Change of Life (50 page)

“Long story - are you crying?” I moved towards her.

She put my jacket down and stood up, shaking her head. “No, I’m fine.” She put up a hand to hold me off.

“Please, Rosie, tell me what’s wrong. Don’t shut me out – please.”

“Look, we better
be
getting back. How did you get here anyway? I’ve got your car.”

We faced each other across the room.

“Sit down, Rosie, please, just sit down. I’ve got some explaining to do. I need to talk, even if you don’t.”

She looked at me, scared and sad. I so wanted to hold her, to comfort her. I took another step towards her. Again she gestured to keep me away. She really didn’t want me to touch her. I couldn’t bear it.

“Rosie, please.”

“No,” she spoke very quietly and shook her head. “Please, don’t. Say what it is you have to say - and then we can get back to our friends’ wedding.”

“Right,” I said, sitting on one of the sofas. “If that’s the way you want it.”

Rosie shrugged and returned to the fireside chair.

“But if we go back to the hotel now,” I said, “our family and friends might never speak to us again.”

“What – what do you mean?”

“Well – let’s just say – you’re not really here to check out the place for Rick. We - that is me and everyone who cares about us – we sort of planned it – for you and me to be here together – so we could talk.”

Rosie frowned. “So this is all some kind of trick, to force me to be here with you, and everyone – except me - knew about it.”

“Yes – I can see how you might feel tricked. But honestly, Rosie, it was all done with the best of intentions – it was because everyone wanted to make sure we’d get time alone.”

“But what about when Rick and Kirsty come?” she asked, sounding only slightly less wary.

“Ah – they’re not coming. The cottage is for us. To quote Kirsty, she said - ‘I’m not spending my wedding night in some old cottage. I’m having the bridal suite or there will be no wedding,’ - or words to that effect.”

Rosie gave a little smile. “Sounds like Kirsty.”

“So you’ll stay? And we’ll talk?” I asked.

She shrugged, defeated. “Yes, if that’s what you want. But surely we could have talked at the hotel – or back home – like we arranged. It seems a bit extreme to rent a cottage for an evening.”

I didn’t want to tell her, yet, just how long I’d rented the cottage for, so I mumbled something about Rick’s friend not minding and owing Rick a favour – and there being no time like the present.

She shrugged again and shook her head. Then she looked in the direction of the kitchen. “Is that food I can smell?”

“Yes – it’s dinner – beef casserole. I put it in the oven before I came in here.”

“
You
did?”

“Yes, I’ve been having cooking lessons with Andy and Sheena. They both volunteered to teach me, so we’ve been meeting at Sheena’s place and they’ve turned me into a bit of a chef – well I hope they have.”

Rosie looked anxious – panicky almost. I desperately wanted her to relax so I kept talking.

“I kept the lessons secret because I wanted to surprise you. And here’s another surprise - while I fell in love with cooking, it seems Andy and Sheena fell in love with each other! I think theirs will be the next wedding.”

I hoped Rosie might laugh at this revelation – smile at least. But she just put her hands to her face and stood up. I assumed she hadn’t been listening to me – had been wrapped up in her own thoughts. She turned her back and looked down into the fire. Her voice was so quiet I had to lean forward to hear her.

She muttered something about a secret.

“Sorry, what was that?”

She shook her head. “I thought I’d lost you.” She gave a little sob.

I went to her. “Oh, Rosie…”

Tentatively, I put my hand on the back of her neck. I was still at arm’s length. She didn’t pull away. She was trembling. I stepped in closer behind her. I put my other hand on her shoulder and breathed in the smell of her. I could hear her breathing.

She turned to face me, but kept looking down at the floor. I put a finger under her chin and tipped her head up. Tears ran down her cheeks.

I held her face in my hands. “You’ve not lost me. I’ve been there all the time - waiting.” I rubbed away her tears with my thumbs and looked into her eyes.

“Oh, Tom,” she whispered. I put my arms round her. She turned her head and leant it on my chest. I pulled her close and held her tightly. She clung to me and cried with quiet sobs.

Eventually she moved back slightly and looked up at me. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

I put my fingers to her lips and shook my head.

She moved closer again. Her breathing was fast and shallow. She put her hands up to my neck.

I kissed her
- and
she responded. It was the
tenderest
kiss we’d ever exchanged.

Then she looked into my eyes again and said softly, “I want you, Tom.”

“And I want you,” I said.

The talking was going to have to wait.

I took her hand and led her through to the bedroom. I sat her down gently on the bed. She lay back on the pillows. We looked at each other for a long moment. I sat down on the edge of the bed, beside where she lay and I stroked her face.

I leant over her and we kissed again, more urgently this time. She unbuttoned my shirt and I took it off. Rosie watched me intently as I undressed. I lay back down on the bed and kissed her again. I ran my fingers down her neck. I unfastened her jacket and caressed her right breast. She caught my hand.

“Wait,” she said. “Please, wait.” She sat up. “I need to show you first. It’s – I don’t want you to
be -
it’s…”

“Show me, Rosie,” I said quietly, sitting up as she got off the bed. She slipped off her jacket and stepped out of her skirt. She stood there in her white, lacy underwear and stockings - incredibly sexy. I stared into her face and she held my gaze.

“You look amazing,” I said.

She gave a small smile and glanced away momentarily. Then she undid her bra and removed it. “There,” she said, resuming her stare, ready to gauge my reaction.

I lowered my gaze. There was a scar across her left chest. Her breast was gone. I felt such anguish for her, for what this loss must mean to her.

“Oh, my darling,” I whispered.

Her hand went to the scar.

“Come here,” I whispered, holding out my arms towards her. She came back to the bed and lay down beside me.

I lifted her hand away from the scar and traced along it with my finger.

She gave a little shudder.

I ran my lips along it and tasted my tears on her skin.
“Your poor breast.”

“I know,” she said quietly. It was Rosie’s turn to brush my tears away. “Tom?”

“Yes?”

“Would you make love to me, please?”

And so I made love to my darling Rosie. It was sublime to be able to touch her and to feel her hands on me. It was soft and incredibly tender. I wanted to linger over every look, every sensation,
every
touch. Rosie’s eyes scarcely left mine. I don’t think we’d ever been so – together. Then a little later, when Rosie kissed me and said ‘more please’, it became more urgent and utterly exhilarating.

Afterwards we lay exhausted, facing each other, looking, not speaking.

I traced the contours of her face and stroked her hair and then I just held her.

In the end it was Rosie who broke the silence.

“I’m starving,” she said. “When’s dinner?”

I laughed.
“Oh, right, dinner.”
I propped myself up on one elbow and glanced at the bedside clock. “
The casserole’s
on at a low heat – it’ll be fine for about another hour. So
- why
don’t we have a soak in that lovely big bath before we eat?”

“
Mmm
, that sounds nice.” She stretched and arched her back. It was an almost irresistible pose.

“Stop that,” I said. “Or I’ll never get out of this bed. Cover yourself up, woman.”

She giggled. It was a wonderful, wonderful sound. I tore myself away and went to the wardrobe. I brought out two white towelling robes and put one on.

“Here,” I said, holding the other one out for Rosie. “Make yourself decent.”

Rosie laughed again. “If you insist,” she said, getting out of bed and letting me slip the robe round her shoulders. “
Mmm
, that feels nice,” she said, tying the belt.

She returned to the bed and, sitting back against the pillows, she watched as I unpacked. “You came prepared,” she said, smiling.

“So did you.” I reached into the wardrobe. I took out the bag Michael had packed, as well as the one she’d taken to the hotel.
“Your luggage, ma’am.
The cottage is ours for a week – if you want it - and you should have everything you need here.”

“What – how did you-?”

I explained more of the subterfuge and planning and that I’d paid a week’s rental.

“My God!” she exclaimed. “You were determined, weren’t you?”

“You don’t know the half of it. Now, I’ll get the bath started.”

I left the bath to fill and went to the kitchen to get the champagne. Rosie was still lying, propped against the pillows when I returned.

“Drink?”
I said, laying the glasses on the dressing table and starting to undo the cork.

Rosie sat up and beamed at me.
“Oh, Tom, pink champagne - my favourite!
What a lovely idea! Yes please.”

The cork came out with a satisfying pop and I poured us both a glass. I handed one to Rosie.
“To – the future?”
I said, raising my glass.

Rosie smiled again and touched her glass to mine. “Yes, to the future.”

Rosie

Chapter Forty Five

I experienced several emotions immediately after Tom’s appearance in the cottage. There was the surprise of seeing him, and the shock as he revealed the plot to get me there. Then, of course, there was the mixture of shame and relief when I realised how wrong I’d been about Tom and Sheena. But my overriding emotion was one of longing. It was a longing for him, to be held and be touched by him.

To find myself in bed with him was way more than I’d dared hope for. I’d been nervous – shy of showing him the effect of the mastectomy. But Tom’s empathy and sympathy, when he saw my scar, was not only all the reassurance I needed, but it lessened my sense of loss.

And the lovemaking – oh, it was amazing.

The first time, it was tentative and tender. Our awareness of each other seemed incredibly heightened. We were careful, still vulnerable, searching for and finding deep reassurance and comfort. We were questioning and rediscovering.

The second time it was much more greedy and raw. There was a passionate assertiveness about it, an urgent reclaiming after the months of fear and mistrust.