‘You’ve got a face like a smacked arse,’ Gladys commented.
Rosa’s lips twitched. ‘Josh messaged me last night saying he’s decided it makes more sense financially to not come home for any weekends and just get the work done with the hope of finishing the project sooner. I’ve heard that story before.’
‘Oh. Well, on a positive that means he will be home earlier,’ Gladys said briskly, ‘and you said your mum was having the baby Saturday night, didn’t you? So at least you can have some fun then.’ But she could see the misery on Rosa’s face. ‘Bloody men,’ she said to her. ‘I love my Frank to pieces but when I do get a night off, I relish it. Your Josh will be back in no time and you’ll be wishing him away again. Just enjoy it, eh?’
Feeling slightly better as she walked up the hill, Rosa bumped into Mary who was tidying the trolleys outside the Co-op.
‘Hello, my duck. What you up to?’
‘I’ve just dropped your grandson at nursery and I’m actually on my way to see Christopher.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘Yes. I like him.’
‘Well, that’s a good start.’ Mary smiled. ‘Has he met Little Ned yet?’
‘No, not yet. I need to discuss something with him about my charities, first.’
‘Oh. OK. And when will I get to see my grandson again? It’s been far too long.’
‘Mum, you are having him and Hot on Saturday night. You surely haven’t forgotten, already?’ At the mention of his name, Hot let out a little bark and promptly sat on Rosa’s foot.
‘Oh, OK. Of course I haven’t.’ Mary was flustered. ‘It will be on the calendar. That’s the thing – if I don’t write anything down these days, it just goes.’
‘Is this happening a lot, then? You forgetting things?’
‘Hmm. It’s little things, like I will walk into the bedroom to get something and then forget what I was going in there for. It doesn’t happen often. I daresay it’s because I’m not sleeping well. I shall try turning the heating off earlier, I get so bloody hot, which in turn wakes me up when I do eventually get off to sleep.’
‘I think you should go and see the doctor.’
‘Don’t be daft. You know I sort these things out myself.’ Mary added philosophically, ‘I’m just getting old, that’s all.’
‘You’re forty-eight, Mum! That’s hardly old and if you’re losing your marbles, we need to know about it so we can get you sorted.’
‘Brrr, it’s cold today,’ Mary shivered. ‘Go on, get on with your business and I’ll get on with mine, daughter, OK?’
‘Water my melons with that big hose of yours,’ Christopher announced in a dead-pan voice on Rosa’s arrival at the newly written sign, Webb & Son.
‘Sorry?’ Rosa screwed her face up. ‘I’ve just left my mother thinking she’s going barking mad. And now you are too?’
‘Celia Carlisle’s last words.’
Rosa collapsed into hysterical laughter. ‘Oh, my goodness, how did you find that out?’ Hearing his mistress totally losing it was making Hot nervous. He kept looking up at her anxiously, his tail between his legs.
Christopher suddenly started sneezing uncontrollably. ‘I’m allergic to dogs, sorry,’ he managed between explosions, launching the front door open to allow cold, fresh air to flood in. ‘Pop him in the back of the hearse, go on, he’ll be fine for a second. It’s open and one of the windows doesn’t shut properly anyway.’
‘You should have told me. I would have left him at home,’ Rosa said, hurrying through the back door, glad she had taken time to put on the little sausage dog’s warm tartan coat. Giving him a chunk of carrot to chew on and promising the little hound she wouldn’t be long, she left him in the archaic funeral car and, trying not to hear his whines as he demolished the carrot in seconds, went back through to her father, who, to her relief had now shut the front door.
‘So go on, tell me all about those famous last words.’ Rosa sat down at the desk opposite him.
‘Well, the young gardener rang me actually. Nice young feller-me-lad. Of course, none of her family would talk to him so he made some enquiries, found out through the crem that I was doing the funeral, and rang to say he wanted me to put something in the lovely Celia’s coffin.’
‘Surely you can’t do that without her son’s permission?’
‘Of course I can’t.’ Christopher’s face remained straight.
‘But please tell me you did?’ Rosa urged.
‘By the sounds of it he had a good relationship with the woman. Being the softy that I am and the signs of grief he was showing, I have to concur that I think his feelings were genuine.’
‘Aw. Bless him. So, what did he want put in with her?’
‘A sprig of fragrant jasmine.’
‘Oh. Is that it? How dull.’
‘Lessons learned about my daughter today, number 1: she’s not a romantic,’ Christopher said. ‘He told me that the jasmine flower is associated with love.’
‘Now that is sweet and not just the action of a man who was getting his big hose out to water her melons,’ Rosa decided. For some reason she wasn’t remotely embarrassed about sharing something a bit risqué with her father. ‘How on earth did you get that out of him, by the way?’
‘Once I had taken him under my fatherly wing, I just asked him outright.’
‘So, are you going to put it in with her?’
‘If he gets it to me in time, of course. But dad’s the word on this one, eh?’ He winked.
‘Dad is quite a big word for me to say at the moment,’ Rosa blurted out; it came from the heart.
The wise man smiled. ‘And truthful lips endure forever.’ Rosa gave him a quizzical expression. ‘Proverbs 12:19. I could quote the whole Bible I’ve been in this game so long.’ He squeezed her hand briefly. ‘And I do understand that “Kit” might be easier for the time being. Whatever feels right to you is fine by me.’
Rosa bit her lip. ‘Well, thank you for telling me the gardener’s tale…Kit. It’s cheered me up, in a macabre kind of way.’
‘And why do you need cheering up, pray tell?’ The funeral director walked through to the kitchen to put the kettle on.
Rosa called after him, ‘Oh, just my mother getting forgetful and my husband not coming home for any weekends.’
‘There’s a solution to everything apart from death, my dear. This job has made me realise that. Don’t sweat the small stuff.’
Rosa could see where she had got her own usually forthright attitude from. ‘You’re right. I can manage without Josh and I’ve told Mum to book in to see the doctor.’
‘You’ve made me feel better as well.’ Christopher reached for two mugs from the cupboard. ‘Mary promised to ring me back the other day and didn’t. I thought she’d got the hump with me. She’s a good sort, your mother.’
‘Yes, she is, but that’s a worry. Imagine if it’s dementia. I can’t lose her; I’ve only just found her.’