Page 79 of One More Day
I call out into the still mist of the night, yawning as I do so beneath the navy sky. I rub my chin. So much for early morning rises and no late nights for me. Donegal is changing my body clock – not that I’m complaining, but it does take some getting used to.
Rose was fast asleep when I got back this evening. She was sleeping when I left this morning and now she’s sleeping on my return, which a few days ago would have suited perfectly.
But now I can’t help but admit a tinge of disappointment when I peeped into the living room and saw her sleeping soundly.
Do I miss her?
She looked so serene and peaceful, so I let George out to play with Max a while as I didn’t want his barking and bouncing to wake her up when she obviously wanted an early night.
From the empty bottle of wine and two glasses by the sink, it looks like she had company today.
There’s a selection of cheeses and chutneys in the fridge that weren’t there before, some crusty bread they’d shared, and a rather spectacular chocolate cake with a note on the board on the fridge.
Heat it, eat it, enjoy. There’s ice cream in the freezer. Hope you enjoyed your shopping. Rose
My stomach twists.
Was Beige Billy here for wine, cheese and cake? Did she bake him a cake? Wow.
I look at the kitchen table where I can picture them laughing and sharing food. I hear his dulcet tones whispering in her ear, his hand brushing hers across the table. Maybe they went for a romantic walk by the sea or in the forest with George?
I feel a bit sick.
Rose and I have been here for almost a week, and I’ve never had the balls to do something like that with her. In fact, I’ve avoided it completely through communicating with notes and keeping my distance, like running away to Letterkenny today so I didn’t have to bump into her, yet when I got back her company was the first thing I longed for.
I’d better get the dogs inside.
‘Max! George!’
I’m so confused. I’m not in the mood for cake, and it’s nothing to do with the time of night. I’m not jealous, am I?
George brushes past me, all wet paws and shaggy damp fur, and makes his way into the kitchen. Max, as usual, never comes on the first call.
‘Max, come on boy!’ I whistle, which usually works by the third attempt. I expect him to come pounding around the gable of the house any second. I rub my arms, which are covered in goosebumps beneath my shirt. ‘Max! Bedtime, Max!’
Oh, here we go.
I knew it would only be a matter of time until Max decided to explore a bit further than he’s supposed to, and Marion did warn me about the garden not being totally dog-proof. The forest behind the cottage to Max is like candy to a baby, but I live in hope that he hasn’t gone too far when I venture out into the garden in my T-shirt.
‘Max?’
I hear running water in the kitchen. It’s Rose. Shit, we’ve woken her up. George comes back outside to join me, then Rose calls from the back door.
‘George, come back inside. You OK, Charlie? Why are you outside in just a T-shirt in the snow?’
She’s wearing a T-shirt too which skims her thighs. Brilliant. I try not to look.
‘Sorry if we woke you up. Max has gone AWOL so I’d better go and look for him,’ I say, making my way back inside to put on a few more layers and begin a proper search. ‘Of course, he’s chosen the coldest night of all to do so. Why can’t he be a good boy like you, George, eh? He does this at home sometimes too, as soon as he spots an opportunity.’
‘Max ismissing? Wait, you can’t go looking for him alone,’ Rose exclaims, her voice shooting up the scale in dismay. ‘Give me two seconds and we’ll come with you.’
I pull on a hoodie and a warm coat from the coat stand in the hall while she scurries upstairs to get dressed with George on her tail, but I’m still hoping that by the time Rose gets ready to face the elements of this very cold night, Max will have already made his way back home. He can’t have got far. He’s only been outside for a few minutes.
‘OK, there’s a torch under the sink,’ she says on her return to the kitchen seconds later, already with her head stuck in the cupboard to fetch it out.
‘Great stuff, Wonder Woman.’
‘What?’
