Chapter 14
The light of the early morning sun slides a few fingers through a gap in Rose’s bedroom curtains and strokes a muted path across her floorboards. Two days since Bella and the children returned ‘home’, and she’s already keenly feeling their absence. Another fitful sleep, another night of worries growing heavier, and more far-fetched with every passing hour of wakefulness. Rose thinks she drifted off about three o’clock, so that means just over two hours’ sleep. She’ll be no use to man nor beast today, as her mum would have said. If only Glen were still here. Then she wouldn’t feel so worried about what to do for the best. Bella had told her she had an amazing calm about her. Well, right now she feels anything but. Once Bella has phoned and told her that she’s spoken to Nigel about how she feels, Rose will be able to relax a bit, uncoil her guts and decide the best way to help her daughter put whatever plans she’s made into action. Rose watches the sunlight shift to the dressing table as the breeze lifts and drops the curtains and hopes that Bella will actually speak to Nigel and not become another poor Sally.
A low moaning outside has her shooting bolt upright in bed, holding her breath and straining her ears in the silent morning. There it is again … oh, and now there’s the unmistakable sound of retching. Rose twitches the curtain to one side, and there in the dawn light is a tall, thin figure in a black hoodie and jeans, evacuating the contents of his stomach over the gate into Daisy’s oxeye daisies. Bloody hell! Rose throws on her dressing gown and hurries outside. The vomiting figure is now on his knees, half in and half out of the gate. He’s trembling and possibly crying. Rose can’t tell, because the hoodie is partially covering his face. The vomit stinks like a brewery. Years of nursing experience snap her into action. ‘Okay, boy, let’s have you on your feet. Take my hand, that’s right, I’ve got you. Lean against me and we’ll sit you down over at that picnic table…’
Now he’s on his feet, the hoodie slips back to reveal a very young face – late teens, early twenties, Rose guesses. Ashen-faced, slack-jawed, he tries to push his blond curly hair from his eyes but it flops forward, defying all attempts. ‘I… I…’
‘No need to say anything. We’ll get you sat down and get some water into you. Smells like you’ve drained a wine cellar.’
‘I did and … cider.’
‘Nice.’
After three or four attempts, the young man manages to get his leg over the bench and slumps down, head on the wooden picnic table. Rose wonders if she should try and get him inside, but charitable as she is, she doesn’t want to be scrubbing vomit from her floors. The distant muted blue horizon, melding ocean and sky, tells her it’s not likely to rain, and the sun, despite dodging in and out of low cloud, is gaining strength. ‘So … sorry…’ he says, opening his eyes, the colour of moss.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll go and get some water, and a blanket.’ Rose did think of adding ‘stay there’, but she can tell there’s little chance of him being fit enough to leave.
* * *
Expecting to find him asleep when she returns a few minutes later with a jug of water, a glass and a blanket, she sees him staring at the garden, still slack jawed, but his eyes are lively. The garden is slowly shrugging off the shadows of dawn. The sun comes out again from behind a cloud, and a blackbird sings a cheery song from the willow arch. Rose pours him water and drapes the red-and-yellow checked blanket around his shoulders. He reaches for the water and takes a big gulp.
‘Steady. We don’t want you being sick again. Just sip it. Little by little, we’ll have you rehydrated in no time.’
The young man looks at Rose, his wobbly smile bringing warmth to his eyes and her heart. She wonders what led him to get so drunk and then wander around the streets at dawn being sick in strangers’ gardens. ‘Thank you for being so kind… I’m not sure I would be, if I were you. Ruining your flowers and all.’
‘No real harm done. I’ll give the daisies a good watering. What’s your name? I’m Rose.’
‘I’m Josh.’ He breathes a long shuddering sigh and looks a bit woozy. Rose lightly takes his wrist and feels his pulse. A bit fast but not worryingly so. Josh frowns at her. ‘You checking my heart rate.’
‘Yeah. I used to be a nurse. You’re okay. Drink more water.’ She smiles as she realises this is the first time she’s actually uttered those hitherto dreaded words – ‘I used to be a nurse.’ Rose is unsurprised that she’s absolutely fine with it. ‘Retirement’ isn’t at all the nightmare she thought it could be. She’s come a long way in a relatively short time. Though she mustn’t get complacent. Complacency tends to get a swift kick in the pants sooner or later, she’s found.
‘I see. My parents are both GPs.’ Josh drinks more water and then his eyes flit round the plants and flowers, settling a few seconds on leaf here and petal there, like curious butterflies.
‘So, Josh. How come you ended up here at dawn on this fine Thursday morning?’
Her upbeat tone elicits a quirk of his lips. ‘I had to get away from home for a bit to think. I live in Truro with my parents and we used to come here often when I was a kid. I’d swim with my twin sister on the beach down there, build sandcastles and lark about. We spent loads of days here, just having the best time. When you’re a kid, summer days seem to go on forever, don’t they?’
Rose smiles and refrains from telling him he’s actually still a kid. It would come across as patronising, and it’s something he’ll only realise when he’s in middle age.
‘I booked a BB in the village and then spent most of last night in the pub. When they chucked me out, I got a bottle of wine from the supermarket and drank it as I walked up here.’
Rose notes he’s not explained why he got so drunk, but doesn’t pry. ‘Port Gaverne is certainly a lovely spot. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.’
Josh is concentrating on the garden again and he attempts to get to his feet, but finds himself just as unsteady as before. ‘Hell, the world’s spinning.’ He grabs the edge of the table and sits back down with a bump.
‘It will be. Have some more water.’
He does as she asks and points in the general direction of the honeysuckle and Flora’s mock orange. ‘I was going to go and look at those pink and purple flowers next to those yellow ones. I think I recognise them. Are they sweet peas?’
‘They are indeed – well spotted.’
Josh smiles and his complexion warms up a little. He’s becoming rehydrated, Rose decides. Maybe she’ll make him some scrambled eggs or a bacon sandwich in a while. ‘They are the only flowers I know, really. My gran used to grow them. She called me her…’ Josh’s smile falters, ‘her sweet pea, when I was little. Gran. I do miss her. I used to love to play in her garden. Helped her with the gardening too. Simpler times, happy times.’
Rose thinks he might be crying, but he’s got his head turned away slightly, resting his cheek on the heel of his hand. Instinctively she knows this young man needs a helping hand. This is not just a one-off drunken binge – something is bothering him, something important. Rose isn’t sure if her hands could be the ones he needs, but at least she could give him a listening ear.
‘Josh, do you fancy a bacon sandwich?’
He turns a tear-stained face to hers. ‘You’re so kind… I don’t deserve it.’
‘It would be my pleasure. You just sit here and look at the garden, feel its healing energy.’
Josh doesn’t reply, just nods and looks away.
* * *
An hour later, he is looking much healthier and wiping the remnants of ketchup from his mouth. The sun’s glinting on his hair, giving him the look of a sleepy cherub.
‘I can drive you back to your BB after you’ve finished your coffee, so you can rest,’ Rose offers.
‘I wish I could say I’ll manage by myself, to save you coming out, but I’m realistic enough to know that I can’t. So yes please, and I can’t thank you enough for rescuing me.’
‘You looked like you needed it.’
‘Yeah. I did … I do. My life is a pile of shit right now.’ Josh presses his lips together and looks away, embarrassed. Rose thinks he might have regretted saying that.
‘If you want to tell me about it, I’m a good listener.’
‘I’ve taken up enough of your time already.’
‘Not at all.’ Rose drinks some coffee and waits. She knows there’ll be more.
‘Okay. I’ll tell you as an explanation as to why I showed up here, legless. It’s not an excuse, though, and once again – I’m deeply sorry for my behaviour.’
His demeanour and tone are reminiscent of a public schoolboy’s after being hauled up in front of the headmaster. ‘Stop apologising, and if I can help, I will.’
Josh gets up and wanders over to the sweet peas, strokes their delicate petals and sits cross-legged by them in the grass. He looks over at Rose and then up to the clouds above.
‘My twin sister, I mentioned before, is a lost soul. Lucy’s on drugs. No idea where she is. The last I heard she was living on the street in Plymouth. My parents and I tried to find her over the two years since she’s been gone and managed it once or twice. She came home, promised to let us help her and then disappeared again a few days later. When she was with us, in her more lucid moments, she confided that she couldn’t bear the pressure to be perfect that our parents put on her. Which I completely understood. Lucy felt that no matter what she did, it was never good enough. Her goal was to work with the seals at the Gweek seal sanctuary. She’s always loved seals, ever since she was a tiny girl, and what she doesn’t know about them isn’t worth knowing. Our parents said that was something she could maybe pursue at weekends, but she should maybe tailor her interests into becoming a vet instead.’
Josh sighs and plucks a few blades of grass from the lawn and chews the end of one. Rose walks over to join him and sits down nearby. ‘Lucy didn’t like that idea?’
‘No. She isn’t really that academic. Not that she’s unintelligent – far from it. But she’s never been a hoop jumper. Much to my parents’ chagrin. They put us both through private school and they hated the thought of wasting their money.’ He tosses the blades of grass in the air. ‘Anyway, long story short, she dropped out of school and ran away on her seventeenth birthday. It wasn’t that much of a shock to me, as she’d become withdrawn and distant from me … secretive. Shortly after, we discovered she was an addict and living in a squat. The parents were devastated, of course.’ Josh rolls his eyes and affects a plummy accent. ‘I mean, imagine the shame, darling.’
The public-school demeanour and tone make a lot of sense now to Rose. ‘Poor Lucy… Do you think she might eventually be persuaded, if not to come home, to get professional help?’
‘No idea. I hope so. Trouble is, I’m not much help to her at the moment because ever since she left, I’ve had double the pressure to succeed in my chosen profession.’ Josh grimaces. ‘That’s a laugh. It’s their chosen profession. As I said, the parents are both doctors and they decided as soon as I emerged from the womb – before I even drew my first breath, I imagine – that I’d follow in their footsteps.’
The despair he’s been living with is almost tangible. ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Josh. So you’ve no interest in a medical degree?’
‘No. I’ve taken a year out, much to the parents’ horror. I said I needed a break from studying and time to think. They can’t understand that at all.’
‘Did you struggle with A-levels?’
‘Nah. Sailed through them – got A-stars in all. I’ve never struggled with anything academic, but I’m really not sure that I want to be a doctor. At first I thought I did, but as I progressed through my teens, I realised it was their dream I was living, not mine. They won’t listen, of course. They never do.’
They sit quietly together in the strengthening sun, a sea breeze playing with their hair and keeping a pleasant temperature. Rose picks a sprig of rosemary and inhales the fragrance while she ponders Josh’s story. ‘From what you’ve told me, it seems like your parents have put so much pressure on you and Lucy that you’ve both snapped – she more dramatically than you. I know you just told me that they won’t listen. But maybe it’s time to make them listen – make them really take notice of what you actually want from life.’
‘Yeah. It would be nice if I knew the answer to that myself.’ Josh follows suit with the rosemary.
‘Well, you know what you don’t want, and that’s a start. Besides, you’re still young. You should be given time to decide. What are you, nineteen?’
‘Yeah, almost twenty.’
‘Plenty of time.’
‘Not if you’re my parents.’
‘Have you any ideas at all?’
‘Hmm. I like being outside… I like being here amongst nature – growing things.’ He gestures to the flowers. ‘I like swimming, listening to music. Not much of a job description.’ Josh’s smile is like the sun coming out from behind clouds.
‘It’s a start.’ Rose smiles back. Then she thinks of the sweet pea comments from earlier. ‘You enjoyed helping your gran in the garden. Maybe gardening is something you could consider?’
‘Possibly. I’ve not done anything green-fingered, though, since Gran went. I miss her so.’
Rose nods, knowing only too well how grief can put the brakes on. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Josh. When did she pass?’
A look of surprise gives way to an embarrassed chuckle. ‘God, no. Sorry – I can see how you’d get that idea. Gran’s not dead … well, I suppose a huge part of her is. She has dementia, and she’s in a care home. She used to live with us.’
‘Oh, right. Yes, that must be upsetting for you. Does she remember you when you visit?’
He looks away. ‘I don’t anymore, I’m afraid. I can’t face it. She has this vacant stare, then she often becomes anxious and panicky. Sometimes she smiles at me and I think she remembers who I am, but she doesn’t. She thinks I’m a carer. I tell her I’m her grandson, but that upsets her, because she only remembers me as a little boy. When she first went into the care home, it was like she was hidden behind curtains, but very occasionally they twitched apart, and I fleetingly glimpsed the old Gran. The curtains are always closed nowadays, though.’
Upon hearing this sad news, an idea bursts open in Rose’s head like a new bloom. As well as the memory about the old lady at the end of her life becoming animated when her hospital bed was wheeled out into the garden in the spring sunshine, more recently Rose remembers reading about sensory gardens. Some care homes and hospitals have dedicated green spaces for mental health and dementia patients. They are planted with aromatic plants which appeal to as many of the senses as possible – smell, touch, taste, sound, and, of course, sight. Lavender, rosemary, mint, roses, honeysuckle (hers is now too big for the trellis, so she has encouraged it to grow over the pergola too) and various salad plants, are all favourites, as their scents and textures stimulate the senses and invoke past memories. Bamboo and tall grasses are other favourites, as they are found to have a soothing and calming effect when the wind moves gently through their stems. Sometimes patients do their own gardening, feeling the soil in their hands, weeding and watering plants. Rose was delighted but unsurprised to find that when handled, bacteria in soil trigger the release of serotonin in the human brain. No wonder so many people feel happy when they’re gardening.
Rose puts a hand on Josh’s arm. ‘I have an idea how you might be able to see through that curtain again, Josh.’ She tells him all about the sensory gardens and how being close to nature might help his gran.
He listens – a small frown ebbing and flowing across his brow. ‘Well, that certainly makes sense, but I’m not sure it would work for my gran. I mean, how would I get her involved? They have a garden there. But it’s mostly lawn and a few shrubs.’
‘Let me have a think.’ Rose stands up and looks down the green sweep of her garden towards the blue of the ocean. There’s already an idea taking shape. ‘When I’ve fleshed something out, would you like me to come with you to visit your gran?’
Josh blinks a few times and manages a nod. ‘Yes please, Rose.’
‘Good. That’s settled then. And in the meantime, if you feel in a self-destructive mood, don’t go to the pub. Give me a ring instead. Agreed?’
Another nod. Then he reaches out and gives her hand a gentle pat.
‘Right, let’s get you back to the BB so you can sleep.’
Josh follows her down the path to her car, but before he gets into the passenger seat, he says, ‘Rose?’
‘Yep.’
‘Thank you for being so kind. For rescuing me.’
‘You’re welcome. It’s been a real pleasure meeting you, Josh.’ Rose realises that she means every word, despite her initial worries when he was vomiting on her daisies at the crack of dawn. This young man has a good heart and she knows he will find his way.