by Isabel Wolff
‘Twins!’ exclaimed Bea gaily as she picked up the phone.
‘Listen, it’s me. Could you come a bit early tonight? I’ve got myself in a mess timewise and I’m in a complete panic.’
‘I’d love to,’ she said. Great. ‘But I can’t.’
‘You can’t?’
‘I’m really sorry, Rose. But I’m busy.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Working.’
‘On a Saturday?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh. Well, can Bella help then?’
‘’Fraid not.’
‘Why?’
‘Well…because she’s…working as well.’
‘But I’m in a state,’ I said. ‘In fact I’m frantic.’
‘Oh dear. But I’m afraid we’re both working and so we both can’t help you.’
‘But this party was your idea! And I’ve got all these people coming and I’ve only just done the shopping!’
‘Don’t worry, Rose—you’ll be fine. Happy birthday, by the way,’ she added cheerily. ‘See you later! Bye.’
‘Well thanks!’ I hissed as I took out my earpiece. ‘What a useless pair.’ I parked the car in my usual space, then opened the boot and took out the bags. I scooped them up—they went all the way up both arms—then, with the key between my teeth, and turning it with the tips of my fingers, I just managed to open the front door.
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ I said crossly as I staggered into the hall, arms about to snap off.
‘Welcome to Weekend Woman’s Hour!’ I heard Rudy say in Jenni Murray’s voice. As Rudy burbled away about female circumcision I kicked shut the front door then looked at the telephone table. Great. The post had arrived. Better late than never, I thought, as I surveyed the pile of cards. I’d open them later I decided; then I suddenly stopped. Hang on a mo… How, I wondered, had the letters managed to jump from the doormat onto the hall table and neatly stack themselves up?
‘Serious health and human rights issues…legislation needed…’ And why was Rudy still talking about female circumcision? And what on earth was that noise? And why could I smell cheese straws? It must be Henry. Of course it was—the sweetheart—he was going to help me. It was just Bev’s little joke. I stood in the kitchen doorway and gawped.
‘Happy birthday, Rose,’ said Theo brightly. My heart did a triple somersault and five flick-flacks. ‘Many happy returns. You’ve picked a nice, sunny day for it,’ he added warmly.
‘…resistance to infringing the mores and traditions of another culture…’ I looked at Rudy. He was asleep. It really was Woman’s Hour—the radio was on.
‘What are you doing here, Theo?’ I enquired coolly. He was wearing his Astronomers Do It At Night! tee shirt.
‘What am I doing? I’m making cheese straws.’
‘That’s not what I mean.’
‘I thought you could do with some vol au vents too. About, what, eighty? That would be two each wouldn’t it—you’re expecting over thirty people aren’t you?’
‘What I mean is…’
‘And I reckoned you ought to have something sweet too so I made you these…ta da!’ He opened the fridge with a theatrical flourish and I could see rows of filled brandy snaps.
‘Theo,’ I said as he turned off the radio. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘About an hour and a half.’
‘Did you break a window?’
He looked offended. ‘What do you take me for?’
‘Then how the hell did you get in?’
He put his right hand in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a bunch of keys. ‘I forgot to give you these back when I left. Didn’t you notice?’
I shook my head. ‘No.’
‘I only found them yesterday, when I unpacked my last box of books—they’d fallen in. That’s why I’ve come,’ he explained. ‘To return them.’
‘Well, thanks very much.’
‘I didn’t like to post them, of course. Far too risky. So I thought I’d better deliver them personally.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘And I was wondering whether you’d bite my head off, or blaspheme at me so I took Bev’s advice.’
‘Oh—and what did she say?’
‘She said that it was her opinion that you probably wouldn’t. She also mentioned that you were in a panic about the party so I thought I’d better help you out on the catering front.’
‘I see.’
‘She said she thought you wouldn’t mind if I just let myself in.’
‘Oh really?’
‘In fact she said she thought you’d be quite pleased.’
‘She did, did she?’
He came up to me and took the carrier bags out of my hands. ‘Hello, Rose.’
‘Hello, Theo.’ Here he was again—the Milky Way kid.
‘I see you’ve been missing me,’ he said breezily as he began to unpack the shopping. I stared at him.
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Male intuition. It’s unerring. There are things we men just…know. In any case it’s obvious that you’ve been finding it hard without me,’ he added as he opened the fridge again and put in the smoked salmon.
‘Really?’
‘All the redecorating you’ve been doing for example. It’s classic displacement activity.’
‘Is it?’
He nodded knowledgeably. ‘Oh yes. I see you’ve been busy in the garden too. Which reminds me, I’ve got you a present. Hold on.’
He went over to the kitchen table, picked up a carrier bag and handed it to me. I looked inside.
‘A rose for Rose,’ he said as I pulled it out.
‘Zephérine Drouhin…’ I said as I read the label. ‘I’ve never heard of that one.’
‘It’s a very special rose.’
‘In what way?’
‘It’s got no thorns.’
‘But surely all roses have thorns?’
‘No. Not this one. It’s a thornless, Rose,’ he explained again. ‘So naturally it reminded me of you. It’s a climber—deep pink; I thought it’d look nice on that new pergola of yours.’
‘Well, yes, it would look nice there,’ I said politely. ‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’
‘I’ve got you another present too.’
‘You have?’
‘But you can’t have it just yet.’
‘Oh. So Beverley told you I wouldn’t mind if you just…turned up, did she.’
‘That’s right. I wrote to her.’
‘When?’
‘Yesterday morning. Or rather, I sent her an e-mail. Do you want to know what it said?’
‘I’m not sure that I do.’
‘It said,“Dear Bev, I’ve got this problem. I fell in love with my landlady but, being a bit slow on the uptake in some ways poor dear, she didn’t realise it for six months. And then, on the day she did finally get it we had this awful row. She told me to ‘fuck RIGHT off and NEVER come back!!’ Do you think she really meant it? Stumped of Stockwell.”’
‘And what did Beverley say?’
‘She e-mailed me back straight away saying that, no, in her considered opinion, she didn’t think you’d meant it at all.’
‘Oh really?’
‘She said she thought it was just your way of expressing affection.’
‘I see.’
‘So, encouraged, I decided to come round.’
‘You seem confident of a warm reception.’
‘Oh, I am.’
‘Isn’t that a bit complacent?’
‘No. Because I know for a fact you’re mad about me.’
‘Am I?’
‘Yes. You’re nuts about me.’
‘No I’m not. I’m just being civil and polite.’
‘That’s balls. You’re being a right old frosty-face, but you’re crazy about me, Rose.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘Two things. Point number one—you’re wearing my old tee shirt.’ Oh shit.
‘Well, i
t was…convenient. I was in a panic this morning and everything else was in the wash.’
‘And point number two—’
‘Theo’s so lovely!’ yelled Rudy in my voice. ‘I don’t want him to leave. He’s lovely! I want him to stay.’
Theo smiled his lop-sided smile. ‘That’s point number two. He began shouting it at me the minute I got here. I felt quite encouraged.’
‘Well…I wouldn’t take too much notice—he’s a bird brain.’ We stared at each other for a few seconds, then I felt my eyes fill.
‘I thought you were going to love me and leave me,’ I said quietly.
He shook his head. ‘No. I’m going to love you and love you.’
‘Ah.’
‘Would you like a hug then, Rose?’
I nodded, slowly. He pulled me to him, and wrapped me in his arms and I felt his breath in my ear. ‘And is it all right if I give you a kiss?’ he whispered. ‘As it’s your birthday and everything.’ I nodded again. Then Theo pressed his lips to mine, very gently, and we stayed like that for a minute or two.
‘Your glasses have steamed up,’ I said.
He took them off, and rubbed them on the hem of my tee shirt and squinted at me. ‘You know you look much better with them on.’ Then he hugged me again, rocking me gently from side to side, like silent slow dancing. I felt a tear slide down my cheek.
‘I’m sorry,’ I croaked. ‘I wanted to make it up—but I didn’t know how.’
‘I’m sorry too. I’m a blunt bugger, aren’t I?’
‘Well yes, you are blunt. You’re also very sharp. And that’s why I got so annoyed. Because I knew, deep down, it was true. I didn’t just enjoy being needed—I needed to be needed. But now I’ve given it all up. Or, rather, it’s given me up. No more agony.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘Bev told me. But what will you do?’
‘I haven’t a clue. Ricky said he’d try and find me something else. It won’t pay as well, but I’ll manage somehow.’
‘We’ll manage,’ Theo said.
An hour or so later, the canapés were nearly done, I’d showered and put on a frock and the house was filling up with my friends. I should have called the party a Fortissimo rather than a Fortification I thought happily as I listened to the swelling noise.
Every time we say goodbye…sang Ella.
‘I fry a little…’ crooned Theo as he quickly cooked another batch of cocktail sausages.
Every time…we say goodbye…
‘I Crisp ’n’ Dry a little… Here Rose—slap some honey and tarragon on this lot. And don’t forget the paper napkins.’
The twins were passing round the smoked salmon blinis while Henry was pouring the Pimms. I’d been worried that Bea would be hurt at seeing him with Beverley, but she’d told me she couldn’t care less.
‘Oh I’ve got over him,’ she’d said airily the day before. ‘Remember, Rose, I’m having a baby—my life has moved on. In any case I genuinely don’t mind because I like Bev,’ she’d added. ‘She’s a jolly good egg.’ And now there Bea was, chatting animatedly to Beverley, who looked like the second happiest woman there.
‘Thank you for what you said to Theo,’ I whispered to her a few minutes later as Bea stepped into the garden.
‘Well, I didn’t say much.’
‘But your advice was great. Ask Bev,’ I added with a giggle.
‘Ask Bev and Trev,’ she said. ‘That’s what Ricky wants to call it.’
‘Really?’ I stroked Trevor’s ears. ‘Well, why shouldn’t a dog be an agony aunt—I mean, uncle?’
‘But I want to thank you, Rose,’ Bev murmured.
‘Why? I didn’t do anything.’
‘You did! You helped me find a fantastic man—and a wonderful new career!’
I shook my head. ‘No, Bev. They found you. I’m just so glad you’re happy,’ I added.
‘Oh, Rose, I am. I’m jumping for joy.’
Now, as I went into the garden with the tray of vol au vents I caught snatches of conversation.
‘—We’ve been horribly out of touch with Rose.’
‘—Well we hadn’t seen her for over a year.’
‘—No, not astrology—astronomy.’
‘—But then I guess she’s had a lot going on.’
‘—Bella and I can’t drink, Henry. We’re pregnant.’
‘—Nice garden.’
‘—Oh, all right then—just a splash.’
At ten o’clock Theo produced a cake, decorated with red marzipan roses, and everyone toasted me with champagne and sang Happy Birthday. And as I blew out the four large candles I leaned in too far and the ends of my hair caught fire.
‘Flaming June!’ cried the twins, then helped pat it out. There was a singeing smell. ‘Speech!’
‘Well, I don’t have much to say, except that I’m glad that you’re all here, and that I have such—lovely—people with me today to help me celebrate. I do feel…fortified.’
At eleven people began to drift away in taxis, muttering about babysitters and last trains, and by half past eleven they’d all gone. I surveyed the debris. Stray napkins fluttered amongst the flowerbeds; crisps and Twiglets speckled the grass. Wine bottles lay like felled skittles on the patio, and there was a small lagoon of spilled Pimms. The light fittings were threaded with the rainbow strings from party poppers and two ashtrays overflowed. Red wine had been spilt on the pink tablecloth which was hummocked and hillocked with salt.
‘What a mess,’ I said to Theo with a sigh. ‘It’s just…lovely.’
‘Yes,’ he smiled. ‘It is. It’s a lovely, happy mess.’
‘Shame to clear it up really,’ I said as I gathered up discarded gift-wrap.
‘Hmm.’
‘What a great evening though.’
‘Oh yes. It was grand.’
I smiled at him. Grand. ‘You’re grand, Theo,’ I said.
‘Hey, you haven’t opened my present yet,’ he said. ‘I mean your other one.’ Theo put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small box. ‘Here.’ I removed the red tissue paper and lifted the lid. Inside was a gold charm bracelet, with one charm on it—a star.
‘Thank you, Theo.’ I kissed him. ‘It’s lovely.’
‘It’s so that you’ll have a charmed life. I shall give you a charm every birthday.’
‘I wonder how many I’ll end up with then?’
He smiled. ‘Oh, lots. And you’ve already got one charm, Rose. I mean, apart from the star.’
‘Yes.’ I thought of the Aladdin’s lamp. ‘I know.’
‘And I thought, maybe you’ll want to put that one on it too, one day.’
‘Yes. You’re right. Maybe I will.’
‘Still no news?’ I shook my head. ‘Well, best not to think about it. Give it another week, then you could write to Mrs Wilson again and see if she’ll tell you anything more. I’ll put all your cards on the mantelpiece shall I?’ He went into the sitting room, and I began to collect up the plates and glasses. Then he reappeared with some envelopes in his hand.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘These were on the hall table. I picked them off the mat when I arrived.’ Of course. In my panic to get ready I’d forgotten about them. There were three birthday cards, a phone bill and two letters, one marked Confidential, which had originally been sent to me c/o the Post. Beverley had redirected it. I tore it open. It was handwritten, and very short.
Dear Rose, We have never met, but I wanted to let you know that although Jon is still very unwell, he is at last beginning to show signs of improvement following his bone marrow transplant last week. To our huge relief—after a year of anguish—Ed was found to be a very close match. Thank you so much, Rose, for the part you played in his recovery. We will love you for ever. Claire Wright.
‘I’ve got you, under my sink…’ I heard Theo croon as he began to wash up. ‘I’ve got you deep in the…are you all right there, Rose?’
‘What?’
‘What’s up? You look sad.’
‘No. No,
I’m not sad at all.’
‘Is it serious then?’ I nodded. ‘Can I see?’ He dried his hands and I handed him the letter.
‘Thank God for that,’ he breathed. ‘So he finally did the right thing. Do you feel differently about him now?’ he asked me as he handed it back. Did I feel differently about Ed now? That was a very good question.
‘Yes,’ I replied truthfully. ‘And no.’ And now, as Theo began to wash the glasses, I looked at the second letter which was A5 size, thick to the touch and franked, rather than stamped, with a promotional postmark saying ‘New Horizons!’ Some promotional thing I presumed. I began to open it, then turned it over and saw that it was from Australia and that it was addressed to ‘Rose Wright’. My heart stopped. Then I felt it start to beat again, my hand visibly trembling as I ran my thumb along the rest of the flap. Heart banging like a tom-tom I pulled out a sealed envelope, inscribed, To Rose and a letter, typed on two sides. It was from a man called Dennis Thornton, writing from an address in Adelaide. As I began to read I felt as though I were barely breathing—all the air emptied out of my lungs.
Dear Rose, I don’t quite know how to begin this letter, but I believe—in fact I know—that I am your stepfather…
‘This is it,’ I said to Theo. ‘It’s come.’ I glanced at the clock; I wanted to know exactly what time it was. It was a quarter to twelve. It was a quarter to twelve on June the first. I would remember this moment for the rest of my life. Theo turned off the taps, and leaned against the worktop as I read on.
Six weeks ago a family friend, Marjorie Wilson, wrote to my wife, Rachel—your birth mother—My mother’s name is Rachel, I thought wonderingly. Her name’s Rachel. It was as though a light had been switched on.
Mrs Wilson’s letter was short, the purpose of it being to enclose a copy of the notice you had placed in the press about your abandonment in 1962. Mrs Wilson tactfully suggested that Rachel, with whom she had kept in sporadic, but friendly touch, might find it interesting. She was quite right. Since then I have spoken to Mrs Wilson by phone, and she said that something about your advertisement—and the date mentioned on it—had made her think. She told me that she had always had her doubts about what really happened to the baby she had delivered, and helped to care for, in the summer of 1962. After contacting you, and satisfying herself that you really are that baby, she then wrote to my wife.