by Kitty Wilson
‘And then what happened? Cos it’s real clear that something did.’
‘Yeah, it did.’ Rosy mimicked his Americanism without even realizing she was doing it. ‘To cut a long story short, he hit me…’
‘He did what! Oh, Rosy, I’m so sorry, but not all men—’
‘I know, but some are. And that wasn’t the worst of it – he locked me in our flat for days. I’d banged my head when I went down and came around in the bathroom, locked in. I couldn’t get out and when I finally managed to escape, nobody believed me.’
‘Oh, Rosy, I am so sorry that this happened to you. Why would they not believe you? Who wouldn’t believe that? You seem pretty darn trustworthy to me.’
‘It’s all right, Chase, it’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s fault apart from Josh’s.’ As she said these words, Rosy realized that she had relayed this story without tears, without the iron knot that sat in her stomach when she recalled it to herself, alone as she tried to sleep, as she had done on and off for years. That this time the telling of it was just like telling a story, a story that had happened to someone else.
‘It turned out that all the time I had been studying or working or socializing he had been drip drip dripping lies into their ears: Rosy drinks too much; Rosy is a little wobbly, you know; it’s not all her fault, her whole family struggles with issues, and so on. Then, when he had me prisoner in the house, he told everyone I was having some kind of psychotic break so when I escaped, ranting like a madman about being his prisoner, everyone believed him. He’d been suggesting this was going to happen for months, and after all no one knew me like he did, and it was no surprise for anyone but me when I behaved true to the type he had cast me as.’
‘Well, what happened next? Did you go to the police? That’s battery and kidnap at the end of the day.’
‘No, apparently it’s a domestic, or it was back then. Plus when they asked around everyone backed up Josh’s version. I lost my friends, my job – no one wants an alcoholic with psychosis tutoring their kids – and of course my flat, because we were living together by then. Everywhere I went those first couple of days people were looking, talking about me, and how my poor boyfriend had to put up with so much, even the friend I stayed with.’ She took a big shuddering breath as Chase put his arm around her and gave her a reassuring squeeze. A much needed it’s-OK-you’re-safe squeeze.
‘Rosy, that’s one hell of a trauma. You lost everything. Losing a relationship is hard enough at the best of times, even one so toxic. More so, maybe, because it was such an utter betrayal of all you believed it to be. And then to have all the security you had there, your friends, or those you thought to be your friends revealed to be false as well. Of course it’s going to have an impact. What did you do?’
‘I went home, home to Mum and Dad, transferred my uni credits and finished my course at the local university, did my teaching qualification and then got a job locally, only finally moving away again once my confidence had been rebuilt. Oh, and I came up with The Rule.’
Chase let out a little laugh, one of those gruff, what-else-can-you-do laughs.
‘You mentioned The Rule earlier. What is it? Presumably it’s what you came up with to prevent this ever happening again. Also, and you don’t have to answer, but what happened to Josh? Do you know? Did he really get away scot-free?’
‘I don’t mind answering that. No, he didn’t, not really. He got his degree, went to Australia and was in a fatal motorbike accident. It was reported in an alumni magazine that came to my parents’ house. I almost felt guilty when I found out because of the huge sense of relief. I couldn’t stop crying. I know that sounds weird, but I felt like I almost had a responsibility to make sure he couldn’t do this again, and I didn’t know how to ensure that. Especially with the police refusing to take action. What he did to me was, well, I’ve told you, but the thought he could do it to someone else, that was such a burden. And now he can’t.’ She let out a little huh noise, one that seemed to encapsulate the whole range of emotions that Josh’s death had raised in her, before she continued. ‘And yes, that’s exactly why I came up with The Rule, and so far it’s worked. As long as I’ve stuck to it. It’s simple really. I don’t blur boundaries. Everything is kept in compartments – my dating is completely unrelated to any other arena of my life, so when it goes wrong it doesn’t blow up every aspect of me.’
‘And let me guess, The Rule obviously says no dating your neighbour!’
‘Ha! Damn right it does, I won’t be caught out twice.’
‘So, does it not get lonely living your life in such a fashion? Expecting things to go wrong instead of anticipating they’ll go right? And, oh please don’t bite my head off for this, but is it possible that not every man that moves next door is a monster’ – Chase paused to give Rosy time to throw something at him, but she nodded and waited for him to continue – ‘and that just maybe, Matt—’
The sounds of petulant squawking interrupted him as someone hurtled down the little slope leading to the beach, and from the noises emitting from the path, in both high heels and bad temper.
‘Who is…?’ Chase started to ask. It was hard to make out much more than an outline now the light had gone.
‘I knew I’d find you, you evil, shrew-tongued witch! Who the hell do you think you are and what on earth gives you the right to treat my brother like that?’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘I’m serious, how bloody dare you? That man has done nothing but good his whole life, for Christ’s sake, he’s even used his big career break to help your poxy school. I swear, I swear you have no idea. The only weak moment in that man’s life has been getting some stupid no-sense crush on your dull, mousy—’
‘Well, Angelina, I’d been hoping you’d turn up,’ Chase drawled, having leapt to his feet, providing a physical barrier between the two women and gently touching Rosy’s shoulder in reassurance as he launched into a full charm offensive at Matt’s sister. ‘I’m Chase, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last.’
Angelina’s eyes temporarily stopped spitting fire at Rosy as, for the first time since her arrival on the beach, they fell on the six foot two inches of beautiful blond masculinity in front of her.
‘Hmm…’ Angelina drew herself up from her snarling animal form and grinned right back at him. Hair flicking over her shoulders and deep penetrating you-shall-be-mine gaze turned on full power. Rosy stayed sitting. These two were glowing enough to light a whole village and she was suddenly overcome by waves of exhaustion; her eyes were actually fluttering, but not flirtatiously like Angelina’s (whose were going to take flight soon, they were batting so hard) and her chin kept dropping onto her chest, as if it were suddenly lined with lead.
Opening up to Chase had been the last thing she’d expected to do. Only a few hours ago she’d been in school expecting to drag herself home for an ice cream and Netflix binge and instead she’d found herself drinking champagne in a swanky dress and then ended up revealing her deepest secret to a stranger after shrieking at Matt like a banshee on steroids. This evening needed to come to an end.
She knew what Chase had been about to say, that she may have made a mistake by shouting at Matt. That it was utterly possible that all of Rosy’s reservations about her neighbour, her sexy, funny, kind neighbour, were her own baggage and nothing to do with Matt himself whatsoever. Indeed, once all her screaming was over and Matt had turned to leave that very thought had arisen, niggling at the back of her mind.
The truth was that her explosion had probably been really good for her, providing a catalyst for disclosing her secret, which once she had done so led to a lightness that she hadn’t experienced for years. Admittedly a lightness that this very moment was doing battle with the exhaustion raging through her now. She knew this couldn’t be all it took for her to heal, but it was a huge step. She was wondering why she hadn’t done it earlier.
Now was not the time to beat herself up. Whatever the rights and wrongs of tonight, something had very definitely s
hifted. However, trying to explain that to Angelina could be tricky, and not a battle she wanted to take on right now. The woman had been towering over her but a minute ago, quivering with righteous anger – which was probably a first – and Rosy knew she’d need to answer for it. But later.
She flicked a quick look up at her. Matt’s sister was no longer screaming abuse in Rosy’s face but giggling, simpering at Chase, her hips protruded towards him at such an angle it was a miracle she was still upright.
‘It is a beautiful house, I was hoping to meet the host. Have you lived here long?’
Giggle, giggle, hair flick.
Perhaps if she stayed here silent a little longer, Chase could lead Angelina away and she could just lie here as the tide came in and lapped her feet, just until morning, and then she could face the real world.
The two of them continued chatting as Rosy zoned out and concentrated instead on sitting upright until they buggered off. It was not to be.
‘The trouble is, Chase, did you say? The trouble is that I really do need to speak to her’ – Angelina managed to infuse the word with huge meaning, a meaning that implied Rosy ate babies for breakfast – ‘about how she needs to stay away from my brother. How she needs to treat others as she would wish to be treated, such an important rule in life, don’t you agree?’
Despite Rosy’s heavy eyes and nodding chin, her eyebrows managed to shoot up as she overheard that particular gem. Wow!
‘And that she needs to stay away from him…’
‘Well, from what I’ve heard, that is her intent.’
‘And I’m sure there’s not much you’re wrong about, Chase’ – giggle, simper – ‘but don’t be fooled by her. The road to hell, etc. And I’m damn sure I’m not letting her drag my brother any deeper down than she already has. In fact, that reminds me, I have to call a friend. Maybe now Matt’s seen her true self he’ll be more responsive to my suggestions.’
Rosy watched through half-closed eyes as Angelina proceeded to strut around the beach, clad in a slip of beige silk that looked like it would fall off any second and heels so tall it was a miracle that they hadn’t dug straight through the sand and all the way down to Australia. Chase stood watching her, absent-mindedly rubbing Rosy’s shoulder as he did so.
‘See, she’s not so bad,’ he whispered down to her, ‘she just really cares for her brother. I always knew she’d have a sweet soul.’ Rosy’s whole face scrunched up in surprise. Really? He had seemed so switched on when she had been talking to him earlier.
‘If this bloody sand scratches my shoes, I’m going to bill you,’ Angelina spun around and hissed at Rosy before flashing yet another I’m-such-a-great-person-really smile at their host as she waited for her call to connect.
‘Coo-eee!’ A loud shriek came from the path and Rosy and Chase turned to see Marion and her husband approaching them. ‘I thought I could hear you down here.’
‘Where are you? I need you in Cornwall. What do you mean you’re in Goa? Goa, for Christ’s sake, there’s nothing you can get there that you can’t have here, other than herpes and a shell anklet. Inner peace? It’s not the bloody nineties. I’m telling you my brother needs you. Now is the time!’ Angelina failed to respond to Marion and Richard’s arrival, so busy was she shrieking yet more rage into her handset.
‘Ooh, we’re having a beach party!’ Marion sank down next to Rosy, whilst Richard hovered above the two, looking nervously at Angelina.
‘I say, is that…?’
‘It certainly is. I told you tonight was going to be a good night,’ Chase said in response to Richard’s question.
‘Ooh, it has been, hasn’t it?’ Marion shimmied against Rosy’s shoulder in an all-girls-together fashion.
Rosy couldn’t help but shoot her a look full of daggers. ‘It’s been a long night, certainly.’
‘Ooh, I heard about that. You being mean to darling Matt. All around the party. I’m surprised Angelina hasn’t carved your heart out.’
Rosy whimpered.
‘I think that it’s all a matter of perspective, Marion. Rosy had her reasons and I think she’s a trooper. Seriously, you know better than most how people jump to conclusions about things they know nothing about.’ Chase leapt to her defence.
‘Well, that they do,’ Marion noted knowingly and with vigour, in that way very drunk people do. ‘Don’t you worry, my girl, we’ve got all of half term to sort it out. As long as you apologize before filming starts, it’s all going to be fine.’
Rosy’s whimper became a groan as she buried her head in her hands.
‘Too right, you should be ashamed, and you’ve lost him forever now. Thank God! I’ve found him someone who’ll appreciate him!’ Angelina had finished her phone call and turned back to spitting vitriol at Rosy.
‘I’ll go and get some more drinks then,’ Richard chipped in, his obvious go-to plan in every situation.
‘Good idea.’ His wife grinned.
‘No, no, I don’t want to drink any more.’ Rosy struggled to her feet. ‘I need to get home.’
‘Don’t you go upsetting my brother again!’
‘You’ll never get a taxi from here at this time of night. Here, woah, Rosy, let me help you.’ Marion got to her feet, considerably more unsteady than the woman she was attempting to help. ‘Blue room, Chase?’
‘Yep, of course. Rosy, I think you should stay here tonight. None of us can drive – let’s just get you to sleep. You’ve had a hell of an evening. I can come and sit with you if you want…’
‘Unbelievable!’ Angelina’s fury at what she perceived to be a raging injustice was encapsulated perfectly in her shrill tone.
‘No, no, Chase, that’s fine.’
‘Yes, I’ll take her, you’ll never find it otherwise, and we can have a good old natter whilst I do.’
Rosy let herself be led away. Ten minutes ago she hadn’t thought today could get any weirder and yet now she was being put to bed by Monster Marksharp. Tomorrow, let alone the rest of half term, probably didn’t bear thinking about!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Half term had whizzed by and the jungle drums of the village had been working overtime after Chase’s party, the facts of which were dissected over a dozen different kitchen tables. Yet, to Rosy’s amazement, everyone was still talking to her. The woman in the village shop was no ruder than usual, the parents were as smiley and chatty as ever and she’d had lunch in the pub on Sunday, complete with Dave and Lynne and the medieval troubadours, and it was just like every other time.
Half term had only been marred by the death of Sylvie’s mum, Margaret. Margaret had lived in the village ever since her twenties and was a cornerstone of the local community. Her death was a great loss and Rosy, along with most of the rest of the village, had attended the funeral. Those that couldn’t fit into the church lined the streets to pay their respects.
Sylvie had followed the coffin, holding the hand of her little boy, who was the spit of her and due to start Penmenna next September, and Rosy felt tears rise and prick her eyes. This certainly put her worries into perspective. How selfish was she worrying about how she was perceived when others had to deal with such loss?
However, as shallow as it made her feel, having the first two days back at school and everyone acting normally, and as far as she was aware no online petition had been set up to oust her, was a huge relief. Her private life had exploded in the soap opera that was village life, her behaviour endlessly gossiped about and yet the sky hadn’t fallen in. All those years and all that fear about being judged by her community, and it had come to nothing. She didn’t quite know what to think.
Now the week was half passed and it was the day that Matt was due in to deliver his assembly and meet the school. Rosy loved watching the school creak to life every morning, and today the children arrived with excitement bubbling out of them like a witch’s cauldron full of firework colours. The news that a local man was coming in to meet them in the Wednesday assembly and explain how everyone wa
s going to be on television meant that the children, who had been excited about the Valentine’s disco, were stratospheric about this.
She herself was a little more trepidatious. She had heard him coming and going in the cottage over the last week but there had been no hellos over the fence, no contact at all. Half of her was grateful for this – he presumably was respecting her need for space – but it meant that their first encounter since Chase’s house was going to be today, in front of a hundred upturned little faces.
Taking the register in class she noticed the clock hands heading ever closer to ten past nine, when assembly would start, and despite impeccable make-up and her most professional suit Rosy was quaking a little. She had a simple introduction planned for Matt and then she would step back and let him take charge. The trouble was her mind wasn’t picturing a simple and calm hall full of children listening obediently and adoringly. Instead it kept filling up with images of her screeching at Matt at the party, and even worse, that night he had come to supper, with his hands on her thighs, his lips… oh for goodness’ sake! This was unbearable. Perhaps she should lock herself in the staff loo and let Marion deal with it.
But of course, she wouldn’t. The children had been practising songs in Matt’s honour: ‘Five Little Peas’ for the youngest and ‘Oats, Peas, Beans and Barley Grow’ for the slightly older ones. And then the very oldest had written and animated a song about a vegetable alphabet – they had pleaded to be let off including U, X and Z, but Mrs Adams wasn’t having any of it.
Rosy was confident that the children would be beautifully behaved in front of the cameras and do the school proud, perhaps with the exception of some of her little ones. Billy, for example, found it next to impossible not to do roly-polies the minute the peas in the song went ‘pop’. She hoped an audience would find it endearing rather than a sign of schoolwide subversion – although she wouldn’t put anything past Edward Grant when it came to finding ammunition.
‘Come on then.’ The time had come. She led her own class into the hall, stopping on the spot when she saw Matt and the rest of the school already waiting. He smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes and he was running his hand across the back of his neck.