Cocktails, Wedding Bells and Summer Madness

Chapter 3-2

Rose and Shelly had first met in infants’ school. Rose could still remember her first day. Standing in the playground clutching onto her mum’s hand, looking nervously down at the floor while hundreds of other children whooped and raced around her. The bell had rung and the children had begun lining up. Rose had clutched onto her mother’s hand even tighter. Pure dread had coursed through her five-year-old veins. The thought of spending an entire day away from home had her stomach in knots. Tears had escaped from her eyes when her mother had tried to prise her hand away. They had escalated to loud sobs, which had intensified when she noticed some of the other children sniggering her way. Eventually, a teacher had come over and had taken a wailing Rose inside. The doors had closed and her mum had gone. School had officially begun.

Rose was a quiet, shy child, who didn’t make friends easily. Her teachers often described her as reserved. In Rose’s young mind, the boys were far too boisterous for her liking and the girls were far too giggly. While her peers were expounding their energy on scooters and balls, Rose would prefer to sit and read a book. Then, halfway through her first year of school, Shelly had started.

The new girl had been buddied up with Rose. “Look after her,” Mrs Price had asked, and Rose had taken Shelly under her wing. They had been best friends all the way through primary and secondary school. At sixteen, Shelly had secured a job as an apprentice hairdresser and Rose had started working at the call centre. Two years later, Shelly announced she wanted to see the world and was going travelling. Her late father had left her a substantial amount of money in his will, which paid for an around-the-world ticket. Of course Shelly had invited Rose to go with her, cajoling, pleading, even resorting to begging. But Rose was adamant; her home was Twineham and she was happy here. She was progressing well at work; the money was good, and they were sending her on business courses. And Rose couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her family, her mum and dad. She was a home bird; always had been.

On a wet February morning, Rose had hugged her friend for the final time. Shelly had left with one suitcase and a promise to write every month. For a while, she did write, telling Rose about her adventures in America, Europe, Asia and then, when she decided to stay on in Australia, the letters and postcards slowly dwindled away. The last correspondence she had received was an envelope full of photographs of Shelly at the Great Barrier Reef. There had been other friends since Shelly; people from church and the book club, but no one could make her laugh like her nomadic friend; no one sparkled like Shelly. And she was coming home, her best friend was coming back to Twineham and Rose Archer couldn’t be happier.