‘It was awful, because it had been our beautiful home. When they told me, I burst into tears.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘But what they didn’t realise,’ said Rosa, ‘was that they were tears of joy, because all of a sudden I knew why Joe had been saying he was sorry. There hadn’t been any secret affair. Our marriage had been as happy as I’d always thought it was. Compared with what I’d been terrified of, losing the house was nothing.’
Red nodded. ‘There you go. Money isn’t everything.’ He paused, then winked. ‘Still nice, though.’
He’d lost his wife nineteen years ago, and now his body was riddled with cancer, but he was utterly lacking in self-pity, still able to make her smile. Rosa said, ‘Shall we talk about something more cheerful? You must be so proud of Shay.’
‘Oh I am, I am. My brilliant boy, who somehow managed not to inherit the criminal gene. You know, after he sold that company of his, a financial adviser told him he could move his money into an offshore account . . . all perfectly legal but it would save him a fortune in tax. And he wasn’t even interested!’ Red shook his head in disbelief. ‘No idea where he gets it from. Must be his mother’s side of the family. God knows it wasn’t mine.’ Laughter turned to coughing and Rosa heard the effort it took to regain control of his breathing once he’d stopped. Then his phone began to ring and he said, ‘Let me guess, Angela again,’ because she’d called twice already, in floods of tears. Answering, he sighed, ‘Ange, you have to stop this. I’m in bed, about to go to sleep. No, it’s the truth. I’m switching the phone off now. It’s been a long day. Yes, I promise you, I’m fine. But you mustn’t keep calling, OK? It’s time to let go. You need to get on with your own life.’
‘She’s still crying,’ said Rosa when the call had ended. Sitting there while he told his sobbing ex that he was in bed had made her feel weirdly guilty.
‘To be honest, for the last couple of weeks she’s hardly stopped. It’s too much. It’s exhausting.’ Red shook his head. ‘And quite boring too.’
‘She’s upset. She loves you.’
‘She wants to marry me.’
‘Oh no, poor thing.’
‘Don’t feel too sorry for her. Angela’s all about the drama. And she only latched onto the idea of a wedding after finding out just how much my son was worth.’
‘Oh,’ said Rosa. That put a different slant on things.
‘Quite. I think she likes the idea of being Shay’s tragically widowed stepmother. Anyway, that’s not going to happen. And I’m looking forward to a drama-free existence down here.’ He reached across and clinked his glass against hers. ‘Do you think we can manage that?’
‘I’m sure we will. I’m not the dramatic type.’
‘Perfect. Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’ They clinked again.
‘Nice bracelet.’
‘Thank you.’ Rosa shook her wrist, giving the charms a cheery jangle. ‘It was my birthday last week. This was my present from Layla.’
‘Well, happy birthday for last week. And lucky you, having a daughter who buys you such nice things.’
‘I know I’m lucky. Although actually she didn’t buy me this one.’ Afternoon Prosecco had gone to Rosa’s head and loosened her tongue, but if anyone was good at keeping secrets it was Red. ‘She chose the charms specially because they all meant something to us and gave me the bracelet on the night of my birthday. By the next morning it was gone.’
‘You mean someone took it?’ Red looked outraged.
‘No, not at all! It just fell off my wrist at some stage and I couldn’t find it anywhere. Last year Layla gave me a turquoise pendant and I accidentally dropped it down the waste disposal, so there was no way I could tell her I’d managed to lose the bracelet too. Which meant I had to travel over to Cheltenham, find the shop and get another one made up with all the same charms. When I arrived back, that was when I missed my step getting off the bus and landed on the pavement. And you and Shay rescued me.’
‘I don’t mean this to sound bad,’ said Red, ‘but I’m glad you fell off that bus.’
Rosa smiled. ‘Now that it doesn’t hurt so much, I’m glad too. Apart from having to shell out for another bracelet.’
‘Maybe it’ll turn up, then you can take this one back.’
For a split second she almost told him about her midnight visit to the garden of her old home. But no, he’d think she was deranged. ‘Fingers crossed.’
He paused. ‘Can’t be easy, though, going from living a comfortable life to having to downsize and start all over again.’
‘It’s had its moments. I’m getting used to it. When Joe was alive, he used to whisk me off to Milan for the weekend to buy beautiful designer outfits. Now I get most of my clothes in charity shops. But that’s fun, it’s exciting when you pick up a bargain.’ She plucked at the material of her lilac dress. ‘Like this one, three pounds fifty from the local hospice shop.’
‘You look great.’ Red nodded with approval. ‘No one would ever know.’
‘Except last December when I wore it to the Christmas fair in the town hall and Ingrid came up to me and said, “Oh my goodness, look at you, I gave an identical dress to the charity shop!” So I had to confess that it was hers, and she said, “Well isn’t that incredible? I’d never have thought something of mine would fit you!”’
‘Charming. Who’s Ingrid?’
‘You saw her the other day, getting cross because her partner came over to try and help me to my feet while she was waiting to be let into their house. Which used to be our house.’
‘Ah, got it. Tall, skinny, long blonde hair. Just your average nightmare.’
‘Ingrid isn’t really a nightmare, just . . . blunt. She runs an international interior design company and is quite high-powered, says what’s on her mind.’ Rosa paused, remembering the sternly worded letter she’d received from Benny Colette’s solicitor in response to her own hand-written one: I’m afraid my clients feel extremely strongly that your request is inappropriate and unworkable, and they are unable to grant any form of visitation rights to their property or its grounds.
‘What are you thinking now?’ Red didn’t miss a trick.
‘Nothing.’
‘Have you been to the house since they moved in?’
She shook her head, because technically she hadn’t entered the house. ‘No, but I know it doesn’t look anything like it did in our day. People who’ve seen it say it’s very minimalist and Scandinavian, very taupe.’
‘Not my style.’ Red grimaced.
‘Nor mine, but plenty of people love what Ingrid does. She’s very in-demand. Are you hungry, by the way? I can heat up a cottage pie if you fancy it.’
‘That sounds nice. I don’t eat a lot nowadays, though. You mustn’t be offended if I can only manage a few mouthfuls.’
‘I’ll put it in the oven and you can have as much or as little as you like.’ Layla popped round after work a couple of times a week, but it would be nice to have someone else to cook for after all this time.