Rosie (18 page)

‘But why’s she doing all this?’ asked Sophie.

‘For the same reason that you came home, I suppose. It’s her time.’

‘Wow! What does Mum think?’

‘She’s furious that I let it all happen. Well, she was at first. I haven’t told her about the diamonds. She knows Rosie’s bank account is empty but she doesn’t know why. She’s probably just putting her head in the sand.’

‘Not like Mum.’

‘I think she’s finally met her match.’

‘In Rosie?’

‘Yes. She’s been trying to keep her under control since Granddad died. You know Mum. She doesn’t like loose ends or loose cannons. But I reckon she’s realized now she hasn’t a cat in hell’s chance. She even gave in when I said I wanted Rosie to stay on the island to convalesce.’

‘Just wants to get on with her own life, I suppose,’ Sophie mused. ‘But this diamond you say I’m getting. Where do you think it is?’

‘In the bank, I suppose. She told me to put mine there so I don’t think she’d be silly enough to keep it in a shoebox under the bed.’

‘Well, I’m not really bothered one way or the other. I just want to travel. But I suppose it will make things a bit easier.’

‘Are you going to blow the lot on first-class travel, then?’

‘Don’t be stupid. Do I look like the sort who travels first class?’ she scoffed.

‘Er, no. A steerage girl if ever I saw one,’ Nick told her.

‘I tell you what I could do with, though. A bath.’

‘I thought you’d never ask. I was just going to open all the windows.’

‘Cheeky bugger!’ She lunged forward to swipe him with her hand, but he caught it, spun her round and kissed her cheek.

‘Nice to have you home,’ he said. ‘Get yourself cleaned up and then I’ll cook you some dinner before we go and see your granny.’

‘Now, there’s an offer a girl can’t refuse.’

To his relief Rosie was sitting up in bed, and something of her old self had come back. ‘Where’ve you been?’ she asked.

‘Waiting for you to come round. You were a bit out of it before.’

‘Huh. I’m bored stiff, stuck in here,’ she grumbled.

‘I’ve brought someone to see you.’

‘Oh, not your mother. Tell me you’ve not brought
her
!’

‘Ssssh! Keep your voice down. No, I haven’t brought Mum. She came while you were asleep.’

‘That was good timing.’

Nick beckoned to the figure hidden behind the door.

‘Sophie! Oh, my love, what are you doing here? I thought you were in . . . wherever you were . . . South Africa.’

‘South America. Hello, Rosie.’ Sophie bent to kiss her grandmother.

Rosie, in a surge of affection, put her arm round Sophie’s neck and hugged her. Then she spoke rapidly, through mounting emotion: ‘I thought I’d never see you again. This is so lovely. So lovely. I thought you’d be gone for ages but you’ve come back.’ She stroked the back of her granddaughter’s head, ruffling the short hair. Then she let Sophie stand up but took her hands. ‘Look at you! You’re brown as a berry! And so well. But your hair!’ She ran her slender fingers through Sophie’s golden stubble. ‘There’s not much left, is there?’

Sophie grinned. ‘It’s easier if it’s short out there. Insects and stuff.’

Rosie frowned slightly. ‘I think you’re fairer than you were. Aren’t you?’

‘Sun probably.’

Her grandmother smiled again. ‘Now there’s only Alice, but I don’t expect she’ll be home for a while.’

‘Not if you behave yourself,’ offered Nick. ‘And her home
is
in South Africa.’

‘Hey!’ said Rosie. ‘I haven’t forgotten – it’s just that it’s easy to muddle South Africa and South America.’

Nick patted her hand. ‘I know.’

‘Now, we should be able to get some tea,’ said Rosie, ‘And you, Sophie, can tell me everything you’ve been doing.’ She called the nurse, organized chairs round the bed, and quizzed Sophie on the details of her trip. Nick could not remember when he had last felt so relieved.

Sophie eased herself into the sleeping-bag on the sofa in Nick’s sitting room. ‘God, I’m knackered.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Nick called from his room next door. Then he laughed. ‘What does this remind you of?’

‘When we were little,’ his sister said.

He laughed again. ‘You always wanted to talk, and I always wanted to sleep.’

‘Yes. And I usually won.’

‘Always.’

‘Well, I shan’t keep you awake tonight.’

‘That’s a relief.’

Sophie yawned loudly. ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’

‘Oh, I’ve got to get on with a picture of the Needles. And visit Rosie, of course.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘That’ll be nice.’ He thought for a moment. ‘And I’ve got to make a phone call. Sort out some unfinished business.’

‘Oh, that reminds me,’ murmured Sophie, as she fought to stay awake. ‘I almost forgot. A woman and a little girl were asking for you this afternoon when you were out. Alex and Victoria. Said she’d been trying to get hold of you but that her phone was bust or something. Does that make sense?’ And then she fell asleep.

 
 
20

Its name is rather misleading.

H
e had wanted to ring her the night before, but by the time he had sorted Sophie out it had been too late. He called her on her home number as soon as it seemed decent to do so – at around eight thirty.

Victoria answered. ‘Hello?’

‘Victoria? It’s Nick Robertson. Is your mum there?’

‘No. She’s out.’ She sounded distracted.

‘Oh. When will she be back?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Could you give her a message?’ Nick was flustered. ‘Could you just say I rang and that I’m trying to get in touch with her? Maybe she could ring me on my home number when she gets back.’

‘Will you be there all the time?’

‘I have to go out to do a few things.’

‘When would be best to ring, then?’

He tried to think. ‘Well, look, if she just tries me, and then I’ll try her.’

‘But what if we go out?’

She was irritating him now. ‘I’ll just keep trying.’

‘What about this evening? Will you be in then?’ she asked.

‘Some of the time. I have to go and see Rosie.’

‘Isn’t she with you any more?’

‘No. She’s had an accident.’ Nick sighed.

There was silence at the other end of the line.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘She’s OK, but she’s in hospital.’

Silence again.

‘Look, if you could pass on the message, and I’m sure we’ll manage to speak some time today. OK?’

‘OK.’

‘’Bye then.’

‘’Bye.’ And she hung up.

‘Damn,’ muttered Nick. He had wanted to tell Alex everything that had happened since they had last seen each other – and he’d wanted to tell her about Rosie himself. Would Victoria remember to give her the message more promptly than Sophie had passed on hers?

Victoria hoped she had given him enough information. He had sounded irritated, but she’d only wanted to make sure he’d be able to talk to her mum, who was agitated – and Victoria knew why. There must be an explanation as to why that strange woman had been on his veranda. She wanted Nick to sort it out. But now she had another worry. Nick had said Rosie was OK, but if she was, why was she in hospital?

‘Victoria? Are you there?’

It was the voice of the next-door neighbour, shouting up the stairs.

‘Yes,’ she said softly.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Fine.’

The neighbour went back to her ironing, and Victoria tried to concentrate on her homework. To no avail.

Alex had been out to buy a new mobile phone. She had then called in at a bookshop to find something to read after
Sense and Sensibility
, and settled on
Vanity Fair
. She had chosen it partly because her daughter seemed to have a lot in common with Becky Sharp, and partly for its opening sentence, which transported her to the days in which she would have liked to live: ‘While the present century was in its teens, and on one sunshiny morning in June, there drove up to the great iron gate of Miss Pinkerton’s academy for young ladies, on Chiswick Mall, a large family coach, with two fat horses in blazing harness, driven by a fat coachman in a three-cornered hat and wig, at the rate of four miles an hour.’

Oh yes, that would do very nicely. She walked towards the checkout, but was drawn, for some inexplicable reason, towards a shelf in the second-hand section. It was labelled ‘Travel’. She reached up for a guide to the Isle of Wight, not the modern one that Victoria had been devouring but a battered red volume dated 1919. She flipped it open and read:

She smiled, closed the book and returned it to the shelf.

Nick looked out over the view. Cowes lay beyond the curve of Thorness Bay to his left, and St Catherine’s Point jutted out into the Channel on his right, the lighthouse winking with clockwork precision. The cross on Tennyson Down pointed up to the cloud-filled sky, and he breathed deeply, filling his lungs with clean, cold air. He was glad to be out, and to be alone for a while. For days now voices had echoed in his head asking questions – Rosie’s, Sophie’s, his father’s, Henry’s, his mother’s. Only Alex’s was silent. And hers was the voice he most wanted to hear.

He walked alone from the cross and down towards the Needles, where he set up his easel and painted at speed. He worked all morning until half past twelve when he packed up his brushes and drove to the hospital to meet Sophie at Rosie’s bedside.

When he arrived the two were deep in conversation. Sophie was regaling her grandmother with the story of a plantation owner who had asked her to marry him and look after his children.

‘And what did you say?’

‘I told him to get on his bike.’

‘You didn’t fancy life on a plantation, then?’

‘This isn’t
South Pacific
, you know, Rodgers and Hammerstein. Anyway, I didn’t fancy him – or his kids. Spoilt brats. One tried to touch me up.’

‘But how did he come to ask you to marry him?’

‘Oh, he hardly knew me. He just wanted someone to look after his kids on the cheap.’

‘No!’ exclaimed Rosie.

‘It’s true. Better than paying a nanny.’

Nick listened as Sophie warmed to her subject. ‘I tell you, you’ve got to be careful. Some guys are only after one thing.’

‘Sex?’

‘And an easy life. Just like my brother.’

‘That’s me,’ Nick confirmed. ‘Always going for the easy option.’

‘And the sex.’ Sophie squeezed his arm, then became serious. ‘I’m sorry about that message yesterday. Was it important?’

Nick turned to his grandmother. ‘How are you today, Duchess?’

‘Better in myself, thank you, love, but, ooh, I do ache – and feel so stupid. Fancy slipping! And I had my new deck shoes on. Now I’m stuck in here.’

‘Have they started you walking?’

‘Have they? I’ll say. Up and down the ward like a sentry. Huh! But there’s a very nice man who takes me, Joe. There he is – African. He’s very nice, calls me Mrs Madam. His English isn’t very good, but he’s gentle.’

‘You want to watch out. He’ll be asking you to marry him before the week’s out,’ Nick observed.

‘Ooh, that would be something, wouldn’t it?’ Rosie’s eyes lit up, her old sparkle back.

‘Yes. If I were you I’d snap him up.’

Rosie grinned. ‘It’s probably like Sophie says – he’d only want me for the sex.’

There was a momentary pause, then all three fell about with laughter. Tears of mirth rolled down Rosie’s cheeks, and she squealed in pain as she fell back on her pillow.

‘Ow!’ she exclaimed, still laughing. ‘Now look what you’ve done.’

‘Us?’ asked Nick. ‘It was you who said it.’

Sophie ticked her off: ‘Rosie, that was disgusting.’

‘Yes, and I’m old enough to know better. Or, as far as you’re concerned, I’m old enough to have forgotten how to do it.’

‘Too much information!’

Rosie shook her head. ‘Shouldn’t be allowed. Sex approaching the age of forty.’

‘Careful!’ warned Nick. ‘Sensitive area.’

‘Ooh, yes! Sorry, I forgot.’ Then her eyes lit up. ‘That reminds me.’ She turned to Nick. ‘Did you tell Sophie . . .’ she glanced from side to side, like a spy, ‘. . . about the legacy thing?’

‘Well, I did mention it.’

‘Rosie, it’s really not necessary,’ Sophie told her.

‘Yes, it is. I’m not having the Government taking it all. I’d far rather you three had it.’

‘Well, it’s very kind but—’

‘No buts. It’s all sorted out. I’ve given Nick his and he’s put it in the bank.’ She turned to him. ‘You have put it in the bank, haven’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I’ll give you yours, Sophie, and you can do the same.’

For a moment Nick imagined that she was going to reach under her pillow, pull out a small bag and dole out a diamond to Sophie. Instead she said, ‘As soon as your father comes back.’