by Sandy Taylor
‘Colin’s a cat,’ said Stephen. ‘But who’s Maud Roberts?’
The solicitor looked down at some papers on his desk.
‘Oh I’m terribly sorry. Mrs Roberts did tell me that you knew her as Rose Toshimo.’
You could have heard a pin drop in the room. The three of us stared at Miles Granger as if he had three heads.
‘Are you quite sure?’ said Tristan eventually.
‘Quite sure,’ said the solicitor, smiling at us.
‘So we don’t have to move?’ said Stephen.
‘Not if you don’t want to. What you do with the house now is up to you.’
Stephen burst into tears. Tristan and I were close to it.
‘Can I offer you a drink? You look as if you need one.’
‘I think we’d like to go home,’ I said. I looked at the others and they nodded.
‘Well if I can’t interest you in a drink then perhaps you would like to have a little celebration later,’ he said, opening a cabinet and handing Tristan a bottle of what looked like champagne.
‘I will be in touch,’ he said, seeing us to the door.
We all shook his hand and thanked him.
‘Don’t thank me,’ he said. ‘Thank the lovely Maud.’
‘Rose,’ said Stephen. ‘She’s Rose to us.’
‘Of course,’ said the solicitor, smiling.
We didn’t speak all the way home. We were in total shock. Tristan opened the front door, and we went inside. We stood in the middle of Rose’s front room and looked at each other.
‘So Rose was really Maud,’ said Tristan. ‘And she was never married to Mr Toshimo.’
‘She never lied to us though, did she?’ I said. ‘I mean I never once heard her refer to him as her husband. She always called him her oriental gentleman.’
‘I think our Rose was a bit of a dark horse,’ said Tristan, smiling.
‘Do we really own this house?’ asked Stephen, looking around the room.
Tristan smiled at him. ‘We do, my love.’
I walked over to Rose’s cabinet and got out three of her best crystal glasses. ‘I think this is what she would have wanted,’ I said.
Tristan poured the champagne and we raised our glasses to the poster of ‘Madame Rose. The girl with the magic fingers.’
‘To Rose,’ we said in unison.
57
It had been Tristan’s idea to turn Oriental Place into a theatrical boarding house, and although I wasn’t that sure to begin with, it was proving to be a huge success. It had taken about six months before we were ready to open it to guests. Rose had never used the basement, and when the three of us had first stood in the gloomy damp space beneath the house I understood why.
‘Okay,’ Tristan had said. ‘It doesn’t look much now…’
‘You can say that again,’ I’d said. ‘It’s awful. It smells like something’s died down here.’
Stephen had done a bit of a twirl. ‘Imagine pink carpets and chandeliers, darling.’
Tristan had smiled at him. ‘We were thinking of a B&B, dearest, not a ballroom.’
‘Just trying to bring a positive note to the proceedings.’ Stephen had looked around. ‘Okay, maybe not a ballroom, but wouldn’t it make a wonderful kitchen-diner?’
I hadn’t been convinced. ‘Really?’
Stephen had put his arm around my shoulder. ‘Think outside the box, Dottie. French dressers, wooden floorboards, onions hanging off the ceiling.’
‘Onions hanging off the ceiling?’
‘Work with me, Dottie.’
‘Believe me, Stephen, I’m trying.
‘And me and Tristan looking fabulous in matching aprons, cooking up a storm.’
‘If you say so,’ I’d said, giggling.
And that’s where we standing now, in our beautiful kitchen, minus the onions, admiring the sparkling white dishwasher that had just been delivered.
‘Imagine,’ said Stephen, examining his hands. ‘No more washing-up. Bliss.’
The boys had been running the boarding house for five years, and although it was hard work they loved every second. I’d moved back to my flat on the top floor, and we’d turned Rose’s sitting room into the residents’ lounge. The hallway was now a reception area, complete with a beautiful mahogany desk we’d bought from a little antique shop in the Lanes. We had had such fun in those early days, kitting the place out and renovating the basement. We had kept Rose’s sitting room almost exactly as it had been when Rose was alive, complete with the faded pink chaise longue and the green velvet chairs. The posters were still on the wall, and the piano still had pride of place in front of the window. At first Tristan and I had wanted to put new furniture in there, but as Stephen pointed out, ‘It’s perfect as it is. It looks like a stage set for The Importance of Being Earnest. They’ll love it.’
He’d been right – no one who stayed in Oriental Place felt intimidated. They loved the old-world charm. They felt at home there and came back year after year. It was like having old friends to stay. Various actors and performers would sit in the lounge, reminiscing about plays and musicals they’d been in. Someone was always tinkling on the piano or playing the old radiogram. The house had come alive again, with Stephen and Tristan taking centre stage as the magnificently flamboyant hosts. They had found their place; they weren’t scared any more. If Rose was looking down, I think she would have approved.
When Miranda Louise turned five she started school, and Rita joined us at Oriental Place. We had become so busy that we welcomed her with open arms. She helped the boys in the kitchen and served at the tables. The most surprising thing of all was how well the three of them got on. I would often hear shrieks of laughter coming from the kitchen. She stopped taking herself so seriously – Tristan and Stephen wouldn’t let her. These days when she tried to take the moral high ground it was easier to bat her down without her taking offence, and she and I became friends at last. This made me very happy; I really felt that I had my sister back – the sister I remembered from when we were children. I didn’t kid myself that we wouldn’t still have the odd spat, but something had changed, and I knew that we would be okay.
Mum and Dad didn’t say much about it, but I could tell how pleased they were.
As for Carol, well we didn’t see much of her these days, but when she did come home she was driving a flashy new car. Aunty Brenda told anyone who would listen about her famous daughter, the model.
The annual summer show was playing at the end of the West Pier so all our rooms were full. We had twin sisters staying who were contortionists and did very bendy things with their bodies. They looked perfectly normal at breakfast, but I went to see the show with my mum and my Aunty Brenda, and we were totally shocked. As Aunty Brenda said, ‘There’s nothing natural about that, Dottie. Legs aren’t supposed to go round the back of your neck.’
‘Well the way I see it,’ said Mum, ‘if they can make money out of having a bendy body then good luck to them. I wish mine was more bendy.’
I had decided to stay at the agency and let the boys run the boarding house. I loved my job, and I hadn’t been ready to give it up. Between us, Millie and I had found a lot of new authors. I was good at my job, and I was getting better at discovering those diamonds in the rough that Tom was looking for. Every day was exciting – every manuscript I took off the pile could be the next big thing. Millie and I arranged book launches. We dressed up and swanned around, feeling glamorous and just a little bit important. I was never going to be a writer, but I loved being around them. I was in awe of them. I was a round peg in a round hole and I loved it.
Tristan said, ‘That’s all very well, darling, but you can’t make your job your life. I’m not saying that you should go out with any old Tom, Dick or Harry that happens to be passing the front door, but there must be someone out there for you, and you won’t find them slaving away all day and staying in all evening.’
‘My heart is already taken,’ I said, making a face at him.
&
nbsp; ‘I don’t know why you don’t take the “No Vacancy” sign out of the window and hang it round your neck.’
‘I might just do that,’ I said, grinning.
Polly moved to Brighton, and she and Tom got married in a lovely little church overlooking the Downs. After the ceremony we all piled onto the Palace Pier and rode the carousel and the ghost train, screaming like teenagers as cobwebs brushed our faces and ghostly images jumped out of the darkness. At the end of the day we all went back to Oriental Place for drinks and a knees-up. Polly and Tom were a perfect match, and we were all delighted with the arrival of their twins Kate and Charlie. Polly and I laughed ourselves silly when we realised the significance of their names. We took to calling them Mr and Mrs Dickens.
Millie was the biggest surprise of all, having shacked up with Malcolm the bathing-hut man, who adored her and turned out to be quite the knight in shining armour. I’d never seen her look so happy.
And as for me I’d resigned myself to the fact that I was destined to be alone, and I was happy with that – well most of the time I was. In bed at night when the house had settled down and everyone was asleep I thought about Ralph. I wondered if he and Fiona had had a child of their own. As far as I knew they had never come back to England again. I wondered if he was happy, and I wondered if he ever thought about me. I had kept in touch with Peggy. I sent cards for birthdays and Christmases. I sent little gifts. She wrote little notes back to me. Ralph always added something at the bottom of the page. Nothing momentous, just thanking me for Peggy’s present or telling me how she was doing at school. He always asked how I was and always ended it with a kiss. I kept all the letters in a little box under my bed, and I would often take them out and read them. It was a connection; it made me feel closer to them. As Peggy got older she was able to tell me more about her life and her friends. She even told me about a boy in her class that she liked. I cherished every one of those letters.
And so life went on, and it was a good life, a full life. I loved my job, I had great friends and family, and I told myself that I didn’t need anything else. That was until the day I went to visit my mum.
‘You’re looking well, Dottie,’ she said, smiling at me as I kissed her cheek.
‘So are you, Mum. You’ve done something to your hair. It looks nice.’
‘Your Aunty Brenda gave me one of those home perms. You know, the ones that come in a box.’
‘Mary and I used to sell those at Woolworths.’
‘Your dad says I look like Rita Hayworth. I’ve made him an appointment at the opticians.’
I laughed. ‘I’m sure Dad’s eyes are perfectly fine.’
‘I’ve just made some tea.’
I laughed. ‘You’ve always just made some tea.’
‘It’s the Irish in me, Dottie. The Irish live on tea. I think my mother gave it to me in my bottle instead of milk.’
‘You never talk much about your parents, Mum.’
‘I suppose I’ve been too busy bringing you children up to think about my own childhood.’
‘You were happy though?’
‘Oh yes, love. Mum was a bit strict, but she had to be, because my dad was soft as butter. I wish you could have known him, Dottie. He was a wonderful man, and he would have loved you.’
‘I wish I could have known him.’
‘My heart broke the day he died, but life goes on, doesn’t it? We learn to go on. And you, my love, are you happy?’
‘I’m fine, Mum. Busy but fine.’
‘I’m glad, Dottie.’
Mum started to pour the tea. I think I knew what she was going to say before she said it.
‘They’re back you see, love. For good this time. They’re back for good.’
After leaving Mum’s I didn’t want to go back to Oriental Place – there were too many people there, and I really needed to be on my own to sort my stupid head out. I walked all the way along the seafront to the Lagoon. This was where Ralph and I had said goodbye. This was where he had told me that he was going to Australia. I can remember feeling so empty as I walked away from him that day, but I can also remember a sense of relief knowing that I wasn’t going to bump into him, knowing that I wouldn’t have to keep looking over my shoulder all the time. It was final – he was going away for good. I could, at last, find some peace. As it turned out I had seen him again. He’d turned my life upside down again, and I’d had to get over him again. This was beginning to feel like a recurring nightmare. Why couldn’t they stay in bloody Australia? Why come back to Brighton? Wasn’t this world big enough to find somewhere else to live? There were hundreds of cities and towns to choose from. Brighton was a small town – I was bound to see them, and I didn’t know how I was going to handle it.
I sat on our bench overlooking the lake. The bench where Ralph and I had sat and dreamed our dreams of a future together. Two seventeen-year-olds, little more that kids really, but we knew what we wanted and didn’t doubt for one second that we’d get it.
I could hear the sound of children playing in the playground on the other side of the green and the clanging of a bell on the little railway behind me. Dad used to take Rita and me here when we were kids. Each carriage had a bell in it with a rope hanging down that we’d ring as we travelled round and round. That’s how I felt about me and Ralph – that we just went round and round, not going anywhere but not able to get off.
I had to get over this. I was thirty-one now. I had loved Ralph almost all my life. I had given him my childhood and my youth. I had cried so many tears over him that it was a wonder I had any tears left. I had given him my heart, and I had loved him, and I had trusted him. I had said goodbye to him over and over again. Well I wasn’t about to run away this time. I had Oriental Place, I had friends, I had a life, and I was determined to live it the best way that I could.
I hurried back along the seafront. I couldn’t wait to get home. Oriental Place was real – it was solid. It didn’t break my heart; it didn’t let me down. I was holding my head up high as I opened the front door.
I didn’t recognise her at first, the girl with the red hair sitting next to Tristan on the pink chaise longue. Then I looked into her eyes and it was as if Mary was looking back at me. She stood up. Peggy at twelve was taller than Mary had ever been.
She looked unsure as she said, ‘Dottie?’
I put my arms around her, and she started to cry. I looked at Tristan over her shoulder.
He stood up. I nodded as he went towards the door, and he looked back at me and smiled.
I eased Peggy back onto the couch and sat down beside her. ‘Don’t cry,’ I said.
‘I’m so sorry! Oh, Dottie, I’m so sorry.’
‘What do you have to be sorry for?’
‘Everything! I spoiled everything, didn’t I? Dad said I hadn’t, but I knew I had. I knew that it was all my fault.’
I took a hankie out of my pocket and gently wiped away her tears. ‘You were just a child. What happened between me and your dad was our fault not yours.’
‘But you would have been together if it wasn’t for me being such a spoiled brat.’
I smiled at her and shook my head. ‘That’s what I thought once, but I know better now.’
Peggy frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you really think that you were the only reason things didn’t work out between me and your dad?’
‘Yes.’
‘Love is a funny old thing, Peggy. You’ll find out yourself one day. Do you know what I really think happened?’
‘What?’
‘I think that we wanted to hurt each other. Me because he married your mum and him because I ran away to London and left him to look after you. I think that in the end we didn’t know how to be happy together. You were just an excuse, because we couldn’t face up to the truth. We couldn’t tell each other how we really felt. I wasn’t angry enough and your dad? Well he wasn’t strong enough. We pretended everything was all right when it wasn’t.’
‘You�
�re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?’
‘No, I think I could have knocked one crabby little girl into shape if I’d put my mind to it.’
Peggy grinned and took hold of my hand. ‘So it’s okay?’
‘Of course it’s okay, and I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling like this.’
‘I was a pain though, wasn’t I?’
‘You were an unhappy little girl.’
She nodded.
‘And now you’ve all come home.’
‘Just me and Dad.’
My heart was pounding out of my chest. ‘And Fiona?’
‘She’s staying in Australia. She likes it there; she didn’t want to leave.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I never wore my dress.’
‘They never got married?’
She stared at me with Mary’s eyes and said, ‘My dad loves you, Dottie.’
I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to say.
‘He doesn’t know I’m here. I’m supposed to be getting chips. I left him on the pier. He’ll be waiting for me.’
‘I’m glad you came to see me, Peggy.’
‘So am I.’
We hugged on the doorstep and I watched her run down the road. So Fiona wasn’t with them. Something stirred inside me. Was it hope?
‘Go after her.’
I turned round to see Tristan standing in the hallway behind me.
‘What?’
‘Go after her, my love.’
I didn’t move.
‘What are you waiting for? ‘
‘I don’t know.’
‘The only man who is ever going to make you truly happy is the father of that girl that just went out the door.’
I looked into the face of this dear man, and I knew that what he was saying was true. I turned towards the door then looked back. ‘Here goes,’ I said.
I hurried down Oriental Place and turned left towards the Palace Pier. Peggy was standing outside the chip shop. ‘I waited,’ she said, smiling. ‘Just in case.’
I gave her a hug, and she handed me one of the bags of chips and a sixpence.