Rescuing Rose Page 20

  ‘But I only did that because you weren’t back yet.’ What?

  ‘But I thought you weren’t back. I came in at twelve, and the house was all dark so I assumed you were still at Bev’s: plus your jacket wasn’t hanging up.’

  ‘Oh, I took it upstairs. I went to bed very early last night.’

  ‘What time was that?’

  He screwed up his face. ‘I got back at about ten, watched a bit of telly, then went to bed at half past. I was so exhausted I fell asleep straight away. I knew that you were still out, so I left the door unchained.’

  I put my head in my hands. Oh God.

  ‘I thought you were still out. I’m so sorry, Theo. It’s my fault, not yours. I left the chain off—and someone broke in.’

  ‘But didn’t you lock the door?’

  ‘Of course. But these people are professionals—they have bunches of duplicate keys. I even heard sounds, but I didn’t investigate because I assumed that it was you, coming in.’

  Then I had this awful thought. The burglars came in while we were asleep—we could have been murdered in our beds. You hear about people being broken into at night, and the thieves actually come right into the bedroom looking for cash and jewellery and—oh God! Oh God! I shot upstairs, heart pounding and yanked open my underwear drawer. I pulled out the carefully arranged knickers and bras, reached to the back and took out my leather jewel case. In it were all my old bits and pieces and my one precious, precious thing. If you saw it you’d laugh, it’s no more than a bauble—but to me worth all the gold in Fort Knox. With trembling fingers, I opened the tiny blue plastic box, lifted the cotton wool, then relaxed. I put the case back, then went downstairs, still shaking like a cold Chihuahua, to find Theo ringing the police.

  ‘They’ll be round in ten minutes,’ he explained as he put the phone down.

  ‘They didn’t take anything of yours did they?’

  ‘No. My’ scope and computer are still there. I think it’s just the TV and the video that have gone.’

  ‘And a hundred quid which I had in my desk. Thank God I didn’t leave my handbag downstairs otherwise they’d have taken my credit cards too. It could have been worse,’ I added, calmer now, much calmer. ‘And I can get another TV second hand.’

  ‘Don’t you have contents insurance?’

  I shook my head. ‘I was trying to economise. So all things considered,’—I thought of my jewel box again—‘it could have been far worse. At least they didn’t take anything of sentimental value.’

  ‘Rose, I hate to say this, but I think they did. That photo of your parents—it’s gone.’ I looked on the sideboard. Theo was right. It wasn’t there.

  ‘Oh well,’ I said with a shrug.

  ‘That must be very upsetting. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay—the frame’s only silver plate. Anyway, I’ll make some tea—I believe it’s traditional at times like this? What’s the matter, Theo?’ He was looking at me strangely.

  ‘Oh…nothing. Er, I’d better get dressed.’ Now that the shock had subsided I found myself noticing how slim his waist was, and how broad his shoulders; and how surprisingly muscled and smooth his chest, and it suddenly crossed my mind that he should have gone to the ball as Michelangelo’s David—obviously with at least a fig leaf in front. As he turned, I noticed that his upper back was dotted with clusters of faint freckles, like distant galaxies and that his calves were muscled and strong. I went into the kitchen, feeling vaguely disturbed, then opened the fridge to give Rudy some fruit.

  ‘Do you want some grapes this morning, Rudy?’I asked him over my shoulder, ‘or would you prefer a bit of peach? I’ve got half a banana here if you’d rather have that. Or there’s a really nice pear. What do you think, Rudy?’ He was rather quiet this morning. That was funny. Not like him at all. And now I slowly turned round and saw, to my horror, that Rudolph Valentino had gone.

  Chapter 11

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ I said to Bea when I told her about Rudy the following evening. We stared mournfully at the empty space where his cage had been. ‘I feel dreadful.’

  ‘It’s not your fault. I’m just amazed you didn’t hear him shouting, “I’m being kidnapped! Help!”’

  ‘He was probably too shocked to speak. The burglars must have lifted his cover, seen he was valuable, and decided to take him as well. P.C. Plod said they’re circulating his details to eighty-three pet shops in the south east.’

  ‘Did you tell them what he says?’ she asked as I poured two glasses of wine.

  ‘I did. I said the frequent references to the Radio Four schedule would help to identify him.’

  ‘And the reruns of your quarrels with Ed. I hope someone finds him,’ she added as she bit a Twiglet. ‘Bella will be very upset. Don’t blame yourself, Rose; these things happen, but you’ll have to get a burglar alarm. I say, it’s bit of a mess in here isn’t it?’ she added as she looked round the kitchen. ‘Is young Theo a pig?’

  ‘No, it’s not him,’ I said guiltily. ‘I’m afraid it’s me.’ I surveyed the stacks of dirty plates and unwashed mugs. ‘I haven’t quite felt like tidying up.’

  ‘Really?’ she said, giving me a peculiar look. ‘Don’t worry—it must be the shock. You’ve got post-traumatic stress disorder,’ she announced confidently as I took our pizza out of its box.

  ‘Yes,’ I said vaguely. ‘That’s probably what it is. Anyway,’ I changed the subject, ‘how was your date with Henry?’

  ‘Oh it was fine,’ she replied. ‘At first I thought he seemed a little distracted, but no, we enjoyed ourselves. He talked about the ball a lot—he loved it.’

  ‘Yes, he said he did. And was the Imperial War Museum fun?’

  ‘It was great,’ she replied as I discarded the Pizza Hut box.

  ‘And where did you eat?’

  ‘We had a curry at Veeraswamy’s and then a nightcap at the In and Out club. Henry’s so nice,’ she breathed as I put two large slices on our plates. ‘What I particularly liked—and this really surprised me—was that he was in touch with his feminine side. He knows quite a lot about fashion actually,’ she added as she picked up her knife and fork.

  ‘Does he?’

  ‘But at the same time he’s a real man. Do you know what I mean, Rose? Well of course you do,’ she added hastily. ‘I don’t know why you didn’t snap him up.’

  ‘I never had time to,’ I said as I got out the napkins. ‘He was always away. Gadding about with the regiment in Cyprus, or Oman or Belize or wherever.’

  ‘That’s precisely why you went out with him, isn’t it, Rose?’

  I looked at her. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I just mean that you’ve always chosen men with whom you could only have a long-distance relationship.’

  ‘Oh don’t be absurd.’ I passed her the pepper mill. ‘Ed never went anywhere did he?’

  ‘Exactly. So instead you drove him away.’

  ‘I did not “drive” Ed “away” Bea. As you well know he was unfaithful to me with our marriage guidance counsellor within a mere seven months.’

  ‘It’s not the seven months that’s significant,’ said Bea dismissively. ‘It’s the fact that you needed a marriage guidance counsellor at all. You’re just no good at being in a couple,’ she went on. Bloody cheek! She’s no good at being out of a couple—the distinctly weird one she’s in with her twin. ‘That’s your problem, Rose’ she added airily. ‘It’s classic avoidance.’

  ‘Look, would you stop psychoanalysing me, Bea. I’ve just been burgled. Give me a break.’

  ‘Okay. Anyway, Henry mentioned that he might have to go to the Middle East next month. It’s totally depressing.’

  ‘Hazard of the job I’m afraid. Oh, hang on, there’s the phone.’ I ran into the hall. It was Beverley commiserating about the break-in.

  ‘I wish I’d done something,’ she said. ‘I was up very late—I couldn’t sleep—and I thought I heard a noise at about half past two. But the problem was Trev was snoring so loudly i
t was hard to tell.’

  ‘Do you want to come round?’ I suggested. ‘We’re just having a take-away pizza. There’s loads.’

  ‘Really?’ she said, ‘that might be nice.’

  ‘Theo’s out star-gazing,’ I explained, ‘but Bea’s here.’

  ‘Oh. Well…um, actually, Rose, I don’t think I will.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be intruding a bit, Bev, honestly. She’s just telling me about her date with Henry. Why don’t you come round? Go on.’

  ‘That’s kind, but actually I’ve got loads to do, I really ought to work.’

  ‘Oh well,’ I sighed. ‘Up to you. Just come if you decide to change your mind. Shall I tell Theo you rang?’

  ‘Er, yes,’ she said carefully. ‘Please do.’

  ‘Beverley was all set to come round,’ I told Bea, ‘but when I mentioned that Theo was out she didn’t want to bother after all. She’s nuts about him. She hotly denies it, but reading between the lines, I’m sure. And I know he likes her, because he calls her “poppet”, and goes to the pub with her, and he’s always helping her with things and going round.’

  ‘So it’s a case of watch this space, is it?’ Bea asked.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ I said with a slight pang. ‘Anyway I’m glad that you and Henry got on so well.’

  ‘Oh we did,’ Bea replied. ‘In fact we’ve got another date next week. He’s taking me to a lecture on New Directions for European Security and Defence Policy at the International Institute for Strategic Studies. Isn’t that lovely?’

  I nodded enthusiastically. ‘Sounds great.’

  ‘I think he wants me to know as much about military issues as he does,’ she said happily. ‘So that we can talk about it. I’ve just bought the biography of Field Marshall Barker-Ffortescue,’ she went on. ‘Did you know that, apparently, he sometimes wore frocks?’

  ‘Gosh!’ I said.

  ‘Isn’t that hideous!’

  ‘Mmm. It certainly is.’ Obviously I wasn’t going to let on about Henry’s taste for feminine attire. It was up to him to tell Bea if things got serious.

  ‘Anyway, what did you think of the dreaded Andrew?’ she asked me.

  ‘He was a monumental bore. They should use him instead of general anaesthetic in hospitals—thirty seconds and you’d be out. And the way he name-dropped!’ I added scornfully. ‘It was pathetic! I couldn’t believe he’d really met all those people.’

  ‘No, I think he has. Channel 37’s a small company so he gets included in their corporate events. He goes to the award ceremonies, the parties, the private screenings—that kind of thing—so that makes him feel in the loop.’

  ‘I’ve always thought Bella had good taste—why’s she bothering?’

  ‘Because she’s absolutely desperate, that’s why. And he’s quite attractive, and he takes her to glamorous events and fancy restaurants—plus she’s flattered by his attention.’

  ‘Well, I bet she’s not the only one who’s getting it,’ I pointed out as we chomped on our Margaritas. ‘He’s clearly got a roving eye.’

  ‘I know,’ Bea agreed, spearing a stray slice of salami. ‘I saw it myself. You must have put on a good show by the way, because Bella thinks you really approve.’

  ‘Does she? Oh God. Well we mustn’t hurt her feelings,’ I added. ‘He may be a nightmare but it’s her life. And who knows—it might actually work out.’ At this a look of naked panic swept across Bea’s face.

  ‘Work out?’ she repeated. She blinked several times, rapidly. ‘Oh no, I can’t see that happening at all. So you really think it might work out do you?’

  I shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

  She shook her head. ‘No way. In fact, I haven’t the heart to tell her this,’ she went on, ‘but I think Bella’s barking up the wrong tree.’

  I didn’t mention to Bea the horribly indiscreet remark that Andrew had made about Serena’s husband, but it preyed on my mind. Poor Serena I thought, as she arrived for work on Monday; Rob’s going to lose his job. I felt awful being privy to such information, and she’s got enough problems as it is. As she hung up her coat I noticed how threadbare it was, and saw that her jumper had a visible mend. And I’m sure she used to have her hair highlighted, but now it’s decidedly grey. I resolved to speak to Ricky about getting her a raise…

  ‘So how’s everything going?’ I asked her genially.

  ‘Oh, comme ci comme ça.’

  ‘So, things are okay then,’ I reiterated.

  ‘Oh yes. Not bad. And of course Rome wasn’t built in a day, was it?’ she said perkily.

  ‘Serena, whatever happened to your hand?’ I gasped. ‘That bandage!’

  ‘Well,’ she emitted a nervous titter, ‘it’s just a little…burn. Johnny thought it would be fun to put the stainless steel teapot in the microwave. When I went into the kitchen it was arcing and making this loud buzzing—I thought the machine was going to blow up. So I opened the door and stupidly grabbed it: it was, to put it mildly, hot. Still, the chap in Accident and Emergency said it was only second degree.’

  ‘My God.’

  ‘It’s really not too bad at all. And of course, boys will be boys,’ she added stoically.

  ‘I’m sorry, Serena. It must really hurt.’

  ‘Well, that’s family life for you, and you have to take the rough with the smooth. But at least Rob’s job’s going well.’

  ‘Really?’ I tried not to sound too amazed.

  ‘Yes,’ she confided ‘it is. His boss, Andrew, told him he was doing brilliantly.’

  ‘That’s…incredible! I mean, that’s great.’

  ‘So one must be thankful for small mercies,’ she concluded with a twitchy smile.

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘One must.’

  To save Serena’s hand I opened the batch of jiffy bags containing the day’s books. God’s Diet—The Divinely Simply Way to Lose Weight. I sighed—these celebrity slimming books are such a bore. 500 Terrific Ideas for Organizing Everything!—I couldn’t be bothered with that. A Do-It-Yourself Guide to Personal and Planetary Transformation by David Icke. Or rather Sicke. And finally, Baby Care: 101 Essential Tips. I idly flicked through it. Tip 5: Do NOT leave your baby on the bus, it advised brilliantly. Or, indeed, anywhere else. And now I turned to the day’s letters with a strangely sinking heart. Dear Rose, I’ve got terrible money worries… Dear Rose, I think I’m gay… Dear Rose, I haven’t been out of my house for five years… Dear Rose, my husband drinks…

  Doesn’t it ever get boring? I could hear Theo’s voice whispering in my ear, like Satan. Dealing with the same old issues all the time… Of course it’s not boring I told myself sharply, I was just a bit low today, that was all. It was because of the burglary—and Rudy—I was terribly worried: I had a lot on my plate. As I picked up the next pile of letters I forced myself to buck up. They were all from people who were getting divorced, their cries of lamentation and resentment blending into one huge matrimoanial whine.

  I’ve got access problems…and he won’t meet his obligations…plus my mother’s taken his side, and now the children won’t speak to me, but what’s even worse…my wife ran off with our au pair… Boo hoo hoo, I thought wearily; it was as though my shoulders were wet with their tears. But I knew why I was feeling so uncharacteristically negative—because I was about to start proceedings too. It’s hard giving advice to people on something very painful when you’re actually going through it yourself. I’ve got my solicitor, Frances, lined up; Ed will get the petition next week.

  Frances pointed out that because I shared costs in Putney for nine months I’m entitled to seek recompense. But I feel it’s undignified to ask for a settlement, and it would only drag things out. I may be hard up, but I don’t want to prolong the agony with any argy bargy about cash—I just want a quick, clean break. This time last year, I reflected bitterly, I was putting the finishing touches to my wedding plans: a mere twelve months on and I’m about to request my decree nisi. I suddenly remembered that the first anniversary is the ‘paper’ one�
�or rather ‘papers’ one in our case. Now I realised how reckless it had been to get married on Valentine’s Day: we had given a hostage to fortune and recrimination had replaced romance.

  I turned wearily to the next letter. Dear Rose, I read, in writing that was becoming all too familiar, I just want you to know that even though you haven’t replied to any of my eleven recent letters, you’re still my Number One agony aunt and a very Special Lady. Your advice is so brilliant, and I love listening to your phone-ins! Do you know you’ve really changed my life! With love from your totally devoted fan, Colin Twisk. There were six crosses and then, at the bottom of the page: P.S. Why don’t we meet up some time…?

  I looked at that sentence with a combination of alarm and distaste, then I lifted my head and looked out of the window at the sheet of rainwashed February sky. It’s him, I thought. It is. It’s Colin Twisk. He’s my silent caller. He’s become obsessed. He’s hung up on me, I thought wryly. And now I remembered, with a sinking sensation, what Katie Bridge had said. She’d said that Colin might well be ‘dangerous’ and that she wasn’t ‘taking the risk’. So I asked Serena to find all his previous letters, then I put them in a special file: because if he doesn’t stop harassing me, or if he gets nasty, I might need them as evidence—God forbid. But he’s clearly become fixated: ‘I especially love listening to your phone-ins’. Well he certainly seems to like the sound of my voice. Sometimes I come home and find that he’s even dialled my answerphone and left some heavy breathing on that. But how did he get my number in the first place—and what if he finds out my home address? The Jehovah’s Witnesses got my details from the electoral roll; if they could do that, then so could he.

  To cheer myself up, I read Trevor’s latest column—A Dog’s Life—which comes out every Monday in the Post’s Features section. It’s been going really well, but Linda’s asked Bev to make the tone a little more personal—confessional even—and so she has.

  ‘An eventful week this one,’ Trev had written: