Wishful Thinking (a journey that will change lives forever) (23 page)

And do you feel the same way about me?
Rosie wondered then.
Should I be out in the shed too, because with the way you just spoke to me in there, it certainly feels that way.

“Well, I’m not leaving her out here,” she said, her tone defiant, belying her inner distress.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Shaking his head in frustration, David petulantly slammed the back door behind him. 

Her hands shaking with a combination of nerves and unease, Rosie took a deep breath and approached the shed.  Struggling to undo the lock under the faint outside bulb, she opened the door, peered inside and found the little dog cowering in a corner, obviously frightened out of her wits.  Immediately recognising her mistress, the spaniel whimpered softly.

“Come on, Twix, there’s a good girl,” Rosie coaxed, her heart breaking at the sight of her. But still Twix didn’t move, her huge eyes wide and sorrowful, her little body shaking with fear. 

Rosie’s stomach felt sick, and her eyes filled with tears.  How could her son be so cold and heartless, so different from the warm, loving David she thought she’d raised?   What had happened to him that he could treat a poor defenceless animal this way? 

Then again, she admitted, he hadn’t exactly been generous in his treatment of his mother lately either, had he?  Immediately, Rosie pushed this thought out of her head, for the moment unwilling to admit to herself that her son had been mistreating her too. 

She continued persuading Twix out of the shed.

“Come on now, good girl,” she said, reaching out and patting the dog’s soft silky head.  At this, Twix edged forward slightly and eventually made her way towards Rosie, her short tail wagging cautiously.

“Good girl.” Trying to ignore the sharp pain at the base of her spine, Rosie picked her up and held her close, the little spaniel shaking all over. “Come on and we’ll get you inside,” she said, heading back into the kitchen.   

Luckily, when they returned David was nowhere to be seen.  Rosie closed the door behind her and set Twix gently back down in her basket.  For a long moment, she just stood in the middle of the room, unsure what to do or what to feel.  She felt like going after David and having it out with him, but yet she couldn’t face another confrontation – she just wasn’t able for it. 

Her earlier excitement about the evening class now well and truly evaporated, Rosie sank heavily onto the armchair, and tried to stop the tears from coming.

It was bad enough that David had openly admitted he was staying around until she popped her clogs, let alone trying to make her life hard while she was still alive.  And what was all that about germs and a filthy house? The house was perfectly clean and did he not realise how much harder a simple thing like cleaning the inside of an oven was for Rosie these days – especially with her bad back? 

And should she really be chastised (chastised by her own son, imagine – Rosie grimaced sadly) for not washing up the few bits she had used for her dinner earlier?  What gave him the right to say that, to behave that way towards his own mother? 

And to think, she reflected, letting out a low laugh, to think that only the other day one of the neighbours had stopped Rosie on the street to tell her how lucky she was to have her son back living with her again, and how lovely it must be to have him around to look after her.

“And such a lovely, friendly fellow too,” Maude Hennessey informed her, blissfully unaware of the side of David his mother had the misfortune of seeing. “Myself and some of the neighbours have met him a few times since he came back, and he’d always have a big wave and smile for you.”

Well, Rosie thought now, the ‘lovely fellow’ Maude was talking about might be a street angel, but as she herself had discovered the hard way, he was also very much a house devil.

Where had she gone wrong? she wondered despondently.  How had she raised a child that could behave like this?  A child that would make his mother feel like a outsider in her own home?

Rosie didn’t know.  And she didn’t know how she could go on living this way, living the rest of her days with a son that clearly didn’t love her – or if he did, had a very strange way of showing it. 

And the funny thing was, she thought now, it wasn’t until David had moved back home and brought up the subject of his inheritance that she had begun to think about her own mortality, that she had begun to actually feel old.  

Before then, she had done her best to enjoy and embrace life, and make the most of it, despite the fact that she would no longer be enjoying it with Martin.  Her husband had always eschewed the notion of the settled, retired-pensioner type who after a certain age shied away from the world and all it had to offer.  He had always believed that life was there to be enjoyed and embraced, no matter what age you were. 

And up until David’s return a month or two ago, Rosie had believed it too.

                                                             ******

Rosie threw herself into her watercolour painting after that.  Unlike some of the others in the class, she never missed a lesson, and perhaps because of David’s hurtful comments about her abilities, she found herself almost doubly determined to do well. 

But according to Stephen she didn’t have to try too hard. 

“You
do
have a natural eye, Rosie,” Stephen had said in the last lesson when he was teaching them to sketch outlines.  “Especially for composition.  It takes some of my students months to achieve that.”

Rosie sat back and studied her outline.  They were only sketching from photographs, but she thought it was obvious that the dominant object – in this case a boat – should be positioned so that the eye was immediately drawn to it. 

She smiled inwardly.  Maybe she did have a natural eye. 

Or maybe Stephen was just feeling sorry for her. But then again, why would he do that?  He didn’t know her from Adam, and yes, it had been obvious on the first night of class that she was nervous, but since then she had become much more confident – both in herself and her abilities.  

And while before she might have been afraid to ask about something she didn’t understand for fear of appearing ignorant, Stephen was so approachable that she didn’t hesitate to ask his advice and opinions.  Luckily, he never seemed to mind answering what she considered inane and obvious questions, and took as much time as necessary to help her understand. 

Rosie felt enormously comfortable around him. Perhaps this was because they were around the same age, she thought, recalling how one time Stephen had let slip the year he was born, much to the amusement of some of the younger students. 

That evening after class, they both happened to be leaving the building at the same time. When approaching the front door, Stephen, like a true gentleman stepped forward and opened the door ahead of Rosie, then stood back to let her pass.

“Thank you very much, sir,” Rosie smiled, unused to such chivalry.

“My pleasure, madam,” he said, smiling back at her.

Outside, she gathered her tweed coat tightly around her.  “It’s a cold one tonight,” she said.  She was sorry now she hadn’t brought her hat and gloves. 

“It certainly is,” Stephen replied, putting on his own jacket.  “And it looks like we could have frost too.”  He looked at Rosie, who stood there shivering.  “Can I give you a lift anywhere?”

“Ah no, I don’t want to delay you,” she said waving him away.  “Anyway, my house isn’t far from here.”

Stephen’s grey eyes twinkled. “Well, if it isn’t far, it won’t delay me, will it? Come on, it’s freezing,” he urged. “Now the heater in the car isn’t great, but I can almost guarantee that it’ll be warmer than this anyway.”

Rosie was torn.  On the one hand, she didn’t want to impose, but on the other, the thought of not having to walk up that steep hill – particularly in this cold – sounded heavenly.

“If you’re sure you don’t mind,” she said finally

“No problem at all – I’d be delighted,” Stephen said, leading her to where his car was parked. “Just tell me where to go, and I’ll have you home in no time.”

Rosie gave him short directions to the house, and then settled herself into the passenger seat. 

But almost as soon as she was inside the car, she began to have second thoughts.  Yes, Stephen was her teacher and seemed like a very nice man, but at the same time he could be anyone! What if he wasn’t as nice as he seemed, and decided to take her away into the Wicklow Mountains and chop her to pieces or something? Rosie’s heart tightened as a bout of unexplained nervousness overwhelmed her.  Oh, how she wished Martin were still here; then she wouldn’t have to be getting lifts with strangers in the first place, she thought, her nerves suddenly sending her fears – and imagination – into overdrive. 

“Are you OK? Is that seat too far forward for you?” Stephen’s calm, assured voice startled her out of her reverie. 

But of course, that’s why these murderers got away with these things, wasn’t it? she thought, her paranoia in full flight now.  Because they seemed so nice and trustworthy.  Well, she wasn’t going to take anything for granted.

“No, no, it’s fine,” she replied absently, all the time trying desperately to think of a good escape plan, should one be required. 

“I’ve got all this equipment on the floor behind you,” Stephen was saying, as he started the car, “but I could move it out of your way if you like.”

Her eyes widened at this. Equipment? What
sort
of equipment? Ropes, knives, duct-tape, maybe?

“Rosie, are you sure you’re OK?” he asked again, concerned by her obvious change in demeanour.

“I’m grand,” she said, as the car moved off.  Then, all of a sudden, she lifted her handbag onto her lap, making sure it was in full view.  She then made a great show of patting the bulge of her hairbrush beneath the leather.  “Just making sure my gun is safe,” she added airily.

Stephen almost rear-ended the car in front of him. “Your
what
!”

“My gun,” Rosie repeated, pleased with herself.  That had been a brainwave.  Now he knew better than to try anything! 

“O – K.” There was a silence in the car for a while, as they made their way through the town and up the hill towards Rosie’s house.

Then, her anxiety somewhat relieved, Rosie smiled inwardly.  What had she been thinking, getting carried away with herself like that? Stephen was her teacher – her
friend
, for goodness sake! She stifled back an amused laugh. God, he must think she was an awful eejit – if not downright insane!

Eventually Stephen spoke again.  “So, do you – em – carry one of those everywhere with you or – ”

“Oh, everywhere,” she replied, before she could stop herself, unwilling to call a halt to the charade just yet – not to mention that it would be very difficult to do that now!  “Because these days you just never know.”

“Right.” Stephen seemed flabbergasted.  He paused again.  “And … and did you have to get a permit for it, then – the gun, I mean.”

A permit? Rosie floundered, her nervousness swiftly returning.  Now, if Stephen
did
happen to be a murderer then he would know all about permits and things, and whether or not they were required.  So, she’d better get the answer right, otherwise he’d know she was bluffing.

“I think so,” she replied cautiously.  “But my son sorts out those kinds of things for me, so I don’t really know the details.” That was a good one. 

“So, your son works in the defence forces or something then, does he?” Stephen enquired.

“No, he’s an FBI agent actually.” Again, the words were out before she could stop herself. Perhaps that was
really
overdoing it, and maybe she shouldn’t have said it, but despite herself she was rather enjoying this little bit of excitement. 

“An FBI agent? I see.”

Stephen was silent for the remainder of the journey and when the car eventually turned into her estate, Rosie knew she was home free.

She gave him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye and felt suddenly ashamed. Imagine thinking that this nice, mild-mannered evening-class teacher was actually a serial killer!  Her imagination had really run away with her this time and, in fairness, she should just tell him the truth and apologise. Otherwise what would he think of her when she turned up for class from now on?

“Where will I drop you?” Stephen asked.

Feeling guilty then, and more than a little embarrassed about distrusting him, Rosie asked him to let her off at the nearest corner.

“No, seriously, I said I’d drop you home and that’s what I’ll do.  So, what number?”

“Honestly, Stephen, it’s fine,” Rosie said.  “It’s one of those houses just there.”

“Which one?” he insisted.

And quick as a flash, Rosie felt the earlier panic wash over her once again.  Why was he so persistent in finding out where she lived?  Had she been right all along?

“Well, which one?” Stephen repeated, this time with an impatient edge to his tone, she thought, and immediately her mouth went dry.  Her heart thudded against her chest.

Then, all of a sudden, he reached across, as if to lunge for her and …