Chapter Fourteen
Rosie refused to let her thoughts dwell on Connor or her dinner at DeLaneys, and after work she concentrated on Sophia’s dress.
Her first job had been to unpick all the yards of tulle.
It had clearly started out life as a tutu, but it would work better as a dress if the tulle didn’t stick out quite so much.
Having repositioned the tulle as under-netting, it now needed a skirt.
Rosie pulled out one of several plastic storage crates sitting in the second bedroom, or her sewing room as she liked to call it now.
The crate was full of carefully folded material leftovers from all sorts of past projects, as well as lengths of material she’d bought for projects that never got off the design board.
As she rummaged her way down to the bottom, it was like a trip down memory lane.
Here was the black felt she used to make a witches outfit for Halloween, and the remains of the yellow buttercup print she had turned into a Roman blind for the kitchen.
A few moments later and she found what she was looking for: the pink satin with rainbows and unicorns on it.
She’d bought it years ago along with many other things that were now redundant and just sat, unused and unloved.
Now this could have a new home and she hummed to herself as she started to measure up what she needed.
*
For the next couple of evenings Rosie busied herself in her sewing room and she had sat up late on Friday, putting the last-minute touches to Sophia’s fairy dress.
She was pleased with the results. The skirt hung nicely over the under-netting, and she’d added a dart to allow for future growth.
Around the waist she had stitched a length of wide ribbon that tied in a generous bow at the back.
She would have liked to add a few crystals to give it extra sparkle, but she wasn’t sure how they might fare in Martina’s washing machine.
On Saturday afternoon she parked at the front of the flats instead of round the back as she usually did. The sky was grey and heavy with dark clouds that threatened rain, and in any case, she wasn’t in the mood to tackle the garden. Or to see her landlord. However, she did still have to pay him.
Last time she left the cash for him when they had their morning cuppa, but today she reverted to a less intimate method.
She pulled an envelope out of her pocket, added his name to the front and then slipped the seven pounds inside.
She could put up with many things, but she hated being deceived.
He hadn’t wanted her to have dinner with him, he simply needed an excuse to be there.
No wonder he suggested it might be a business meeting!
Well, she was not going to be a paid accomplice in his social media games.
She pulled two twenty pound notes from her purse and stuffed them in the envelope before sticking it down.
Underneath his name she scribbled a note:
Contribution towards cost of dinner enclosed. Next time you want to organise a publicity stunt, you can do it on your own.
She posted the envelope quietly through his letterbox and then hurried round to his neighbour.
As soon as Martina opened the door, Sophia ran out to greet her like an excited puppy, and the despondency swilling around inside her drained away.
She waited until they were all sitting down before opening her bag and revealing the contents.
For a second there was a stunned silence and then Sophia squealed as she jumped up and down and clapped her hands.
‘I think that means you like it,’ said Rosie, smiling.
‘It’s my fairy dress!’ she shouted as she continued to dance around holding the dress against her body. Martina brushed her hand against the soft skirt as Sophia twirled round in front of them.
‘How did you…?’ She gave Rosie an accusatory stare. ‘This isn’t the same dress, is it? I thought you were just going to put in a few stitches. I can’t afford to—’
Rosie held up her hand. ‘Please. It’s a gift for Sophia. All I did was reposition the netting underneath and make a skirt to lie over the top. The material was sitting in a box doing nothing and I’ve really enjoyed having something to make.’
Martina shook her head. ‘No one’s ever done anything like this for us. I don’t know what to say.’
Rosie gave Sophia a wink. ‘Told you I could make fairy dresses,’ she said in a conspiratorial whisper.
Martina insisted she stay for a cup of tea, and after a while the children got bored of standing around in the kitchen and drifted back to the television.
As they chatted about the weather, gardens, and life in general, Rosie realised there was a different side to Martina.
The reason for her somewhat frosty exterior became apparent when Martina touched on the struggle of juggling work with being a single parent.
‘So, do you or the children have any contact with your ex-husband?’ asked Rosie carefully.
‘With their father? Not bloody likely! I’ve had it with men. Selfish – the whole lot of them.’ Rosie was inclined to agree. It was then that Martina told her about his bouts of drinking and the endless arguments, some of which had been witnessed by the children.
‘They were scared of him. And I was scared about what he might do after he’d been drinking. He only hit me once. That was the last straw. We moved away so we’d never have to see him again.’
‘Did he ever try to find you?’
‘Well, he won’t now, I heard he’s in prison. Best place for him.’
As they reached the front door, Martina surprised her with a hug.
‘You’ve made a fantastic job of that dress.
I dunno what to say. I’m gobsmacked.’ She lowered her voice.
‘To tell the truth, I wasn’t looking forward to going to the school concert; not because I didn’t want to see my kids, but because I didn’t want the other parents thinking I can’t afford to buy the kids decent things.
But now…’ She smiled. ‘Now I want them all to look!’
Rosie squeezed her arm. ‘I bet she’s going to be a real star.’
‘You could come, you know. To the concert. Wait a mo.’ Martina nipped into the other room and returned with an A5 flyer. ‘Here. Just in case. I don’t have any family close by, but fairy godmothers are just as good.’
Rosie promised to think about it and as she walked back to the car, she studied the details.
Not having any brothers or sisters, she didn’t get invites to children’s parties or school concerts but it would be lovely to go as a godmother, even if it was only a fairy one.
She was owed lots of holiday, so she decided she would take the afternoon off work to go along.
She was so engrossed she didn’t notice the familiar figure leaning against her car door until it was too late to avoid conversation.
‘Are you waiting for something?’
Connor stood up straight. ‘You, actually. I wanted to apologise.’
‘Right. Well, you’ve done that.’ Rosie pulled the keys out of her bag and unlocked the door. Connor made no effort to move away.
‘Look, I’m sorry about the other night. I just needed to—’
‘I don’t care about the reason. Now I know how things stand, we can just move on.’
‘And how do things stand?’
‘I use your garden. You collect the rent.’
‘Is that it? I thought we were friends, Florence.’ He held out his hand but Rosie ignored it.
‘Friends don’t use each other, they support each other. It seems to me that you only do things that have some sort of payback.’
Connor looked shamefaced. ‘You said you didn’t do social media so I didn’t think it would matter. I’m sorry.’
‘That’s exactly it, Connor. You. Didn’t. Think. You didn’t think about how hurt I might feel, you only think about yourself. Simon told me as much.’ She attempted to step around him. ‘I’d like to get in the car, please.’
Connor grabbed her arm and then immediately let go. ‘Please, Florence, I want to make it up to you. I’ll take you wherever you like and I won’t take a single picture. We’ll fly to Edinburgh for the day. Or I’ll take you to a concert. Or dinner at The Ivy.’
‘Just some ordinary everyday trip then,’ Rosie replied with a tinge of sarcasm. ‘I feel sorry for you if your life is measured by some sort of expensive bucket list.’
‘No! You’ve got it wrong, it doesn’t have to be expensive.’ He held out his hand again. ‘I simply want to see you again, Rosie. I don’t care what we do.’
‘In that case, why don’t you book two tickets for Bridge Park Academy Christmas Spectacular on the sixteenth of December.
’ Rosie thrust the flyer into his open hand.
‘And while you’re about it you can get one for Martina as well.
’ She pointed at the flats. ‘You have a really nice neighbour – the one whose kids you frightened – and she has had to deal with all sorts of crap, so why not try being friends with her. And as a bonus, she won’t be pestering for a selfie like those girls in DeLaneys. ’
Rosie was halfway home before her temper began to simmer down.
The angry words had spewed out of her like fast-flowing lava, but she wondered whether Connor even cared.
After all, he was a media celebrity. A television personality who thrived in the limelight, and she should have known better.
What annoyed her most of all was that she had thought he actually liked her.
In her more creative moments, she had imagined he might even be flirting with her, when in reality, all those cosy tea and chats in his flat were probably just him amusing himself.