by Maeve Haran
Sal, who treasured her independence fiercely, found herself revelling in handing over the reins to a personality that was even stronger than her own.
‘How about you?’ she asked, still smiling.
‘I’ll have breakfast in bed. Just me and the crumbs.’
She sat on the edge of the bed and kissed him again. A horrible thought slapped her in the face. She had no idea how long he intended to stay. For all she knew he might be going back to Brooklyn tomorrow.
‘What are your plans?’ she asked, suddenly self-conscious. It wasn’t her style to cling. But then it wasn’t her style to fall for someone as she’d fallen for Lou Maynard.
‘What, after I’ve had breakfast in bed?’ he grinned at her tantalizingly.
‘With that expression,’ she informed him, ‘you look just like Tigger.’
‘I feel just like Tigger.’ He took her hand. ‘And it’s all down to you. I ought to stay here a day or two and then I’m coming back to London when I hope to persuade you to come out to dinner.’
A thought occurred to her. ‘What are you going to do with the robot?’
‘Leave him with your friend’s dad. He’s doing important research, remember.’
‘What happens if Len doesn’t want him?’ she replied dubiously.
‘He will. Hiro’s a very taking little fellow.’
‘Have I gone mad,’ Sal asked him, ‘falling for a man I hardly know who talks to robots?’
‘If your symptoms are making me laugh and having wild sex twice on our first date, I truly hope so.’
‘It’s not our first date,’ Sal corrected primly. ‘We had brunch at Brook’s.’
‘That was work. On current experience I have high hopes for our second date.’
‘Don’t count your chickens. I may decide to go celibate.’
‘Ms Grainger.’ He kissed her hand. ‘I truly hope not.’
In the taxi on the way to the station she stared dreamily out of the window. She really ought to be planning the agenda for the editorial meeting, not reliving sex with Lou. Once she got on the train she made herself put him out of her mind. Fortunately it was only a short journey and once she reached Waterloo there was a long row of black cabs waiting. Sal jumped gratefully into the first.
‘The Harrow Road, please,’ she told the cabbie. ‘Near where it meets Ladbroke Grove.’ She’d better just call the office and tell them she’d be there in half an hour but she couldn’t find her phone. Damn! It must still be in the room. She’d have to get Lou to bring it. How on earth would she survive even a day or two without it? If she hadn’t been daydreaming about Lou, she’d have noticed as soon as she’d left.
Thirty minutes later the cab drew up outside New Grey and Sal willed herself to be the self-possessed magazine editor.
‘Hello,’ she greeted the receptionist. ‘I’m a bit late for my meeting with Rose. Have they started yet, do you know?’
‘Oh my God, Sal,’ was the stunned answer. ‘Do you really not know?’ The usually cheerful woman on reception looked the colour of a three-week-old sheet. ‘Rose has had a heart attack. She’s in intensive care in St Mary’s Hospital!’
Ten
Sal felt her own heart almost seize up at the news.
Without her realizing it, Rose had become a lodestone in her universe: mother, confessor, advisor, trusted colleague, perhaps the only person in her life who she felt truly understood her. It had been Rose who had offered her the job editing the magazine when she was over sixty and had found work almost impossible to get. It had been Rose who guessed about her cancer and reassured her that her job would be unaffected. And it had been Rose who understood how it felt to be a woman from a humble background who had fought all her life for her achievements. And Rose, for her part, had seemed indestructible.
‘How is she?’ Sal struggled to keep her voice under control. ‘What have the doctors said so far?’
‘I don’t know. Michael went in the ambulance with her and he’s still there.’
‘Is she allowed visitors, do you know?’ Sal demanded, not even stopping for an answer. Even if visitors were banned, Sal knew she would have to try and see her, if only to touch her hand and somehow convey how much she meant to her. ‘Right. I’ll ring Michael now from my office. How has everyone taken it?’
‘Total shock. Imagine if the Queen had died and multiply it by a hundred. People feel Rose is the company.’
She called Michael but his phone was switched off and she was only able to leave a message. The next call was to Lou.
‘I know, I know,’ he replied at the first ring. ‘Michael’s already messaged me.’ Hearing his voice was the only thing that could possibly have comforted her. ‘I’m coming straight up. I know how important she is to you.’
It was so wonderful not to have to explain to him that someone who wasn’t a blood relation, whom in fact she’d known only a relatively short time, could matter so much to her. But Lou had instantly understood.
‘I don’t know if she has any relatives . . .’ Sal tried to remember if Rose had ever talked of family members.
‘Apparently there’s a nephew in Canada. Some kind of jet-setting businessman. Michael’s already contacted him.’
‘Maybe if he’s jet-setting he’ll jump on a plane and come at once. Did Michael say anything about the prognosis?’
‘The heart attack was major, but they’ve performed a procedure to widen the arteries.’
‘I can’t get through to Michael. I think I’m just going to go to the hospital and see. I couldn’t bear it if it was bad news and I hadn’t tried to see her.’
‘Absolutely. The magazine will survive . . .’
A beat of silence fell between them as they both had the same thought. But Rose might not . . .
‘What time will you be in London?’
‘About four. I need to say goodbye to my daughter and the baby.’
‘Come to the magazine. Lou . . .’ Sal hesitated, suddenly unsure of herself.
‘Yes?’ The comforting warmth of his voice gave her back her confidence.
‘You can stay with me if you want.’
She loved that he replied without a moment’s hesitation. ‘That would be terrific.’
‘And could you bring my phone? It’s probably under the bed.’
As she walked up the steps to the hospital half an hour later all the fear she’d tried to submerge when she’d had cancer came rushing to the surface like stinking water in a drain.
Rose! She repeated the mantra as she queued at the busy reception desk. Rose, don’t you dare die!
She washed her hands at the antiseptic dispenser by the lifts and took the fast lift to the eighteenth floor. The view up here was spectacular, the whole of London laid at your feet. She hoped Rose would get the chance to appreciate it.
You needed a code to get through the doors into the high-dependency ward but a young doctor was going through who let her pass.
She asked at the nurses’ station for Rose’s whereabouts and was informed firmly that this was the patients’ rest time.
‘Sally!’ a commanding voice rang through an open door. ‘Sal! Is that you? Thank God, can you go and get me a decent cup of tea? The stuff they give you here tastes like cat piss.’
Sal almost cried with relief. It was the quintessential Rose McGill.
The sight of her friend and employer was less reassuring. Rose sat propped up with tubes and plasma bags surrounding her like trees in a forest. Worse, without her usual dramatic clothes and coiffed hair she suddenly looked vulnerable and old.
‘Rose!’ Sal rushed to her bedside and took the heavily be-ringed hand in hers. ‘Thank God you’re all right.’
‘I think that’s probably a bit of an overstatement. Alive might be more accurate,’ Rose replied with a small attempt at a grin. ‘Now about this tea. Make sure the water’s absolutely boiling and they don’t put the milk in at the same time. These cafes are all staffed by young people who may be absolutely charming b
ut have no idea how to make a proper cup of tea.’
‘I’ll get it now,’ Sal promised, grateful to have a practical task. ‘Where’s Michael?’
‘Gone back to the office to reassure the troops I’m not dead. Yet.’
‘Okay, I’ll be right back.’ Sal disappeared out of the ward, better able to appreciate the amazing view now that she knew Rose was sitting up and talking. In the nearest cafe she repeated Rose’s strict orders to the barista and picked up a scone with butter and jam to go with it. Hospitals always seemed to feed you when you didn’t want to eat and left you to starve when you did.
Back up in the ward Rose surveyed the paper cup critically. ‘Not bad. At least it’s brown. And thanks for the scone. I’ll save it for later. Now sit here beside me on that chair.’ She sipped the tea with relish. ‘In my experience there isn’t any situation a cup of tea can’t improve, except possibly dying, and they don’t seem to think the Grim Reaper’s lurking just yet. I have to take things easy, though, apparently. Time to take my hand off the tiller.’ She sighed deeply and fixed Sal with her familiar penetrating gaze. ‘Don’t make the mistake I made and put all your money and love into your job. Not that I didn’t enjoy every minute of it but it has left me somewhat up shit creek. No doting children to come and offer me a granny flat. Just this nephew I’ve only met once in his life.’
Sal wanted to hug her in sympathy, remembering how when she’d had her cancer she’d had to pretend the minicab driver was her husband in order to be allowed home. The joys of single life.
‘I suppose I’ll have to go to some godawful convalescent place where they’ll charge a fortune and won’t let me have a drink.’
‘How about a friend you could stay with?’
‘My dear Sal, when you get to my age your friends are all dead.’ She hesitated, visibly upset. ‘Look, my dear girl, they’ve told me I can’t go back to work. I know the magazine will be safe in your hands but I’m afraid I’m going to need to fund my declining years.’ She reached out a hand to Sal. ‘And that means selling the business. I’ve asked my nephew to supervise. He’s quite smart, they tell me. I’m so sorry but I don’t see any alternative.’
Sal sat up very straight and looked out of the window to hide her dismay. She’d finally found a job she loved and then this happened.
Stop being such a selfish cow!
‘The main thing is for you to get better.’ She returned the pressure of Rose’s hand.
‘And what about you and Lou? Now that I’m in intensive care I’m allowed to ask impertinent questions. I’m sorry I’m dropping him in it but I suspect he can afford to take a small hit. Did you have a lovely weekend? I think it’s so funny you stayed in a hotel owned by Murdo Binns. I told you, I knew him quite well once.’
A small secret smile lit up Rose’s gaunt features, making her look almost young again. Sal wondered what had passed between Rose and Lord Binns that made her look so happy.
‘Yes,’ Sal replied, deciding it would be too intrusive to ask.
‘Good. Lou’s a nice man and I suspect, despite your tough exterior, you could do with a nice man.’
‘Yes.’ Sal couldn’t help smiling and shaking her head. ‘But I’m not sure he’s planning to stay here.’
Laura was grateful that Mrs Lal was out when the surveyor for the purchasers arrived. He seemed to be an amiable young man, grateful when she offered him a coffee, and nicely mannered. The prospective buyers were both lawyers, he told her with a raised eyebrow, and seemed to be in rather a hurry. They had asked for the survey by the end of tomorrow.
He then asked Laura lots of questions about where the stopcock was, which made her giggle, so that she had to apologize both for the giggle and the fact that she had no idea.
In the end he gave up on Laura when she didn’t know where the gas meter was or where the fibre optic entered. Laura said she didn’t know they had fibre optic.
She could have rung Simon but she didn’t want to give him the pleasure of saying ‘For God’s sake, Laura!’ He had sacrificed the right to sarcasm along with conjugal rights when he ran off with Suki.
‘Right,’ announced the surveyor briskly as soon as he’d finished. ‘I’d better get a move on if I’m going to finish this by tomorrow. My boss says he’s never seen a couple in so much of a hurry. They told him they wanted to complete as soon as possible.’
‘But we haven’t even exchanged contracts yet!’ Laura panicked. The British legal process over house buying was so slow she’d assumed she’d have a couple of months yet, even if everything went smoothly.
The young surveyor shrugged. Mrs Minchin was a nice lady and she’d given him a coffee and a chocolate digestive so he took a risk and gave her some advice. ‘At least this way it won’t fall through. Maybe you’d better start planning. Have you got somewhere lined up?’
‘I’ve put in an offer for a flat.’
‘That’s good.’ He glanced round at Laura’s crowded sitting room, adorned with countless mementoes from her marriage and family life. ‘A big job moving from here. How long have you been here?’
‘Only twenty-five years.’ Laura attempted a smile and found it harder than she’d expected.
‘Well, good luck with it all.’
Laura let him out and half ran to the phone to ring Ella about the flat. They needed to get on the case at once. She’d also better get a move on or she was going to be late for work.
Claudia sat at the PC in their small study, nursing a cup of coffee and feeling very proud of herself. She’d worked on the business plan almost all night and – though she said it herself – it looked highly professional. It was also to some extent a work of fantasy in terms of actual income, but then weren’t most business plans?
She pressed Print and watched the pages spewing out with an enormous grin on her face before the cold wind of reality made her confront one question. Who exactly was going to live in the place? So far her best friends, the basis of the idea in the first place, were all resisting and even if she could persuade her parents and Don to sell up, who the hell else would live there?
Would there be any point to the disruption if they had to advertise for strangers to join the venture?
Claudia told herself she wouldn’t think about that now. Lou had told her to send it to him when she’d finished for his advice and that was what she would bloody well do. There, she’d sent it!
Next was her meeting with Douglas, her architect son-in-law. They’d have to be discreet, obviously, and pretend to be just strolling round the grounds.
First, though, she’d promised Lou she’d drop round to her parents’ house and report on how her father was getting on with Hiro. If it was a disaster, Lou had said he’d pick the robot up and chalk it down to experience.
She drove the half-mile between her own house and her parents’ and parked down the side near her father’s shed. Normally the first thing she heard when she got out of the car was her mother’s bossy tones or the buzz of chatter between Olivia and Mrs O’Brien.
Today there was silence. Beginning to worry, Claudia pushed open the shed door, and stopped, stunned. The place looked like something out of a magazine. Every object had been restored to its home, the washing-up done, the rugs that dotted the wooden floor hoovered. Sunlight streamed in from shiny clean windows onto her father, sitting on the sofa with Hiro standing behind him looking over his shoulder, apparently at Len’s iPad. Both were so engrossed they didn’t notice Claudia’s arrival.
‘Hello, Dad,’ Claudia greeted him. ‘It looks terrific in here.’
Len looked round as if he hadn’t even noticed. ‘Oh, good. Hiro and I have been down to the betting shop in Manningbury. He caused quite a sensation, I can tell you.’
‘I imagine he might.’ Claudia tried not to laugh at the thought of all the seedy regulars being faced with a three-foot robot.
‘We picked up my coupons and some race cards. We’re just working out the odds now.’
Hiro straightened up and
faced Claudia. ‘What kind of horse can swim underwater?’ he asked improbably.
‘I don’t know. What kind of horse can swim underwater?’
‘A seahorse,’ replied the robot with something approaching a smile.
‘Hiro thinks we should bet online. A lot easier than dragging ourselves to Manningbury on the bus.’
A sudden fear jolted through Claudia. She’d had to wean her mother off the addiction she’d developed for online vouchers and offers. What if her father went down the same route?
Len seemed to guess her thoughts. ‘Don’t worry, love. Hiro only lets me bet a pound.’
Her father grinned at the robot which rocked back and forth in an electronic attempt at laughter.
‘You two are so funny,’ she informed them. ‘You remind me of the two old men on Sesame Street.’
‘Time for the toilet, Leonard,’ the robot suddenly piped up.
To Claudia’s amazement her father began to get to his feet.
‘As long as he’s making me money,’ Len grinned at his daughter, ‘I’ve agreed to do what he says.’
‘I’ll leave you to it then.’ Claudia turned to the door and as she closed it behind her she realized the other miraculous development.
There was no more horrible smell. Hiro was worth every cent of the millions that had been spent on his development.
When Laura arrived at LateExpress she was surprised to find both Mr and Mrs A standing behind the till, deep in anguished conversation.
Even before she could disappear into the back to find her Day-Glo tabard with LateExpress emblazoned on the pocket, Mrs A turned to her with the tragic look of Cleopatra contemplating the asp.
‘Mrs Minchin, firstly we would like to thank you for your great kindness to my mother.’
Laura nodded, wondering what was coming next. ‘I’ve enjoyed having her. As a matter of fact, where is she? She left in a taxi early this morning. I assumed to meet up with you.’
‘You have not heard of our catastrophe then?’ enquired Mr A.