Page 13 of One More Day
‘Well – I suppose that’s it then,’ says Rose, biting her bottom lip and shrugging her shoulders. ‘I can take defeat. I’m not that proud nor am I so desperate as to beg, so I’ll get back on the road before the weather gets any worse. Thanks for trying to fit me in, Rusty. Some other time, eh?’
‘Oh, Rose.’
Rusty looks like he might cry now. He stands up.
‘It’s OK,’ she tells him. ‘I really hope I haven’t caused a storm between you two over this. It was only a last-minute decision for me to come here, so I guess I’ll make my way back to where I came from. Thanks anyway. Have a great Christmas, everyone.’
She stands up, wedges her stained coat under her arm, fixes her puffy dress and, with her head held high, she makes her way towards the living room door.
‘Unless …’
Oh, here he goes again. Charlie, the hero and saviour of the day. Just leave it.
‘What?’ asks Marion, her hands on her hips.
‘Unless?’ asks Rusty.
‘Unless we share the cottage? As in, we both stay?’ I suggest, realising I haven’t thought this through for more than a split second. ‘Is that an option? I mean, it would take some choreography to stay out of each other’s—’
‘Share?’ Marion echoes with an outburst of very polite laughter. ‘Share?Charlie, darling, I haven’t even shown you round yet properly!’
‘True, but—’
‘No, no, no. There’s only one bedroom so there’s no way you can share.’ Her face is stern now. ‘And, most importantly, you don’t even know each other. I don’t think this is what either of you would want, is it? You came here for comfort and solace, not to shack up with a stranger.’
Rose holds my gaze for no more than a second but it’s long enough for me to catch a flicker of something which is far from the confident, independent woman I encountered earlier on the roadside, or the brave front she is putting up now as she is being sent back to Dublin.
‘Thank you, but Marion is right,’ she says, her voice strong and confident, a stark comparison to what her sparkly green eyes give away. ‘You have a lovely stay, Charlie. It’s a special place here and you’re very kind to offer to share. But you’re lucky to have found it first. Enjoy.’
I glance at Rusty who stares at his unlaced boots.
‘Bye Rose,’ he says as he slowly ties them, but she’s already gone.
Moments later I hear Rose’s car engine starting up on the third attempt outside. She leaves graciously, without a hintof malice or sarcasm. I can’t say for sure that I’d have done the same.
‘We need to talk,’ Marion and Rusty both say at the same time.
Rusty looks like he is about to blow a gasket now, while Marion is pacing by the window with her arms folded.
‘I’ll just go and get my bags.’
I slip outside, feeling just a little bit guilty, and I’m followed closely by Rusty who jumps into a pick-up truck and makes a speedy exit, all spinning tyres and exhaust fumes in his wake. I look in through the window of the cottage where I see Marion dab her eyes in the mirror that hangs over the mantelpiece.
‘Come on, boy, let’s get you in and warmed up by the fire,’ I say to Max who has been more than patient as we ironed out our uncomfortable start here at Seaview Cottage. ‘None of this is our fault and we’re here now. We may as well enjoy it.’
Max bounds out from the front seat where I’d left him, and races towards the open cottage door, giving me a moment to stop and take this all in properly for the first time.
As I watch the snowfall sprinkle down onto the thatched roof, I sense this really might be a very special place, just as Rose said it was.
I close my eyes and hear the rush of the wild sea which, according to the online cottage description, is just a stone’s throw away. In reality, I expect it is more of a short stroll. As much as I try to absorb my new peaceful surroundings, I can’t stop myself imagining Rose driving all the way back to Dublin, away from this magical place.
I know first-hand the kind of sadness that brings someone to book a Christmas break alone. I wonder what her story is. The more I think on it, the stronger my urge to chase after her. I imagine flagging her down, convincing her to stay no matter how much it’s against both of our intentions.
But then my phone vibrates and the illusion shatters. It is Helena, of course.
Are you there yet? What’s it like? How’s Max getting on? I’m waiting for pictures!
Send me some soon, please.
