Magic Sometimes Happens Part 22

She offered me her hand, which was thin and white and brittle-looking, so I shook it carefully. Then I glanced again at Mrs Denham. I never would have guessed that she was Rosie's mom. She was small and blonde, not tall and dark, and she had a sad expression in her light blue eyes. She looked kind of tragic. Or maybe she was cold?

'Mum, I'll be five minutes,' Rosie said and then she ran into the bathroom, shut the door. So I was left alone with Mom.

'When did you arrive in London, Mr Riley?' Mom enquired.

'I came here round about two weeks ago. You don't need to call me Mr Riley. Pat is fine.'

'You're a professor, Rosie said?'

'Yes, at JQA that's John Quincy Adams University, it's in Minneapolis. I'm over here in London to give a course of lectures and do some consultation, have some meetings.'

'What's your field?'

'IT I work on speech-to-text and thought-to-text.'

'How fascinating.' Rosie's mother sounded like she couldn't think of anything more tedious. 'Well, Mr Riley, I don't suppose you'll ever want for work. We're all so dependent on computers nowadays.'

This was going so well ...

But I could kind of figure out why Mrs Denham didn't want to be my mate, as they say over here. Anybody touches Polly between now and when she's forty-five, they'll have me to deal with, and it won't be pretty.

'Rosie went to Cambridge,' continued Mrs Denham. 'She read Modern Languages. She got a very gratifying degree. Languages are so important these days, don't you think?'

'They're useful, anyway. A guy can't easily get along without at least the one.' Shut up, I thought, stop trying to be funny. 'When did you come to London, Mrs Denham? Did you drive down this morning or were you here already?'

'I caught an early train.'

'I never rode the train. I guess I ought to try it some time.'

'Only if cold stations, dirty carriages and ghastly coffee are your thing, as I believe American people say.'

'You didn't want to drive?'

'I don't do long distance driving any more.'

'You come from Dorset, is that right, it's in the south of England? Dorset can't be very far from London?'

'I'm aware Americans regard a thousand miles as no great distance, but it's different here,' said Mrs Denham.

'How's your weather been in Dorset?' Yeah, lame question, but I could remember hearing someplace that when you first meet anybody British, you should always talk about the weather. It's code for hi, how are you doing and I don't have bad intentions. I'm not about to steal your seed corn, covered wagon, silverware or cow.

'Absolutely terrible, we've had some awful flooding.' Mrs Denham sighed. 'It's been a dreadful winter. The roads near us have been all but impa.s.sable at times, what with walls collapsing and ditches overflowing. The council needs to do more maintenance. But, as I was saying to my husband only yesterday, what with cuts in public spending and oh, there you are, at last.'

Yeah, the cavalry arrived. Rosie came into the living room, smelling gorgeous, hair still damp, but now she was warmly dressed and booted to go out.

'You're ready, Mummy?' she asked Mom. 'Or would you like some coffee? Do you want to use the bathroom?'

'We ought to leave,' said Mrs Denham. 'Our tickets are for ten o'clock. We'll need to find a taxi.'

'Off you go,' I said. 'You guys have fun.'

'Thank you, Pat. I'll phone you later. Maybe we could meet for dinner?'

'Yeah, sounds good to me.'

'I'll be in touch.' Rosie stood on tiptoes, kissed me briefly on the cheek. But then, quick as a wink, she flicked her tongue across my ear and made me gasp. I hoped her mother didn't hear or see.

'It's been very interesting to meet you, Mr Riley.'

I swear Mrs Denham shuddered as she said my name. But Rosie smiled a secret smile, reminded me to lock the door behind me, and then they headed out.

March.

ROSIE.

Pat's time in the UK was up.

Lexie and his children had flown home a week ago with Lexie's other man and Pat was expected back at JQA himself.

I wished I'd met his children. I was curious about them. I suppose I could have engineered it. But maybe it was better that I hadn't met them, that I hadn't watched him being Daddy?

I took him to the airport. I wondered what would happen if I made a scene, if I wailed and clung to him and sobbed and acted all non-British and emotional? I did nothing of the sort, of course. When we kissed our last goodbye, there wasn't any tongue stuff. As if by some unspoken, undiscussed but mutual agreement, we didn't do the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation thing. Maybe lurking somewhere among Pat's Irish and Italian genes there had to be some British?

When he went through the gate and then walked on without a backward glance, I felt bereaved. It was like a part of me had been torn out, was lying bleeding on the floor, would die. It was then I cried.

I tried to concentrate on building up my business.

But since Pat had gone away I didn't see the point. I couldn't have cared less about conditioners for dog hair. Or for clever marketing of cupcakes. But I had to earn a living somehow and working for myself was flexible. I wasn't bound by statutory working hours or practices. If I chose, I was allowed to work myself to death.

So did I not hear from Pat? Yes of course I did. We texted, emailed, called each other all the time. But I could detect no real feeling in his messages or phone calls no genuine emotion. It was as if we were just casual friends. He talked about the weather another foot of snow in Minneapolis overnight on six inches of ice, so there would be yet another snow day for the kids and although he often said he missed me, now he had gone home again I never quite believed him.

What had I meant to him? Maybe I had merely been an opportunity to have some casual s.e.x, a chance to get one over on his wife?

But he'd said he loved me, that he was in love with me.

Well other men had said the same.

They were just words.

One Friday in the middle of March, the doorbell rang.

I was not expecting anyone. It was four o'clock and I had just come in from work, bringing back a pile of client folders which I meant to work on through the evening.

The flights from Minneapolis, I thought they land at noon or thereabouts. But flights can always be delayed, so maybe ...

Please let it be Pat come back? Let him say he couldn't bear to leave me? Let him tell me he'd resigned from JQA, that he'd found a job in the UK and that as far as Lexie and the children were concerned, we could work something out?

But it was Tess who stood there on the doorstep with a pile of luggage looking like she had been zombified, she was so pale. I stared at her in disbelief and I must admit in disappointment. 'What are you doing here?' I asked, astonished. 'Tess, are you all right?'

'No,' she replied. 'I'm sodding not all right.'

'Why, whatever's happened?'

'Oh, the inevitable, I suppose.'

'You mean you and Ben?'

'Yeah, ten out of ten, my clever friend. How did you guess?'

'Oh, Tess I'm sorry!' I grabbed a couple of her bags and ushered her inside. 'Come in, sit down, get warm. I'll fix us both a drink, something to eat, then you can tell me all about it.'

'Thank you, Rosie. You're a mate.'

'I suppose it was another woman/women?' I enquired, after I had made us bacon sandwiches and opened some Rioja and Tess was fed and warming up again.

'One particular woman,' she replied. 'I caught them at it, Rosie. I walked right in on them.'

'A student, was she?'

'No, I expect he has it off with students in the comfort of his room at JQA.' Tess glanced up at me. 'I don't suppose I could stay here for a bit? Just for a few days, I mean, until I get my act together, find myself a place?'

'Of course you can stay here.'

'But you're not doing I mean, you haven't got-'

'A bloke?' I took a swig of red. 'No, don't worry, there's no bloke. You won't be interrupting anything.'

'Thank you, love. Only it's like I can't go back to Mum's. She'd only crow and say it served me right. Then I might have to kill her very slowly and they can have you for it.'

'Tess, stop worrying. I've already said you can stay here until you're sorted out.'

'I'll pay my way,' she said. 'I'm not hard up. I can afford to help with bills and stuff. Rosie, I don't want to be a burden, like my granny used to say.'

'We'll talk about the money stuff tomorrow morning. Tell me about Ben and this new woman. Who is she, does she work with Ben? What did they do when they saw you?'

'They didn't see or hear me, not at first. They were so wrapped up in one another and making so much noise they wouldn't have heard a freight train coming through. As for who she was this will make your hair curl even more.' Tess paused dramatically. 'It was Patrick's wife. The b.i.t.c.h was in my bed and stickying up my sheets.'

What could I say? I was astonished, gobsmacked, horrified. 'I thought she and Mr Somebody were blissfully in love?' I managed to croak at last.

'It would seem not,' said Tess.

'So she was with Ben on when did you say this happened?'

'Yesterday. I'd gone out shopping, see. There's this big new retail outlet in the suburbs, all designer stuff. I told the b.a.s.t.a.r.d I'd be back by seven. But I had a headache and so I went home early.'

'Where were Patrick's children, then playing with Ben's gadgets in the living room and stickying up your lovely Persian rugs?'

'No, they must have been with Patrick's mum. She's in Minneapolis right now. Mrs Riley Senior was probably meeting Joe and Poll from school or kindergarten or whatever and then taking them to Patrick's place. Mr Whatsit must have been at work, leaving Lex to make out with my husband on the sly.'

'I see.'

'He's such a pig!' cried Tess. 'You should have seen what they were doing, talk about depraved. I bet it's illegal in the state of Minnesota. If it's not, it ought to be, unless you have four legs, live on a farm and don't know any better.'

'What did you do?'

'You mean when I saw Ben and Lexie at it?'

'Obviously.'

'I filled a jug with water and chucked it over them.'

'It was cold water, right?'

'Yeah, it was iced, straight from the special tap.'

'You might have warmed it up a bit.' I started laughing then. 'I expect you've given them pneumonia.'

'Listen, mate, this isn't funny-'

'Tess, of course it's funny! It's hilarious, best laugh I've had for ages. Ooh, iced water horrible!'

'Yeah,' said Tess and smirked.

'Did they see who cooled their ardour, then?'

'Well, my husband did.' Tess herself was laughing now. 'You should have seen his face and other stuff.'

'What about the naughty Mrs Riley?'

'She had a blindfold on and had her wrists tied to the bedrail and she was shrieking fit to wet herself, I mean some more.'

'What did you do then?'

'I slammed the bedroom door. I turned the key and chucked it in the bin. Then I cut the cable to the landline, turned off all the central heating, packed a bag, picked up the keys to the Mercedes and drove it to the airport. I left it in the twenty minute parking zone. I didn't buy a ticket. So I expect it's in the pound by now.'

'Tess, I'm proud of you. So would they have had to call the fire brigade or something to get out?'

'They'd left their mobiles on the kitchen table with their keys and coats and bags and stuff. So with a tiny little bit of luck, they're still locked in the bedroom. What a shame.'

'When you told me you were wondering but it was probably nothing? When you were going to New York that time? Do you remember?'

'Yeah.'