Chapter 3-1
1348 Words
three
The following morning, Rose was thoroughly ‘under the weather’. She had tossed and turned for most of the night, sneezing and coughing. Finally, at five o’clock she had given up on sleep and was shuffling about the kitchen with a mug of hot Lemsip and a wet cold flannel pressed to her perspiring forehead.
“I’ll ring in for you,” her mother decided, “and on my way home from work I’ll bring you some cough medicine.”
“I should go to work,” Rose bit her lip, “it’s really busy; new clients continually signing up, trying to stop the old, disgruntled clients from leaving. And I’m supposed to be taking the security guard’s wife to the knitting club.”
“Never mind the knitting club,” Fran fussed around her, “your health comes first. Now go on back to bed. The house will be quiet today, your dad and Marty are working late and Gran is off to the daycentre.”
“Did someone mention me?” Granny Faith hobbled into the kitchen.
“I was just telling Rose she should stay off work,” Fran explained, clicking on the kettle.
Faith glanced at her granddaughter. “You do look peaky. How did it go last night between you and Jeremy, by the way?”
“There is no me and Jeremy.” Rose slumped in the chair. “He’s no longer interested.”
“The sly bugger.” Faith prodded her stick in the air. “Wait until I catch hold of him!”
Fran frowned at her mother. “We thought you were stepping out together,” Faith continued. “Didn’t he tell you he loved you a couple of months ago?”
Rose shook her head. “He’s had a change of heart and I really don’t want to discuss it anymore.”
“Plenty more fish in the sea.” Faith settled herself in her rocking chair. “I never liked him much, anyway. Always thought he had sly eyes. You can do better, our Rose.”
“You are beautiful,” Fran agreed. “Jeremy must be crazy.”
Rose stared down at the powdery drink. “Maybe I’ll finish this upstairs.”
Fran patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry about work. You never have time off. They’ll just have to cope without you for a day or two. Go on back to bed and try to sleep.”
Rose stood up and kissed her mum on the cheek. “Thank you.”
As she climbed the stairs, she could hear Fran chastising her gran: “Stop poking your nose in Rose’s business.”
“I’m worried about her,” Granny Faith bit back. “That girl needs someone to take care of her. A real man. An alpha male.”
If only, thought Rose as she pulled back the duvet and wearily snuggled back into dreamland.
By lunchtime and after more sleep and paracetamol, Rose was feeling slightly better. She showered and then padded downstairs to watch mundane afternoon T.V with chocolate and crisps as an unhealthy accompaniment. Her dad came home for lunch, banging down the hall with his toolbox and with her brother Marty in tow.
“How are you, our Rose?” Rod stood in the doorway. His hair and face were flecked with splatters of paint.
“Not too bad,” she replied, breaking off a piece of Galaxy and offering it to him.
“You’d say that if you were on your deathbed!” He flopped down on the sofa next to her, munching on the chocolate.
Marty sat down on the other side of her and all three of them stared at the panel of women on the afternoon debating show.
“Feminists everywhere.” Marty shook his head at the television screen. “No wonder Janey’s given up on me.”
“Have you had another fall-out?” Rose slid a sympathetic glance at her brother, who had helped himself to her bumper bag of Doritos.
“Yep. This time it’s for good.” He waved a crisp in the air. “She wants time out to find herself.”
“Oh.” Rose noticed her brother’s face growing redder by the second.
“You haven’t heard the best of it,” he continued. “Now she’s not sure she even likes men anymore!”
Rose hid her gasp with a cough.
“She’s given up her job. Said she’s enrolling at university with her new best friend, Lola. They’re going to do art.” He spat the last word out, his face twisting into a sneer. “She thinks going out with a painter and decorator is beneath her now.”
“You’re brilliant at your job,” Rose soothed, looking at her dad for confirmation, “isn’t that right, Dad?”
“Course it is, love.” Rod shoved more chocolate in his mouth. “Me and your brother own the best painting business in the Midlands, I reckon. He’s my protégé and will be carrying on the family’s decorating business when my knees finally pack up.”
“I need to have kids,” Marty gabbled, “then I can pass on my expertise to my son and carry on the family name.”
“You might have girls,” Rose pointed out.
“Then they can pick up the paint brushes, too.” He pointed at the screen. “What is it these feminists say? There should be no gender bias in employment anymore.”
“You need to settle down with a woman first,” Rod argued, shaking his head at his son. “How many girls have come and gone over the past few years?”
“Maybe he hasn’t met the right one,” Rose cut in, wanting to defend her brother.
“He’s had enough blooming experience!” Rod shot up just as the phone began ringing shrilly.
“Where the heck is it?” Marty and Rose got up to look underneath the cushions and down the side of the armchairs.
“I miss the static telephones,” Rod complained, scratching his head. “There it is – underneath your granny’s crossword magazines.”
The three of them dived for it but it was Rod who reached it first.
“Hello, Archer residence.”
Rose rolled her eyes and suppressed a titter as her dad strutted regally around the room.
“Yes, she’s here. But she ain’t well. Who is it?”
Rose held out her hand, but her dad was craning his neck, concentrating on listening to the voice on the other end of the line.
“Shelly?”
Rose’s eyes widened with surprise. “Shelly?” she echoed.
“Hot Shelly from school?” Marty was making googly eyes. “You sure she doesn’t want me, Dad?”
“Yes, she’s here. Hang on, love.” Rod pressed his hand over the mouthpiece and mouthed the obvious. “It’s Shelly from school.”
Rose took the phone off her dad. “Hello, Shelly?”
“Rose!” came the screech from the end of the line. “Yes, it’s me, Shelly.”
An image of her oldest school friend popped into Rose’s mind. A voluptuous blonde teenager who had been popular with everyone; especially the boys.
“How are you?” Rose fumbled with the TV remote, searching for the mute button.
“I’m good. No, I’m great, still living it large in Australia.”
Shelly had left Britain ten years ago to travel around the world. Hopping from country to country until finally settling in Australia. It had been years since Rose had heard from her.
“It’s been so long,” Rose said. “What are you doing with yourself now? Are you still hairdressing?”
Shelly snorted. “I gave that up years ago. Now I’m doing something far more exciting. I work for a radio station in Sydney, as a researcher. It’s my dream job Rose, I love it.”
Rose could hear the excitement in her friend’s voice and smiled. “That’s wonderful.”
“How about you? What are you up to now?”
Rose swallowed. “I’m… still working in the call centre.”
“You’re still there?” Shelly’s tone had turned incredulous. “And you’re obviously still living in Twineham. But are you married? Do you have kids?”
“No and no.” Rose glanced at her dad and brother. “I’m still living with Mum and Dad and Gran lives with us now, too.”
“Granny Faith,” Shelly laughed, “love her.” Rose could hear the sound of thumping music in the background. “Look, I have to go, I’m on my lunch break. I just wanted to ring and tell you that I’m coming home, Rose. Back to Britain.”
“You are?” Rose stared at the phone.
Shelly chuckled. “You could sound happier. Your oldest school friend is returning from her travels!”
“That’s fantastic!” Rose bit her lip. “When are you coming home, Shelly?”
“In a week or so. That’s if I can get organised in time. I have to go now but I’ll see you real soon, Rosie.” The line crackled then went dead.
“Shelly’s coming home?” her dad queried.
“Sexy Shelly’s coming back here?” Marty thumped the arm of the sofa. “Yes!”
“She’s coming back.” Rose’s head was spinning. “My best friend is coming home.”
- Writer
