As if Edie Rogers knew that her daughter-in-law was thinking about her, the shop bell rang and in she strode – tall and thin with a face that reminded Titch of a rat. The girl found it hard to believe that Ritchie, her kind, warm and funny husband, had come from the loins of the woman who now stood in front of her. Titch put her hand to her stomach and grimaced.
‘Are you feeling all right, Patricia?’ Only Titch’s deceased father had ever called her by her full name before she had met Ritchie. Edie Rogers coughed, then dug out a tissue from her bag and blew her nose loudly.
‘Braxton Hicks, that’s all,’ Titch replied, with difficulty. ‘Had the same with Theo from about this time. Ooh.’ She held her tummy again.
‘Stop making a fuss, girl; you’re pregnant, not ill. I’m the one who’s been suffering.’ Titch was sure that the woman had Munchausen Syndrome. ‘Flu, like nobody’s business, I tell you. Now you know I’m not one for being under the doctor – not like some I could mention – but even I had to go today.’ Inwardly screeching with mirth about ‘under the doctor’ and so glad that Rosa wasn’t there to make her laugh, Titch put on a false look of sympathy as Edie rasped, ‘My throat is that sore. Blisters all over the back of it. Terrible!’
‘Oh dear, that’s no good, but please keep it to yourself, Edie. I can’t afford to be ill with a toddler, a baby on board, two dogs and a shop to run.’
The shop bell went, and Titch acknowledged a customer with a smile. The middle-aged woman went straight to the back of the shop and started looking at the Lily’s Kitchen cat food.
‘There’s an offer on today,’ Titch alerted her, causing the woman to turn around and listen. ‘Buy any two products and you get a free flea comb.’ Again, she struggled with the desire to laugh out loud.
Edie then lowered her voice. ‘You know that I’m not one to gossip either.’ Titch nearly fell off her stool. Edie Rogers was and always had been, lead stoker of the Cockleberry Bay gossip train. ‘You’ll never guess who I saw coming out of the doctor’s as I was going in.’
‘No, I’ll never guess, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,’ Titch replied.
‘Mary Cobb and that new funeral director in town she claims is Rosa and Nate’s father.’ The rodent-like face smiled gleefully at the imparting of this information. Titch sincerely hoped the features would not be inherited by her new baby. ‘Mary looked very sombre too.’
‘Well, everyone has to go to the doctor’s sometimes. This isn’t actually front-page news, is it, Edie?’ There was sarcasm in the young girl’s tone.
Edie ignored her. ‘He stayed over the other night, so I hear. Disgraceful. No wonder STDs are rife in middle-aged women.’ She added pruriently, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve both got the clap.’
Titch’s eyebrows shot up. She looked nervously at the other customer, who was still busy at the cat food. ‘Edie, how would you feel if somebody were talking about you in this way?’
Edie drew herself up. ‘I would quote to you the wise words of Oscar Wilde, notorious homo-sexualist though he might have been, and say that there is only one thing in life worse than being talked about and that is not being talked about at all.’
Then, seeing the only other customer turn round and look at her in disbelief, Edie Rogers cleared her throat loudly and carried on: ‘Now, did you get those Koi Carp pellets in for me, like a good girl?’
CHAPTER 26
‘I understand now. So you’re the gardener.’ Rosa sat opposite Jamie Ward nursing a large mug of hot chocolate. ‘I had the pleasure, if that’s the right word, of meeting Felix Carlisle, who, I’m afraid, explained in detail how his mother died.’
‘Oh. That’s awkward.’
‘Not at all. I think it’s brilliant. Well, not exactly, but you know what I mean. I am sorry for your loss though, of course.’
Rosa could sense a wave of sadness sweep over the man in front of her and immediately pushed Celia’s famous last words out of her mind. This was neither the time nor the place to regurgitate those facts, nor indeed to look at his crotch to see if Mrs Carlisle’s last words were really true.
‘I know everyone will be laughing, but I loved her.’ Jamie took a deep breath. ‘I met her and just saw a vibrant, intelligent, fun-loving woman. Her drive and passion were infectious. Her charm, captivating. Age never came into it. The circumstances of her death were traumatic and unfortunately became public, or our love affair would never have been outed and shamed. I miss her dreadfully.’
Rosa put her hand on top of his. ‘Tough stuff.’
‘Yes. Thanks for not being judgmental. You’re the first not to be.’
‘Blimey, Jamie, I was brought up in foster homes, I’ve lived on the street. I have craved and looked for love in all the wrong places. So, if you find something in someone, like you say you did, I don’t blame you for grabbing on to it good and hard with both hands. I don’t judge anyone, me.’
He noticed her wedding ring. ‘You found it in the end then. Love, I mean?’
‘Yes. I did. Josh is an amazing husband and father.’
‘Oh wow, a kid too. You didn’t hang about.’
Rosa smiled. ‘All the more reason I want to help out with the charity stuff if I can. Escape reality for a bit. I love my boys dearly, but isn’t Happy Families just a card game from the nineteenth century?’
Jamie laughed and took a drink from his coffee mug. ‘So where did you meet the delightful Felix then?’
‘My dad is the funeral director in Cockleberry Bay. He is dealing with your…with Celia’s funeral arrangements.’
‘Your father seemed like such a lovely guy when I spoke to him,’ Jamie said. ‘In fact, do you see him much?’
‘Yes, the bus I take to come here goes from outside his place so I may even see him later. Why do you ask?’
‘I want to put something in Celia’s coffin with her. Mr Webb kindly agreed and said the family need never know.’
Rosa knew how to keep the confidence of her father. ‘That’s nice.’
‘Yes, jasmine. A sprig of jasmine. You’re probably thinking why not a red rose or another traditional symbol of love. But as you know I tended to Celia’s garden as well as her other needs, and she loved jasmine. It really was her favourite. So unbeknown to her, for her birthday last year I planted a jasmine bush underneath her bedroom window to allow the fragrance to drift up and in on the summer night air.’
‘That is so romantic.’
‘Yes.’ The young man’s voice was so quiet she could barely hear him. He made a visible effort to control his grief. ‘I have a big cutting of it in my van. Remind me to hand it over to you before you leave.’
‘Are you going to her funeral?’
‘God, no, I couldn’t bear the pointing fingers.’
‘If she had died in a different way, would you have gone?’
‘Yes, of course. The plain “gardener”, rather than “Lady Chatterley’s Lover” label would have been acceptable to all and sundry.’ He sat upright in his chair and pushed his long blond hair back from his face.