by Anne Cassidy
Rose followed Mona into a large kitchen. By the radiator was a clothes horse covered with vests, socks, trousers and tops, as well as sleepwear and blankets.
‘Babies generate an awful lot of laundry! Will you have some tea? Coffee?’
‘A cold drink if you have it. A glass of tap water is fine,’ Rose said, laying her coat over the back of a chair and then sitting down.
‘How is Joshua? Sandy said he’s back in London.’
‘Yes, he’s at Queen Mary doing Engineering. He’s well.’
‘That is good.’
There was a moment’s quiet when Rose realised that the baby wasn’t crying any more. She glanced up at a noticeboard on the wall and saw a card pinned there. It was white and the front had a series of deep red hearts overlapping each other. At the bottom it said, You’re My Valentine.
‘I’m sure Sandy won’t be long,’ Mona said, sitting down at the table opposite Rose.
‘Actually, Mona, it was you I came to see.’
Mona handed Rose a glass of water. The outside of the glass was still wet to touch and Rose placed it on the table.
‘I know that you and Mum were quite friendly.’
‘Rose, I’m so sorry about your mum and Brendan and whatever happened to them. It’s all such a mystery. Everyone in the street was upset. We often wondered about both of you, how you were doing. And now all this . . .’ Mona gesticulated towards the street. ‘Have the police said anything to you? Do they know what happened?’
Rose shook her head.
‘Mona, I wanted to ask you about that last summer when we were living here. I wondered if you’d known about Mum’s baby.’
‘About her miscarriage, you mean? I did know. I didn’t think she had told you . . .’
‘She didn’t. I found one of her old letters the other day. I was reading through it and she mentioned it. I had no idea.’
‘Well, I suppose it’s all right for me to tell you this. Now, after so long. I’m sure she would have told you herself eventually.’
Rose leant forward, her forearm resting on the table.
‘You know, Rose, it’s funny you should say that your mother and I were close. It must have seemed like that to you, as a child, but we weren’t really. Your mother kept herself to herself. She hardly spoke to anyone round here. Most people thought it was because she worked for the police and that she didn’t want people to take advantage of that. She spoke to me from time to time but I always thought that was because she needed Sandy to do the babysitting. Then she mostly talked about you. How brainy you were, how well you were doing at school, how you’d bought something for her. She just beamed when she talked about you. But she never really talked about herself. Anyway, she was over here arranging for Sandy to babysit and I think I asked her if she had plans to go on holiday – just small talk – and she burst into tears and told me about the baby. She said she hadn’t meant to get pregnant but once it had happened she said she thought it would be a fresh start for them. I remember her saying fresh start which I thought was kind of funny. As far as I knew she and Brendan got on well, they always seemed to be together. ’Course he went away now and then but whenever I saw them in the street they were smiling, happy. That’s why I allowed Sandy to babysit. I saw them as a completely – how can I put it – a completely secure couple so that when she said it would be a fresh start I was surprised.’
Rose nodded. Mona was describing exactly what she remembered. Her mum and Brendan happy and yet the letters seemed to suggest that things had been rocky.
‘When they disappeared I was so shocked. It was as if the ground had opened up and swallowed them. Lots of people round here had their opinions. They thought that the pair of them had been caught doing something bad and had made a run for it to another country. All very dramatic but I just didn’t believe that. I knew she’d never leave you of her own free will.’
There was the sound of a voice calling from upstairs. Mona looked towards it.
‘It’s Sandy. I’ll just go up and take over with the baby. Do stay and talk to her for a while. She doesn’t have a lot of non-mum-and-baby company.’
Mona went out and shortly after Sandy appeared at the door.
‘Rose! Nice to see you again.’
‘How’s the baby?’ Rose said.
Sandy gave a long sigh. Her hair was still pulled back and she looked tired. She plonked herself down at the table.
‘Jade’s fine. You at college, Rose?’
‘In Camden. Doing four “A” levels. Applying for uni next year.’
‘Well, make sure you finish your degree. Don’t be an idiot like me!’ she rolled her eyes exaggeratedly.
Rose didn’t know what to say. She had never had a conversation like this before. Babies were alien to her; she’d never known one, never been in close contact with anyone in her own generation who had one.
‘I love her, though. It’s only sometimes I wish . . . well, things were different.’
Sandy’s hands were together and Rose looked at her fingers and remembered what her nails had once been like – long, shaped and glittery. Sometimes they had designs stuck on them, black and white check, stars.
‘Nice card,’ Rose said, pointing at the noticeboard.
‘Yeah. Single dad I met at the medical centre. He’s got a boy of four. You don’t think he’d be interested in me otherwise!’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
‘Enough about me! How’ve you been? I thought about the two of you ever such a lot when you first left. And now with this stuff happening. I was the first one who saw the police cars. I was walking Jade round in the pushchair and then they turned up. One after the other. Three cars and a white van parked all over the place, the police running towards the house as if there was a bomb waiting to go off.’
‘Did you know who Daisy’s boyfriend was?’
Sandy shook her head. ‘No. I hung around with her but I wasn’t a close friend. No one was that close to her. Her sister, Esther, might have known.’
‘I don’t think I ever saw her sister.’
‘No, she was away at college then. She’s a teacher now. She teaches primary school kids in Walthamstow. I was in touch with her on Facebook recently. She’s doing really well. Expecting a baby. Daisy talked about her. She looked up to her.’
There was the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. Rose could hear Mona’s voice. She was talking in the silly way that adults did when small children were around. The door opened and she stood there holding Jade. The baby smiled as soon as she saw Sandy and put her arms out in the air.
‘She wants her mummy,’ Mona said.
Sandy stepped forward and took her. Rose put her coat back on.
‘I have to go,’ she said, edging past them.
‘I’ll come to the door with you,’ Sandy said.
‘Bye, Mona.’
Rose’s bag was by the pushchair and she picked it up. At the front door she stood for a moment. Jade was making sounds, her fist in her mouth. There was a strong smell of talcum powder. A strand of Sandy’s hair had come loose and was hanging across her eye. She used her hand to push it back but it fell forward again.
‘Tomorrow night I’m going to a pub in Kentish Town called the Pink Parrot with some friends.’ Rose said. ‘Why don’t you come along? There’s some entertainment and my friends are really nice. You’d be welcome.’
Sandy made a face. Rose thought it was because she was so much older. A twenty-two year old in a pub full of sixth-form college students.
‘It’ll be fun,’ she said, remembering Sara and Maggie’s words to her.
‘I’m sure it will be,’ Sandy said. ‘And thanks for asking. I could come. Mum would look after Jade but I don’t want to leave her. Thing is, Rose, I like being with her, looking after her. I did all that stuff. Standing in pubs, mooning after boys. Now it’s just me and Jade.’
‘Don’t forget the Valentine’s card.’
‘And him too, maybe.’
Sandy smiled and handed the baby to Rose, taking Rose’s phone from her. Rose, startled, grasped the child awkwardly, a little away from her. The child stared at her with interest and Rose felt she should say something or rock her up and down. She didn’t, though, she just held her stiffly, feeling awkward while Sandy tapped her number into the phone.
‘Here,’ Sandy said, holding it out to her. ‘Let’s swap.’
Relieved, Rose handed the baby back.
‘Bye, then.’
‘Look after yourself, little Rosie!’ Sandy said.
ELEVEN
The Pink Parrot was definitely a student pub. As soon as Rose walked in she saw Maggie and Sara standing by the bar. They both smiled at her and then gave each other a secretive ‘I told you she would come’ glance. The place was crammed with vaguely familiar faces and once Sara had got some drinks the three of them headed for a table in the back room. It had a stage which cut across one corner and the rest of the floor was full of chairs and a few tables.
As they sat down Sara and Maggie were talking about Jamie Roberts from Law.
‘He broke up with his girlfriend just after Christmas.’
‘They’d been together since, like, Year Ten.’
‘He’s into vintage, music and stuff. He’s an interesting person.’
‘And he’s got that jet black hair.’
Rose held in a sigh. Sara and Maggie had clearly decided that she needed a boyfriend and Jamie Roberts from Law was fitting the bill.
‘What time does the entertainment start?’ she said.
‘Soon. Any time.’
The back room filled up in dribs and drabs. Some other girls joined their table and made small talk with Rose. Music was playing and the room seemed to get darker and warmer at the same time. A young man started to fiddle with a microphone that was on the stage. Not long after there were a couple of acts. A man with a guitar sang four songs which Rose quite liked. Next was a comedian who told some complicated jokes which she didn’t like. After that there was piped music and she sat back in her seat and watched Sara and Maggie dip in and out of animated conversations with the new girls who had come. One of them, a girl from her English class, started to talk to her about an essay that had to be in. When they’d exhausted the subject she looked down at Rose’s clothes and said, ‘Like the black and white look. Quite sixties.’ Rose smiled and fiddled with the buttons on her jacket. Sitting back, finishing her drink, she realised that she was enjoying herself.
Maggie and Sara were collecting money for a round of drinks. Rose got hers out and dropped it into Maggie’s cupped hands. As Maggie went through the door into the other bar Jamie Roberts came in with some lads from college. He came across to them. Maggie’s seat was empty and Jamie sat in it and started to talk to the others. Rose stiffened with apprehension. She’d spoken to Jamie before but it had always been about work. She reached out and picked up her glass even though it was empty.
‘You won’t get any more out of that,’ he said.
‘No,’ she said, putting it back down again.
‘Someone told me you have a tattoo?’
Rose frowned. Then she remembered showing the tattoo to Sara and Maggie when she’d first had it done.
‘Is it somewhere that I can see? Without embarrassing everyone?’
Rose hesitated but took her jacket off and crumpled it up on her lap. Then she rolled the arm of her T-shirt up. There on her skin was her butterfly tattoo.
‘Not bad,’ Jamie said.
Rose was immediately reminded of Joshua’s tattoo, a more strident image than hers. His butterfly had been imprinted on to one side of his ribs and looked as though it was moving in flight.
‘I’ve got a tattoo,’ Jamie said.
He rolled his sleeve up to show an ornate diagram of a dragon. The tail stretched most of the way down his arm. A couple of the other girls were oohing and aahing at it but it had irritated Rose. It was as if he’d asked her about her tattoo so that he had an excuse to show off his own. She put her jacket back on and looked away towards the stage. He kept talking to her, though. She mmed but kept her head turned away.
‘People say you’re stand-offish, Rose, but I didn’t think that was true.’
‘Who says I’m stand-offish?’ she said, turning back.
‘Um . . .’ he said as if thinking hard. ‘Just about everyone. Barring Maggie and Sara.’
‘I’m not,’ she said sharply. ‘Just because I’m not desperate to talk to people doesn’t mean . . . If people had interesting things to say then I might want to listen!’
‘OK, fair enough. I won’t speak. You speak. Tell me about yourself. What bands do you like? Which universities are you applying to? What was the last really great movie you saw and who’s your favourite writer?’
Rose opened her mouth to say something sharp and suddenly she couldn’t. She smiled and felt her shoulders slacken.
‘Is this a test?’ she said.
‘Maybe.’
‘Of what?’
‘Sociability.’
‘What if I fail?’
‘Retake it.’
Maggie returned with the drinks. She placed the tray on the table and beamed over at them.
Loud music came on and Rose saw a DJ behind some turntables. He was dancing from side to side on the stage. His eyes were closed as if he was carried away with the music. Actually the songs he played weren’t bad and she felt herself loosening up. Her elbow touched Jamie’s and she didn’t move it away. She drank another beer and listened while Jamie talked about a movie he had seen. It was a movie she had thought looked good but recently going to the cinema had not been high on her agenda.
‘I’m going for a smoke,’ he said. ‘Be back shortly.’
When he had gone she felt her phone vibrate. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked down at the screen in case it was Joshua. The name Henry showed. Puzzled, she put it back in her pocket. A comedian came on at the same time that Jamie returned. It was a lad from her college. She recognised him and laughed at some of his jokes. Her phone vibrated again. She looked at the screen and saw the name Henry again. What did he want? At eleven o’clock on a Friday night?
‘I’ve just got to make a call,’ she said to Jamie.
She walked out of the room and through the main bar, heading for the door to the street. She edged through the throng of people and went outside. Once there she was in the middle of a dozen or so smokers so she found a space against the wall and returned the call. It was cold and she pulled her jacket tight. Henry answered after a couple of rings.
‘Rose? I’m at A and E at Whittington Hospital. It’s near Archway. Do you know it?’
‘Not really. Maybe. I’m out with friends, Henry.’
‘I was called here because of a serious RTA.’
‘What?’
‘Road traffic accident.’
‘OK. What’s that got to do with me?’
‘I was walking round, waiting to speak to a witness, and I saw your stepbrother, Joshua. He’s been in a fight of some sort. I’m afraid he’s pretty badly hurt.’
Rose held her breath. Beside her a couple were kissing passionately, the girl on tiptoes, the boy’s arms around her back, gathering her up towards him. The girl’s hand was in mid-air, her cigarette glowing in the dark.
‘Did you hear me, Rose?’
She felt sick. She put her hand out to lean on the brick wall.
‘How badly is he hurt?’ she said.
‘I can’t say for sure but I thought you’d want to know. Do you know where the Whittington Hospital is?’
‘No, but I’ll find it. I can get a cab. I’ll be there soon.’
‘I don’t know if I’ll still be here . . .’ Henry was saying but Rose ended the call.
She stood very still for a moment. Joshua had been in a fight? It w
asn’t possible. She went back into the pub and made her way through to the back room. A girl was singing on the stage. It was mostly quiet apart from a few murmuring voices.
‘I’ve got to go,’ she said in a low voice.
She leant across Jamie and pulled her coat from round the back of the chair.
‘Why?’ Jamie whispered.
‘Personal stuff. Sorry, I’ll see you in college.’
She left before anyone could say anything to her, Outside, on the street she asked a couple of smokers if they knew where a cab place was. She walked briskly along until she came to it. The cold air freshened her up. When she got to it there was a long queue and she swore gently. Just then a black cab was coming along. She stepped out into the traffic and confidently hailed it. She’d seen Anna do it often enough.
‘Can you take me to Whittington Hospital A and E?’
The cab driver looked suspiciously at her.
‘Just you. I don’t want no one injured in the back of my cab,’ he said.
‘It’s just me.’
‘It’ll be about twelve quid. You got that?’
‘I can give it to you now if you like.’
‘Hop in,’ he said.
She got in and sat in the corner of the seat, pulling the seat belt across her. She didn’t look out of the window but closed her eyes and tried to keep calm.
She paid her money and ran into the A and E department. She sidestepped people who were standing round to get to the reception desk. There was a queue and she had to wait. She looked around, bursting with frustration. Then she saw Henry. He was in uniform and was standing by a pair of swing doors talking into a mobile phone. She walked swiftly towards him, waited until he’d finished and then patted him on the arm.
‘Henry, where is Joshua? Can I see him?’
Henry took her arm.
‘I can take you to him in five minutes or so. It’s not my case. I’m here for something else but I‘ve got a few minutes so I can show you where he is. He’s being stitched up at the moment.’
‘He’s having stitches? He’s been cut?’