—it made me feel panicky, and terribly sad.

'Oh God, ' I breathed as I looked at them, 'I don't want him to leave. Theo's so lovely. He's just so lovely, ' I repeated. 'He's changed my life. Oh God, I'm such a mess. I don't know
what
to do. '

I just wanted my life to go on as it had before, with Theo and I happily cohabiting, and sharing cooking and Scrabble and jokes; and going to the pub with Bev and Trev, and star-watching on clear, cold nights. I glanced up through the conservatory roof. Twilight was descending and I could just make out Venus shining quite low in the navy blue sky. Rudy suddenly woke up and started chattering and preening, so I fed him, and cleaned his cage. And I grabbed yesterday's paper to line it with, and had a quick look at the crossword. One down, 'Far meteor, destroyed, ' six letters. It was an anagram of meteor. 'Remote'. Theo would soon be remote I realised dismally. He'd probably be gone in a few weeks. Although I consoled myself with the thought that buying a property can take an age. He had to find somewhere first—and he's very busy at the moment—and then he'd have to have the survey done. Then there's the conveyancing and all the argy-bargy with the other side. And then he'd have to wait for them to move out. Maybe he'd be gazumped I thought optimistically, then felt a guilty pang. But it would probably take him, what, at least two months to move—maybe even three. I breathed a sigh of relief…

I drove over to Putney early the next morning so that I could help Ed get up. As I let myself in and pushed open the door I found a few envelopes scattered on the mat. There was one handwritten letter, with a Hull postmark: I guessed that it was from Jon. But when Ed came downstairs and saw it on the kitchen table, he put it straight in the bin.

'Aren't you even going to read it?' I asked him.

'No. '

'Why not?'

'I don't need to. I know what it says. '

'Is it from Jon?' I asked.

'Yes. '

'And you're still not speaking to him?'

'No. '

'I know it's none of my business, ' I said as the toast popped up, 'but I think it's an awful shame. '

'You're right, ' said Ed. 'It isn't any of your business. ' I flinched. 'I'm sorry, Rose, ' he said. 'That was very rude of me. My family rows are not your fault. '

'I think you're lucky having a brother to have a row
with
! I said as I twisted open the marmalade. 'I wish
I'd
had a brother. ' Then I thought, maybe I
do
. Maybe I do have one, and maybe I'll meet him. I shivered with anticipation again.

Also in the post were some papers for Ed from work; so he sat outside, at the garden table, reading them in the warm spring sunlight, while I worked on
Ask Rose
inside.

'Shout if you want another cup of coffee, ' I yelled as I switched on my laptop.

'Thanks. '

I was just making notes on some of the letters, as I do, when my pencil broke. I got out my sharpener and went over to the bin and began to turn it, and as the wooden shavings dropped into the wicker waste paper basket I looked down, and suddenly stopped. For there, at the bottom was a torn up letter in the same distinctive handwriting I'd seen only this morning. It was another, earlier letter from Jon. He must be absolutely desperate, I thought. Involuntarily, I found myself stooping to pick a piece up.
Please, Ed
, I read, in small, neat handwriting.
I know we've had our differences, but you're my last chance
. Poor chap, he was clearly in dire straits financially: I wished that Ed would do something to help. But obviously I couldn't say anything as I didn't know the situation, and nor had I ever met Jon. Now I noticed something else in the bin, a piece of paper with a list of numbers, in Ed's handwriting—he'd clearly been working something out.
Mortgage, Putney
he'd written. £300k. No wonder he didn't want to lend his brother any more money, he probably didn't have it to spare. And then, beneath, I read,
R's equity, Camherwell. £200k? If R puts in, say, £150k, then Putney mortgage=£150k which-£700p. c. m
. I felt my heart sink. I went outside.

'Ed, what's this all about?' I asked as I placed the note in front of him.

'What's what about? Oh. ' He blushed.

'I found it in the bin—it was quite open, so I wasn't snooping—and I'm wondering if you could explain?'

'Yes, of course I can. I was just being
practical
darling, ' he said expansively. 'I want you to move back in with me, you know that—it's no secret. So I was simply doing the arithmetic about what would happen if you sold your house. '

'But I don't want to sell my house, ' I protested. 'I like living there. '

'I know you do. It's
totally
hypothetical at this stage of course, but if, later on, you
did
sell it, and we shared costs here—which, after all, is quite normal for married couples, Rose—then we'd have enough between us to have a really nice life. We'd be able to travel and go skiing and have fun, and do all the things that we never got a chance to do before. Or if you didn't want to live here, I'd happily sell up and we could buy a similar house together somewhere else. We could have a whole new start, Rose, so I was just doing some quick sums to see how it would work out. It was my harmless little fantasy, that's all. '

'Oh. ' My indignation seeped away like groundwater. 'Well, I'm not making any major decisions yet. '

'I know you're not. And you don't have to. There's no rush. '

I went back inside and tackled my e-mails. I like to deal with them quickly as they soon stack up. There were several draft letters from Beverley for me to approve, and an additional e-mail from her telling me that she'd heard back from her friend Gill Hart. 'Gill has now spoken to Mary-Claire, ' she'd typed, 'but I'd rather tell you what she said, in person, if you still want to know. ' Yes, I thought. I do. Mary-Claire had thrown herself at Ed, she'd stolen him from me, and then she'd dumped him. I was more than curious as to why.

That night I went over to London FM and did my Tuesday night phone-in, not with Minty, as she's on maternity leave now, but with her stand-in, Tess. We did alcohol problems, bereavement, paternity suits, mothers-in-law, domestic violence and holiday hell. And I didn't really enjoy it that much to be honest, and I was feeling pretty tired as I got in the cab, and wondering whether I couldn't get Beverley to take over from time to time—if she'd like to—which I think she probably would. And I was also feeling despondent about the fact that I still haven't had a response to my ad, when Bea phoned me on my mobile, in tears.

'Rose, ' she wept. Oh God. She'd obviously had a row with Bella again. I braced myself for the details. 'Rose?'

'Yes, what is it, Bea?'

'Something—uh-uh—terrible's happened. '

'What?'

'It's a—uh-uh—disaster. '

'
What
is?'

'I don't know how we're going to cope. '

'Cope with what?' I felt sick.

'Well—uh-uh—it's just so
awful
… '

'
What's
awful?' I persisted.

'Well—uh-uh… ' she blubbed.

'Tell me for God's sake. Have you been burgled?'

'No, ' she gasped.

'Is it the business?'

'No, it's not. It's Bella, ' she sobbed.

'What about her?'

'Uh-uh… '

'Just
tell
me, Bea!'

'Uh-uh, ' she blubbed. I couldn't stand it.

'
Tell
me!'

'Uh-uh-uh—she's been
dumped
!'

I stared out of the window as the shock registered. 'Andrew's dumped her?'

'Yes. Yes, he has. The
bastard'

'When?'

'Earlier tonight. I was waiting for you to finish your phone-in. '

'So what happened?' I asked, though I could guess. He'd obviously got fed up with Bea playing giant gooseberry and finally decided he couldn't stand it any more.

'He's such a cad, ' Bea sobbed bitterly. 'I
told
you he'd let her down. ' Oh.

'So has he gone off with someone else?'

'No, ' she said, 'that's not the reason. '

'Then what is?'

'Uh-uh-uh. '

'What is the reason?' I pressed her. 'Why did he do it?'

'Because Bella's
pregnant
!' she sobbed.