And then my thoughts turned to the other three children. As I anticipated how it would be for them when Rosie told them she was ill, I downed what was left in my glass. Rosie… I poured myself another generous dram, struggling not to go there – not to think about her. Christ, it was hard but I just about managed it.
Then Dylan had to go and start singing ‘Lay, Lady, Lay’. I couldn’t fight anymore. Regret, shame, fear and an excruciating longing swamped me and my vision blurred with tears. I swiped at them with the back of my hand. And then, as Bob sang to his woman, I was transported back to the time when I first met Rosie Finch.
I was in my fourth year at medical school in Edinburgh. Rosie’s brother, Michael, was a fellow student and a good mate of mine. He was having a party in his student flat. He’d invited his twin sisters, Rosie and Heather, to the party. Heather was at the art college in Edinburgh and Rosie was in her second year at St Andrews University.
I’d just been introduced to Heather and was talking to her when Rosie arrived. I glanced over as she came in. She was arm in arm with two other people. One was a big, dark, hairy bloke and the other was a striking looking girl with auburn hair. Michael called to me to come and meet his other sister and her boyfriend, his old mate Rick. Rosie was wearing a long, pale blue dress and her blonde hair fell almost to her waist. It was weird – looking from Heather to Rosie – they were so alike. But there was something extra about Rosie – about her eyes – there was a connection when I looked at her that I hadn’t felt with Heather. I think I fell in love with her there and then. She smiled as we were introduced. She said it was good to meet me at last and that she’d heard what a great guy I was from Michael. Even her voice made an impression on me, rich and sweet and very sexy. She introduced me to the red-haired girl, Kirsty, and we all chatted for a bit. Then she spotted Lucy on the other side of the room, took Rick’s hand and disappeared through the throng.
I didn’t see her again for two years. Michael told me she was serious about Rick. I didn’t think I would have any chance, so I tried to put her out of my mind. And I thought I’d succeeded. I went out with Heather for a short time, but I was much too tame for her and she soon got bored. Then after a couple more short-term girlfriends, I got together with Yvette, a fellow medical student, and we went out for about a year until she dumped me for some Arts post-grad. This was more of a blow to my pride than my heart, but I decided I was through with romance and concentrated on passing my finals.
By the summer of 1978, I was almost finished my first year as a junior doctor at Edinburgh’s Western General Hospital. I hadn’t seen much of Michael since we left university. Being junior doctors didn’t leave us much time for socialising. But we met by chance at some lecture at the Royal College of Surgeons one June evening. When the lecture was over, Michael suggested I join him for a pint before going home. He wanted me to meet his new girlfriend, Adele, who was waiting for him in the pub. I didn’t really fancy playing gooseberry and made an excuse to get off home. But when he added that his sister, Rosie, would also be there, I reconsidered. He grinned and said something along the lines of, ‘I knew you’d change your mind when you heard my wee sister would be there.’
It was a warm, sunny evening and I recall being ridiculously nervous as Michael and I walked across the Meadows to the Mortar bar, on the corner of Bristo Place. Being opposite the medical school, it was an old haunt from our student days.
Adele and Rosie were seated at a table in the corner. They were deep in conversation and didn’t see us approaching, so I was able to look at Rosie without her knowing she was being stared at.
She was as pretty as I remembered. She was wearing blue jeans and a thin, white, blouse. Her hair was in a long, golden plait. On one wrist she had several coloured bangles that tinkled as she gestured. Adele often teased me, over the following years, that I hardly looked at her while Michael introduced us and explained how they’d met. Apparently I stared at Rosie, with only an occasional glance in Adele’s direction.
When Rosie said it was nice to see me again and congratulated me on becoming a doctor, I lost the power of speech and only seemed to be capable of incoherent mumblings. I desperately wanted to impress this girl, but I’d turned into some sort of moron. I couldn’t think of anything interesting or witty to say. I also became completely uncoordinated and knocked Michael’s pint over, soaking his jeans. By now I was praying for someone to shoot me. Michael and the girls laughed as he tried his best to mop up.
I went off to the bar to get Michael a replacement pint. When I returned, Rosie was alone. She said that Adele and Michael had decided to go back to his place since he was so damp, and that he’d said I was to have his pint. I sat down beside her and apologised for ruining the evening.
But Rosie grinned and shook her head. “I think the lovebirds were glad of an excuse to go home,” she said. “Maybe Michael and you set it up so he didn’t have to sit and chat to his boring sister when he had better things to do.” She grinned again.
“No – no it was an accident – honestly! There was no plan. You’re not boring!”
Rosie revealed her delicious neck as she threw her head back and laughed – a deep sonorous sound that I instantly adored.
She put her hand on my leg and looked up at me. She leant towards me and I could smell her patchouli perfume – a heady smell that I will always associate with that night. I thought I might pass out.
“I’m teasing you, Tom,” she said gently. Then Bob Dylan came on the juke box. He was singing ‘Lay Lady Lay’.
“Oh, I love Dylan – he’s got a great voice – I’ve got a couple of his LPs,” Rosie said. “He’s great looking too. Actually, you look very like him, Tom.”
“Do you think so?” My voice was a squeak. I felt very light-headed. “I’m a big fan of him myself –great lyrics.” Then, as Dylan sang on about wanting his woman to ‘lie across his big brass bed’ and how he longed to ‘reach for her in the night’ and then ‘see her in the morning light,’ I wanted to cut my own tongue out. “I didn’t mean these lyrics in particular –I was thinking more of his anti-war stuff.” Jesus, who was controlling my mouth?
“Yes, of course. I thought that’s what you meant.” There was that laugh again. Then Rosie slapped my leg. “Come on – let’s leave the beer and go for a walk. You look like you could do with some fresh air.” She stood up and held her hand out to me. I took it and let her lead me outside.
We walked across the Meadows and sat down on a bench at the edge of this oasis in the city. I regained the power of coherent speech as we walked. Rosie asked me about myself, about my ambitions as a doctor. I went off on one about how much I’d love to be a heart surgeon. I apologised for going on and on and for boring her.
She put her hand on my arm. “Listen – if you won’t accept that I might be a bore to my brother,
then
I won’t have it that you’re a bore either! I enjoy listening to you. You sound so passionate. I hope you achieve your dream, Tom, I really do.”
“And you, Rosie, what do you dream of?”
“I want to be a teacher. I start my year’s training in October. I also want to get married some day and have lots of children.”
I cleared my throat. “And do you have anyone in mind? For the marrying and children bit.”
“No – I’m free and unattached at the moment – no one in mind to father my children. Why do you ask?” She smiled broadly. I knew she was teasing and flirting with me.
“Oh, no reason, just polite interest.”
I relaxed and smiled back.
After that the conversation flowed. Then Rosie shivered as it got dark and a lot cooler. I saw my chance and ventured to put my arm around her to keep her warm. She said it felt nice and snuggled into me. I offered to walk her home but she shook her head. I was so disappointed.
“I don’t want to go home. I still live with my parents – so that won’t do.” She smiled again. “Have you got a place of your own – a place we could – you know – go back to together - and be alone?”
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I opened and closed my mouth trying to form a sentence.
“No – well that is yes – I have a room in the doctor’s residence at the hospital – no girls allowed of course…”
“No, of course not.”
Rosie giggled. “But I fancy you, Dr McAllister, and I want to go to bed with you. So what do you say?”
Of course every taxi in the city disappeared at the very moment I said yes, and we had to walk right across town to get to the residence. On the way we stopped at a phone box so that Rosie could call her parents with some cover story about staying at a friend’s. But, at last, we arrived and I smuggled Rosie into my room.
I pulled her towards me as I kicked the door closed and I kissed her lovely mouth. As Rosie returned my kisses, she undid my shirt buttons and ran her hands over my chest and stomach. Then, for both of us, it was a frenzy of undoing zips and fasteners. I did try to apologise for the state of my room. But Rosie just told me to shut up and pulled me down onto the bed.
I wanted to touch and kiss every part of her. I loved her long, slender limbs, the curve from waist to hip, her sweet breasts, the downy softness of her skin and the scent and heaviness of her hair. I loved her laugh, her enthusiasm, her openness, even the way she teased me. I could hardly believe that, at long last, this beautiful, sexy girl was here with me in my bed, whispering my name and obviously enjoying being there. I loved everything about Rosie Finch.
Toby dragged me back to the present. He nudged my hand and gave a little whine.
“Come on then, old chap,” I said, standing up and draining the last of my whisky. “You’ll
be needing
your walk.”
As I paced the quiet streets with Toby, I thought some more about Rosie and the children and the life we’d had together. By the time we got back to the house I’d made some decisions.
Tomorrow I was going to start making some changes. Tomorrow I was going to start getting my family back together.
Chapter Twenty Three
I slept well that night and awoke early. It was a lovely morning. The sun was shining and the sky was clear. I felt more positive and energised than I’d been for the previous month. I went for a run along the beach. Toby came too, of course. He actually seemed to have overcome his huff, and managed to wag his tail now and again. When I got back home, Jenny was in the kitchen having breakfast. Sam was also there, sitting at the table, wearing her dressing gown and drinking tea. Radio
One
was blaring.
“Hi, Dad,” said Jenny. “You look sweaty.”
“Thank you, Jennifer,” I said as I filled Toby’s bowl with fresh water.
“Morning, Dad,” said Sam. “There’s tea in the pot.”
“Morning, I’ll not bother with tea just now, thanks. As your sister pointed out, I need to get a shower.”
Max came clattering down the stairs and into the kitchen. He was dressed but would’ve made a scarecrow look smart. His hair was a mess, his shirt collar was standing up at one side, the shirt itself wasn’t tucked in and his school shoes were filthy. “Hi, Dad,” he said. His usual cheerful mood seemed to have returned after the previous night’s anxieties. “You smell all sweaty.”
“Yes – thank you – I’ve been running, so I’ve got a good excuse. What’s your excuse for the state you’re in?”
“What – what’s wrong with me?”
“Sort your collar and tuck your shirt in. When did you last clean your shoes and have you brushed your hair in the last few days?”
“Nobody tucks their shirt in. It’s not cool.” But he did turn his collar down. “I don’t know how to clean my shoes - Mum does that. And my hair needs cut – it’s too tuggy to brush.”
“Well, it’s high time you could clean your own shoes. We’ll do them later.” I realised I’d no idea where, or how often, Max got his hair cut. He had thick, curly hair and, even at its best it was unruly, but I’d never seen it this messy before. This was something else I’d always left to Rosie. “And we’ll get your hair cut at the beginning of next week,” I added. Max was foraging in the cupboard for his cereal and seemed to have stopped listening.
“What are you going to cook for dinner tonight, Dad?” Sam asked. “I’m going food shopping, so I could get any stuff that you need.”