Secrets and Tea at Rosie Lee's

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Secrets and Tea at Rosie Lee's Page 12

by Jane Lacey-Crane


  I nodded and held Lucy even tighter as she cried. Matt sat down heavily into the chair next to the bed and put his head in his hands. He was crying silently, tears sliding between his fingers. I was the only one that wasn’t crying; what was wrong with me? My mother was lying on the bed in front of me and I couldn’t cry. ‘What happens now?’ I asked.

  One of the nurses was disconnecting a bag of fluid. ‘We’ll need to do a few things for Mum, to get her ready, but there’s no rush. You can just sit with her for a bit if you’d like.’

  I nodded. ‘I’ll stay with her.’

  Matt got up from the chair. ‘I don’t want to stay, Abs. I don’t want to see her like this, with all this stuff—’ He stopped abruptly.

  ‘It’s okay. Take Lucy outside for me. I’ll come and fetch you in a bit.’

  They both left the room, followed by the nurses. I pulled a chair nearer to the bed and sat down. I could hear pieces of conversations going on in the hallway outside, orders being given, discussions about lunch breaks and rotas; all the trivial stuff that showed how life went on. After a while I managed to zone out all the noise and a strange peace fell over the room; it was like being inside a bubble, just me and her. I’d felt the same on the night that Lucy was born. After all the noise and trauma of a twenty-one-hour labour – she was stubborn even then – I was taken up to the maternity ward with my new baby. It was the middle of the night, the ward was dark and quiet and, once the nurse had settled me in, I was left alone with Lucy for the first time. The overwhelming feeling that it was just me and her now hit me like a tidal wave and I had to fight hard to suppress a feeling of panic that was almost choking me. How could I be responsible for this tiny little thing? What the hell was I supposed to do? I had that feeling again, right then, looking at my mum’s small, lifeless form. What was I supposed to do now?

  I moved my chair closer to the head of the bed and took hold of one of her hands. It was still warm and soft. I gently rubbed my thumb back and forth across the top of it. Her papery skin wrinkled as I stroked it; she was still wearing her wedding ring. She’d never taken it off, even after Dad left. I’d never understood why but I didn’t dare ask her about it. Now I’d never get the chance to ask her, about that or the million other things I wish we’d talked about. The reality of never being able to speak to her, to hear her voice again, hit me like a punch in the stomach; I was winded, knocked off balance by how strongly I already felt her absence. I’d thought I’d grieved the loss of my mother already; she’d removed herself from my life so completely all those years ago, it had all but felt as if she’d died to me then. That feeling would be nothing compared to the pain I knew I was about to experience. I released her hand and leaned closer to her face.

  ‘I love you, Mum.’

  *

  After we left the hospital, clutching information leaflets on bereavement and an appointment time to register Mum’s death, it seemed only natural that we would go back to her house. Lucy went straight into the kitchen to make tea, the universal cure for everything. I didn’t want tea, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her. I could hear her opening cupboards and rattling cups.

  Matt was standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the spot where the rug had been. ‘Couldn’t save the carpet, then?’

  ‘No, I couldn’t get the stain out, so I threw it away.’

  Matt just nodded and walked across to the fireplace. ‘It’s weird, isn’t it? One minute she’s here, the next she’s not.’ He looked over at me, but I didn’t know what to say to him.

  I was holding a plastic bag full of Mum’s things; they’d given it to us at the hospital and I’d been clutching it all the way home but now I couldn’t wait to get rid of it. It felt slightly disrespectful to be carrying all her possessions in what was essentially a bin bag and I dropped it onto the sofa.

  Lucy came into the room, carrying a tray laden with a teapot and mugs. She hesitated for a minute, unsure as to where she could put it, so I cleared a spot on the coffee table. She knelt beside the table and began pouring milk then putting sugar in one cup for Matt. She looked like a little girl playing with her favourite tea set.

  ‘What?’ she asked, as she looked up and caught me watching her.

  ‘Nothing, it’s nothing,’ I said.

  She shook her head but she was smiling. ‘Shall I be mother?’ she asked, picking up the teapot. I nodded and she poured three mugs of steaming tea. Matt picked up his and took it over to the window. Something across the street appeared to catch his eye and he leaned closer, slightly pulling the curtains back to get a better view of whatever it was.

  ‘Whose car is that, Abs? I don’t recognise it, do you?’

  Lucy got up and went to stand by him at the window. ‘Blimey, that’s one expensive-looking car. Come and have a look, Mum.’

  I only knew one person who had that sort of money, excluding Liz and David. And since I figured that they wouldn’t be sitting outside keeping an eye on me, that only left one possibility.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, it’s probably nothing.’ I wandered over to the window and wrenched the curtains back so whoever was out there could see that I’d spotted them.

  ‘Bloody hell, Abby!’ exclaimed Matt, ducking back away from the window ‘What are you doing? You’d make a really crappy spy!’

  The car didn’t move. I’d expected it to drive away once I’d made it clear I knew they were watching. Maybe I’d been wrong? Maybe it wasn’t anything to do with Jack? After all, why would he care what I was doing? He was going back to America; he’d told me so himself. I went back to sipping my tea and tried to ignore the churning in my gut. My phone pinged to alert me to a new message – it was Liz.

  Just checking in – how’s Mum? Anything I can do?

  ‘It’s Liz, I’m going to call and tell her what’s happened,’ I said. Lucy and Matt were still peeking through the curtains, trying to guess who the car belonged to, so I took my phone out into the hallway and dialled Liz’s number. She answered it after barely two rings.

  ‘Darling girl, I’ve been so worried! How are you? What’s happening?’

  ‘Hi, Liz, I’m fine but… um… Mum, she didn’t make it. She passed away a few hours ago.’

  ‘Oh, Abby, I’m so sorry. What happened?’

  ‘The doctor seemed to think that she had another stroke. It was just too much for her. She never woke up. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye or anything. She just went… I don’t know what to feel, Liz. It’s all so confusing.’

  ‘I know, my darling. Don’t try and make sense of it now. It’s too soon for that. Give it some time; you’ll find a way through it, I know you will.’

  ‘Thanks. But I think you’re giving me too much emotional credit. I already feel like the world’s worst daughter. I haven’t even been able to cry. What the fuck is that about?’

  ‘It’s the shock, that’s all. Don’t read too much into it. And don’t sit there wallowing in self-pity either. Your relationship with your mother was as much her responsibility as it was yours, so don’t go putting all that guilt on yourself, okay?’

  When I didn’t reply, she followed up with another stern, ‘Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ I wasn’t okay. At that moment, I was about as far away from okay as it was possible to get but with Liz it was sometimes easier to just agree. I needed to divert her attention away from my emotional well-being and onto more practical ground.

  ‘I need your help with something.’

  ‘Anything. Just tell me what I can do.’

  I smiled at her reply; she didn’t even wait to find out what I needed before she agreed to do it. Not for the first time, I thanked the universe for giving me such a loyal friend.

  ‘Matt and I will need to organise the funeral and there’ll have to be a wake. I can have it at the café but I could use some help with the arrangements... Could you—?’

  She cut me off before I could finish. ‘Consider it done. I’ll sort it all, don’t you worry. Just let me kn
ow how many and when. You are not to give it another thought, my darling. Where are you now? Do you want me to come over?’

  ‘I’m at Mum’s house with Matt and Lucy. I’m all right. We’re here together.’ I was pacing up and down the hallway as I spoke; I couldn’t seem to stand still. I felt wired, on edge.

  ‘You should get some sleep, Abby. Go and have a lie-down, even if it’s only for an hour or so.’ She was trying to help but I didn’t think I could have slept, even if I’d wanted to.

  ‘I’ll try, I promise. I’ll call you later.’

  ‘Make sure you do. Give Lucy a squeeze from me, tell her I’m thinking of her, all right?’

  ‘I will. Bye, Liz, thank you.’

  I went back into the living room. Lucy was stretched out on the sofa sleeping and Matt was propped up in the armchair, resting his head in his hand and snoring quietly. They must have been exhausted; I’d been out of the room for barely five minutes.

  I walked quietly across to the window; the sleek black Range Rover was still parked across the street. Before I’d realised what I was doing, I’d flung open the front door and was marching towards it. I was powered by grief and lack of sleep; it was the only explanation I could offer for what happened next. I grabbed the rolled-up rug that was sticking out of the top of Mum’s wheelie bin and I lobbed it at the car’s windscreen. As soon as the bloody thing left my hands I regretted it – I had visions of it shattering the glass and then me having to pay for it. But that didn’t happen. The rug just landed on the car bonnet with a very underwhelming thud. There was a large, bald man in a dark suit sitting in the driver’s seat, reading a newspaper. No going back now, I thought, go big or go home. I headed to the driver’s side window.

  ‘Can I help you with something?’ I shouted. He ignored me and turned his head to talk to someone in the back of the car.

  ‘I said, can I help you?’ I banged on the window. He turned around and opened his door. Shit. He didn’t look happy about my bashing on his window. He stepped out of the car; the man was almost as wide as he was tall, and in a swift move he opened the back door.

  ‘Get in the car, Abigail, before you wake up the whole goddamn street!’

  Jack’s voice came from inside the car, and I peered in to see him sitting in the back, laptop resting on his knee and a mobile phone in his hand. He looked ridiculously handsome, ensconced in the luxury interior of the car. He was dressed in a dark T-shirt and jeans; his hair was slightly mussed and he was wearing glasses with heavy black rims that would make anyone else look like a nerd but on him they had the opposite effect. I had to stand on the car’s side step to get in and I sat down, tucking myself into the furthest corner of the car’s back seat. Jack looked amused.

  ‘I won’t bite, Abigail,’ he said. ‘Not unless you want me to.’ He flashed me a smile that I’m sure had separated countless other women from their knickers, but I was too angry with him to care.

  ‘What are you doing here, Jack? I thought you were going back to America?’

  ‘I am in a few days, but I was worried about you. You made me leave you at the hospital, Abigail; I needed to feel like I was doing something to help.’

  ‘By having people spy on me? Parking outside my house in sinister-looking cars? That’s you helping?’

  He looked defiant. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you, Abigail. The guys were under orders to stay close in case you needed anything.’

  ‘And report back to you, I suppose.’

  ‘They kept me in the loop, yes.’

  ‘And when I came back here in Matt’s car to get some things for my mum?’

  ‘They followed and waited outside.’

  He’d had me followed since we parted ways at the hospital?

  ‘If it makes you feel any better, I’ve only just got here,’ he said. ‘I’m not some weirdo who usually does business out of his car so he can spy on girls.’

  ‘No, I’m sure most of the women you know would love the idea of being stalked by a handsome millionaire.’

  ‘But not you?’ He sounded almost disappointed.

  ‘Not me.’ My body sagged back into the soft upholstery and I felt a wave of tiredness wash over me. Resting my head against the seat, I closed my eyes. Jack didn’t speak or move but I could feel him watching me.

  ‘You’re doing it again,’ I murmured, without opening my eyes.

  ‘What?’ he asked, softly.

  ‘You’re watching me.’

  ‘I can’t seem to help it. Whenever you’re around I can’t look at anything else, Abigail.’

  I opened one eye to look at him. ‘That’s very funny, Jack, but I’m not in the mood to be mocked.’

  ‘I’m not mocking you, Abigail. Why would I do that?’

  ‘Fun, sport, mental illness. Take your pick.’ I closed my eyes again; I was so comfortable, I thought maybe I could just go to sleep for a bit. No one knew where I was. I could hide in this little protective cocoon of leather upholstery and plush carpeting and never face the world again.

  ‘She’s gone, Jack. She died,’ I said, my voice cracking as I finally allowed the realisation of that fact to sink in. My throat tightened and suddenly I was crying; fat, salty tears were running down my face and splashing into my lap. In an instant he was beside me, his arms around me, holding me tight. He whispered his condolences into my hair as I sobbed quietly into his shirt. I felt safe here, in his arms; it all felt so familiar, so right. The feeling was welcoming and forbidding all at the same time; I knew I could get used to being in his arms but what would be the point? He would soon be leaving again, going back to a life I had no place in. Why put myself through yet more rejection? I knew I was right to push him away at the hospital; there was no reason to rethink that decision now. I was just feeling vulnerable, I told myself. That was all it was. I pushed myself away until he was holding me at arm’s length, studying me with those gorgeous eyes.

  ‘Please tell me what I can do, Abigail. Let me help you.’

  ‘There’s nothing you can do, Jack. I told you that at the hospital. Whatever was between us is ancient history. We’re different people now. I moved on years ago.’ I looked him straight in the eye, hoping he was convinced. He wasn’t.

  ‘You’re lying to me, Abigail. What I can’t figure out is why. Why do you keep running away from me? What are you afraid of?’

  ‘Are you joking? You’re seriously asking me that question?’

  ‘Yes! If you’re so over what we once had, then why are you trying to push me away when all I want to do is help you?’ He didn’t release his grip on my arms and my skin burned under his touch.

  ‘You appear back in my life after all these years, you poke your nose into my business, you… you… turn up at my flat and then have me followed. You make it impossible for me not to think about you. Which is something I really don’t want to do since it’s taken me twenty years to get over you leaving without a word!’ I was shouting but I didn’t care. I needed him to finally hear me.

  ‘Without a word?’ he said. ‘Hang on a second. You told me at the hospital that you’d read my letters. You said they didn’t mean anything to you.’

  I paused for a minute – what could I say?

  ‘You didn’t get my letters, did you? You lied to me at the hospital.’ It was a statement, not a question.

  ‘No,’ I said, my voice practically a whisper. ‘I didn’t get them. I don’t know where they went but they never reached me.’ I kept my eyes firmly fixed on my hands in my lap; I couldn’t look at him. I knew that if I looked into his eyes, I’d be lost. I moved to grab the door handle behind me.

  ‘Stop.’ His voice was strong and calm. ‘Look at me.’

  I shook my head; I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let him in. Yes, you can, just do it, Abby. Jack reached out and gently tilted my chin so I had no choice but to meet his eyes. I fought to get my breathing under control, surprised to find that he seemed to be struggling too. His gaze was penetrating. I couldn’t hold it for more than a few sec
onds, the intensity was too much and I had to look away. He tenderly placed both hands on either side of my face.

  ‘Look at me,’ he repeated. I did as he asked and I was treated to a smile that melted my heart.

  ‘Kiss me, Abigail.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you want to. It’s just me and you, so kiss me.’

  I think he was waiting for me to push him away, but I didn’t. He was right; despite all my good sense telling me that it was crazy, all I wanted was to kiss him. I moved my face closer to his and he needed no more invitation than that. His mouth closed gently over mine, his lips lingering for a few seconds, and then he pulled away, as if he was afraid to go too far. I lifted my hands and rested them lightly on his chest. I could feel his heart beating fast beneath my palms.

  ‘Kiss me, please, Jack, I need you to kiss me, right now.’ Another heart-stopping smile, and then he kissed me, hard. His mouth was crushing mine, parting my lips with his tongue; I moved my hands up to his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it, trying to pull him closer to me. His hands moved around my waist and he pulled me onto his lap. As he took his lips away from my mouth, I moaned in protest, until he started trailing kisses down the side of my neck. Oh, God, it felt so good but what was I doing? Was I crazy? All my doubts disappeared as he ran his hand down the front of my shirt and stopped when he reached my breast. He lifted his head to look at me.

  ‘I want to see you, Abigail. You are so fucking gorgeous. Let me see you, baby.’

  I nodded and he grabbed the hem of my shirt as I raised my arms; he pulled it off over my head and threw it to the floor. I said a silent prayer to the laundry fairy for washing my one good bra.

  ‘Do you have any idea how many times I’ve imagined seeing you like this since you walked past me in that dress at the party?’ His eyes roamed my body hungrily. ‘I knew it was you; I made your friend go and fetch you. I had to see you again, Abigail.’

  ‘I don’t usually dress like that – that outfit was all Liz’s idea.’

 

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