Chapter 26
Rose’s policy of ‘just sing and go’ has stood her in good stead these past three weekends. Last night was the final gig they’d been scheduled for, and now, a Saturday alone tending her garden and relaxing in the sunshine, lies ahead of her like a gift. She stretches and slips out of bed, the songs of last night still playing in her head, the applause of the pub audience loud in her ears. Exhilarated, is how she’d describe the experience. Joyous. A little like being in her garden. But not as calming, nor grounding. Periods of intense excitement, she’s decided, have their place and are the perfect complement to her calm, happy, nurturing spirit which she’s lucky enough to have living inside her every day. She adores making the audience happy as well. Too much of it could become unmanageable, however. Hence the ‘just sing and go’ approach.
Daisy always asks her to stay on after the gig for a drink and a chat, but Rose doesn’t want to get drawn into all that. She doesn’t want it to become the norm – a thing that is expected of her. She arrives in time for a sound check and leaves more or less after the last guitar notes wind up to the rafters. Rose catches sight of herself in the bathroom mirror and honesty kicks the thoughts she’s just manufactured into touch. Who is she trying to fool? ‘Just sing and go’ is her plan, mainly because she doesn’t want to get too friendly with Tristan. He always gives her that old smile, the one she could never resist when they were together, and often puts a friendly arm around her shoulders. Daisy told her that he’s divorced too, which also flew a red flag in her mind. Rose is happy with her life and wants to avoid any kind of tricky situation, thank you very much. Getting happy with her life has taken time and effort, and there’s no way a few unwise decisions are going to ruin it.
* * *
The garden is changing colour every day, shrugging off its summer blooms, and there’s an underlying feeling of lethargy, of a hunkering down, of preparing to sleep. Rose loves September and has learned to appreciate every season, a little like appreciating every stage of her life. The latter is something she’s learned recently. Contemplating, pondering, being thankful for the time she had with Glen and Bella, especially in the prim-nose days, but also accepting she can’t hang onto it forever. Then the fear of retiring, of losing her identity as a nurse, of stepping into the future, alone, directionless. She couldn’t have been more wrong; thanks to this glorious Eden she shares with her friends and family.
Of course, there are still times when she lies awake, wrapped in the past, staring at the ceiling and wondering what she’d be doing now if Glen were still here. Would they go off on the cruise he always said they’d do when she retired? Would they be docking into far-flung harbours, filled with the excitement of embarking on new adventures? Probably. And yes, she’d absolutely love this, but what’s the point in torturing herself? It can never happen. She’s learned to face these memories head on. Face them, cry, shout her anger at the ceiling, and then put them away. Sometimes they refuse to leave until the dawn creeps under the curtains; other times they leave immediately. One thing Rose knows for sure is that they’re unlikely to leave completely. But because of who she is now, she has the tools and the strength to face them.
Rose is able to manage her feelings much more now too. She doesn’t mourn the passing of summer, the dying of the sweet peas, agapanthus, honeysuckle, roses and the rest. She will always have the memory of them to keep, and of the people they gave happiness to. Flora, Lily, Weez, Sally and Josh, to name a few. Autumn will soon be here and then, after a period of winter inactivity, the miracle of spring will see nature rousing again and bursting with green shoots. Full circle. New life. New hope.
It’s so therapeutic being here alone in the garden, Rose thinks. The wind is light and the only sounds she can hear as she goes about her deadheading, are the snip of the secateurs, the drone of a few sleepy bees on the lavender, and the quiet shush of the ocean in the distance. The children are at Daisy’s, playing with her grandchildren, and Bella and Hannah are out down the coast in the VW for the second weekend in a row, selling their gorgeous sandwiches and pastries to the last remaining tourists.
Bella was ecstatic last week when she came back. All the food had been sold, and lots of people had asked if they would be back again in the future. Rose is overjoyed to see her fulfilling her dreams at last. And next week, the little family will be moving into their own place, just a mile away. They’re renting for now, but once Nigel had settled into his job, they plan to buy. Bella told her yesterday that she and Nigel are getting on better now than they have for years. He’s totally on board with her new venture and gets that he was too controlling in the past. Best of all, if they do have a disagreement, they talk it through.
Flora and James seem to be getting on well too, though she can be a little cagey if Rose pushes for more detail about their relationship. Flora tells her not to be nosy and her cheeks turn into apples. Rose says she’s not being nosy, just showing an interest. Actually, she has to acknowledge that she probably is being nosy, but she’s dying to know how it’s all going. What she does know is that the first ‘date’ they had at the gig ended in a chaste kiss on Flora’s doorstep. After divulging this, Flora came over all unnecessary and Rose could get no more out of her.
* * *
A little while later, a grumble in her stomach reminds her she’s not had lunch yet, and a freshly baked quiche is waiting on the kitchen counter. Maybe she’ll have some salad with it too. The smile on her face at the thought of her tasty lunch shrivels and dies on her lips, like the petals on the rose bush, when she sees Tristan walking up the path towards her. His long easy stride and confident manner, complete with ‘that’ smile, irritate the hell out of her. How dare he just rock up unannounced?
‘Tristan?’ she says a little stiffly. ‘I thought you’d gone back to Wales this morning.’
‘I’m all packed and ready.’ He nods at his car parked outside the gate. ‘I just thought we could have a chat before I went. We’ve not had two minutes to catch up, have we?’
That’s because I planned it that way. Now what?‘Erm, well, I was just about to have lunch.’ As soon as the words are out, Rose wishes them back in again. That could be interpreted as an invitation.
‘Sounds like a plan … unless you don’t have enough for me?’ The smile disappears as he clocks her stony face. ‘Sorry, if I misunderstood.’
Oh, for goodness’ sake, he’s an old friend. Get over yourself.‘No, course not. Yeah, there’s enough. Only quiche, though.’ She turns and leads the way inside, cursing under her breath.
* * *
As she gets lunch, Tristan looks around the kitchen and pops his head round the living-room door. ‘A fabulous place you have here. And that garden, wow!’ He gestures out the window. ‘It’s amazing. Flora was telling me the other night how hard you’ve worked on it and how much your friends love to visit. Planting memories … that’s so special.’
Rose bristles with annoyance and she’s glad she has her back to him. Bloody Flora, sharing all Rose’s business like that. ‘Right, yeah. I didn’t see Flora at the gig last night?’
‘No, it was the first gig we did at the pub. You left early, like always, and I had a chat with her and James.’
How very cosy for you all.Rose gives a non-committal grunt and wonders why she’s getting so grumpy. Flora was just being her usual gregarious self, she imagines. And Tristan is a very friendly guy. He’d have told her all about how he knew Rose too, she expects. ‘Do you want tea, coffee, or a cold drink?’
‘Whatever you’re having, Rose.’
I’m having a fit of pique, Tristan, and I need to calm myself.‘Okay, take your plate out to the old picnic bench near the pergola, and I’ll bring the drinks.’
* * *
Tristan is in rapture over the cheese and onion quiche and the home-grown tomatoes, lettuce and cucumber on the side. ‘I once had a go at growing stuff years back, but I don’t have your green fingers. The slugs ate all the tomatoes, so I didn’t bother again.’
‘Now, where would nature be with that attitude, eh? What if the bees and flowers just gave up after they’d been battered by a storm?’ Rose paraphrases Lucy, but it doesn’t sound as impactful.
‘Hm, yep. I’m not the best at weathering storms.’ He dabs his mouth with a bit of kitchen roll. ‘Used to be, but I lost my daughter when she was six. Had a full-blown breakdown and yeah … well.’ He blows down his nostrils and looks away. ‘Sorry, Rose. That came from nowhere and I’ve no idea why. I’m such a fucking loser for dropping it on you like this’
To say Rose is dumfounded would be an understatement. It seems she can find no appropriate response in her ‘used to be a nurse’ bag either. They sit looking at each other and she’s not sure who seems most upset by his revelation. She finds she wants to cry, but takes a sip of tea and says gently, ‘Sally, the lady who made the pond, remember? She reckons sometimes this garden has a cathartic effect. It’s been known to draw deep thoughts out into the open. Stuff you thought was safely locked away. She said it was scary, but she felt all the better for it in the end.’
Tristan shrugs. ‘Perhaps. I had no idea I was going to tell you about Gemma, but then out it came.’
‘You can tell me all about it … only if you want to, of course.’
Rose listens as he explains that twenty-six years ago, Gemma, his youngest daughter, was round at a friend’s house. They were playing ball in the front garden and the ball bounced into the street. Gemma ran out to retrieve it, didn’t look where she was going, and was hit by a car.
‘It was quick, so we have to be thankful for that. My little one didn’t suffer. But my god, it was tough for my wife and Gemma’s sister and brother. As I said, I had a breakdown and was no good to anyone for nearly a year. My poor wife, Diana, had to do everything alone.’ He shakes his head and picks at the dry skin around his thumbnail.
To Rose, Tristan Carthew had seemed confident, outgoing, self-assured – just as he’d always been. Who would have guessed that behind it all, he would be carrying the weight of such unimaginable grief? ‘Is that what led to the divorce?’ she asks, instinctively knowing he needs to get it all out.
‘No.’ Tristan puts his head on one side and looks at the honeysuckle, lost in thought for a few seconds. ‘Well, maybe it was the beginning of the end. But we’ve only been divorced three years.’ He drinks some tea. ‘No, it was a Paul Simon song that did it.’ He laughs at her surprise. ‘I was listening to “Slip Slidin’ Away” on the radio as I was driving home from work one day. The meaning of the lyrics suddenly jumped out and hit me like a ton of bricks. It was incredible. Almost like an epiphany. I can’t remember them exactly right now word for word, but he says something like – we go to work, collect our pay, believe we’re gliding down the highway, but instead we’re slip slidin’ away. We only have so long on this earth, and I realised I had to be honest with myself. I wasn’t happy. Hadn’t been for a long time. I’d been married to Diana for over thirty years, but we never had what you call a knock-your-socks-off passionate relationship. Don’t get me wrong, I loved her, but not in the way I ought to. Not in the way…’
He tails off and picks at the dry skin round his nail again. Rose has the uncomfortable feeling that he was about to say, Not in the way I loved you. He shouldn’t say it. He mustn’t say it. To make sure he’s side-tracked, she asks, ‘Why did you marry, if that was the case?’
‘Diana fell pregnant. Simple as that. We got married. That’s what you did then, I guess. Many still do now. And like I say, I loved her in my own way. But those lyrics made me realise I needed to make a radical change before I went slip slidin’ away. I’ve got more years behind me than in front, and I want to feel like I’m actually living them to the best of my ability, you know?’
Rose does. ‘Of course. At our age we need to live for every day. At any age, really. Bet it was a big shock for your wife, though.’
‘At first yes, but in the end, after many discussions, she admitted she wasn’t that surprised. She’d had similar feelings and we were very honest with each other. She told me that when I fell apart after Gemma died, she resented me. She felt abandoned, unsupported. She knew I couldn’t help it, but she said something that was tethering her to me loosened, and later on, somewhere down the line, she guessed it just snapped. Diana realised that she’d been going through the motions, same as I had, for years. We agreed it was over, had an amicable divorce and now she’s met someone else. I’m very happy for her.’
Rose watches Tristan’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows his emotions. The poor guy has had such a different life to the one she imagined. The box she made up for him. ‘Well, at least you have a good few years ahead now. I’m sure you’ll make the most of them.’
‘I’m trying my best.’ He gives her a big smile. ‘Flora told me you had a very happy marriage and that your family are here with you now. Must be a comfort after losing your husband.’
‘Is there anything that woman didn’t bloody tell you, for god’s sake?’ A bit snotty, but she can’t help it. Seems like her whole life story had been poured out to Tristan down the pub, along with a few pints.
‘Sorry. I don’t think Flora was being indiscreet.’ Tristan pushes his hand through his hair. ‘It’s obvious how much you mean to her.’
The truth of this hits home and Rose thinks about apologising, but she changes the subject instead. ‘Yeah, I guess. So, when your parents dragged you kicking and screaming to Wales the summer we both turned sixteen, what did you do with yourself? I’m guessing you didn’t form a band and get more famous than Fleetwood Mac, or I would have seen you on TV.’
He laughs, and she remembers the boy from the wild garlic day. Feels a rush of warmth towards him.
‘No. I worked in the same engineering plant as my dad. Then I met Diana and you know the rest. I did play in a band at weekends, though it kind of fizzled out when the three children came along, and life makes other plans for you, doesn’t it? Now I’m retired, I’m overjoyed to be back into that scene. Especially now we have you on vocals.’ He smiles at Rose. ‘Overjoyed to be back home too. I never saw Wales as home.’ He holds up a finger. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I made lots of lovely friends, but Cornwall will always be where I belong.’
Rose gets that. She couldn’t call anywhere else home either. She’s glad that he’s so happy singing again, but she can see a problem. ‘Won’t it be difficult to maintain, though – playing with a Cornwall-based band? I know you’ve been staying at Daisy and Steve’s for a bit of a holiday, but long-term? Wales isn’t exactly round the corner from Cornwall.’
Tristan nods and gives her that engaging smile of his. ‘Yeah, it wouldn’t work long-term. Thing is, I’m thinking of moving back. It’s a tough decision, because my children and grandchildren are in Cardiff, but it’s only three hours or so away – not that bad. And in the end, they have their own lives. As I said, I want to make sure that I get the best of what’s left of mine.’
Rose is only half listening as he goes on to tell her all about his eldest son, Mark, and his middle daughter, Jade. The idea of him moving back here makes her feel unsettled and she doesn’t like it. Tristan belongs to her past, and though she’s enjoyed singing with him and the band, she imagined that when his holiday here was over, he’d slot back neatly into the past where he belonged. Now there could be a messy overlap between past and present, and she doesn’t want there to be. He’s looking at her with a question in his eyes.
‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘I was wondering if, when I visit again soon, I could plant a memory here for my Gemma? I thought a rose. I looked it up and there’s one named Gemma – a pink one, very cheerful – like she always was.’
Rose watches his Adam’s apple bob again, which pushes her unwelcome thoughts of ‘past and present overlap’ to the back of her mind. ‘Of course you can. That’s a lovely idea.’ They do the smiley staring thing across the table, while Rose thinks of a polite way to bring things to a close. ‘Okay, I must get on with this gardening before Bella and the kids get back. No rest for the wicked, eh?’
She thinks she notices a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, but he hides it with a chuckle and stands up. ‘No rest for me either. I best get home and start the ball rolling on the house hunt.’
That was fast. ‘Thinking about moving’ has morphed into ‘looking for houses’ within a few minutes? ‘Yes, good luck with it.’ Rose leads the way back to his car and stands to one side as he goes through the gate.
‘Thanks for the lovely lunch, and the catch-up. It was ace.’
‘Ace?’ She laughs. ‘We always used to say that years back, didn’t we? Great word, but nobody uses it now.’
He grins. ‘Well, they should. We should make a point of using it, and then it will come back into fashion.’
‘Perhaps.’ Rose thinks he should go now, because there’s a big cloud of awkwardness rolling in over the sea. Her grin is too stretchy and it’s starting to make her face ache. Tristan takes a step forward. Oh no. He’s actually going to…
‘Thanks again, Rose. See you soon.’ His hug is firm and heartfelt, and then he quickly brushes her cheek with his lips.
Rose steps back, face like a furnace, and says, ‘Yes, maybe at the next gig. I know Daisy was saying there might be one this month.’ Once again (like the lunch ‘invite’) she’s said something that could be seen as encouragement. Out of the blue, uncalled for, and very irritating.
‘Yeah. And let’s keep in touch. Flora gave me your number, so I’ll message you. Bye, Rose!’ Tristan raises his hand, gets in the car and drives away.
Bloody Flora! Rose stomps back up the path to collect the lunch things from the picnic table, all the while cursing under her breath. Flora needs to butt out, and she’ll tell her exactly that, next time she sees her.