My situation is without less strings than Poppy’s and yet I couldn’t imagine being so carefree but that doesn’t mean I should project my reservations on to her. Sure, I couldn’t imagine how it would work but that didn’t mean to say it couldn’t.
Chapter Ten
Rosa
I’m up late, my hours spent tossing and turning last night have resulted in me sleeping in. When I enter the kitchen to make coffee, I spot Poppy and Lily through the window, wandering around the garden. I set off the machine and watch them against a background of blurps, hisses and sizzles.
My breath hitches when I realise how the image of them looks like a dream. My dream. My vision for my life here in this house, with Charles and our baby. It doesn’t help that Poppy looks similar to me and Lily probably looks similar to how our baby would have looked.
My little friend, the robin, comes to the windowsill. Cocking his head on one side as if he knows what I am thinking and, in his cheeky little way, tells me it’s never going to happen now, so stop brooding on it, Rosa.
I can’t though.
I pour the coffee and cuddle the warm mug with both hands, blowing across the top so the dark liquid ripples. It takes ten sips of transfixed voyeurism before Poppy finally feels my stare. She turns and waves, picking up Lily’s hand so she can join in. I gesture back enthusiastically.
We’re going to see Dad today and it’s a relief to me that we can all go together. I first of all need to pick up a car seat for Lily and have discovered that I can hire one from the local mother and baby shop in the next town. I load my travel mug with another shot of caffeine and head out to the garden to tell Poppy.
“Hello beautiful,” I say to my niece, who rewards me with a smile. “Did you both sleep okay?”
“So, so.” Poppy waggles her hand from side to side. “It’s been a while since I’ve shared a bed with madam here and she doesn’t lie still, rolling around and flapping her arms and legs about all of the time.”
I laugh. What I wouldn’t give to moan about the inconvenience.
“I’m going to get that car seat we looked at last night. I’ll be about thirty to forty-five minutes.”
“Okay, no worries, I’ll make sure we’re both ready when you get back.”
We exchange kisses and I head off in the Jag.
It’s the second time I’ve been to this store this week and that makes it only the second time ever. I smile at the display in the window. All the Beatrix Potter characters in a little woodland scene. Jemima Puddle-Duck centre-stage. I wonder if I should buy Peter Rabbit, he was my favourite. I’m lost in my own little animal childhood fantasy world and don’t notice the couple leaving the store until it’s too late.
Charles and his bimbo, Crimson.
We have no option but to acknowledge each other. Well we do, but we choose not to.
“Charles?” I say, more to reaffirm to myself that it is indeed him, than extend any sort of warm greeting.
“Rosa, I’m glad I’ve seen you, we need to talk this week.”
“Huh.” Is about all I can manage. I don’t want to agree but I’ve not prepared for this moment so haven’t got a more suitable answer.
I look to the woman hanging off his arm. He doesn’t introduce her. She looks beautiful and I cannot stop my mouth from turning down at the corners.
I pry my eyes away and see that Charles is glaring at me, like he hasn’t given me permission to look at her.
Before I cry or scream or collapse on the floor in front of them, I tip my head forward and let the momentum carry me onward through the door. The furnace from the over-door heater hits me and I feel instantly weak; a lack of breakfast and too much coffee hasn’t helped.
There are some chairs near the breast-feeding room and I take a seat, mustering myself to stop hyper-ventilating. A woman sitting next to me turns and asks if I’m okay. I nod and thank her for her kindness, although I could quite easily break down in tears and tell her the whole story, but she might be more than a little freaked out, so I don’t. She assures me it will soon pass; that the first few weeks are always the worse. I wonder how she knows until I register that she probably thinks I’m pregnant and in the throes of morning sickness, not newly separated from my husband.
Hah.
I just nod. The real story is certainly not going to be revealed now.
After a few minutes, and when I see that the line of people at customer service has reduced sufficiently, I head over and retrieve the pre-booked car seat, promising to return it next week. I wish they just had a returns box that I could dump it in or a collection service because I don’t want to come back to this hell hole for a while. It was definitely crossed off my places to visit of interest and beauty.
During the drive back, I wonder what Charles was doing at the store. I think, like me, he had never ventured into a baby boutique before or maybe he had and I just didn’t know it, as it seems there is quite a lot I don’t know about what he does or doesn’t get up to.
As promised, Poppy and Lily are ready to go when I get back, so I hurriedly stuff an apple into my mouth and help her strap in the car seat. I’ve bought apples to try and paint an illusion of looking after myself to Poppy, but I think she has seen through my lies when she chastises me for leaving without breakfast. I ignore her and carry on with the Krypton Factor-like task.
It seems having a baby in the seat next to you is quite distracting, especially when the backseat mother is constantly putting her arm through the gap to adjust the blanket or pop the pacifier back in her mouth. I just about make it to the care home without screaming at one or both of them. My little set to with Charles and lack of breakfast has done nothing for my mood.
Dad seems pleased to see us anyway, if a little confused, especially about the baby. He keeps calling her Poppy. I take the opportunity to take out the photo album and show him photos of Poppy and me when we were babies. I tell him about getting the car back on the road, again, and he recounts a story of traveling to the south coast in it with Mum. A photo in the album backs up his story and we feel heartened by the sparkle in his eye and the clarity of his tale. It’s short lived though as he shuts down when we prepare to leave.
“Shall we stop for lunch on the way home?” Poppy suggests.
“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. There’s a cafe in the next village that does a lovely cream scone.”
“Ooh, now you’re talking. I’ve missed scones. Is it with proper Cornish clotted cream?”
I nod with my eyes widened into the rear-view mirror.
“Get me there now, Rosa, and don’t spare the horses.”
I pull off into the little village and amble along the cobbled street, parking in the square in the middle. It’s quite late for lunch but the afternoon teas are on the menu, which of course includes their famous scones, so we go the whole hog and have a three tiered extravaganza. Poppy turns up her nose at my suggestion to have a glass of bubbles with it, so we just stick with a pot of tea for her and a doll’s size cafetière of coffee for me.
The position of the cafe in the village is idyllic. The view from our seats in the window look out onto a village green and a tiny Norman church. Daffodils bob about in the breeze next to the pond and blossom from the apple trees in a neighbouring orchard are floating thought the air like confetti.
“This is bliss,” she praises.
‘Yes it …” I stop mid-sentence because a Land Rover Defender has just pulled up right outside the cafe and completely blocked our view.
“Typical,” I moan, my miserable mood of late having cause to reappear.
The occupant leaves the vehicle and walks into the shop; the doorbell sounding his arrival.
I splutter my coffee. Fortunately it drips into the saucer I am holding rather than the onto my lap and I quickly mop up the residue with a paper napkin. Poppy doesn’t see my etiquette bloop as she is too busy staring at the guy causing my reaction, who is taking up the whole of the doorway.
It’s Kane Crane, or w
hatever he’s called.
Our position right next to the entrance does nothing to help with the desire I have to be invisible right now and he ignores my wishes too.
“Hi.” His lips curl around the greeting in an obscenely luscious way.
“Hello,” I reply curtly.
“That looks good.” He comments on our three-tiered spectacle.
“It’s lush,” Poppy interjects.
“I’ve just come to get lunch, they make a stonking sandwich here.”
“Hmm.” I’m really not interested.
“Anyway, I’ll let you ladies enjoy your tea, and I’ll see you next week.” He gives me a wink.
Poppy is having a silent fit behind his back at me. I’ve no idea what she is mouthing but I’ve no desire to elaborate further until he has left with his ‘stonking’ sandwich.
“That’s better,” I comment, when he drives his Land Rover away from the window.
“So, what the hell was that?” she gasps.
“What him?”
“Yes, him.”
“He’s just the gardener, or the gardener’s nephew anyway.”
“Just the gardener? Are you having a laugh?”
“What do you mean?” I tuck into a cucumber sandwich, impressed that the crusts have been cut off the bread and they’ve used real butter instead of any of that spreadable nonsense.
“Jeez Rosa, is he the dude you showed me on your phone the other day?”
“Yep.”
“He’s a flipping walking god. He’s…he’s seriously the hottest guy, apart from Sky of course, that I’ve ever seen.” She grabs hold of my hand. “And he’s got the serious hots for you. Did you see the way he looked at you and that wink?”
“No, I didn’t and anyway, winking is crude, it’s not like I’m an unmarried teenager.”
“You might as well be,” she hisses. “If a guy like that throws himself at you, you be whatever he wants Sis.”
Obviously, I don’t agree.
Chapter Eleven
Rosa
The for-sale board went up today. It was silently erected and made me feel sick when I went down the stairs this morning and discovered it there. I am tired of all the negative emotion I have felt this year and it still keeps coming. Poppy is already up, looking bleary eyed and silently feeding Lily some mushed up grey looking stuff.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
“Coffee?”
“Please.”
I stand looking out the window while the coffee-maker does its thing.
Daffodils are poking up underneath the tree now, a definite sign of spring, their cheerful yellow bonnets yet to unfurl.
As the last of the splutters blip from the machine, I gather two mugs from the drainer and pour in the elixir, handing one across to Poppy and hugging the other between two hands.
I can’t even be bothered to add milk and sugar this morning and neither does my sister.
Last night we had a fraught discussion about Charles and me. Or mainly me. I guess I find it harder than she does, to admit it is finally over. She hadn’t seen us during most of our relationship or been there when it all disintegrated or rather imploded. All she had to go on was my recount, but even so she sees it in a different light to me.
I am still not accepting that it is over. If I am no longer Mrs Cockburn-Holt, then I have to make my own decisions and go forward alone. And, I’m not ready for that.
Last night, I couldn’t help but recall all of the good times we had shared as a married couple.
Poppy couldn’t help but remind me of the all the bad.
I couldn’t remember life before I became a wife.
Poppy told me stories of the girl I once was.
The conversation after dinner yesterday was difficult, but necessary. I had brooded over the points Poppy made during the night while I was tossing and turning alone in my marital bed. She was right, it was over, and the sooner I moved on from that the better.
I drain the last of the dregs from my mug, shuddering when the bitter coffee powder hits my tongue.
“So, what would you like to do today Poppy?”
“Shall we go for a walk; blow the cobwebs away?”
“Sounds like an excellent idea.”
We are situated right on the edge of the Yorkshire Dales and there are some wonderful walking routes right on our doorstep. I’d not really been an outdoorsy type during our time here, although as Poppy reminded me last night, there are a lot of things I used to do pre-Charles that suddenly became alien to me when we married.
I go back upstairs to change into something suitable. The clothes in my wardrobe are quite accessible now I have thinned them out and I quickly choose sweat pants and layer up my top half with a sports shirt and fleece pullover. I pause at the dressing table and, without even sitting down, flash some mascara on my eyelashes and rub lip balm across my lips. I’m not nearly as high maintenance as I used to be.
“Ready?” I shout across the hallway.
“Nearly.”
I walk toward the guest bedroom.
“Need a hand?”
I gather Lily up from the changing mat and dress her while Poppy finishes getting ready.
“Do you think it will be cold out there?”
“Possibly. I’ll get you a scarf and gloves.”
The sun is weak at this time of year, and although it is shining bright right now, venturing into the shade will quickly remind us that it is still very much only March.
I help Poppy re-tie the sling so Lily is hung off her back and we head out through the garden gate into the countryside.
It’s so peaceful, birds are flying around with twigs and moss in their beaks to build or fortify their nests, getting them ready for the eggs they are about to lay. The brook at the bottom of the first field is bubbling with crystal cool water that has come down from melted ice on the hills above us. Dew is glistening on the grass and we try and avoid the longer blades so our feet don’t get soaked.
It takes about thirty minutes and a couple of miles before we are ready to talk about last night. As siblings, we’ve always bickered and disagreed but it also means we have to work stuff out. Divorce is never an option between Poppy and I. Thankfully.
“You are right,” I say, offering her a cereal bar in lieu of a proper breakfast.
“Thank you.” She takes it off me and opens the wrapper. “What do you mean I am right. Right about what?”
“Everything.” I pick at a small corner of crumbly oats.
I catch her smiling as she bites down on her bar.
“I just didn’t want to admit it last night Poppy. I do need to accept that Charles has gone and I need to forge on with my life. I’m just scared.”
She stops and, probably as a reaction to my watery eyes, wraps her arms around me. I look over her shoulder at Lily. This is my family, these are the people that will look out for me, not that man I married. However much my expectations were, that it was me and him against the world, however much my heart ached because he isn’t in my life anymore, Poppy still is and I am so grateful for that.
“I know honey. I know.” She breaks away from me and rubs my upper arms. “And now you’ve accepted it, we can start to build things back up again for you. Get your mojo back.”
I blow out a trembling breath brought on by the open admission and the realisation of the task I need to face.
“Come on, let’s walk this out.”
We start off again with renewed vigour.
“So, what exactly are you scared of Rosa? Let’s break it down.”
“Loneliness.”
“Okay. What does that mean to you?”
“Being on my own, all day, all night. No one to share my day with. Nobody to go anywhere with.”
“You shouldn’t think like that Rosa. Do you remember when we moved up here and had that first summer as newbies? Then you pushed me out of a tree and we spent the next three weeks not speaking and just doing our own thing. Yo
u were the first one to make friends with the kids in the village; you were the one that they all called around to see;
“Yes, I remember.”
“That is what it will be like now. You just have to get out there and make friends. Join a club, go back to the gym, well maybe not that hoity-toity one you’ve been going to, but somewhere that you can make friends and build up a new social circle.”
I nod.
“So, what else are you scared about, Rosa?”
“Money or, more precisely, lack of it.”
“Well we did touch on that last night and you need to get your solicitor gee’d up. She needs to be fighting in your corner… and hard. If Charles has misappropriated your joint assets to further his position for this separation, then she needs to make it clear that it’s not acceptable and the greater share of the equity and his income going forward has to come to you.”
“Yep,” I say, in a not too convincing way.
“Look Sis, this is not your battle to fight. That’s why you’ve retained a hard-ass lawyer. If divorce was easy, everyone would do it themselves, but it’s not and unfortunately each party wants to do the other over. So best leave it to the professionals.”
“Hmm.” She’s right of course.
“You should also consider getting a proper job.”
“Job? Ugh.”
“Yes job. You are perfectly capable and there are loads of openings for someone with your qualifications and experience.”
“Suppose.”
“What else?”
“Moving.”
“House?”
“Yeah, I’m scared of finding somewhere else on my own and not liking it.”
“The simple answer to that one is you will eventually, but you need to give some thought now, as to what you want out of a home and maybe consider renting, so you’re not making a long-term commitment.”
Into the Light Page 7