A Rose Petal Summer

by Katie Fforde

  ‘And I’ll keep her safe and do my best to give her a good time,’ said Caro, very tired now.

  ‘But you won’t make her want to stay in London?’

  ‘You can’t make people feel things,’ Caro said gently. ‘She’ll either fall in love with the bright lights or she’ll yearn for the beauty and quiet there is here.’

  She knew she’d be yearning for that herself, now she’d experienced it. She’d always loved living in London but wasn’t so sure she would now. She didn’t feel like quite the same person any more. And it wouldn’t only be grey skies and the sound of the curlew she would miss.

  Eventually Skye was satisfied and went home.

  As she came up the escalator into Canary Wharf Caro mentally congratulated Rowan for finding her way without the detailed instructions she usually gave people. It wasn’t a desperately difficult journey but a few pointers were helpful. Although Rowan may have taken a cab from London City Airport it would still be difficult to find the right barge.

  Caro had called Joe from the airport to give him and anyone else who was there time to get the mugs into the dishwasher and generally make the place look respectable. It was an old tradition but this time it was also to give Rowan time to get her game face on.

  Rowan was waiting for her on deck but for a moment Caro didn’t recognise her. Her long rose-gold plait was gone, leaving a shorn but no less lovely girl.

  ‘Oh my goodness, your hair!’ said Caro, before she could stop herself. ‘But it looks amazing! Maybe we’ll get it tidied up a bit at the hairdresser’s. Is the kettle on? Let me get on board.’

  Rowan wasn’t usually talkative but now she had plenty to say. She began as soon as Caro climbed aboard and went down the stairs towards the cabin below.

  ‘Joe’s been so kind – taking me in, not shouting,’ she said.

  ‘Joe never shouts. It’s not his style. And now you must ring your mother—’

  ‘You don’t mind me coming here? You did say I could come and stay …’

  ‘I don’t mind at all, love, but did you have to drive everyone mad with worry?’ Caro paused before entering the cabin. She put her hand on Rowan’s wrist. ‘You could have just come and stayed in the normal way.’

  ‘You know Mum would never have let me.’

  Caro sighed. She was probably right. ‘Well, let me get below and settle in.’

  Joe had opened a bottle of wine and was stirring something delicious-smelling. He grinned as he saw Caro. ‘You’re back!’

  ‘I am! And very pleased to see you!’ They exchanged one-armed hugs as Joe was reluctant to put down his wooden spoon. ‘Thank you for taking in the waif and stray.’

  ‘She’s been no trouble so far, although I suppose there’s time.’

  ‘Would you like tea or wine?’ asked Rowan, suddenly shy and clearly worried that this was Caro’s home: should she be offering drinks? On the other hand, Caro had been on a long journey and should be looked after.

  ‘Tea and then wine immediately afterwards,’ said Caro. She’d left her case in the wheelhouse, content to just get home and relax for the moment. Unpacking could wait. She collapsed on to the banquette. ‘Thanks, Rowan,’ she said as the girl handed her the tea. ‘What I’m longing to know is how you found the barge?’

  Rowan sat down too, obviously proud of herself. ‘It wasn’t that easy but I knew roughly where it was and what it was called. I got a cab here and then just walked around looking for someone to ask. I started off at the other moorings and met a man doing work on a boat. He knew all the barges and told me where this one was.’

  ‘But how did you get in? You didn’t know the code for the gate.’

  Rowan bit her lip, a bit sheepish. ‘I told the kind man I was visiting a friend and had forgotten the code and he gave it to me.’

  ‘It was Doug,’ said Joe, finally feeling free to stop stirring and coming to join them with a glass of wine. ‘He does boat safety examinations on all the barges and narrow boats. He knows everyone,’ he explained for Rowan’s benefit. ‘He probably realised Rowan wasn’t up to anything bad.’

  ‘I was lucky, Joe was in,’ said Rowan. ‘I explained to him—’

  ‘And I understood,’ said Joe.

  He smiled his slightly wonky smile revealing his slightly wonky teeth. At thirty-five he felt too young for Caro to be romantically attracted to, but he was a friend and she trusted him.

  ‘I expect you’re wondering about my hair,’ said Rowan. ‘Actually I cut off my plait before I left. I thought I would be less easily spotted if I didn’t have it. And I felt so – fed up. I wanted to do something drastic.’

  Caro would have waited a bit before asking these questions but was glad to know. ‘So why didn’t your mother find it? It would have been a bit of an awful thing to come across, I must say.’

  ‘It’s in my knicker drawer.’ Rowan blushed a little, possibly because she’d said ‘knicker’ in front of Joe. Caro was reminded what a very sheltered life she’d led up to now which made Caro admire her even more for making a break for it, in spite of the worry it had caused.

  ‘I’ll take you to my hairdresser tomorrow. My colours need doing anyway.’

  ‘Mum says she doesn’t understand people who colour their hair. She says it fools no one,’ said Rowan, blushing some more in case it sounded as if she was being critical.

  ‘I colour my hair for me, not for anyone else,’ said Caro. ‘I want to like the reflection I see in the mirror. Besides, your mother is so naturally beautiful that she could go completely grey and completely haggard and still be stunning.’ She smiled to show there were no hard feelings. ‘Each to their own.’

  ‘Right,’ said Joe, ‘if you two are ready to eat—’

  ‘I’ll set the table,’ said Caro.

  Joe was a great cook but his talents stopped at the stove. The niceties like table laying – and quite often the clearing up after himself part – were beyond him.

  It didn’t take Caro long to find candles and paper napkins and a jug of water. She put Joe’s bottle of wine on the table too, struggling to remember how Rowan’s parents felt about her drinking. She was seventeen but a very young seventeen.

  Joe didn’t know about Rowan’s sheltered background and offered her wine. To Caro’s relief, she refused it. It was one thing taking this beautiful naïve creature round the art colleges and galleries but quite another teaching her how much she could safely drink before making a fool of herself.

  In spite of drinking only water, Rowan blossomed and came out of her shell during the meal. Joe’s signature chilli with all the trimmings was obviously to her taste and as she ate she talked even more.

  ‘I never thought I’d have the courage to run away,’ she said, putting a tortilla into the guacamole and scooping up a mouthful. When she’d swallowed and taken a cooling sip of water she went on. ‘I’d never even been to Glasgow on my own.’

  ‘I shouldn’t encourage you, but you were brave,’ said Caro. ‘And you were clever – and lucky – to find where I lived.’

  ‘I just knew I had to do something, or I’d be stuck in Glen Liddell forever! I know I’m lucky, it is really beautiful’ – she smiled at Joe as this was for his benefit – ‘but I want to see more of the world.’

  ‘So you want to check out art schools?’ said Joe.

  Rowan nodded. ‘I know there are loads and I don’t know which I should go for.’ She looked at Caro.

  Caro bit her lip. ‘I don’t know either, but you are very young – which is a good thing,’ she added quickly before Rowan could feel she was being patronised. ‘It means you have lots of time to do the research. And’ – Caro felt she had to say this – ‘don’t forget to look at the Scottish art colleges with the same open mind.’

  Rowan looked a bit deflated.

  ‘But we’ll look at as many as we can from the outside and if you really fancy the Courtauld Institute say – or is that more history of art?’ She looked at Joe, who shrugged. ‘Anyway, we’ll see where you
’d like to study and then find out what you need to do to get in. And we’ll look at art galleries too.’

  ‘And shops?’ Rowan added this shyly.

  ‘Of course shops!’ said Caro. ‘In fact we can ignore the art stuff altogether if you want.’

  It was nice having Rowan there, Caro realised. It stopped her missing Scotland. But was she missing Scotland, or the chance to see Alec? Really, she was thinking like a teenager herself. Was she fit to be looking after one?

  ‘I think you should ring your mum, Ro,’ she said again when they were gathering the dishes and Joe had gone out to make music with some mates. ‘Just to let them know you’re safe and that I’m here and all is well.’

  ‘Couldn’t you do it? Mum will go on forever!’

  ‘I know but it’ll make you look more adult if you do it. Like you’re taking responsibility for your actions.’

  Rowan didn’t speak for a long time and Caro could see her running the conversation over in her head.

  ‘OK,’ said Caro, ‘ring your dad. He won’t shout and scream, at least.’

  ‘No, he won’t – and he can tell Mum everything and if she shouts and screams at least he’s used to it.’ Rowan seemed relieved at this compromise.

  Suddenly Caro felt as if she was ducking out of her responsibilities too, having told Rowan she wasn’t allowed to. ‘I’ll ring Skye. But you speak to Alec.’

  Caro was lucky. Skye’s yoga students were requiring her attention. ‘OK, thanks for ringing. See if you can get her to come home. I haven’t got time to collect her,’ she said.

  ‘Really? But you were so worried about Rowan going to London.’

  ‘I can’t go to London!’ Skye sounded shrill. ‘There are so many toxins and diesel fumes.’ She paused. ‘Besides, my best friend was offered drugs the moment she arrived. I can’t expose myself to that sort of thing. I have to keep pure!’

  Caro sighed. Skye’s feelings about London were obviously as ingrained as they were irrational and there was no point in arguing with her now. ‘I’ll keep her for a week as we agreed,’ she said. ‘We’re going to visit art galleries and the shops.’ She left out references to art colleges – now was not the time. ‘I expect she’ll get exhausted and want to come home very soon.’ And she rang off.

  ‘That was quick, for Mum!’ said Rowan, impressed.

  ‘She had her yoga students there,’ said Caro.

  ‘Oh, that explains it,’ said Rowan. ‘When Mum’s got students she’s very hands off. But when she hasn’t, I’m her project.’

  Rowan seemed relaxed with this state of affairs. ‘Would you like me to make you a cup of tea or anything, Caro? If I’m going to be staying, I need to know where everything is.’

  Chapter Six

  Caro’s hairdresser, Trixie, and Caro looked at Rowan after her hair had been properly cut. They were both silent for several minutes. Rowan looked amazing, even without make-up, and wearing very nondescript clothes.

  ‘Can I put some make-up on you?’ asked Trixie. ‘Just a bit?’

  ‘I don’t think—’ Caro began and then shut up. Rowan was perfectly able to decide for herself.

  ‘I never wear make-up,’ Rowan said, staring wonderingly at herself. ‘But maybe I could now I’m in London. Just a bit.’

  ‘I used to do hair and make-up for photo shoots,’ explained Trixie, getting out what looked like a medium-sized tool chest. ‘I’ll go easy on you, seeing as you don’t usually wear it. Perhaps just something to bring out your eyes even more.’

  ‘It does really, really suit you short,’ said Caro, watching Trixie work her magic with her brushes and pencils – outlining her eyes in grey and blue and amazing mascara. ‘But I suspect your mother will kill me when she sees it.’

  While the effect was quite subtle, there were a lot of products on Rowan’s face. Her eyes looked Bambi-sized only more intelligent.

  Rowan nodded. ‘She’s never let me cut my hair, which is why I did it myself. And she’s never let me wear make-up either.’

  ‘Can I take a few photos?’ said Trixie. ‘It would be good for my portfolio.’

  When they came away a couple of hours later, Trixie had refused payment for any of what she’d done for Rowan, and given Caro her highlights at a very reduced rate.

  ‘Now what?’ said Caro. ‘Shops or art galleries?’

  ‘Both?’

  ‘Perfectly possible. Let’s get you an Oyster card then we can hop on and off buses and trains without having to buy a ticket,’ she explained.

  Rowan had a charming naivety about her that meant she loved going on the top of a double-decker bus and seeing London from up there.

  ‘Another day we’ll do the DLR and we can go up the Thames by water bus and end up at Tate Britain,’ said Caro. ‘We can get the boat from there to Tate Modern.’

  ‘This is so cool!’ said Rowan. She settled back in her seat at the front of the bus.

  Caro smiled, delighted to see Rowan’s joy in such simple pleasure, until she spotted the man on the opposite seat staring at Rowan. She did look a bit like a supermodel, Caro realised. She wondered if a beanie hat would be a good idea though she suspected covering Rowan’s rose-gold hair wouldn’t be enough to make her look ordinary. Sunglasses might help, but she didn’t want the girl to feel self-conscious, not when she was having such a nice time.

  Caro had escorted Rowan along Oxford Street and into Selfridges when Caro realised she needed the loo.

  Rowan was reluctant to leave the make-up counter and stayed playing with testers. Caro, scourged with guilt, wondering what Pandora’s box she had opened when she introduced Rowan to make-up, nipped off.

  Although she was as quick as she could be, inevitably finding the Ladies and getting there and back took longer than Caro would have liked. The shop was full of tourists and she was just making her way through them when she overheard someone say, ‘Look, there’s David Callaghan!’

  Caro kept abreast of celebrity gossip only when she was having her hair done and read the magazines, but even she had heard of David Callaghan. He was the Hollywood film director whom everyone wanted to work with. His films were spectacularly good; they won Oscars and, most important, earned money. She looked at where the woman was pointing and instantly went icy cold and then hot. He was talking to Rowan!

  It seemed to take a lifetime of ‘Excuse me’s and ‘Could I just?’s and ‘So sorry’s before she got through the crowd to where Rowan and David Callaghan seemed to be in deep conversation.

  ‘Hello!’ she said, aware that her heart was pounding, partly from exercise and partly from anxiety. ‘Rowan! We should be getting home.’

  David Callaghan was very tall and well dressed and, although not desperately handsome, had more charm than should be legally allowed. ‘You must be Caro. I’m David. Rowan has been kind enough to help me with buying a present for my fiancée.’ He had a low voice and the softest American accent.

  Caro took a steadying breath. As long as he wasn’t asking Rowan to go into a small private space to do this, it might not have been a problem.

  ‘David wants to buy Scarlet some perfume,’ said Rowan. ‘He asked me for my advice but I said we need Scarlet herself.’

  ‘I know a bit about perfume,’ said Caro. ‘At least – I know what smells good on people. But we definitely need Scarlet. Is she back in the States?’

  ‘No,’ said David. ‘She’s trying on dresses. She’s due to meet me here about now.’

  ‘She may be delayed,’ said Caro, warming to him as it became obvious he wasn’t after Rowan. ‘It always takes twice as long as you think it possibly could.’

  ‘I know,’ said David with a resigned smile. Then his expression changed. ‘Ah! We maligned her. She’s here.’

  Scarlet was a good few years younger than David, who Caro reckoned was about her own age. She had black curls and huge brown eyes, a full mouth and a perfect little nose. She was extremely pretty and fizzed with warmth and energy.

  ‘David! I’m sorry if
I kept you waiting. I had to wait in line for ages.’ She became aware of Caro and Rowan. ‘Oh, who are you guys? Are you friends of David’s?’

  As her question included a very wide smile, revealing perfect American teeth, it was easy to smile back. But Caro didn’t know what to say. Was David’s perfume-buying a secret?

  ‘Friends as of a few minutes ago. These kind people have been trying to help me and prove that the English are not all stuck-up and snobbish.’

  ‘I’m not English,’ said Rowan quickly. ‘I’m Scottish.’

  ‘We are both British, though,’ said Caro. ‘But we’re not stuck-up. I’m Caro, and my Scottish friend is Rowan.’

  ‘And I’m David Callaghan,’ he said. ‘This is my fiancée, Scarlet Lloyd.’

  Rowan, usually so shy, seemed happy to carry on. ‘It’s lovely to meet you both.’ She turned to Scarlet. ‘You’re so beautiful.’ And then she blushed, aware it wasn’t usual to be so frank about other people’s looks.

  Scarlet responded by putting her hand on Rowan’s arm. ‘Oh! Honey! So are you! Just gorgeous! I love your hair!’

  The mutual fangirling went on for a few more minutes until Caro felt obliged to break it up. ‘I think we should be going, Rowan. David has got Scarlet now and they can choose perfumes without us.’

  ‘Oh no!’ said Scarlet. ‘If you’re not in a rush, we’d love to have help. We’ve been trying everything and nothing seems right.’ She seemed more distressed than not having the right perfume seemed to justify.

  ‘I wanted to give her a very special present,’ explained David.

  ‘Fragrance is important to me,’ said Scarlet, her enthusiasm for life dimmed for a moment. ‘Have you found anything you like, David?’

  ‘You’re the one who matters here, honey,’ David said. ‘No point in me liking something. It’s got to work for you.’

  ‘Well, shall we try a few?’ suggested Caro. She studied Scarlet thoughtfully. ‘I think you need something that isn’t too sweet.’

  She surveyed the array of perfumes in front of her. Some were classic and some were new. Although there were so many there, none of them leapt out at Caro as being right for Scarlet. She went to a much advertised fragrance that might work. She sprayed some on to a paper wand and flapped it for a few seconds. She sniffed it and then handed it to Scarlet. ‘What about this?’