A French Wedding (21 page)

Chapter 14

Rosie

R
osie's hands are sunk in warm, soapy water. Though
Juliette begged her not to, washing up
gives
her something to do. Something familiar. Something safe. She rubs a dishcloth over a plate and stares out the window into the garden. There is a breeze bossing the flowers and leaves. She watches the branches of the Linden tree sway.

‘Mornin'.'

Beth lifts her palm to Juliette, who is preparing breakfast. Juliette looks pale and tired, Beth looks young and radiant. She is wearing a robin-egg blue short set and red lipstick. Her hair is in victory rolls on the top of her head.

‘
Bonjour,
' Juliette replies.

Beth picks up the dishcloth hanging over the tap.

‘You don't have to –' Rosie says.

‘I made kind of a mess last night.'

‘
How are you feeling?'

‘Much better. So sorry about that.'

Rosie shrugs. ‘I have three boys. You can't shock me with a little vomit.'

Beth gives a tentative laugh.

‘It's not an invitation to throw up again,' Rosie warns.

‘Got it,' Beth replies.

The women stand shoulder to shoulder. Rosie glances at Beth's clothes and hair, then down at her bare feet and back again. ‘I like your outfit.'

‘Thanks. I made this,' Beth says, shrugging.

‘You can sew?'

‘A bit. My mama taught me.'

‘Taught you well it looks like,' Rosie says.

‘Thank you.'

‘Where is Eddie?' Rosie asks.

‘Sleeping off the hangover.'

‘That could take a while.'

Heads down, they smile at the same time.

‘He's not much help in the kitchen,' Beth concedes.

‘No,' Rosie replies.

‘When I moved in I washed every single cup and plate and pot in the cupboard. They were filthy.'

Rosie nods.

‘He's a lot of fun, though,' Beth adds quickly. ‘He makes me laugh.' She reaches for one of the bigger pots, dunks it in the water and sets to work scrubbing at it with the cloth.

‘He's always made us laugh,' Rosie replies. ‘Eddie and Max. They're our clowns.'

Juliette retrieves a bowl from a cupboard and returns to her chopping board.

‘How did you and Hugo meet?' Beth asks, taking two plates and handing one to Rosie to wash.

Rosie looks down at it. ‘At a pub.'

‘You've been married for a long time?'

‘Yes,' Rosie replies. Thinking:
So so long
. Last night they had slept with their backs to each other, pretending the other didn't exist. Hugo hated it when she drank too much. Hugo hated it when she had too much fun. Rosie scrubs every inch of the plate in her hand.

‘Are you considering it? Marriage?' she adds, not looking directly at her.

‘Oh, well. I don't know …' Beth pauses, pressing her lips together. ‘I don't know how I feel about marriage.'

‘Good for you.'

‘It seems –' Beth starts.

‘Hard,' Rosie finishes for her. ‘Yeah, it's hard.'

Beth picks up a tea towel hanging on a rail and stands on the other side of Rosie, drying the dishes Rosie has washed.

‘Why do people bother?' Beth mumbles, thinking out loud. ‘Sorry, I …'

Rosie shakes her head. ‘It's okay.'

‘Here. Look,' Rosie says, ‘put your hands in the water and make a cup.' She presses her hands together tightly and dips them in the water. ‘Like this.'

When Rosie lifts her hands, the water is caught in a little pool.

Beth tries it. She scoops up some water, but it disappears quickly, slipping through the gaps between her fingers.

‘Try to keep it in your hands,' Rosie instructs.

Beth tries again, with Juliette now looking over, but the water slides through. Juliette glances at Rosie, whose hands are resting against the edge of the sink, engagement and wedding rings sparkling. Beth turns to Rosie.

‘Are you messin' with me?' she asks softly. ‘I don't get it. It's about marriage?'

Rosie murmurs, ‘You'll try it again. We all do. We keep trying, even though we know it won't work. It just seems like it should.'

Beth is staring at her fingers when Rosie rights herself. She feels old and cynical. She looks over to Juliette.

‘How about you, Juliette?'

‘Pardon?'

‘What do you think of marriage?'

‘I don't have too many personal opinions about it.'

‘Have you been married?'

‘Oh.' Juliette looks a little caught off guard by the question. ‘No, never been married.'

The door opens. All three women turn to watch Eddie walk in.

‘Ladies,' he greets them, kissing Beth on the ear.

‘Hey,' she says, blushing.

Rosie clears her throat. ‘What are you doing up at this hour?' She passes Eddie a tea towel, which he drapes over his shoulder.

‘I'm always up at this time. Aren't I, Beth?'

Beth smiles and shakes her head.

‘I'm up, I go for a run, I make a kale smoothie, I return to do my yoga practice.'

When Eddie stretches, his t-shirt sleeves fall back to reveal the thick, dark hair of his armpits. He looks like a man but he is still a boy, Rosie thinks. It makes her feel sad. The same number of years have passed for both of them and Rosie feels ancient for them, while Eddie can still look and seem like a teenager.

‘Always the clown. How do you live with it?' Rosie asks Beth.

Beth stares at Eddie lovingly. Eddie holds up his palms. ‘Hey, girls, please. Don't fight over me, it's embarrassing.'

Beth
cuddles into one side of him and Eddie reaches out
and pulls Rosie into his other side. Rosie squeals and Beth giggles.

‘This is better. We should all just get along, don't you think?'

Juliette looks over and smiles.

The door opens again. Hugo nods at Juliette then looks over to the trio by the sink. He stares at Rosie. Rosie stares back, heart sinking.

‘Ah, my beautiful muses,' Eddie says, with a dramatic sigh. ‘My past …' He kisses the top of Rosie's head. ‘And my present …' He kisses the top of Beth's head. Rosie watches Beth's smile wane as she glances at the flagstones on the floor. She knows Beth had expected him to say ‘future'. When Rosie looks back at her husband his stare is so fierce it could burn holes. She should have told him. She should have told him a long time ago; from the beginning. But back then she had been telling white lies and as time wore on it seemed like such a silly, minor thing to confess. The fury on Hugo's face should make Rosie guilty and ashamed, should make her terrified. Instead she is flooded with a kind of weariness. Hugo turns, his hand slapping against the door.

‘Hugo?'

All of them now looking at the long, lean back of him, exiting the kitchen.

‘Hugo!' Rosie calls, louder this time.

The door bangs.

‘Shit,' Rosie sighs, walking after him. She pushes past Helen and Max, coming into the kitchen as she goes out. Helen wearing a white shirt and navy shorts. Max with pillow creases on his cheek.

*

Hampstead Heath, 1999

‘Rosie?'

Rosie was lying back against a picnic blanket, a dark denim jacket tucked under her head.

‘Hmm?'

‘I'm pregnant.'

Rosie sat up. In front of them Lars and Eddie and Helen were kicking a football. Helen wore a long skirt and lots of bangles. She was hopeless but the boys weren't great either. They were all laughing and Helen's bangles were jingling as she ran and Eddie was trying to trip Lars up with his foot. Rosie turned to face Nina.

‘Are you sure?'

Nina laughed. Broad and deep and clear, like she always did. She reached into her handbag and tossed Rosie the test stick. ‘Very sure.'

Rosie stared at it. The stick was so light. So insignificant; not much bigger than a ballpoint pen. But there were the two blue stripes and the diagram beside indicating just what that meant. Rosie turned it over as though there might be more information on the back. As though it might be a joke. Nina gently took it from her hands and put it back into her bag.

‘How …?'

‘You need me to tell you how?' Nina asked.

Nina reached over to the container full of rice salad studded with fat raisins and ate a few forkfuls. They both watched Helen fall over, giggling, and Lars reaching out to lift her back up. Max was talking to some girl that had come racing over to get his autograph. He had been travelling a lot since the album had come out. Most recently in the States; driving through deserts, buying cowboy boots and mirrored sunglasses, smoking pot, playing in bigger and bigger venues, sleeping with reedy pretty girls with long, straight hair.

‘What will you do?' Rosie asked.

‘Win Lotto,' Nina replied.

‘Nina –'

‘Is Prince William too young to marry?'

‘Yes.'

‘A shame.'

Rosie wanted to say so many things all at once – you're not married, you don't have enough money, Lars doesn't have a proper job, you haven't got a house, you are only twenty-four – but Nina interrupted her thoughts.

‘Everything is going to be fine, Rosie.'

Rosie watched Nina eat more salad. She was too calm. Rosie glanced at Lars. He was a bit drunk. He lolloped across the grass, like he always did, with too much legginess, as though he might tumble over at any moment. Lars was likeable, but he wasn't someone to bank your whole life on. The same was true about Eddie and exactly the reason Rosie had broken up with him. Lars wasn't going to look after Nina the way she should be looked after. Nina was so smart, fearless and practical. She could be a publisher one day, she could run a business. Lars, on the other hand, had no ambition. He worked at a record store. He had worked at the same record store for years. Part time through college and now full time; the pay and prospects were terrible. The manager, Bob, with the ZZ Top beard and the endless wardrobe of black t-shirts, was not going to quit until he died, probably on the shop floor. Rosie worked in retail too, for now, but it was different, she had other options. She had Hugo.

Max waved goodbye to the girl-fan and hoisted Helen onto his back, piggybacking while he kicked the football to Eddie and Lars. His sunglasses were slipping down his nose. Max looked good these days. He kept his hair shaved short all the time now and his leather jackets were new instead of worn and faintly stinking. The rock star thing suited him. Helen's bare feet stuck out from the bottom of her skirt, grass stained, with a silver ring on her second toe. She bounced up and down as Max raced after the ball. She laughed, with her head back and barely holding on to him.

‘Those two,' Rosie said.

‘Those two,' Nina agreed.

‘They should just get together.'

Nina laughed. ‘Do you think so?'

‘You don't?'

‘They seem more like brother and sister to me.'

‘But Max wants to sleep with her so badly you can practically smell the …' Rosie searched for a word Hugo had used once ‘Pheromones … coming off him.'

‘They're too much the same. They'd wreck it. They'd wreck each other.' Nina frowned.

Rosie watched as Helen finally fell back on to the grass. She laughed in big gulps as Max rolled on top of her. She slapped him away and he tumbled off the other side, onto his back. He squeezed his hand into his jeans pocket and wiggled out a packet of smokes.

‘Helen knows it. But she can't let him go.'

Rosie looked at her friend. ‘You think so? Isn't that kind of mean?'

Nina shrugged. ‘She loves him. In her own way.'

Eddie and Lars continued with the football as Max and Helen lay blowing smoke into the blue sky. Eddie was holding a beer bottle. Lars kicked the ball into a group of girls and the one who'd been talking to Max threw it back. Rosie tried to imagine Hugo with them, tried to imagine Eddie, Lars and Hugo playing football together. Hugo did like football, he supported Chelsea. But somehow Rosie couldn't envision Hugo amongst them. Hugo had been meant to come today but he was needed at the hospital. Rosie felt smug when Hugo was called away, when he was needed. He was important. He knew things. He could recite poetry. He was smart. He had his act together. Plus, he looked so good in a suit. He would look so good on their wedding day. Hugo hadn't proposed, but he would. Rosie already knew the ring she wanted and the dress she wanted and the house she wanted with a nursery for the babies. It was all ahead of her.

A song came on the stereo they'd brought with them and Rosie watched Lars flap his arms about. Lars's enthusiasm sparked through his whole body, sending his limbs flailing.
‘

Yes! Turn it up, Nina!' he called.

Nina reached over to the stereo. Rosie snuck a glance at her stomach. It looked exactly the same. And yet there was a tiny life in there. Rosie shook her head. No money! No house! No proper job!

‘You okay?' Nina asked, peering at her.

‘Yeah …'

‘Just say it, Rosie. You haven't stopped frowning.'

She wanted to know if they would get married. She wanted to know if Lars would get a proper job now. Instead she said, the truth of it all coming out in one, ‘I just don't get it.'