Wishful Thinking (a journey that will change lives forever) (18 page)

“Listen, while I think of it,” David said then. “I was wondering if it would be all right for me to do some decorating in the bedroom, maybe touch up the walls a little.” 

“In the bedroom? Your old bedroom, you mean?”

“Yeah, well, it still
is
my bedroom, isn’t it?”

“Oh, of course,” Rosie interjected quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean … Of course it’s still your bedroom and, yes, of course you can do some decorating in there if you like.  It probably needs it actually. Your father had planned to do up the bedrooms, but then with his heart getting so weak …” She smiled sadly.

“I know that, Mum.” 

“So yes, of course, do what you want,” Rosie repeated.  “You get the materials you need and I’ll sort you out afterwards.”

“Don’t be silly, there’s no need.”

“Of course there is!” Rosie said, buoyed by the fact that they were actually having a decent conversation. “Aren’t I only too delighted to have you to do it, otherwise I’d have to get someone in.  And that would cost ten times more.”

“Well, if you’re sure … because until I get settled and find a job, I don’t have a whole lot to spare and –”

“Oh, David,” Rosie was mortified she hadn’t thought of that before. “Why didn’t you say something?  You know I’d only be too happy to help out.” She quickly reached for her purse.  “Here,” she said, thrusting a small bundle of notes at him.  “That’s all I have on me at the moment, but my widow’s pension is due in next week so –”

“Mum, I can’t take this.”

“Of course you can – I’m just sorry I didn’t think of it before.” The poor thing, of course he’d be stuck for money!  And Rosie was only too delighted to help out, delighted to help make him happy. 

“Well, as soon as I get work, I promise I’ll pay you back.” David was suitably gracious.

“There’s no rush, no rush at all,” Rosie said. “And another thing, let me know what bits and pieces you’ll need for those dinners you like.  You can make them up yourself if you want but write me a list, and I’ll get one of the girls in the supermarket to pick them out for me.  Knowing me, I’d probably pick up the wrong thing and poison you!” She laughed gaily, delighted that they were getting on so well.

“Would you mind? I’d go shopping myself this week, only I’m planning to go into Dublin to see if I can get work on a building site somewhere.”

Rosie’s heart lifted.  He was obviously planning to stay around for a while then.

“I’d say you’d have no problems there. With the amount of cranes in Dublin these days, I think they’re planning on building apartments all the way to the moon!” she said jokingly.

“Well, hopefully I might get lucky then.”

“You’ll be fine,” she reassured him.  Then she paused slightly before continuing, almost afraid to push it but also unable to resist asking.  “So, you and Kelly are definitely …?”

Quick as a flash, David’s manner changed, and his expression hardened.  “Definitely,” he said.

Rosie felt like kicking herself.  Why had she opened her big mouth?  “Grand.” She stood up then, and almost backing out of the room added, “I’d better go and start the dinner then.”

“Right.” David’s gaze returned to the television.

“One of those crime programmes is on telly tonight, isn’t it?” she added casually, hoping to change the subject, and with any luck, regain the nice cordial atmosphere of minutes before. “When I come back from walking the dog, we might –”

“I’m going out soon,” was David’s sharp reply, and Rosie knew that once again, she had lost a battle.

A week later, David left a bill from the local hardware shop on the kitchen table.  Rosie spotted it when she returned from her walk with Twix, and she had to admit she was a bit taken aback when she read the final figure.  He had spent almost four hundred euro – on a simple thing like paint! 

But Rosie didn’t dare question him about it, not when lately her son was going around with a smile on his face and a spring in his step.  It was as if making the bedroom his own had brought him out of himself, so in truth, a few tins of paint and – Rosie squinted again at the bill – a shelving unit, bedside locker and lamp were a small price to pay for making David happy in himself again.

There had no been no mention of Kelly again since and as far as Rosie knew she hadn’t phoned, so it seemed that it really was the end for them.  Such a pity, she thought sadly.  Especially when they’d seemed so perfect for one another.  But it was none of her business so …

Hearing footsteps coming downstairs, Rosie tucked the bill into one of the drawers and quickly busied herself with something else. 

“Hi, Mum!” David bounded into the kitchen and almost immediately Twix let out a low growl. 

Rosie threw an amused glance at her.  Twix was doing that a lot lately.  When David first arrived, she had tried all her usual doggie tricks to try to get him to play with her; lying at his feet with her paws in the air hoping to be petted, and jumping up and down whenever he entered the room. 

But despite her playful antics, David didn’t take to her at all and, in fact, behaved as though she wasn’t even there.  So, unhappy with being ignored, Twix had obviously given up on David, and had since decided he was actually the enemy.  Rosie thought it hilarious the way she tried to act the big bad dog whenever he was around, because in reality she wouldn’t hurt a fly. 

But David obviously didn’t share Rosie’s opinion.

“Little shit!” he said, aiming a kick at her, and quick as a flash the little spaniel scampered into her basket in the corner, her huge eyes mournful and hurt.

Rosie looked at him, shocked.  Did he really do that?  Did her son just try and kick a poor defenceless little dog?  “David, she’s harmless – she wouldn’t go near you!” she   exclaimed.

He scowled.  “That’s what they all say,” he said bad-naturedly, “and then before you know it the little fucker’s taken a chunk out of your leg.  They’re animals and they’re all bloody vicious as far as I’m concerned.”

Rosie was unnerved.  “David, I promise you, Twix wouldn’t touch you or anyone else.  Look at her!”  She glanced over at Twix, who was trembling nervously in her basket.  “She’s only a slip of a thing!” Hurt by his behaviour and by his attitude towards her harmless little dog, she couldn’t resist adding, “Anyway, she only growled at you in the first place because you keep ignoring her.”

David’s eyes widened. “Ignoring her? Jesus, what do you want me to do, say hello and goodbye and please and thank you to the thing! Mum, she’s only a stupid little mutt!”

At the sound of David’s raised voice, Twix cowered even further into the corner of her basket, and tucked her face closely in to her body. 

Much as she was tempted to, Rosie decided against informing David that the ‘thing’ might be a little mutt but she was Rosie’s mutt, and had been an essential companion, a lifeline even, after his father’s death – when David had gone back to his nice life in Liverpool and Sophie to hers in Dublin. 

Twix had been the one who, in her own little way, had tried to comfort Rosie when her mistress felt sad and lonely.  She had read somewhere before that dogs had an innate sense for human distress or sorrow, and it did seem as though Twix instinctively knew when Rosie needed her close.  Some days, she would jump up on her lap and lick her face and, on occasion, Rosie’s tears. 

In the weeks and months after Martin’s funeral, Rosie knew she would have been lost without the little dog’s company.  Indeed, the first piece of advice she’d give any newly bereaved man or woman, was to get themselves a dog.  Having the animal around, even if it was just a tiny thing like Twix, seemed to somehow lessen the inevitable emptiness that permeates a house immediately after a death.

But mentioning Martin’s funeral at a time like this might well be treading on dangerous ground, and Rosie decided that there was little point in bringing it up.  

“She’s a good little dog,” she said, trying to bite back her uncharacteristic annoyance, but his dismissal of poor Twix had really upset her, “but I suppose she needs a bit of time to get used to having you around.”

David snorted. “It has the run of the place, that dog, and it leaves its bloody hairs everywhere!  All over the armchairs, all over the floor – everywhere!” He shook his head. “It’s not hygienic to have a dog in the kitchen either.”

Again Rosie struggled to hold her tongue.  “A bit of hair never did anyone any harm and anyway, she’s an inside dog so she’s very clean, aren’t you, Twix?” she said, and instinctively, but decidedly cautiously, the little spaniel’s tail began to wag.

David grunted, his earlier good humour now well evaporated.  “Speaking of clean, I thought I might give this place a bit of a going-over while I’m at it.”

“A going-over … what?” Rosie was confused.

He frowned again. “The kitchen.  It needs freshening up.  So, when I’m finished upstairs, I thought I’d start on this.” He looked around the room and his gaze rested on the walls.  “If you could get rid of those ancient old plates and stuff, that would be a great help.  I’ve a few nice pictures from my old place that would look well up there. And of course those manky old armchairs should really go too.”

Rosie didn’t think it was possible to feel any more shocked than before, but yet she did.  Those ‘ancient’ plates he was talking about were Rosie’s pride and joy – and this was her kitchen – her room!  She had no objections to it being repainted or touched up, but there was no way she was going to let him redecorate completely! And to think he wanted to get rid of her armchair, her favourite reading chair on which she had spent many a cosy evening curled up with a cup of tea, a good book and some chocolate biscuits.  Not to mention the fact that the other ‘manky’ armchair had been Martin’s!

“I’m sorry, David, but I think the kitchen is fine the way it is,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.  She didn’t want a disagreement or an argument, the
last
thing Rosie wanted was an argument and she hated any kind of confrontation, but like Sheila said, she couldn’t just let him come in and take over her home.  Yes, he was her son and she wouldn’t have him homeless but, in reality, he had to realise that she was doing him a favour by letting him stay here.

“Mum, it hasn’t been touched in years!” Then David’s tone softened slightly when he saw her hurt expression.  “Look, you said yourself that Dad wasn’t able for doing things, and nobody would expect you to be going up and down ladders.  But the fact is that this house will go to rack and ruin if someone doesn’t take it in hand.  And seeing as I’m fit and able to do it, and I’m not working at the moment, why can’t you let me help?”

Rosie blinked.  Since when had it turned into her needing his help?  The kitchen was fine as it was, although it could probably do with a repaint but …

“Look, Mum, we can keep the pots and stuff if you like, although I do think that in this day and age it’s all a little bit dated-looking.  You’ve seen those property programmes on the telly, haven’t you?  Aren’t they always saying that a fresh, modern, house is the one that keeps its value?”

“Its value? David, I don’t know what you’re talking about because I’m certainly not planning to sell this place,” Rosie cried, her heart pounding faster now.  All this talk was beginning to make her feel incredibly threatened.  First Sophie expected her to sign over the deeds to the house, and now David was talking about selling it!  What in the Lord’s name was going on? “Anyway, I can’t sell it, not while Sophie’s building society has the deeds and –”

“What?” David asked sharply, and Rosie noticed Twix again cower backwards into her basket. “What do you mean? What’s Sophie got to do with this?”

“Well … I helped her, you know,” Rosie didn’t like the look of dark suspicion he was giving her all of a sudden,  “I helped her with getting the mortgage for her house. All I had to do was sign –”

“The devious little bitch!” David exclaimed venomously.  “So, she did manage it after all, then!”

What? What did
that
mean? Rosie felt as though the ground was opening up beneath her, as if her world was turning and there was some strange conspiracy going on that she knew nothing about. 

“So, you just signed over the deeds to this place, knowing full well that Dad didn’t agree with it when she asked before.  And with good bloody reason!  Mum, do you not realise what you’ve done?”

“Of course,” Rosie explained, trying to keep things calm, although her voice shook. What was he getting so upset about?  Martin must have told him about Sophie’s request that time before, but as far as she was concerned it wasn’t really any of David’s business because at that stage they had all thought David was settled.

And anyway, she had no choice but to make the decision herself, because Martin wasn’t around anymore, was he? 

“I was helping her – I had to help her.  David, you probably don’t realise how expensive the house prices are over here. Without my help, Sophie and Robert would never have been able to –”

By now, David’s face was red with anger. “Mum, you had no right –
no
right to do that without asking me first!”

Asking him?  What did have to do with him? “But it’s – it’s
my
house, David,” she reiterated, confused. “Mine and your dad’s.”

“Yes, but what about when you’re
gone
?” he shot back and, instantly, the blood drained from Rosie’s face.  “It’s supposed to be split two ways –
two
ways, Mum!  Of course, it’s all right for Sophie, thanks to you she’s well sorted for somewhere to live.  But what am I going to do?  I’ll have nowhere, now the smart little bitch has gone and taken the place right from under me!”

And then, without another word, David marched straight out of the room. 

For a long moment, Rosie couldn’t breathe.  Heart spinning and weak with shock, she eventually slumped down on her favourite armchair, her legs feeling like jelly.  Then, having first checked that David was gone and that the coast was well and truly clear, Twix promptly hopped up on her mistress’s lap.  Instinctively, and now desperate for some kind of comfort, some sense of reality, Rosie began to softly stroke her fur.

What about when you’re gone?
The question David had barked kept repeating over and over again in her mind.
When you’re gone. 

He didn’t give a hoot about helping Rosie decorate the house.  He was simply making sure the place was well maintained and looked after, quietly ensuring it kept its value, all under the pretence of being a dutiful and helpful son.  But hearing that Sophie had already made use of the property’s value had really shown his true colours. 

The realisation of what David was really up to hit hard and it hurt – desperately.  And perhaps he was right.  Perhaps Sophie had been devious.  She too had made a great show of being a dutiful daughter in the weeks leading up to the big favour.  And having got what she wanted, Rosie had hardly seen her since. 

How had this happened?  How had her children turned out so heartless, so selfish?  Had she done something wrong?  Had she been a bad mother?  Had she made some major mistake in their upbringing? 

If she had, she didn’t know what it was.  All she’d done was love them desperately; all she’d ever wanted was for them to be happy.  All her married life, she had lived for the children and for Martin – her family was the most important thing in the world to her. 

And, even though Martin was gone, up until today Rosie really believed that she still had a family, that her children loved her just as much as she loved them. 

But, she decided, she had been stupid, she had been very wrong. 

Her daughter had taken what she wanted and now couldn’t be seen for dust, and after only a short time at home, David was waiting patiently for his mother to go off and die for herself, so that he too could begin to enjoy his inheritance.