Tequila & Tea Bags (28 page)

I look down at the pavement. ‘Will…’

‘No, not that,’ he snaps. ‘I had the police at the home this morning with a warrant. They spent all morning digging up the garden, looking for bodies. Apparently someone had told a volunteer we’d illegally buried residents back there. Tell me Rose, tell me how that wasn’t you.’ His face is hard and unforgiving.

Oh my holy fuck. The police took it that far? I just assumed they’d have forgotten about it. I’m going to murder Eric.

‘Please, Will, let me explain.’ I try to touch his arm.

‘I’m not interested,’ he snaps, throwing his hand off, an angry vein on his neck popping out.

I look down at the floor, wishing it would swallow me up.

He stands still and takes a deep breath. He must be trying to collect himself.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, a smidgen calmer. He runs his hand roughly through his hair. ‘I just…I told you a lot of shit and you betrayed me. You’re not who I thought you were.’

I’ve never felt so bad in my life.

He gives me one last look of hurt before turning and walking back towards the house. I watch him go, unable to move. Unable to do anything but hurt. He’s almost there when Riley pokes her head out.

‘Oh, there you are,’ she smiles, locking eyes with me with a smirk.

He just left me and already he’s shagging Riley?

He looks back at me for my reaction. I don’t even have one. He talks about me betraying him, but now he’s sleeping with the enemy? He looks almost apologetic. He should.

‘Fuck you, Will.’

I turn and run back home as best I can on my fragile ankle, my life falling apart a little further with each step I take.    

***

Saturday 21
st
November

Well, it's only been a day, but it’s already obvious I’ll never recover. Everything just seems grey, half as good as before. I found a jumper he left last time he was here and I’ve clung onto it. It still smells like him and while I’ve got it close to me I can close my eyes and pretend that he’s holding me. That I’m safe and loved. When I’m really scared and alone. I look outside at the autumn leaves starting to fall, replaced by bare trees. It’s how I feel right now. Bare.

It hasn’t helped that I haven’t had a response from Betty. I feel like she’s the only one who could cheer me up. The only conclusion I can come to is that Will’s told everyone what I’ve done and made it sound a million times worse. Maybe they all think the only reason I was there was to get to Mexico. Which I suppose is how it started, but it turned into so much more than that. I ended up falling in love with them all.

I’m missing them all so much. Even Ernie and his disappearing dentures. But most of all Will. Every time I even think of him my chest aches so bad that I fear I’ll actually collapse and die from a broken heart. I’m sure it’s possible.

The front door slams, throwing me out of my self-destructive thoughts. I know its Elsie from her flowery perfume. Even her perfume is wholesome and girlie. I don’t bother turning around. I’m too depressed to move.

‘You’re home early?’ I look at my watch. ‘I thought you said you were volunteering there till 6pm?’

I muster my last bit of energy and turn to look at her. The minute I see her face I know something’s happened. She’s paler than normal and she’s fidgeting. She takes a breath and tries to speak, only a small sob escapes first.

Fuck, what is it? What has someone done to her? Is it James? I pant harshly, my breath coming out in erratic spurts.

‘Tell me! Who upset you?’ Rage fills me as I take in her vulnerable eyes, afraid to tell me. ‘I’ll fucking kill them!’ I mean it too. Especially if it’s James.

‘No one’s upset me,’ she weeps, wiping away a tear. ‘It's…its Betty.’

A cold chill spreads over my face and a shiver travels down my spine. Betty? Not
my
Betty?

‘What about Betty?’ I ask, my breathing faster by the second. My stomach is doing somersaults.

She slowly walks towards me, perching on the edge of the sofa, her eyes intense. They almost look fearful. I hope to God she’s just being dramatic. ‘She’s ill. You need to go see her. She hasn’t got long.’

I’m out of the door and running up the hill in my slippers before I can even form a coherent thought in my head. I’m vaguely aware of Elsie shouting after me, but I don’t care. The only thing I know is that I
need
to keep running. I need to see her.

I stop when a stitch attacks my side halfway up the hill. I push through it and force myself to keep moving, if not a little bit slower.

She’s ill? Ill with bloody what? And since when? I only haven’t seen her in two weeks. Could she have caught a cold and it turned into pneumonia? And does ‘not have long’ really mean what I think it may mean? Bile rises in my throat. I can't even think about that right now. I shake the thought out of my head.

I get to the top of the hill and run into the home, not pausing to speak to anyone, as I barrel up the stairs and along the corridor towards her room. Will is stood outside talking with the vicar. If he tries to stop me being here I’ll punch him into next week.

‘Rose…’ he says on a breath. The vicar smiles feebly at me and walks into the room.

I don’t have time for Will’s bullshit.

‘No, Will! Don’t you fucking
dare
tell me I can't be here right now! If Betty is ill I need to be here and you’ll have to physically remove me from this building, because I won't go without a fight.’

I push past him, only for him to grab me by my arm. I look down at it in disgust. How dare he grab me and stop me from going in there. I glare back at him, ready to rip his throat out, only to see him looking apologetic.

‘I never said you couldn’t be here. It was you that decided to stop visiting. Who do you think sent Elsie to come get you? You need to be here.’

I nearly fall over from shock. The adrenaline coursing through my veins slows down and I come out of fight mode. I’m strangely disappointed. I ignore his kind face, creasing my eyes shut. I can't deal with it right now.

I take a calming deep breath, before pushing the door open. The vicar is standing over her with rosemary beads. He’s reading her last rights, or whatever it is religious people do.

I look at her lying limp in the bed. She looks awful; her face is grey and her cheeks gaunt. Her hair is a mess, which I know she’d be furious at. She’s attached to a drip that a nurse seems to be checking.

As if realising my presence, she looks away from the vicar and slowly turns her head towards me, as if the movement is taking all of her energy.

‘Rose,’ she breathes, her voice raspy. She smiles weakly.

It breaks my heart, one piece at a time.

I run over to her bedside and pull up a chair. ‘Betty,’ I all but sob.

Keep it together, Rose. You
cannot
lose it yet. You have to be strong for her.

‘Sorry I didn’t reply to your letter,’ she rasps, ‘but I’m dying.’ She smiles as if her joke is hilarious.

A tear escapes down my cheek but I hastily brush it away with my sleeve.

The nurse turns to me with a sympathetic smile. ‘The morphine can make her a bit confused,’ she explains.

I know better. I know Betty’s dark humour. I’m sure if she was feeling better she’d be rolling her eyes at the nurse right now.

‘Don’t worry,’ I say, forcing a laugh out of my clogged up throat. ‘Thank God I’m here. Your hair’s a bloody mess.’

The vicar shoots me a quick look of disdain. Whoops, I suppose I shouldn’t be taking the Lords name in vain. Not that I could give a shit right now.

I walk over to her dresser and pick up her silver enamel hairbrush. It's the only thing I can think to do right now. I softly brush her hair, trying to hide the horror when some of it falls out onto the nylon bristles. My chest aches as I look down at her, her eyes closed, truly relaxed. She’s almost like a little baby. God, how the roles have reversed. I take a pearl hair clip and pin the hair out of her face.

‘There,’ I smile fondly. ‘Now you look like a million dollars.’ I just about get it out before my voice breaks fully.

She sighs, as if she knows I’m placating her. I grab hold of her hand and pull it up to my face. I turn it so her silky soft palm cups my cheek. I can't believe this is happening. Why Betty? Why now? I thought she had so many more years in her.

She looks as if she’s gone to sleep when she bolts slightly, pressing her hand into my face.

‘Rose, you must promise me,’ she croaks, her eyes desperate and pleading.

‘Promise you what?’ I try my best to smile and look positive. When all I want to do is sob uncontrollably.

‘Promise me you won't make the same mistakes I’ve made.’ Her chest is rising and falling rapidly as if she’s fighting for breath.

I look at her, puzzled. What mistakes?

‘Don’t be scared of following your heart.’ She squeezes my cheek affectionately. Shivers run down my body. I squeeze her hand back.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, knowing full well what she means.

She gestures towards Will, who’s talking to the nurse in the corner of the room.

‘Don’t play dumb with me, Rose,’ she smiles. ‘It doesn’t have to be Will, but just promise to follow your heart and not ignore it like I did.’ Her breath is raspy and she stops to catch her breath. I wait patiently. ‘Look at me, Rose. I’m on my death bed and I have no family surrounding me. I’d take back all the trips and adventures to just have someone here that cared.’

‘I care,’ I sob, no longer able to keep it in.

I care so fucking much and yet she’s being taken away from me. How can I ever believe in Elsie’s God when he pulls shit like this?

‘I know darling, and I love you for it.’ She caresses my hand with her thumb, filling me with complete love and admiration for this brave woman. How could she have been dealing with this without me?

She closes her eyes again, as if just talking has completely exhausted her. I pull her hand closer to my face again.

‘I love you too.’ The ache in my chest brings fresh tears to my eyes and I let them fall freely this time.

I lean onto the bed, pushing her hand against my cheek again as if to comfort me.

***

I don’t know how much time has passed, but it’s dark outside now. The nurse leans over the other side of the bed and lowers her ear to Betty’s mouth. She takes out a stethoscope to check her heartbeat. I see it in her sympathetic eyes.

‘I’m afraid she’s passed,’ she explains kindly.

I look down at her hand in mine and realise it feels colder than when I was first in here. She’s gone? Gone forever.

The full gravity of it hits me. I’m never going to see her again. Ever. My chest starts tightening as I gasp for breath. I place her hand gently down on the bed and use my hands to pull at my t-shirt. It feels tight around my neck.

‘No!’ I sob, only it comes out more as a whisper.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and I jump from the contact. I don’t look up though. I don’t have the energy. I already know its Will. I can feel his body heat behind me and smell his unique scent. He squats down in front of me and pulls my crying body into his warm chest. I fight it at first. I’m so angry with him, but he holds firm, until I give in and eventually let my body sag against his.

I push my face into his neck and inhale him. It only makes me sadder. I can't relax in his embrace anymore. The guy doesn’t even like me. I sob even harder, feeling my snot drip onto his shirt. I’ve got no one.

I’m manoeuvred so that I’m transferred into Elsie’s arms. When did she even get here?

‘It's okay, Rose,’ she soothes, patting my back. ‘She’s in a better place now. She’s not in pain anymore.’

The words should comfort me, but they have the opposite effect. I wouldn’t know how much agony she’s been in, because I haven’t been here. No one told me. I’m suddenly overwhelmed with fury and resentment. Anger towards Will. I turn to him, my face contorting with rage.

‘How could you have kept this from me?!’ I scream, pointing my finger accusingly at his chest. ‘I knew you hated me, but to keep this from me is a new low!’

His forehead creases in obvious pain. ‘Rose, she made me promise not to tell you. I had a duty to her to keep her wishes.’

‘Keep her wishes!’ I screech, almost launching myself on him. Elsie holds me back. ‘You knew how much she meant to me and you kept it from me anyways.’

‘Rose,’ he says weakly, pulling his hand through his hair in distress.

‘No!’ I shout. ‘Don’t
Rose
me! I’ll NEVER forgive you for this.’

***

Monday 24
th
November

I blow my nose into Elsie’s handkerchief, hoping she won't want me to give it back to her. I mean, what do people with handkerchiefs do with them? Wash the snot with their own clothes? It's beyond gross.

I look down at my black dress and wonder if it's been washed with Elsie’s bogies. It's a bit short for a funeral, but I thought I’d only be wearing this in Coco Bongo’s in Mexico. Not to bury a surrogate grandmother. Elsie lent me her tights and a little jacket, so it doesn’t look too slutty. Not that Betty would have cared. She’d probably have wanted me to flash my boobs and dance on the coffin to YMCA.

I can't though. I can't even speak today. I’ve barely said two words to anyone. I’m going to fight it though. I have to. Betty deserves an amazing speech. She might not have been surrounded by family and friends before she died, but I’m going to show her that we all loved her. The impressive turnout shows just that.

I still can't believe how she went. She was so helpless, so weak. I guess I always imagined she’d die like she lived; with a glass of wine in hand screaming ‘I had the best time!’ Now when I look at that wooden coffin it’s hard to imagine she’s in there. Gone.   

The service has already started, but I can't seem to listen to the vicar’s words. I’m so nervous about my speech that I can't stop myself shaking. Elsie insisted I write something down as she was sure I’d forget what I wanted to say. The only thing I managed to write was
‘Betty was loved by so many people and…
  I just know it’ll come to me when I’m up there. I’ve always been better at these things when I’m in the moment.

Far too soon the vicar is gesturing for me to come up to the alter. He must have introduced me, but I was too busy staring into space.

Elsie smiles at me encouragingly. I stand onto my shaky legs and force them to walk towards the stand. I hunch my shoulders so that my hair acts as a cover against the pitying stares. I can't bear them. Everyone telling me how sorry they are to hear. Not as sorry as me.

I step onto the carpeted alter, the floor underneath creaking like it’s made of cardboard. I lean against the pillar, take a deep breath and look up into the crowd of expectant faces.

This is it, Rose. Time to make Betty proud.

‘Betty…’ my voice waivers with emotion, but I desperately try to push it back down.

Think of happy things. Smiles, rainbows, unicorns. Betty’s smile was the warmest I’ve ever seen. And she used to give it to me. My heart squeezes with the raw pain. I’ll never see that smile again.

I clear my throat, forcing myself on. ‘Betty was lov…loved…’  My breath comes out in short sharp bursts, making it almost impossible to talk.

Fresh bouts of tears erupt from my eyes, while my throat clogs up to the point of suffocation. I can't do this. I can't even make her proud be doing a kick arse speech. A heavy sob escapes my throat, echoing through the church microphone.

I break down completely, the tears falling one after the other. An arm snakes around my waist and I look up to see Elsie holding me. I whimper into her chest, needing to smell Betty’s talcum powdery scent, not her flowery one.

‘You want me to read it?’ a male soothing voice asks me.

Just hearing his voice sends fresh bolts of pain to my heart. I look up into Will’s eyes, their clear pale green soothing my rising panic. I don’t answer. I couldn’t if I tried. I just pass him my speech, or should I say lack of speech.

He clears his throat, clutching onto the sides of the pillar.

‘Betty was loved by so many people…’ He turns to look at me with a puzzled expression.

Well, I suppose that was all I had written down. I’ve really left him hanging. I’m glad. Let him feel half as angry as me.

‘And she loved many others too. She never got to get married or have children, but what she didn’t realise was that she touched so many people’s lives. Whether it was her being sassy to me, fighting with other residents or just giving a compliment to one of the cooking staff, demanding to know their secret ingredient in the chili or she’d have them killed. She always made an impression.’

Everyone smiles and there are even a few chuckles. How can he be making this up on the spot?

‘Although Betty was upset that she never found true love, she managed to travel the world, learn four languages and at one point she even ran The Dog and Pond.’

My mouth gapes open. How can I feel like I know her better than everyone and not know some of this? But then I suppose Will doesn’t know she
did
find true love, but it escaped her. She only told me real things. How she felt, not a factual biography of her life. That’s worth far more.

Will looks towards the coffin. ‘Goodbye, Betty. You will be truly missed.’

Any anger I had for him evaporates. What a beautiful speech.

I walk back to the bench and listen to the rest of the service feeling numb. Completely numb to the loss. I suppose I’m in denial about the whole thing. I keep half expecting her to run in here shouting GOT YA!

It isn’t until I’m walking out of the church, while the last waltz plays, that I realise she’s truly gone forever. The ache in my chest rises to unbearable again. I spot Will in the crowd and a fresh dose of grief takes over. I’ve got no one. Now on closer inspection I notice that he’s got bags under his eyes, as if he hasn’t slept for a while. Good. I hope his secret has played heavily on his mind.

‘Excuse me, Miss Chapman?’

I look around to see a small balding man in a black suit.

‘Yes?’ I say hesitantly.

‘I’m Mr Harrogate. I’m the executer of Miss Ballantine’s will. I’d like you to accompany me to the reading.’

I crease my forehead in confusion. ‘Reading? Me?’ That’s weird. ‘Okay, whatever. When?’

‘Now. If you could accompany me t’ care home with a…’ he looks at his note pad, ‘A William Buckley.’

I roll my eyes, but nod my head. He goes off in search of him.

I decide to give myself a minute before I have to face him again. I walk against the traffic of people, avoiding their pitying stares, to the front of the church and to the left towards the confessional box. I know the vicar’s outside, so I won't actually have to confess anything. Plus, it’s hidden away enough so that no one will see me duck inside.

I open the door, my mouth dropping onto the floor. In front of me is Mavis, her American tan stockings on show, her skirt pulled up around her waist. Bernie is shagging her; his hairy pale arse confronting my poor,
poor
eyes.

They’re so hard at it, their eyes scrunched closed in ecstasy, that they don’t even notice me. I should really shut the door and run away, but I can't move. I’m too dazed.

A loud sigh behind me shocks me into turning. The vicar is stood behind me, shaking his head disapprovingly.

‘Mavis! Bernie!’ he shouts. It’s the loudest I’ve ever heard him speak.

They both spring their eyes open, staring in horror, between us both.

‘You promised me this would never happen again!’ he berates. ‘You gave me your word. This is a place of worship!’

They both look down, clearly ashamed.

‘Sorry, vicar,’ Mavis says, her husband still clearly inside her.

‘Rose…I,’ she looks so humiliated.

I put my hands up to stop her. ‘Trust me, nobody would even believe me if I tried.’

***

Will’s already waiting in his office when we get there. I follow in Mr Harrogate, glad for the small shield he provides. Will’s taken his suit jacket off and pulled his black tie down, opening the top button of his shirt. He looks yummy. Yummy and not mine anymore. My chest aches from the reminder.

He looks up. ‘Mr Harrogate, Miss Chapman,’ he nods politely. He gestures towards the chairs, as if this is my first time here.

We both sit down with Mr Harrogate immediately opening a folder and shuffling papers.

‘I want you both to know that it's extremely unusual for me to read out someone’s will like this. We normally just write to you, but as I feel these circumstances are unusual, I’ve decided to talk to you myself.’

I nod, although I’m still not sure why I’m here.

‘Miss Chapman, you have been listed as the beneficiary of Miss Ballantine’s estate.’

My stomach drops out of my knickers with shock.

‘Sorry?’ I ask, my voice quivering. What the hell is he talking about?

‘I could read it all out, but the general idea is that Miss Ballantine has left you her home in the village. A number 28 Leaf Tree Drive.’

‘You’re joking?’ Will blurts out, his eyes wide and confused. I turn to look at him, his mouth gaping open. ‘I’m sorry, but what? She’s only known Rose a few months.’

I’m hurt by the accusation in his voice. He clearly has no idea what we meant to each other and that hurts more than it should. I thought he knew me.

‘Aye, but it seems she made quite the impression.’ He smiles, leaning back in his chair.

I’m so bloody confused right now.

‘Sorry? So…are you sure there hasn’t been a mistake?’ There must be.

He nods. ‘I wrote the will myself. She was quite insistent. Add to that the fact that she has no living family to contest it and I’m telling you the house is yours.’

I stare at Will, then back at him. I…I own a house? What the fuck is happening?

‘She asked that I give you this letter to explain.’ He hands over a cream envelope.

I open it and pull out the thick cream card. It’s scrawled with Betty’s chaotic writing. Just seeing it makes my eyes tear up again. How can her writing be here, but she be gone? My chest aches for her. I wish I could speak to her one last time. Ask her what the hell she was thinking.

My dearest Rose,

Follow your heart. If that’s Mexico then sell the house and have an amazing adventure. But if you’ve found something bigger than yourself, stay here and put down some roots.

B xxx

A tear slides down my cheek and I hastily wipe it away. That’s it? That’s the last letter from her. I know it sounds strange, but I really wanted her to have told me she loved me. I could have treasured it. Kept it under my pillow and known that someone is always rooting from me. Even if it’s from another side. But this? Sell the house and go to Mexico?

‘Have fun in Mexico, Rose,’ Will says in a low bitter voice. He grabs his jacket and storms out, the door slamming hard behind him.

***

I wander around the house, still wearing my funeral dress, lifting dust sheets as I go. It’s really the cutest little cottage. It’s older than Elsie’s with its sash windows that aren’t double glazed. If you stand close enough you can actually feel the breeze coming through. I’m guessing the wooden floors are original as they’re rough underneath my socked feet. But through all of that I can see the potential. The real brick fireplace. The small basic kitchen which you could easily squeeze a table and chairs into.

It will be a perfect family home for someone. Just not me.

I dial the number and look around, just in case Betty’s ghost is stalking me.

‘Arnold Estate Agents,’ a dull bored voice greets me.

‘H-Hi,’ I stammer. ‘I’d like to put a property up for sale.’

***

Wednesday 26
th
November

I feel like everyone’s watching me in the village. They’ve definitely turned on me the moment that For Sale sign went up outside Betty’s house. I don’t see why they should care. I’ve never really fit in here anyway. You’d think they’d be happy for me to go.

I’m just going back to the original plan. I should have gotten on that flight while I had the chance. Instead I chose to come back and get my heart broken further. I could be in Mexico right now, sunning myself on the beach, oblivious. I wouldn’t even know that Betty died. But the thought of not having seen her just before she died fills me with a dreadful sickness. I’m lucky I got to speak to her. I suppose I can see now how affected Will was after not making it back in time to say goodbye to his grandad. And all because of work. But maybe that was Will’s dream. Maybe he was living it and that’s where he belongs. Maybe we were never meant to meet at all. The love God’s fucked up somewhere.

But then I know that’s wrong. I’d have never had an orgasm. I believe Elsie one hundred percent when she says we can only orgasm with our one true love. He was it for me and I messed it up. I’ve got no one to blame but myself. And I deserve the misery. In a strange way it’s actually comforting. A weird sort of self-harm.

Add to that the fact that Lauren is still avoiding me and Megan’s sent me several texts saying how she can't believe I kept this from her. She feels betrayed and I can't blame her. I don’t dare go anywhere near the pub. If Phil didn’t hate me after poisoning his daughter, he definitely will now.

I walk into the stables, but stop at the notice board. There’s a picture of Mitsy. What the hell? Please don’t say she’s gone missing again. I lean in to read it.

FOR SALE