Chapter Forty-Four
The River Inn was one of many pubs in the Old Town.
It sat in the middle of Brewer Street and although it offered food, it was particularly known for its range of speciality beers.
Like most of the outlets along Brewer Street, it also made the most of its riverside location and had a popular pub garden, which sloped down towards a large decked area, affording views both up and down the river.
During the previous year’s winter storms, the river levels had risen and flooded the decking and grass, but at this time of year, it was a popular watering hole for tourists and locals alike, despite the fact that most of the solid wooden tables leaned at an angle due to the uneven grass and the gentle gradient of the land.
Tourists grumbled about wobbly tables and spilt drinks, while the locals grumbled about the tourists.
There was quite a crowd at the bar, but Connor eventually got served and carried the drinks outside.
Ryan had found space at the end of one of the benches and was already sitting down staring at the view.
He looked tired. He’d lost weight too. Back in the day, he’d always had a smile and a wide-awake, determined look about him as though nothing was unconquerable.
Now he looked positively defeated. Connor was glad he’d managed to persuade his old friend to come out for a drink.
‘So when are you back to LA?’ Ryan asked after Connor was seated. ‘I bet you’re missing all that wall-to-wall Californian sunshine, aren’t you?’
Connor gave him a wry smile. ‘Plus all the drought problems, risks of wildfires, and air pollution? It’s not as glamorous as you might think.’
As if by common consent, they chatted for a while about how the filming was going, and the new ideas that had been introduced for the American version of Bonnie Appetito, including a “cooking with the stars” section where Bonnie taught the chosen celebrity guest how to prepare quick and healthy meals.
Connor told Ryan how strange it felt working with Bonnie again, not to mention the strain of constantly having to pretend – at least in the studio – that they were partners.
Just before he left for the UK, Bonnie had finalised plans for the forthcoming tour, which would mean being on the road for several weeks.
‘Oh, the hard life of the television celebrity. I bet you’re not even being adequately paid to compensate you for all these inconveniences,’ Ryan joked.
‘No complaints on that score,’ Connor acknowledged. ‘But there are some things money can’t buy.’
‘You’re dead right there, mate.’ Ryan took a large swig of his drink and banged it down on the table rather heavily.
Without warning, the conversation had veered into more choppy waters. Under other circumstances, Connor would have steered well clear of difficult or emotional subjects, but it felt disingenuous not to say something now.
‘I was so sorry to hear about what happened. You must both be devastated.’
Ryan nodded. ‘We didn’t plan to start a family this soon, but we figured we could have the wedding afterwards.’ He pushed his glass around as he spoke. ‘It was all new…exciting… Then at twenty-two weeks Sarah went into labour. The hospital did their best, but our baby girl died half an hour later.’
Connor wondered if he looked as shocked as he felt.
He thought about the fun times he’d had with Brendan and Jacob; he couldn’t begin to imagine the pain of losing a child.
‘I’m so sorry. That sounds really trite and you must have heard it too many times already, but…
’ What else could he say? Sometimes life was shit.
‘I know I only met Sarah briefly at Malbury, but I could tell you guys were really happy together. I hope you find a way to move on.’
Ryan nodded again. ‘Thanks. Often people don’t want to talk about it. I suppose they’re embarrassed in case they say the wrong thing, but sometimes it helps simply to know that someone else cares.’ He paused and looked over at the ducks on the river squabbling over a crust of bread.
‘Do you know, one of the nicest things we had was from a complete stranger. We needed to find some clothes’—his voice wavered—‘for the funeral, you see, but even the smallest baby clothes were too big. The hospital said they had some outfits they kept for…well, when this happens. I thought it would be like a babygrow or something but it was a beautiful satin dress, covered with embroidered flowers and lace and little sparkly beads.’
His voice was heavy with emotion and he paused for a moment.
‘I’ve never seen anything like it, it was like a miniature wedding dress.
She looked like a little angel in it. The dress came with a loose pocket too.
It was attached to the inside with a pink ribbon, so we each put a lock of hair into it, and Sarah wrote a poem and folded up the paper and put that in as well, together with a photo of both of us.
Sarah wanted her to always remember who her mum and dad were.
’ Ryan shook his head slowly. ‘All from a complete stranger.’
‘And you don’t know anything about the person who donated the dress? Could you find out?’
Ryan shrugged. ‘We don’t need to. Sometimes it’s enough to know that someone cares, isn’t it? There was a label though inside the dress. It said Made with Love, and there was a pink stitched—’
‘Rose,’ said Connor quickly.
‘Well guessed, mate.’
It didn’t feel like a guess though. It felt like a sign. He wasn’t quite sure what sort of sign, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was Rosie’s handiwork.
‘I’m really sorry,’ Connor said again. ‘I’m guessing the wedding…’
‘Yeah, the wedding plans are on hold for the moment.’ Ryan finished his drink in two large gulps.
‘Sarah says she needs some time. I was due to start work on another programme in a few weeks, but it involves a period of time filming abroad, and there’s no way I’m going to leave her on her own.
The producer won’t be happy, but your family has to come first, don’t they? ’
Connor agreed wholeheartedly.
He promised Ryan he would keep in touch and they made a date to meet up again, this time with Sarah. On the way home he also made a promise to himself; however long it took, he would find Rosie, and he wasn’t leaving England again until he did.
As soon as he got home, he sent a reply to Bonnie’s PA. It was brief and to the point, saying he had some urgent business to attend to and wouldn’t be back until it was concluded.
Within twenty minutes, he received a phone call from Bonnie herself, asking him what he was playing at and demanding to know when he was flying back.
‘It’s personal business,’ he said calmly. ‘I don’t have any date yet.’
‘Well, give me a rough idea then of how long you need. Another week? Ten days? You can’t give me some dumb ass answer like “I don’t have any date yet” and expect a whole production team to work around you.’
It was on the tip of his tongue to say three weeks, but what if that wasn’t enough? Could he leave knowing that he had abandoned his attempt to find Rosie for a second time? If Rosie was already engaged, she might be married before he returned to England. Could he live with that possibility?
‘Hello? Are you still there?’
‘I’m sorry, Bonnie, I can’t give you a date.’
‘Fine,’ she snapped. ‘Then don’t bother coming back. Oh, and just for your information, I’ll be suing you for breach of contract.’