‘Aled,’ Rosie said. ‘And we’re not … we aren’t … It isn’t like that.’ It hurt her to admit it, and Maud could apparently read the scowl on her face with alarming accuracy.
‘That’s what they all say,’ Maud declared. ‘That’s what David Tomkinson told his wife, Gladys, when she accused him of throwing one up the woman who worked in the betting shop. Load of horseshit, as it turned out, but Gladys had the last laugh.’
‘How d’you mean?’ Aled asked, as Rosie desperately prayed for this conversation to end.
‘Well,’ Maud said with relish, ‘after that fall he had, it was all up to Gladys.’
‘What was?’
‘The decision to turn off the oxygen,’ Maud said, smiling sweetly.
It wasn’t often that Rosie could say she felt relief at the sight of her mother. However, as Julie beckoned her from across the room, she was intensely grateful for the excuse to leave Auntie Maud with a fresh cup of tea, a plateful of snacks and her fond memories of Gladys Tomkinson’s revenge.
‘You had your hair done, love?’ Julie said, immediately zooming in on the all-important matter of her daughter’s new look.
‘Oh. Yeah,’ Rosie said, patting her bob self-consciously. It had been a big change, but she had zero regrets; her shorter cut felt good – bolder, somehow.
‘It’s quite nice,’ was her mother’s verdict. Rosie almost choked on her cream cheese and cucumber sandwich; faint praise it might be, but this was hands-down the nicest thing Julie had said about her appearance in years.
She felt her mother’s eyes slowly scan her outfit – an act which yielded no comment. Again, in the context of previous assessments, Rosie could consider this a win.
‘So, how did you meet this newflatmateof yours?’ Julie asked. She gestured at Aled, then said to Colin and Michael: ‘This young man is living in Rosie’s spare room, if you can believe it.’
Rosie cringed, wondering why Julie was referring to Aled as though he were a new pet or a piece of furniture.
‘Ah,’ Michael smirked, his eyes roving from Rosie to Aled and then back again. ‘That makes more sense.’
Rosie was too needled to resist demanding an explanation for what was obviously a barb, even though this was precisely what Michael wanted. ‘More sense than what?’ she asked.
‘Than you two being an item, obviously,’ Michael said. ‘I know you’re back on the market, but – as I always say to my clients – when you’re on a budget, there’s no use looking at penthouse apartments in Spitalfields. Shop for what you can afford.’
Rosie experienced a rush of anger that, for once, she didn’t feel like quelling. Perhaps unwittingly, Michael had hit an already raw nerve. ‘And what’sthatsupposed to mean?’ she demanded.
Michael grinned, gleeful that he’d riled her so easily. ‘Ooh, does Roly Poly Rosie have a thing for – what’s your name again?’
‘Michael,’ Julie cooed indulgently, ‘be nice to your sister. Don’t start an argument and ruin Mandy’s day – she’s put this lovely spread on.’
‘What about his impact onmyday?’ Rosie said, growing steadily redder and more furious. She wondered how many of her days, in the three decades since he’d been born, Michael had been permitted to ruin with no fear of reprisals. Even one more felt like too many.
‘Oh, calm down, Rosie,’ Julie said. ‘There’s nothing to ruin – you’re not the one with a beautiful new baby to show off, more’s the pity.’
‘Jim says he’s going over the road for a pint,’ Colin interjected. ‘Only booze Mandy’s got here is fizzy wine. I’ll be back in a bit.’
Utterly mortified, Rosie found herself wishing for a rogue meteor to land precisely where she stood and put her out of her misery. Then she changed her mind: far better for it to hit the rest of her family, leaving her free to live out her days in peace. At the very least, the universe could oblige her by obliterating her rancid little brother with a giant space boulder.
She took a deep breath, as if she were working up to something – though she had no idea what she could say. Arguing with Michael was like throwing petrol on an already out of control fire – while Julie, as always, was indifferent to any damage it might do so long as it didn’t burn her.
As Rosie arrived at the realisation that angry tears were pricking her eyes, she felt a large, warm hand at her back. It was bracing her, almost – supporting her stance and stiffening her resolve. She let Aled’s touch ground her and blinked the moisture away.
Before she could say or do anything else, Aled had turned to Michael. He leaned forward a little, as if to make sure Rosie’s brother noted the difference in their height and bulk; at least five inches, and probably a couple of stone.
‘Since you ask, my name is Aled,’ he said. ‘Your sister and I are friends.’
Thatwordagain. It went through her like a knife.
‘However,’ Aled went on, ‘I’d consider myself lucky if she did have a “thing” for me.Don’t make the mistake of assuming that just because you don’t recognise her value, other people won’t see it. Plenty of us do, myself included.’
His hand was still hot, comforting and solid at the base of Rosie’s spine. She wanted to turn ninety degrees, press herself against him, bury her face in his broad chest. She wanted to breathe in his clean, soapy smell until everything else in the world disappeared entirely.