Love, Rosie

by Cecelia Ahern

  The extravagant reception was held at the Boston Harbor Hotel, where the finest speech by far was made by the best man, 8-year-old Josh Stewart, son of the groom from a previous marriage to college sweetheart Sally Gruber.

  The day lived up to the expectation (and standards) of “Social Lives” and it was clear for all who witnessed the newlyweds dancing for the first time as husband and wife that this marriage was forever. May they live a long, happy, rich, and fashionable married life together. As for me, your favorite wedding columnist, I’m off with my bouquet, to find myself a beau.

  TO ALEX

  HAPPY 34TH BIRTHDAY YOU GRAND DAD!

  YOUR LOVING GODDAUGHTER,

  KATIE

  DEAR ROSIE,

  HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAUGHTER!

  LOVE MUM AND DAD XXX

  HAPPY BIRTHDAY SIS,

  GETTING ANCIENT NOW AT THE RIPE OLD AGE OF 33!

  ENJOY THE NIGHT (STAY AWAY FROM HARD-BOILED EGGS!)

  KEV

  ROSIE,

  HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FRIEND.

  ANOTHER YEAR, HERE WE GO AGAIN.

  RUBY

  FROM:Stephanie

  TO:Rosie

  SUBJECT:Your visit

  Can’t wait for you to come over and meet Sophia next month, she’s excited to meet you too and Jean-Louis is as hyper as always.

  Happy 33rd sis, no doubt you and Ruby will be out until the early hours. Enjoy!

  FROM:Josh

  TO:Katie

  SUBJECT:Coming over

  Dad is bringing me over to Ireland next month to stay with Uncle Phil and Aunt Margaret and their three hundred kids. Bethany is coming too and I’m gonna meet her family too. Hopefully we can meet up with you and your mom. It’s so stupid that they don’t talk anymore. And it’ll get real boring just being with the adults all the time.

  Can’t wait to come over though. Hope I can meet up with you and Toby.

  FROM:Katie

  TO:Josh

  SUBJECT:Re: Coming over

  We’re not going to be here when you come over! That’s really crap! We’re going over to France to meet my new little cousin, Sophia. She’s only a few months old. It would have been great to set Mum and Alex up.

  Maybe next time.

  DEAR ALEX AND BETHANY,

  CONGRATULATIONS ON THE BIRTH OF YOUR BABY BOY.

  WE WISH YOU EVERY HAPPINESS FOR THE FUTURE AND ARE DELIGHTED THAT JOSH HAS THE BROTHER HE WISHED FOR!

  ROSIE AND KATIE

  HAPPY 14TH, MY LITTLE ANGEL,

  HAVE A GOOD NIGHT AT THE DISCO TONIGHT AND REMEMBER NO DRINKING, NO SEX, AND NO DRUGS. BE GOOD AND REMEMBER TO PLAY HARD TO GET! (JOKE)

  LOTS OF LOVE,

  MUM

  You have an instant message from: ROSIE

  Rosie: Who is this boy I heard you were kissing and slow dancing with on Friday night, Katie Dunne?

  Katie: Can’t talk Mum, Mr. Simpson is teaching something extremely important for the end of year exams and it’s vital that I listen.

  Rosie: Liar.

  Katie:I’m not lying. I’m sure it is important whatever it is.

  Rosie: Come on spill the beans, who was the boy?

  Toby:Hi Rosie.

  Rosie: Oh Toby, good timing. I was just quizzing my daughter on the mystery man at the disco on Friday night.

  Toby:Oh ha ha. News travels fast.

  Katie:Don’t tell her, Toby.

  Rosie: So it’s true?

  Toby:Yep.

  Katie:Yeah and Toby was snogging the face off Monica all night as well.

  Rosie: Oh no Toby, not moany Monica.

  Katie:Ha ha.

  Toby: Why do you two always call her that? She’s not a moaner when she’s with me.

  Rosie: That’s because we don’t kiss her in front of everyone at school discos.

  Katie:Ha ha.

  Rosie: So come on darling daughter, bond with me and share details of this budding romance.

  Katie: His name is John McKenna, he’s fifteen, he’s in the year ahead of me, and he’s really nice.

  Rosie: Ooooh an older man.

  Katie:I know Mum, I’ve got taste.

  Rosie: What do you think of him Toby?

  Toby:He’s OK; he’s on the school football team. He’s good.

  Rosie: You’ll have to keep an eye on him for me, won’t you?

  Toby:Absolutely!

  Katie:Mum! Now he’ll never shut up!

  Rosie: Did you have sex with him?

  Katie:Mum! I’m 14!

  Rosie: I see 14-year-old girls on the TV who are pregnant these days.

  Katie:Well not me!

  Rosie: Good. Did you take any drugs?

  Katie:Mum! Stop! Where the hell would I get drugs from??!

  Rosie: I don’t know, well you see 14-year-old pregnant girls on TV who are on drugs these days.

  Katie:Well not me!

  Rosie: Good. Did you drink alcohol?

  Katie: Mum! Toby’s mum drove us to the school and collected us, when would we have had time to drink?

  Rosie: I don’t know. You see drunken pregnant 14-year-olds who are on drugs on the TV these days.

  Katie:Well that’s definitely not me!

  Toby:What TV programs are you watching?

  Rosie: Mainly the news.

  Katie: Well don’t worry; you’ve lectured me enough to know that it’s stupid to do all of those things. OK?

  Rosie: OK but remember kisses are nice but that’s as far as it should go. Ok?

  Katie:Mum! That’s all I want!!

  Rosie: Good, now you two get back to your work. I expect you to get A’s in this subject!

  Katie:Well we won’t if you keep bothering us!

  Ruby: So what are you going to do for the next two months now that the kids are off school? You’re so lucky getting such long holidays. Randy Andy told me I’d used up all my holidays already which is ridiculous because all those days were supposed to be sick days. He said there’s no way someone could have been sick for 65 days of the working year and still be alive.

  Rosie: Oh no, so you can’t take any holidays?

  Ruby: I can now, I told him that if he’ll give me two weeks off that I’d mention Randy Andy’s Paperclip Company when Oprah invites me on her TV show after me and Gary win the World Salsa Championship. What are you going to do?

  Rosie: I’m not too sure. Julie mentioned something about being able to do adult courses at the school. She says I should take a course in hotel management like I always wanted to do. Like it’s that simple.

  Ruby: Why can’t it be that simple? Look Rosie, you don’t know until you try. Ever since I met you you’ve been going on about working in a hotel. You’re obsessed with them; your home is like a tribute to hotel merchandise. You can barely open the bathroom door for all the stolen mats in the way. I can’t claim to understand your fascination with them but I know that working in one is an absolute dream for you.

  Most people dream of becoming millionaires or of traveling to space. Most people’s dreams are unattainable. Yours isn’t. It’s a very normal, everyday person’s kind of job.

  Rosie: Julie said that if I don’t take the course she’ll fire me. And she said that when I finish the course she’s firing me anyway.

  Ruby: You need to listen to her; she’s been a good teacher to you over the years.

  Rosie: But Ruby, it takes three years to get a degree, and it’s expensive, and I’ll have to work by day and study by night. It’ll be tough.

  Ruby: Oh but, but, but Rosie Dunne. What’s the problem, have you got anything better planned for the next three years of your life?

  Dear Rosie,

  Apologies for the delay in getting back to you, the past few months have been very busy for Alex and me indeed. Adjusting to married life and a newborn baby all in a matter of months is hard work.

  We were delighted to receive your little card and we hope you and Katie are keeping well over in Ireland.

  Best wishes,
<
br />   Bethany (and Alex, Theo, and Josh too)

  You have an instant message from: ROSIE

  Rosie: You’re right Ruby, it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting up to all that much for the next three years of my life. Why not educate myself? I’ve nothing better to do.

  CHAPTER 41

  Hi Mum,

  Winter again. You would think once in a lifetime would be enough, nobody even likes it. It’s scary how the months fly by so fast. They turn into years without me even noticing. Katie is like my calendar, watching her grow and change. She is growing up so fast, learning to have opinions of her own, learning that I don’t have the answers to everything. And the moment a child begins to understand that, you know you’re in trouble.

  I’m still on my journey, Mum, still caught in that in-between stage of life where I’ve just come from somewhere, have left it well and truly behind and I’m now working my way toward something new.

  I suppose what I’m trying to say is that my mind isn’t settled yet. Still. I mean, you and Dad have done nothing but travel for the past year, you haven’t been in one country for more than a few weeks at a time but you are both more settled than me, and I haven’t left for the past year. You both know where you want to be. I suppose that’s because you have each other and anywhere Dad is feels like home to you.

  I’ve learned that home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling. I can make the flat look as pretty as I can, put as many flower boxes on the window sills as I want, put a welcome mat outside the front door, hang a Home Sweet Home sign over the fireplace, and take to wearing aprons and baking cookies, but the truth is that I know I don’t want to stay here forever.

  It’s like I’m waiting at the train station, busking to make a few quid, just enough to catch the next train out of here. And of course the most important thing to me is Katie and everywhere I am with her should feel like home, but it doesn’t because it’s up to me to make the home for her. I know that Katie is going to leave in a few years and she won’t need me like she does now.

  I have to set my own life up for when Katie goes. I need to set my own life up for when Katie goes because I don’t see any Prince Charmings coming along to rescue me. Fairy tales are such evil little stories for young children. Every time I’m in a mess I expect a long-haired posh-speaking man to come trotting into my life (on a horse of course, literally trotting himself . . . ) Then you realize you don’t want a long-haired posh-speaking man trotting into your life because he’s the one who put you in the bloody mess in the first place.

  I’m like Katie’s coach right now, gearing her up for the big fight. She’s hardly thinking of life after me, sure she has her dreams of traveling the world and DJ-ing for a living without me but the without me part hasn’t hit her yet. And so it shouldn’t, she’s only fourteen. Anyway she is not up to making her own decisions yet, and I’ve put my foot down on the quitting school idea.

  Although lately I haven’t had to force her out of bed in the mornings because of John, this new boyfriend of hers. The pair of them are inseparable; they go to discos every Friday night in the GAA club near where he lives. He’s a real GAA man and plays hurling for the Dublin minors. In fact we’re going to see Dublin v. Meath in Croke park on Sunday. It’s tricky for me because I obviously don’t have a car nor can drive so I sometimes put Ruby on driving duties. She calls it Driving Ms. Lazy. John’s mother is a very nice lady though and she’s kind enough to collect Katie and drop her home some weeks. I haven’t seen or heard much of Toby but I met his mother at the school when she was dropping off her youngest and she told me he was acting more or less the same as Katie with his new love, Monica.

  I never dated when I was fourteen. The youth of today are really changing . . . (I sounded SO OLD there!) OK, OK mum I can hear you fuming from here, I did become pregnant at the age of eighteen without having a job or education or man and almost gave you a nervous breakdown, but in some countries of the world that’s old, so you should thank your lucky stars that I didn’t get started even sooner.

  Kevin called up for the weekend; he brought his girlfriend with him. She’s very sweet but I don’t know what she sees in Kevin. Did you know that they’ve been going out for a year now? Honestly that brother of mine is so secretive; you practically have to beat the information out of him. You never know, there could be more wedding bells in the air for the Dunne family! Tell Dad to get that dirty old tuxedo out of the attic and to brush the cobwebs and mothballs off in preparation. He’ll be happy to know he won’t have to walk down the aisle this time. (Honestly he had me nervous at my wedding!)

  As for my North Strand Palace, we might as well have no windows here at all for all the wind they let in. It’s so cold and windy tonight, the rain is pelting off the windows. That lamppost from outside shines directly into this flat, if only it could be moved a bit to the right then it could annoy Rupert instead. Although it does save me money on the electricity. I’m half-expecting Gene Kelly to be standing outside dancing around with his umbrella. Why is it movies can make everything look fun?

  Every morning I rise when it is pitch black outside (and you know it’s not natural to be up if the sun couldn’t even be bothered to get up), the flat is freezing, I hop from the shower to my bedroom shivering like hell, I make my way outside to the world where I have to walk ten minutes to my bus stop in the wind and rain. My ears ache and my hair is in strings around my head, I may as well not wash and blow-dry it at all. My mascara is running down my face, my umbrella has blown inside out, and I look like a disheveled Mary Poppins. Then the bus is late. Or too full to stop. And I end up late for work, looking like a drowned rat with clothes completely soaked through after having at least a few fights with a few bus drivers already, while everyone else has their makeup, clothes, and hair all perfect because they all got out of bed an hour later than me, hopped into their cars, drove to work, arrived at the school fifteen minutes before classes started, and have a cup of coffee as a nice start to their day.

  Singing in the rain, my bum.

  Notice I’m writing to you today and not e-mailing and that’s due to the guy in the Internet café downstairs catching me one too many times staring at him. I think he’s on to me so I decided to stay home tonight. The other reason for me writing is that I’m pretending to Katie that I’m studying. We both have Christmas exams coming up and I told her she needed to take them more seriously. Well I walked myself straight into that one. So here we both are, crammed at the kitchen table with our books, folders, papers, and pens pretending to look intellectual.

  I have so much study to catch up on that I haven’t been able to cook dinner all week. So it’s been downstairs’ delights for the past few days. Luckily Sanjay is giving us forty percent off our takeaway meals and he’s even created a new dish called Rosie Chicken Curry. He sent it up free last night with our order. We tasted it and sent it back down. Just joking. It’s basically chicken and curry. All he did was add the Rosie. I’m flattered all the same at the sight of my name on an Indian menu and it’s interesting late at night to hear my name being yelled by drunken men in deep slurred voices. I keep thinking that my Romeo is standing on the pavement below my window calling me and throwing stones up to awaken me from my slumber. Then I remember that it’s Saturday night, one o’clock in the morning, the pub has just closed, drunken men are shouting their special order over the counter, and the stones against my window are the rain. But a girl can always dream.

  Speaking of dreams I had one last night that I was a chicken and that I was being chased around a huge hotel kitchen by chefs, waiters, and the guests and they were trying to kill me. Take from that what you may.

  Every time I pass by Sanjay’s wife she rolls her eyes and tuts. He’s still asking me out on dates, he even asks me when she’s standing right beside him. So I say very loudly that what he is asking me is wrong considering his marital status, that he needs to have more respect for his wife, and that even if he wasn’t married I would say no. I say it so loudly so that
she can hear but yet she stills tuts and Sanjay smiles at me and throws a few poppadoms in the bag for me for free. The man is insane.

  Rupert (my other neighbor) asked me if I want to go to the National Concert Hall at the weekend. Apparently the National Symphony Orchestra is playing Brahms Piano Concerto Number 2 in B flat major, op. 83, which is his absolute favorite. It’s not a date or anything. I think Rupert is completely asexual and that he just likes company. That suits me because that’s how I define myself right now anyway. Plus the “I Love Mother” tattoo on his arm would be a real turn-off. That quote by James Joyce really upsets me too, because Rupert is so tall that when I look straight ahead I’m faced with his chest and I constantly read this “Mistakes are the portals of discovery.” It’s like a sign or something, like Rupert was put in the flat beside me to make me understand. Only I wish the message made more sense than that. Mistakes are more like the potholes of discovery. It’s a bloody long bumpy road to discovery and you’re more likely to die in a car crash than a plane accident. I wish it said “Chocolate is good” instead.

  Speaking of mistakes, I still haven’t spoken to Alex and it’s been over a year. All we’ve been doing is sending stupid cards back and forth to each other. It’s like we’re having a staring competition and neither of us wants to be the first one to blink. It’s silly really, because I miss him like crazy. There are so many things that happen to me, silly little everyday things that I go to tell him, like the postman this morning was delivering the post across the road and that stupid little Jack Russell dog called Jack Russell was attacking him again. So I looked out the window and I saw the postman shaking the dog off his leg as he does every morning but this time he kicked the dog in the stomach by mistake and the dog fell over and didn’t move for ages. Then the owner came outside and I watched as the postman pretended that Jack Russell was like that when he got there. The owner believed him and there was pandemonium as they tried to help the dog. Eventually Jack Russell got up and when he took one look at the postman he whimpered and ran away into the house. It was so funny. The postman just shrugged and walked off. He was whistling by the time he got to my door. Things like that would have really made Alex laugh, especially as I had told him all about the stupid dog keeping me awake all night barking and always stealing my post from the poor postman.