Beth
Beth
She understands now.
The woman who wanted a selfie didn’t hit her. Rather, her own head hit her. It got fed up with her and decided to teach her the ultimate lesson.
The wake-up call to end all wake-up calls. And she has well and truly woken up.
Her show was postponed, which made her feel utterly ashamed but which she knows is something she had no choice about. After all, it wouldn’t be fair to the audience to go ahead if she wasn’t going to give them the performance they deserved.
She has had a lot of time to think since the panic attack. She has a new counsellor, Justine, who has been helping her. She appreciates how very lucky she is to be able to afford to pay someone to help her deal with her trauma.
Despite this, as she so often does at the moment, she wakes up in the middle of the night, her hair stuck to her head with sweat.
She rubs her eyes. She’s been dreaming again. Of Rosa, this time, and the ugly cabbages she sent six months ago.
She glances over at Nick, breathing steadily beside her. She reaches over and strokes his hair gently as he sleeps.
She feels a rush of gratitude to be here, to be living this life. This near-perfect life. To feel this safe. Safer then she’s ever felt.
And yet…
Something is unresolved, niggling at her subconscious… but her brain is cloudy and she can’t part the mist to unveil exactly what it is that’s bothering it.
She sits up in bed. Yesterday she met her agent Zoe for the first time since they pulled the show. They discussed it, tentatively throwing around dates when she might be ready to perform again.
‘They’re all still keen for you to do it,’ Zoe said. ‘Depressingly, money can’t buy the kind of publicity it’ll get, after what happened last time.’
Zoe curled her lip at the thought of it. She knew, as well as Beth did, how distasteful it all was. But Beth pulling out of the show the day before it opened meant people – and the media especially – were more interested than ever.
Zoe stared at her, noticing her reluctance to respond.
‘But of course, it will have to be once you’re sure you’re up to it. I absolutely don’t want to put any pressure on you.’
Beth swallowed. The old Beth was still there, telling her to say that of course she’s up to it and to implore Zoe to go ahead and get the run rescheduled as soon as possible.
But she couldn’t bring herself to say it. And so Zoe changed the subject, probably feeling guilty for bringing it up. And Beth left it at that.
Is it a coincidence, then, that she’s woken now thinking of Rosa?
Is Rosa the real reason she doesn’t feel ready to commit to performing the play?
She will never forget the words in that card.
Congratulations! I’m happy you got everything you wanted out of life. Hope the show goes really well.
Rosa x
She wonders what became of the cabbages. Maybe Penny, the theatre manager, took them home. She seemed to like them.
She takes a deep breath. It’s no use, clearly. She won’t be able to focus, to truly recover, until she’s spoken to Rosa.
Until she’s put the matter to rest, once and for all.
*
It didn’t take much to arrange. A quick Facebook message – her friend request now accepted – a suspiciously warm response, and a few days’ patience.
Beth arrives early, taking a seat on the pavement outside the coffee shop. It’s been more than a year since she was last on television, and she cut her hair short a few weeks ago. She likes the new sense of anonymity she has, the feeling that she can truly be herself in public as well as in private now.
Rosa is ten minutes late, but despite looking remarkably different from how Beth remembered her, she is somehow also exactly the same.
Her once impressive black hair is now thinner, but Beth can tell that she’s made an effort. Thick mascara sticks in clumps to her eyelashes and she’s wearing lipstick.
They sit at They sit at the table together, two cappuccinos in front of them.
‘Beth,’ Rosa says. ‘It’s been…’
Rosa’s nervous. It’s a surprise, a completely different dynamic between them. Not what Beth was expecting.
But she’s well-practised in dealing with people who are nervous around her. She falls to tried-and-tested methods to make Rosa feel more at ease.
‘Hope you haven’t had a difficult journey. How have you been?’
‘I’m fine. It was fine,’ Rosa says. ‘I mean. I’ve lived in London for years now, this place isn’t far.’
‘That’s right, you moved down here after you graduated?’
Rosa nods.
‘Long way from Manchester. You must miss your family.’
‘Oh, well. I get back often enough.’
Rosa stirs her coffee. She seems not to know what to say. This Rosa is new to Beth: quiet, restrained, watchful.
‘You sent me some flowers, the night before my show was due to open,’ Beth begins, as though to remind her that Rosa is the one who first made contact.
‘Yes.’
‘They were very nice. A real surprise. I suppose, I just wondered… Well, why?’
Rosa shifts in her seat.
‘I need some sugar for my coffee,’ she says, eventually. ‘Hang on a minute.’
Beth waits as Rosa walks to the counter, returning a few seconds later clutching three brown sachets, and pouring them in. She is suddenly terrified that Rosa is about to tell her something about Nick. Something she doesn’t want to hear.
‘I’ve got three kids. The little one is a terrible sleeper,’ Rosa says. ‘It’s been a difficult year. My husband works away a lot. We got married young. Too young and… Well, things haven’t been great between us to be quite honest with you.’
‘Oh,’ Beth says. ‘What does he do again?’
‘He’s an engineer. Works in the oil industry.’
Beth nods.
They make small talk in this vein for several minutes while Beth tries to see any trace of the eighteen-year-old she remembered from all those years ago. But all she sees is a sad, tired woman, trying to keep herself together.
‘I wanted to talk to you,’ Beth says, after their small talk dries up. ‘About the fire… I’d like…’
But then she tails off. What did she come here for? To justify why she wanted to talk about the fire in her show?
Suddenly she realises what she’s probably known all along. That she doesn’t need any answers from Rosa. She doesn’t need to apologise for anything. She hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s her story to tell if she wants to tell it.
It wasn’t their fault they escaped the fire. And she’s allowed to talk about it. She’s allowed to put her pain into her work if she wants to.
‘Actually, it doesn’t matter,’ Beth says, quietly. It doesn’t.
What is she doing here? Looking for closure, or permission from a person who she never liked and who doesn’t matter, who has nothing to do with her life now? What does it matter if Rosa doesn’t approve?
Rosa isn’t listening anyway. Her handbag is vibrating, and she digs around inside it, scrabbling for her mobile.
‘Shit, it’s the school,’ Rosa says.
Beth listens as Rosa explains that yes, Ned needs to be kept off swimming today because he’s having an eczema flare-up, and didn’t they get the email she sent to the school office?
‘For God’s sake,’ she says, hanging up the phone. ‘My life is just non-stop kids admin. What about you? You haven’t had any yet, have you?’
Beth shakes her head. The forthright, tactless nature of the question reminds her of the Rosa she used to know.
‘I read somewhere that your partner died,’ Rosa says. She looks upset as she says it. ‘I remember him from Parker’s wedding. He was a nice guy. Sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you,’ Beth says. ‘He was the best of the best.’
Rosa nods.
Parker.
She forgot that Rosa always called Nick by his surname.
‘Listen, I sent you the flowers,’ Rosa begins, looking down at her lap and taking a deep breath. ‘As my way of, I don’t know… apologising. Or something. I saw a piece about your show in the Guardian and I was pleased for you. I always felt so guilty for the way I treated you. I thought you were trying to break up Anna and Parker… and I was so fucked up after my parents divorced. Anna was everything to me.’ She sighs. ‘But after the fire, I was a mess. That’s why I always stayed in touch with Parker, even though I don’t think he ever really liked me all that much. And then when I saw you were doing that play, I don’t know… It all came back to me. I suppose for the first time I realised how hard it must have been for you, too. I thought, God, we’ve all suffered haven’t we? Afterwards.’
Rosa pauses.
‘She was my best friend,’ she says. ‘She was my best friend and she died.’
Anna.
‘I know,’ Beth replies. She reaches out across the rickety table and takes Rosa’s hand.
‘You were the only one who knew what happened… What I did,’ Rosa says, her voice cracking. ‘And you never said anything. That was why I avoided you… I was so scared one day you would…’
Beth frowns.
‘It’s been so hard to live with. Knowing it was my fault,’ Rosa says. ‘If it hadn’t been for me… for that stupid shower cap.’
Beth stares at her.
And then, the lightning bolt strikes and she remembers. That conversation after she got back from her grandad’s funeral. The shower cap covering the smoke alarm in their kitchen. Rosa smirking as she sucked on her cigarette.
Stupid thing is so oversensitive anyway.
So this is what it’s all been about, all these years. Rosa’s own guilt.
‘If the fire brigade found out in their investigation, they never mentioned it.’ Rosa pauses. ‘I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not really. Maybe it didn’t make any difference. Either way, it’s eaten me up, all these years. Knowing that things might have been different if only I hadn’t done that…’
She takes a deep breath, but Beth can see the hint of self-pity in the way she holds herself. Despite everything, Rosa sees herself primarily as a victim.
‘Perhaps it would have been better if I’d gone to prison.’
‘I…’ Beth doesn’t know what to say. ‘I’d completely forgotten.’
Rosa’s face falls.
Beth remembers the inquiry afterwards. Nick had left by the time the report was released, and she read it alone in her new bedroom in the tiny house she shared with Georgia. The cause of the fire was faulty wiring in the kitchen. But no one could explain why it had taken such a strong hold before the alarm went off.
Beth remembers the sobs that started after she read it. How they wracked her entire body and she thought they might never stop.
‘I was a mess back then,’ Rosa continues. ‘But I was just a kid. I was just a stupid cocky kid, who thought she was invincible. I never thought… I mean we never thought there would be an actual fire. Did we?’
Beth swallows. She doesn’t know what to say, how to assuage Rosa’s guilt.
‘Rosa, I think,’ she says, eventually. ‘You’re right… about one thing. We’ve all suffered enough. I think… we should try our best to let it go.’
Rosa nods, blinking slowly, as though someone has told her this before. Beth wonders how many conversations she’s had about it over the years.
Perhaps she should have been properly punished for what she did, but Beth can sense that she’s been punishing herself ever since, in myriad ways.
‘I wish I could go back…’
Beth shakes her head. Rosa sighs, understanding that Beth doesn’t want to hear her self-pity.
‘I know. Not possible. I’m sorry it didn’t work out with your show,’ she says. ‘I heard you were sick?’
She glances at Beth’s short hair and Beth knows she’s assuming cancer. There has been endless speculation about what happened to her. Her publicist has worked miracles keeping the true story out of the press.
‘I was, but I’m on the road to recovery now, thanks.’
‘That’s good. It’s been impressive, watching your career. What a success you’ve made of yourself. I can imagine it’s pretty terrifying, doing a one-woman show.’
‘Some of the best things in life are terrifying,’ Beth says, forcefully. ‘Some of the most important things you’ll ever do.’
Rosa doesn’t look convinced.
They fall into another silence. Both their coffee cups are now drained.
‘Well, I’d better be getting back,’ Rosa says, taking the hint. ‘But it was nice to see you again, Beth. I’m glad you’re looking well. Really, I am. I’m glad everything worked out for you. Take care of yourself.’
And with that, she slings her bag over her shoulder and stands up, before walking off down the street.