When Summer Fades

by Shaw, Danielle

  Looking down at her own supposedly designer-inspired uniform, Sophie acknowledged their farewell with a wistful smile and drove away to Beckford General.

  *

  ‘And you really don’t mind?’ Callie asked, tucking into her daily doughnuts.

  ‘Not at all,’ Sophie replied. ‘Your parents have been very good to me. Of course I’ll take them to Heathrow. It shouldn’t take more than twenty-five minutes, although, if I was Gavin,’ she grinned. ‘It would only take five.’

  ‘Sounds like a cue for a song,’ Callie said, reminded of Sophie’s parents’ extensive record collection. Dad-de-dahing the tune of Take Five, while playing an imaginary piano with sugary fingers, she continued. ‘Anyway, Dad says if you could just drop them off outside the terminal? They’re only going to Dublin for the weekend, so won’t have piles of luggage.’

  ‘Hmph! Unlike Rosa! She only came for the weekend but her luggage practically filled the flat. Celia’s collecting it all this evening.’

  ‘Any idea where Celia’s taking her this time?’

  ‘No. But they’d better have plenty of wardrobes!’

  *

  One week later, returning from an unexpected nightmare journey to Heathrow, Sophie parked her ancient Mini in its allocated place, grateful that Lottie and Pearl had taken note of her request not to use her parking space. Locking the car she contemplated Declan Callaghan’s generous yet embarrassing contribution towards her petrol. “You and Callie have a meal on us,” he’d insisted, thrusting the money in her hand, before hurrying towards the airport doors.

  I suppose we could try that new Italian place she pondered, climbing the two flights of stairs to her flat. Tonight, however, it would be a hot bath, early night and bed with a good book. Which, in her current frame of mind, would definitely not be Airport!

  Reaching the second-floor landing Sophie blinked in surprise. Why was Lottie peering so mysteriously from her doorway?

  ‘Sophie ducks. At last! You had Pearl and me quite worried.’ Lottie drew a purple satin kimono about her buxom frame and patted her pile of peroxide blonde curls.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Sophie said, watching the woman cast a furtive glance into the dimly lit interior of the flat she shared with Pearl ‘There isn’t a problem. Your – er – visitor hasn’t parked in my space.’

  Lottie gave a throaty laugh and clutched at folds of purple satin with fuchsia pink finger nails. ‘It’s not one of our visitors I’m worried about ducks. It’s one of yours! Until she goes – not that we haven’t been happy to have her.’

  Sophie registered the words worried and she and felt her blood run cold. ‘Do you mean my aunt’s here? Has there been an accident?’

  ‘Lord no! It’s not an accident,’ Lottie reassured, opening her door to reveal an extremely cluttered hallway and familiar piles of luggage. ‘It’s—’

  ‘You don’t mean Rosa is here?’

  ‘Got it in one, love,’ Lottie said, holding the door wide. ‘Seems young Rosa has had a nasty experience. You’d better come in. Pearl’s just made a nice pot of tea.’

  Dazed and confused, Sophie walked into the gaudily decorated sitting room, hardly daring to think what she would find. Recognising the familiar voice, Rosa lifted a tear stained face in her direction. ‘Sophie! You have come for me at last!’

  ‘Come for you? I don't understand. Celia didn’t say...’

  ‘Celia not know! I come to you first. I not go back to those people! That horrid man! He...’

  Sophie turned startled eyes in Lottie and Pearl’s direction. ‘He what?’

  Lottie shrugged her shoulders and passed Sophie a cup of tea, while Pearl followed on with a plate of assorted iced fancies. Declining the cakes, Sophie sipped thoughtfully at the tea wondering what to say, hugely relieved when Rosa soon broke the awkward silence.

  ‘I call taxi and come here. Only you are not home. These very kind ladies,’ Rosa said, acknowledging the bemused Lottie and Pearl with a grateful smile, ‘look after me until you come. Now I stay with you.’

  ‘With me? You can’t possibly stay with me! My flat is far too small!’

  Rosa’s eyes filled with fresh tears. ‘But I stay last weekend!’

  ‘I know. That was different. Celia said—’

  Fully aware Celia would have to be informed of this latest fiasco, Sophie finished her tea and stood up.

  ‘Can you take her luggage too?’ Lottie enquired, in hushed tone. ‘We’ll give you a hand, of course. Only this place isn’t big enough to swing a cat.’

  Nodding in reply, Sophie reached for the largest of the suitcases. When it came to cat-swinging her place was no better!

  Walking in a convoy to Sophie’s flat, Lottie said chirpily. ‘It’s not that bad ducks. I expect Celia will soon find Rosa somewhere else. Third time lucky as they say. It’s only for the weekend.’

  ‘That’s what she said last week,’ Sophie replied, catching her ankle on the corner of a suitcase.

  Sometime later, while Sophie was on the phone to Celia and Rosa was engrossed in a TV mini-series, there was a gentle tapping at the door. Opening it Sophie was surprised to find Lottie, now dressed in shocking pink mini-skirt and gold lurex top. In her hand she held the plate of iced fancies.

  ‘We thought Rosa might like these. Oh! Sorry Sophie, didn’t realise you were on the phone. Don’t worry about the plate. ’Bye.’

  Taking the plate and mouthing goodbye, Sophie spied a smartly dressed, middle-aged man making his way towards Pearl and Lottie’s front door. ‘No doubt trying fancies of a different kind,’ she muttered into the mouthpiece of the phone.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Celia’s voice echoed. ‘Sophie, what were you saying about Rosa?’

  *

  ‘But I not go!’ Rosa remonstrated, tearfully, when Celia eventually appeared. ‘I stay here with Sophie or I go home to Portugal!’

  Filled with horror at the very thought, Celia tried to subdue the hysterical teenager. Last week’s incident, with the host family’s eldest son, hadn’t been too much to worry about. Today, however, with Rosa propositioned by the husband, it was quite a different matter.’

  ‘I not stay in house with men!’ Rosa cried, defiantly, reaching for a lemon fondant fancy.

  Leaving Rosa to her mini-series and cake, Celia motioned Sophie towards the kitchen. ‘Surely you can see I’m at my wit’s end?’

  ‘Of course I can,’ came the weary response. ‘But you can’t seriously expect me to keep Rosa here on a permanent basis? Why not take her home with you? At least you don’t live in a flat. And you’ve got three bedrooms.’

  ‘Sophie! My spare room's minute!’

  ‘Then take a look at mine. OK, so it was all right for Rosa last weekend – only because I knew you’d be taking her elsewhere on Monday.’

  In desperation, Celia changed tack. ‘Rosa’s very fond of you, you know. She’s adamant she won’t stay with anyone else.’

  ‘That’s because she doesn’t know anyone else! Come on, Celia. There has to be at least one house in Beckford Heath without testosterone charged males in the family!’

  ‘I’m hardly likely to find one tonight, am I? Believe me I’ve been through all my lists and—’

  ‘And?’ Sophie asked warily, knowing she wasn’t going to like the reply

  ‘At the end of the day it makes no difference. Rosa is determined to stay with you. Of course if you’re wondering about the expense, this time it will of course be a proper business arrangement.’

  Sophie wasn’t interested in a proper business arrangement. Under pressure however, even she had to admit a few extra pounds wouldn’t come amiss. On the way to Heathrow the Mini’s exhaust had sounded decidedly unhealthy. She sighed, reminded of the previous weekend. Would there be any spare cash left though, once she’d fed Rosa and done her laundry, not to mention all that hot water and endless phone calls to Carlos in Portugal.

  ‘Please I go to bed?’ A sleepy voice begged. ‘I very tired.’

  Hear
ing the closing strains of the news, Sophie sat slumped on a kitchen stool.

  ‘You go to bed too Sophie?’ Rosa said in wide-eyed innocence. ‘I think you very tired also.’

  Nodding in defeat, Sophie watched Rosa head in the direction of the now-familiar bathroom and ushered Celia to the front door.

  ‘No! Don’t say anything,’ Celia urged. ‘Get a decent night’s sleep – you look absolutely exhausted – and I’ll be round first thing in the morning. If you agree to have Rosa…’

  ‘If I agree to have Rosa,’ Sophie remonstrated. ‘She’ll jolly well have to abide by my rules. Which means helping in the flat and no hogging the bathroom for hours on end. And then – only until you find her somewhere more suitable to stay.’

  ‘Of course,’ Celia grinned, hugely relieved.

  Next morning when Celia arrived, her arms filled with flowers, Sophie found herself cunningly coerced into taking Rosa as a paying guest.

  ‘Just think how nice it will be for you to have company until Christmas,’ Celia cooed, filling vases of every description. ‘Rosa will then go back to her family; you’ll have some extra cash for Christmas goodies and she has promised to help you in the flat.’

  Not bothering to tell Celia that she would be working over Christmas and consequently not in need of company or Christmas goodies, Sophie broached the other topic of concern; Rosa’s studies.

  ‘Surely the whole point of Rosa being here is to learn the language? She won’t find much in the way of dialogue at Victoria Villas. Half the time I’m working and the other half I shall be asleep. As for what she’ll learn from Lottie and Pearl…’ Listening in trepidation from behind the kitchen door, Rosa stepped forward and reached for Sophie’s hand.

  ‘When you not here, Sophie, I study real hard. I make special promise to you and Miss Sheffield. By Christmas I speak the Eenglish perfect.’

  ‘By Christmas I shall be speaking perfect English,’ Celia corrected with a satisfied smile.

  To Sophie’s complete and utter surprise not only did Rosa’s English improve in leaps and bounds, but also the flat remained incredibly tidy.

  ‘I have to confess I’m amazed,’ she remarked, unloading shiny cartons of Chinese take-away onto her kitchen work surface.

  ‘Me too,’ Callie mumbled, popping a king prawn ball into her mouth. I’ve even stuck my nose round her bedroom door to see if she’s been true to her word. Her bedroom’s immaculate.’

  ‘I wish mine was, it’s so cramped in there.’

  ‘What do you expect? When you foolishly decided to give Rosa your bedroom, you should have realised you’d never get all your things into that poky little spare room. Why don’t I ask Colleen’s boyfriend to bring his van round tomorrow? Rosa’s only here until Christmas, isn’t she?’

  Sophie nodded and carried on serving fried rice and pancake rolls.

  ‘Good. Then that’s settled.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘You pack all your summer gear and surplus bits into suitcases and we’ll store it at the Nag’s Head. That way you’ll have heaps more room.’

  ‘I don’t know about heaps,’ said Sophie, wondering if Christmas and Rosa’s departure would ever come. At least the shops were full of Hallowe’en paraphernalia, which meant next stop Bonfire Night and after that Christmas.

  Watching Sophie pour bowls of sweetly scented jasmine tea, Callie sighed. ‘Pity about the wine.’

  ‘I know but I can’t go on duty reeking of both Chinese and alcohol. Which reminds me I’d better get some Polos on my way to the hospital.’

  ‘I shouldn’t bother. You always say after closing time on Friday nights, Beckford A & E smells like a distillery.’

  Sophie grimaced and reached for a pair of chop-sticks, ‘I’d better make the most of this then.’

  ‘Incidentally, where is Rosa? I thought she liked Chinese food.’

  ‘She does but she’s gone to—’ Halted mid-sentence by the phone, Sophie lifted the receiver. Hearing Rosa’s agitated voice she sensed something was seriously amiss. Rosa’s English always deteriorated when she became anxious or excited. ‘Rosa? What’s wrong?’

  ‘It eez Carlos! He eez coming to England!’

  ‘How wonderful for you!’

  ‘I know. But Sophie … you do not understand. He come tonight! He ring and I very sorry I forget to tell you, because you work nights all week. Now eez too late to ring him. You will meet him from airport ... yes? I remember you take Callie’s parents to Heathrow. It eez not far I think?’

  ‘Heathrow? Rosa! I’m supposed to be working!’

  ‘I know – but his flight come before you go on duty. You have pen? I give you flight number.’

  Not knowing why she did so, Sophie found herself searching frantically for a pen and writing down not only Carlos’s flight number but also his expected time of arrival.

  Putting two and two together, Callie shook her head in despair. ‘I can't believe you’ve just agreed to that.’

  ‘Neither can I,’ said Sophie.

  ‘So … what do you intend to do?’

  ‘Do? I’ll have to go and meet him of course. He’ll be expecting some sort of welcoming party. With Rosa unable to make it, I guess that means me.’

  ‘I take it you do know what he looks like?’

  Sophie hesitated. ‘Well, sort of.’

  In response to Callie’s puzzled frown, Sophie continued, ‘Rosa showed me her family photos when she first arrived. To be honest most of them were just a blur of faces and she spoke so quickly when pointing everyone out.’

  Reminded of the time when Rosa was about to show her the photos of her eighteenth birthday and they’d been interrupted by a phone call from Carlos, Sophie began to panic. ‘Oh Lord! That doesn't mean I’ve got to stand there waving an idiot board does it?’

  Callie grinned, wickedly. ‘Sounds as if you might,’

  ‘Then come with me Callie.’

  ‘No way, José! Or should that be Carlos? From what Rosa’s said about him, he’s a pretty tall guy, not a little short arse like me. Mind you I probably make up in width what he does in height. You’ll never get all three of us in that Mini of yours. And don’t forget his luggage. If Carlos is anything like Rosa he certainly won’t be doing a Cliff Richard!’

  ‘Cliff Richard? Whatever do you mean?’

  ‘Travelling Light,’ Callie said, ‘Don’t you remember? That’s another of your mum’s old 45's.’

  Listening to Callie doing a very bad Cliff Richard impersonation, she was far better at Humphrey Bogart, Sophie surveyed the congealed food on the plate. ‘Somehow I think I’ve just lost my appetite.’

  ‘And somehow I think you’d better get a move on,’ Callie urged, looking at her watch. ‘Especially as you’re on night duty as well.’

  Running to her bedroom Sophie changed hurriedly into her uniform, deciding once she’d dropped Carlos at his hotel, she could head straight for the hospital. ‘His hotel!’ she gasped. ‘Rosa didn’t say where he was staying!’

  ‘Elementary my dear Sophie. All you have to do is ask Carlos!’

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting something? I’ve got to find him first!’

  ‘Rosa must have a proper photo of him somewhere. Why don’t we go and look in her bedroom?’

  Sophie stood uneasily in the doorway. ‘Callie … I really don’t like the idea of going into her room.’

  ‘Her room indeed! Until a few weeks ago this was your bedroom. It is still your flat, remember!’

  ‘Even so, it’s not right looking through Rosa’s things.’

  ‘Will you listen to that?’ Callie protested, watching Sophie turn on her heels and head for the kitchen. ‘Anyone would think we were doing an Inspector Morse and his sidekick wots-his-name?’

  ‘Lewis,’ Sophie called back, gathering together the remains of the Chinese. She looked anxiously at the clock, then at the debris left from the meal. ‘I ought to clear this up before I go, but there’s no time, is there?’

  ‘Not really
,’ Callie agreed, from the doorway. In her hand she held a diary stuffed with letters and photos.

  Sophie froze. ‘Callie you haven’t?’

  ‘No. Of course I haven’t been rummaging through her things, this was on the side-table by the bed and sort of fell on the floor when I passed.'

  ‘Hmph! You expect me to believe that?’

  ‘Don’t worry. I promise I’ll put it back where I found it.’

  Sophie appeared relieved but Callie didn’t move. Instead she began flicking through the assorted photos. ‘Callie! Will you please put those back!’

  ‘Don’t you want to know what he looks like?’

  ‘I do know what he looks like!’ lied Sophie, stubbornly looking away when Callie flashed a pile of photos and the diary in her direction.

  ‘All right. All right. Have it your own way, if it will make you feel any better. Just look for a tall distinguished sort of guy with silver-grey hair and a flashing smile. About mid-fifties I should say.’

  Mid fifties! Sophie’s eyes widened in horror. She recalled Rosa saying Carlos was considerably older than herself. Surely he wasn’t that old? Hunting for her car keys and trying to remember what Rosa had said about her so-called betrothal, Sophie felt suddenly sorry for her. Poor Rosa! No wonder she seemed so intent on having a good time while she was here in Beckford.’

  Callie stood in the doorway, buttoning up her coat. ‘Ready then?’

  ‘Have you put—?’

  ‘Yes, Inspector. I’ve concealed the evidence. Rosa won’t even know. Though I confess I’m surprised the only photos she’s got on display are those of Johnny Depp and that guy from the X-Factor. Oh! Hang on. You don’t suppose she keeps a photo of Carlos hidden under her pillow do you? Shall I go and have a quick look?’

  ‘No! Just get out!’ Sophie ordered, pushing her friend through the doorway and onto the landing.

  Callie sniffed the late October air and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

  ‘What’s that awful pong? It smells like a brothel.’