The movement attracted Robert’s attention as, raising his voice to be heard, he asked, ‘Everything all right in the back?’
‘Yes fine,’ answered Holly, realising with growing concern that things may not be at all fine. Rosemary had not stirred when she had reached for her jacket nor at the sound of Robert’s raised voice. Holly’s mouth felt dry and a cold sweat started to form on her brow as she adjusted her grip on Rosemary’s hand to feel for a pulse. Nothing.
Oblivious to Holly’s mounting panic, Robert was asking her, his voice still louder than usual, whether she had noticed how much Rosemary had eaten at lunch. ‘Rosie’s always been partial to coq au vin but I was genuinely surprised that she finished the whole plateful. It must have been the sea air from the ferry crossing giving her an appetite. You didn’t seem to eat much though, Holly, are you still feeling under the weather?’
‘A bit,’ Holly responded, her heart thundering in her chest, wondering what she should do. She didn’t want to alarm Robert needlessly, after all, maybe Rosemary had a weak pulse that she couldn’t detect because of the leukaemia.
‘This break will do us all good I think,’ Robert continued. ‘And it will be lovely for you see your Italian friends again, particularly the little girl. What was her name again?’
Holly just wanted Robert to be quiet while she tried to think.
‘Giulietta,’ she replied, slipping her hand into her handbag to retrieve her make-up compact. She flipped it open and held the mirror in front of Rosemary’s mouth just as she had done with Harry when he was a baby to check he was still breathing. No mist formed. Rosemary was not breathing.
‘That’s right, Giulietta. Cute little thing and she really took a shine to you, Holly. Do you ever regret not having more children?’
Struggling to keep the rising panic from her voice she said, ‘Actually Robert, I’m not feeling too great, could you pull over to the side of the road please.’
Robert eased his foot off the accelerator, indicated to pull into the inside lane and then the hard shoulder and brought the car to a halt.
‘What’s wrong, Holly? A bit of car sickness?’ he asked sympathetically while turning in his seat.
Tears were coursing down Holly’s cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry, Robert. She’s gone.’
Chapter 72
Holly gazed down the beautiful sunlit garden, filled with the pungent aroma of honeysuckle and roses, and rested her hands on the stone balustrade which felt cool and slightly damp to the touch after the light rain shower a couple of hours earlier. The rain had started just as Rosemary’s coffin was being lowered into the ground and it was almost as though the heavens were crying. The shower had only lasted a few minutes and stopped as abruptly as it had begun allowing the sun to once more shine on the subdued gathering and causing the most vivid rainbow Holly had ever seen. Rainbows and white feathers, the two things that had felt like a connection with her dad after he died and had been the biggest comfort to her whenever she saw them. Was Rosemary trying to tell them she was free of pain at last?
Holly had come out into the garden to allow Robert to say goodbye to the remaining guests who had come back to the house for afternoon tea following the funeral. She was glad of a few minutes to herself after answering so many questions about the aborted trip to Switzerland and the comments about how lucky they were to have made it home in time for Rosemary to pass away peacefully in her own bed. If they only knew the truth, Holly thought, shuddering at the memory of the horrendous twelve hours that had followed Rosemary’s death.
Robert had understandably been totally devastated and unable to make any decisions as to what they should do. He had sat cradling his wife, gently rocking back and forth as if to comfort her, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. It was Holly who suggested they should try and get Rosemary home.
‘Obviously I’ll drive, Robert,’ she had said. ‘But when we get close to Calais you will have to sit in the front with me and we will cover Rosemary with the blanket on the back seat and hope that nobody will want to check the car.’
There had been no response from Robert.
Holly had continued. ‘If we can just get her home you will be able to call your doctor in the morning and say that Rosemary must have passed away in her sleep. He knows how ill Rosemary has been so I don’t think he will question anything.’
Robert was still silent.
‘Do you want to try this Robert?’ Holly persisted, knowing they needed to reach a decision quickly. ‘If the French authorities become involved they would have to perform an autopsy on Rosemary in a French morgue to determine the cause of death. You don’t want that to happen to her, do you?’
‘Will it work?’ Robert had whispered.
Holly had no idea if it would work, or what would happen to the pair of them if they were discovered smuggling a dead body into the country, but she wanted the best for Rosemary so was prepared to take the risk.
They had both been terribly tense at the French border control but they had got on board the ferry without being questioned. Robert didn’t want to leave Rosemary alone in the car but realised that he had no choice. They sat at a small table in the cafeteria in silence, neither of them touching the hot sweet tea traditionally recommended for shock, and neither able to think of meaningful words to comfort the other. Holly was also quiet because she knew the most risky part of her plan lay ahead.
There needed to be a record of Rosemary coming back into the country. She would show all three passports and hope that the border guard would accept that the Forresters were both sleeping in the back seat and would not disturb them. Miraculously that was exactly what transpired. Normally Holly would be shocked at the lax security but under the circumstances she was merely grateful.
It was after 3 a.m. when the tyres of the Jaguar finally crunched on the gravel of the driveway they had left less than twenty-four hours previously. Robert had refused Holly’s help to carry Rosemary into the house and as she watched him gently lift her out of the back seat, Holly’s throat constricted. There was something incredibly poignant about the sight, so reminiscent of a newly married bride being carried over the threshold.
As Holly had held open the bedroom door Robert paused before entering.
‘Words can’t express my thanks for what you have done for Rosie and I tonight Holly and I promise I will never forget. You should try and get some rest. You look shattered.’
Holly had lain down fully clothed on the bed in the guest room and, much to her own surprise, had instantly fallen into a deep sleep born out of physical and emotional exhaustion.
It’s hard to believe that was only ten days ago, Holly thought, welcoming the warming feel of the sun on her face, although in some respects the time had flown as she had been busy helping Robert with the preparations for the funeral. They had been surprised to find that Rosemary had planned every minute detail and left it in an envelope on Robert’s desk, which he had discovered when he went into his office to call their doctor the next morning. There were also envelopes addressed to each and every guest who would be attending her funeral.
Thankfully Holly was at Robert’s side when the doctor arrived to examine Rosemary’s body and pronounce her deceased. His only comment was that she must have died quite soon after she had retired to bed the previous evening. Holly exhaled the breath she had been holding and put a comforting arm around Robert’s shoulder as a gentle reminder not to mention the excursion to France. It was an enormous relief that there would be no need for an autopsy as the doctor had been kept up to date with her treatment and deterioration by Professor Lang.
Holly had also been there when the undertaker arrived later in the day to move Rosemary to the chapel of rest. Robert had been reluctant to let go of her hand. ‘You want her to look her best when her friends see her for the last time don’t you?’ Holly said as she gently loosened his grip. They handed over the clothes and shoes that Rosemary herself had selected and Holly quietly reminded the undertaker that the make-up
should be minimal.
Once Rosemary was no longer in the house the shock of it all really hit Robert. Holly decided she would have to stay with him until after the funeral apart from a fleeting visit to her home in Reading to pick up some clean clothes.
She also took the opportunity to email Philippe following his lack of response to the three emails Robert had sent him with the dreadful news. Holly was incensed that he would ignore his friend at such a time. In the subject box she put:
PLEASE READ, your friend Robert needs you
Philippe
I know you and I are no longer speaking but I am writing to plead with you to contact Robert. He has sent you three emails and so far you have ignored them. Surely you cannot be too busy with your new book to turn away a friend in need. Robert is devastated after losing Rosemary and you are supposed to be his friend. Please find it in your heart (if indeed you have one) to at least speak to him on the phone.
The funeral is arranged for Tuesday. If you want to attend I will stay away to avoid an embarrassing situation but please let Robert know. He will need as much support as possible on the day.
None of this changes the situation between us.
Holly
She wasn’t particularly surprised, but nevertheless very disappointed, when there was still no reply to either of them from Philippe.
Her hands gripped the balustrade tighter as she muttered, ‘Selfish bastard’, under her breath.
‘What’s that, Mum? Are you okay?’ Harry asked, approaching his mother across the mellow Yorkstone patio.
Holly turned to face her son. ‘I just need a big hug,’ she replied wrapping her arms around him. ‘Has everyone gone now?’
‘Robert is just waving off Melody and the children. It’s funny, I would have thought Robert and Rosemary would have had more friends.’
‘Rosemary was very specific about who she wanted to be here.’
‘I can’t believe she had the whole thing planned. I suppose that’s the only benefit of knowing you’re terminally ill. You can put all your affairs in order so that other people don’t have to. Didn’t she want the Frenchman here?’
Holly coloured slightly. ‘Both Robert and I emailed him to tell him what had happened and give him the funeral details but he hasn’t been in touch at all. Looks like I had a lucky escape,’ she said, subconsciously resting her hand on her softly rounded belly. She knew she would soon have to tell Harry about the pregnancy but she couldn’t face it while she was already feeling so emotional and he was heading back to university that evening. Holly planned to stay the night in Woldingham again but then she had to leave to get ready for her latest Liberty Sands trip.
‘Come on we should go in and look after Robert.’
They heard the click of the front door closing as they entered through the glass doors. Robert slowly descended the stairs looking every day of his sixty years.
‘Would you like a brandy, Robert? You look like you could use one.’
‘A bit early in the day for me, really, but I think I will.’
He slumped on to the plump cushions of the sofa and extended his hand to take the glass of golden liquid that Holly had poured for him.
‘Did you give everyone their letters?’ Holly asked.
‘Yes, all except Philippe, of course.’
Holly and Harry exchanged a look.
‘I can’t believe I got him so wrong. I’m usually a pretty good judge of character. I can’t even post it to him because I don’t know where he is staying now that he’s back in the UK. Damn funny business all that,’ Robert concluded shaking his head.
‘It was a beautiful service,’ Holly said, anxious to steer the conversation away from Philippe.
‘Yes it was,’ agreed Harry. ‘I’ve never been to a funeral before but I thought they were always sombre and full of Bible readings and hymns that no one knows the words to.’
‘Rosie always could plan an event. We weren’t big church-goers but we know the vicar really well because he has visited our home many times for coffee mornings and tea parties that she laid on to raise funds for the upkeep of the church. That’s why the eulogy was so touching because he was speaking about a friend, not just a parishioner. She wanted pink roses and happy poems and songs that her friends could sing along to. I think she would have enjoyed it if she had been there.’
‘She was there, Robert.’
‘No, Holly, only her body was there, her spirit was long gone. I like to think she’s visiting all the places around the world that she loved before she leaves this existence for ever. I hope I’ll be able to find her again when it’s my turn to go.’
Holly and Harry were both silent, not knowing what to say.
‘You know I held it all together until the Michael Jackson version of “Smile”. I don’t know if I’ll ever smile again.’
‘Give it time, Robert, it all gets better with time. I know it’s not the same thing but when my dad died I felt exactly the same, totally desolate. Thank God I had Harry to get me through the darkest times.’
Robert thought but didn’t say, I don’t have any children to bring me happiness and make me smile.
Harry thought but didn’t say, I don’t have a father to one day mourn.
Chapter 73
Robert went into the kitchen to make himself a second cup of coffee of the morning even though he could sense Rosemary’s disapproval. Why not, he thought, I don’t really care if it kills me, I’ve got nothing to live for now. Even as he thought it he knew it wasn’t true. He had some good friends who he knew would rally round to support him and now he also had Holly and her delightful son Harry. He had been sad to see the young man go the previous evening but of course he needed to get back to university. The good news was that he had volunteered to come over and help Robert with any projects he was working on during his summer break. Robert didn’t really need any help as he liked to work alone but he had been quick to take him up on the offer, suggesting he could stay over a couple of nights a week if he wanted to.
‘They broke the mould when they made that one,’ he said to Holly when she was packing her things into her car earlier that morning.
‘I hope not,’ murmured Holly.
Robert knew that Holly was concerned about leaving him on his own but she had her own life to get on with and a plane to catch to the Seychelles for her latest travel blog assignment later that evening. ‘Don’t you worry, Holly,’ Robert had reassured her. ‘I have to get used to being on my own again and I’ve got plenty of work to be getting on with.’
That much was true, he thought, pushing open the door to his office with his foot, as one hand was carrying his coffee mug and the other a packet of Rich Tea biscuits. His eyes settled immediately on the only envelope that Rosemary had left that hadn’t yet reached its destination. He put his biscuits and coffee down and picked up the envelope. Holding it to his nose he drank in the hint of Giorgio Beverley Hills, Rosemary’s favourite fragrance. He had always bought her a bottle, in its yellow and white striped box, from the duty-free shop at the airport on his way back from foreign trips until one day she had opened a cupboard and showed him a stash of half a dozen bottles. They had both laughed until they cried when she had asked if he was trying to tell her that she smelled. Although he hadn’t bought her any perfume in a while he would bet there were still a couple of unopened bottles in that cupboard.
So what am I going to do with this, he wondered, tracing the curve of Rosemary’s handwriting? I wonder what she said to him? The two of them had such a wonderful rapport and it upset Robert to think that her final memories of him may have been tainted because Holly and he had split up. He shook his head.
‘I told her it was all moving too fast,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘but typical Rosie, ever the romantic.’
It didn’t explain why Philippe hadn’t been in touch though. Maybe there was something the girls weren’t telling him about his friend Philippe? He stared down at the envelope in his hands, weighing up h
is options. Perhaps there was something in the letter that would help him to forgive Philippe for not coming to Rosie’s funeral. Without giving it further thought he tore open the envelope and slid out the single sheet of paper covered in his late wife’s flowery handwriting:
My dear Philippe
If you are reading this, it is because I am no longer living.
Almost for the entirety of the time Robert and I have known you I have been living on borrowed time. I was diagnosed with a rare form of leukaemia two years ago and although initially my treatment went well the drugs that were keeping me alive stopped working.
We had to leave Mauritius in a rush because I suddenly took a turn for the worse. I wish I had been able to say my goodbyes to you in person but I know you were so busy with your new book and I wish you every success with it.
You have been a wonderful friend to Robert and me. I have loved our dinners together with your French charm making me feel vibrant and attractive at a time when my looks were fading as quickly as my health. I think you made Robert quite jealous on a couple of occasions.
Robert allowed the letter to flutter to the floor, as his fingertips rested against his mouth and he closed his eyes tight to stop the tears from flowing again. Gently he rocked to and fro, all the time breathing in deeply through his nose, trying to regain his composure. After a few moments he had calmed himself sufficiently to rest forward on his desk, his cheek against his forearm where he fell into a restless dream-filled sleep.
He was in Chez Andre where he had first laid eyes on Rosemary and instantly fallen in love. He was a nervous groom waiting in front of the altar in St Agatha’s church for his stunningly beautiful bride. He was holding her hand when Professor Lang first told her she had blood cancer and she bravely accepted it, just as she had accepted her inability to have children and the loss of her beloved parents. And then she was there standing in front of him, arms outstretched towards him. She was backing away from him and he reached his hand out to stop her from going but she was getting fainter and fainter until her image disappeared to be replaced by a white sandy beach with the sparkling ocean beyond. It was the view from the balcony of the house in Tamarina Bay.
Life's a Beach and Then... (The Liberty Sands Trilogy Book 1) Page 24