The One You Really Want (29 page)

‘We don't want you to go back to Scotland,' Rennie told her. ‘But if you
want
to go, we can't stop you.'

Rose put down her knife and fork. Her expression softening, she said, ‘That's sweet of you, pet. I've had a wonderful holiday down here.'

‘You don't have to leave,' said Rennie. ‘We'd love it if you'd stay. This house wouldn't be the same without you in it.'

‘Oh, but—'

‘Rose, we don't know how we'd manage without you,' Carmen chipped in. ‘You've cleaned the house. You cook brilliant meals. You're taking care of us. If you think you might like to stay, we'd be so happy. And we'd pay you, of course, to carry on doing everything you've been doing. You could give up your flat in Edinburgh. If you want. It's up to you.'

Rose gazed at her, then at Nancy. Finally she turned to Rennie.

‘Is this another of your jokes?'

‘No.' Rennie smiled, because only Rose could think it might be. ‘We love you. None of us want you to leave.' Teasingly he added, ‘Plus, we think we may starve to death without you.'

‘Mum?' said Nancy. ‘So what d'you think?'

Rose was unable to speak. She was unbelievably touched. The three of them had plotted this between them, but why? Had they any idea how much she loved being here,
being useful
, and how much she'd been inwardly dreading going back to her old life?

‘She doesn't want to,' Rennie declared.

‘I'd love to stay.' Rose's voice quavered with emotion. ‘If you're sure you want me.'

‘Oh, we do.' Carmen grinned.

‘I definitely want you to stay,' said Rennie. ‘And there aren't many ladies I say that to.'

‘Well, in that case, you're going to have to behave yourself. ' Clearing her throat, Rose said briskly, ‘Do as you're told.'

‘Not the washing-up.' Rennie was appalled.

‘Never mind the washing-up.' Rose gave him a severe, I-mean-it look. ‘You're going to do the right thing and finish with that poor girl.'

Rennie came downstairs an hour later. He found Rose alone in the kitchen scouring the washing-up bowl.

‘Right, all done. I told Nicole I couldn't see her again.'

‘Good boy.' Rose had her back to him.

‘Not what she called me. Any leftover roast potatoes in the fridge?'

‘Middle shelf, in the blue dish. Help yourself,' said Rose, still scouring away and sounding distracted.

‘Hey, what's up?' Turning her round to face him, Rennie saw that her eyes were wet with tears. ‘Oh God, Rose, don't cry. Did we force you to stay? Do you really hate us? Here, wipe your eyes.' He couldn't bear to see her upset.

‘You fool, that's a tea towel,' Rose protested, half crying and half laughing at his well-meaning incompetence. ‘And I'm crying because I've never been so happy. I love it here in Fitzallen Square. I love being here in this house with all of you. I love feeling
needed
. This is the very best thing that's ever happened to me.' Dragging a tissue out from the pushed-up sleeve of her blue cardigan, she wiped her eyes and said, ‘Where are you off to, then? Somewhere nice?'

‘I've been a good boy, you just said so yourself.' Rennie, freshly showered and changed into a dark suit and white shirt, flashed her a wicked grin. ‘Now I'm going out to be bad. God, I'm glad I'm not a woman.' Shaking his head in disbelief, he said, ‘Crying when you're sad is one thing. But doing it when you're
happy
, now that is just plain weird.'

Rose gazed down at the damp tissue in her hand, reminded of her brief conversation in the square with Marjorie. Had it only been this morning that she'd been putting on a brave face, pretending that she really didn't mind the prospect of leaving London?

‘I'll have to go back and fetch the rest of my things. What'll I do with my furniture?'

‘Keep what you want to keep, sell the rest.' Rennie shrugged and headed for the fridge. ‘There's plenty of room here.'

This was true. The second-floor bedroom Carmen had given her was in fact larger than her entire flat in Edinburgh. ‘Don't eat
all
the roast potatoes,' Rose chided. ‘Save some for Carmen and Nancy.'

‘I'm a growing boy. You wouldn't want me to waste away.'

‘You're a greedy boy. And behave yourself tonight. Don't go breaking any more hearts,' Rose scolded.

‘Save myself, you mean?' Rennie's green eyes glittered with amusement. ‘Until the right girl comes along?'

‘Why not? It's worth a try. Who knows, it may even do the trick.'

‘Rose, I love you to bits and I'm sure you're absolutely right.' Having located his keys on the dresser, Rennie headed for the door. Over his shoulder he added with a wink, ‘But
what if it doesn't
?'

 

As Rose was leaving the house the next morning, the glossy black front door of number sixty-two opened simultaneously. Turning to greet for the first time their left-hand side neighbours, Rose's mouth dropped open in surprise.

‘Oh.' Her chin lifted in a gesture of defence. ‘Hello.'

‘Isn't that just typical?' Rose said happily. ‘Neighbours all along and we didn't even know it.' Lowering her voice she said conspiratorially, ‘How are things with your husband?'

Appalled, Marjorie glanced back at her closed front door, the tendons in her neck so tense they stood out like guy ropes. ‘Very well, thank you. All sorted out.'

‘Oh, I'm so pleased.' Rose doubted they were, but the woman was evidently reluctant to discuss the situation. ‘Listen, I'm just off to the shops now, but if ever you fancy a cup of tea and a chat - well, you know where I am, pet.'

Marjorie looked at her as if she was mad.

‘Edinburgh,' she said, startled. ‘You'll be in Edinburgh.'

Rose beamed. ‘Ah, but that's it, I won't be. Everything's changed now. I'm here to stay!'

If Marjorie had looked pale before, she was positively translucent now. Fear radiated from her pale eyes. Hastily collecting herself, she approached the black railings separating them and muttered through gritted teeth, ‘Look, I only said those things yesterday because you told me you were going back to Scotland.'

‘Oh.' Taken aback by her vehemence, Rose said, ‘Well, I
was
.'

‘But now you tell me you
aren't
. I confided in you because I didn't
know
you. And now,' Marjorie gestured angrily up at Carmen's house, ‘I find out you're my next-door neighbour, that you're actually living with those . . . those dreadful
people
.'

‘Oh no, no.' It was Rose's turn to be genuinely shocked. ‘You can't say that. They aren't dreadful!'

‘I most certainly can say it,' Marjorie retorted sharply. ‘The girl's husband died of a drugs overdose. He was an alcoholic, took cocaine and heroin, and now his brother's moved in. Who needs people like that living next door to them? This is a respectable square—'

‘Carmen's husband died three years ago,' Rose said firmly, ‘and she loved him very much. You can't call Carmen a nightmare neighbour.'

Marjorie was defiant. ‘What about the brother? He has long hair. He wears a
diamond earring.
' Her voice rose. ‘He came home in a taxi at
four o'clock
this morning.'

‘Really? I didn't know.' Meaningfully, Rose said, ‘I was asleep.'

‘And you can't tell me he doesn't take drugs too.'

‘Well, I most certainly
can
tell you that,' Rose retorted, ‘because Rennie's
never
taken drugs.' She was dimly aware that this was a ludicrous situation; only yesterday Marjorie had been confiding in her about her miserable marriage and she had been comforting her, squeezing her hand. Yet now here they were on the front steps of their respective multi-million-pound residences, practically having a stand-up fight. But having to listen to this woman criticise Carmen and Rennie -
when she didn't even know them
- was something Rose simply wasn't prepared to tolerate.

‘He's one of those wild music types.' Marjorie's sniff registered her opinion of wild music types. ‘They all do that kind of thing. If I were you, I'd think twice about staying in a house like that.'

If you were me you wouldn't be invited to stay, Rose thought furiously. Feeling her fists clenching deep in the pockets of her coat, she said tightly, ‘Maybe you shouldn't criticise people you don't even kn—'

‘What's this? What's going on here?' barked a male voice as the front door of number sixty-two burst open. The tall iron-grey man Rose recognised as Marjorie's husband was glaring at his wife.

The change in Marjorie was remarkable; she appeared to shrink before Rose's eyes, almost to cower away.

‘Nothing, dear. Nothing.'

‘I heard voices. You've been talking to someone.' His manner as clipped and bristly as his moustache, the man turned to Rose. ‘And who are you?'

‘Rose McAndrew. Carmen Todd's new housekeeper,' Rose replied pleasantly.

The man didn't attempt to shake her hand. He looked as if he'd never smiled in his life; wouldn't know how to go about producing something so irrelevant as a smile.

‘What have you been talking about?' he demanded.

Simultaneously Rose said, ‘Carmen,' and Marjorie blurted out, ‘The weather.'

‘Both,' Rose amended. ‘Now if you'll excuse me, there's something I've forgotten.' Taking out her key, she pointedly turned her attention to getting back into the house. With a snort of disdain, Marjorie's husband retreated into his own hallway and slammed the front door shut.

‘Listen,' Marjorie whispered, her face creased with anguish. ‘I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things. Please . . . you won't say anything about, you know . . .'

The woman was clearly terrified of her bad-tempered husband. Rose, envisaging their home life, wondered if he beat her whenever she incurred his wrath.

‘
Please
,' Marjorie begged. ‘Promise me you won't.'

‘Don't worry.' Rose shook her head, filled with pity for her. ‘I won't breathe a word.'

Rennie was padding barefoot around the living room chatting on the phone to Ed, his manager, when Rose let herself back into the house. He ended his call and shook his head sorrowfully at her.

‘Brawling in the street, Rose? I don't know, I really don't. Is that ladylike?'

‘Now stop it. I wasn't brawling.' The living-room window, Rose noticed, was open an inch. ‘I was just . . . introducing myself to the neighbours.'

‘Ah, the Brough-Badhams. Brigadier Brough-Badham.' Rennie stiffened his spine and imitated the man's haughty, mouth-turned-down-at-the-corners grimace. ‘And his lovely wife, the Honourable Marjorie.' His imitation of Marjorie was uncannily similar to that of her husband. ‘She fancies the pants off me, you know.'

‘I hate to be the one to break this to you,' said Rose, ‘but I don't think she does.'

‘Can't you just picture her peeling off that face like a rubber mask? For all we know, she could look like Claudia Schiffer underneath.'

Sometimes Rose despaired. She'd just told Marjorie - categorically - that Rennie didn't take drugs.

‘OK, only joking,' said Rennie. ‘We call them the Glums. And I did happen to overhear the bit where you were defending us. That was very sweet.'

‘Maybe if you tried being a bit more friendly,' said Rose. Heavens, what was she doing now, defending the other side?

‘Can't.' Rennie shrugged. ‘Hate them. Almost as much as they hate us. Do you know, when Spike and Carmen moved here, the Brough-Badhams started up a petition to get them out?'

‘Why can't people just be nice to each other?' Perplexed, Rose said, ‘Life would be so much easier if everyone just . . . got along.'

‘Easier,' Rennie agreed with an unrepentant grin, ‘but not nearly so much fun.'

‘All done.' Nancy held out the box containing the cake as Connor opened his front door. It was six o'clock on Friday evening and pregnant Pam's leaving party at the Lazy B was due to start at eight.

‘Bring it on inside. Here, let me give you a hand.' As he took the pink and white striped box from her, Connor's hands brushed against her own and the by now familiar zapping sensation shot up Nancy's arms. Was this something she'd ever get used to?

‘Yay! Let's see it.' Mia, clearing a space on the kitchen table, said bossily, ‘Come on, Dad, take the lid off.'

Connor paused, looked at Nancy. ‘What if I don't like it?'

‘Don't worry. I'll just go away and quietly commit suicide.'

‘Fine, but where would we get another cake at such short notice?'

‘Oh, get on with it,' Mia exclaimed, briskly removing the lid. ‘Bloody hell, Nancy, it's all broken.'

‘
What?
' Nancy stopped gazing helplessly at Connor and spun round so fast she got a crick in her neck.

‘Ha, got you.' Mia beamed at them both.

‘Hey,' said Connor, studying the cake. ‘That's amazing. You've done an incredible job.'