Beth went into a flat that no longer seemed hers. The corridor was still full of boxes, but they’d been rearranged into smaller piles. The smells coming from the kitchen made her mouth water. The two little boys were clearly being bathed by Jo because shrieks and giggles kept erupting from the bathroom. She paused for a moment in the hall, taking it all in, then shouted, ‘I’m back!’ and went into the main living area.
Ghita peered out of the kitchen which led off it. She had flour on one cheek and was flushed, but looked happy. ‘You have a wonderful kitchen, Beth! It’s a pleasure to cook here.’
‘Do you think so? It came like that. I’m not much of a cook, I’m afraid, but I’m glad you’re enjoying the facilities.’
She put her things away in her bedroom then walked along to the bathroom, where Jo was kneeling beside the bath, sailing a little plastic boat across the water and up Kaleel’s chest to tickle him under his chin with it, then doing the same to her son.
Mikey waved at Beth, sending drops of water scattering. ‘Granma! Granma! We’re having a bath.’
She went to kiss him and then kissed Kaleel and Jo for good measure. It must be her day for kissing people.
‘You don’t usually go for touchy feely stuff, Mum.’
Beth frowned. ‘I didn’t think you liked being kissed.’
The awkwardness was back briefly, then Jo grinned. ‘I didn’t like anything then. But I do like you kissing me now, so don’t stop.’ She bent over the boys suddenly, blinking her eyes.
‘I won’t.’ Beth could feel herself tearing up too, so went to get changed before any of the moisture in her eyes overflowed. Jeans, she decided, and a colourful top Renée had once persuaded her to buy, which she’d hardly ever worn.
Someone rang the doorbell and she went to answer it, her breath catching in her throat as a florist gave her a bunch of red roses. When she’d shut the door, she looked at the message.
Courting, Stage 2. Love, Edward.
When was the last time someone had given her flowers?
Jo came down the corridor with the boys. ‘Flowers?’
Beth could feel herself flushing. ‘Yes.’
‘They’re lovely. From Edward?’
Beth nodded.
‘That’s a good sign. Ghita, look what Edward’s sent my mother?’
Both young women admired the flowers, looking a little wistful, then Ghita announced she was ready to serve the meal as soon as Beth had put the flowers in water.
The boys stayed up for the first course, a range of finger foods served on a low table. They’d clearly eaten like this before because they both waited to start till Ghita had bowed her head and said a blessing. Then she turned to Beth. ‘You’re our guest of honour, so you must choose first.’
Beth had to ask what a couple of the dishes were, but made sure to take something from each platter.
Then Ghita helped her son and Jo helped Mikey, after which the boys sat quietly on two towels with their dishes in front of them, eating steadily with their fingers.
‘We’ve done this before,’ Jo said. ‘They love it, and when they’ve had enough to eat from the first course, we put them to bed and enjoy the rest of the food in peace.’
‘I have some wine or fruit juice.’
‘Ghita doesn’t drink alcohol, but I wouldn’t say no to a red wine.’
The little boys went happily to bed and could be heard giggling for a short time, then silence reigned.
Three more savoury dishes were served, fork food this time, slightly more spicy and utterly delicious. Beth again revised her view of what jobs Ghita could do. If this was a sample of the food she could produce, she was very good.
‘She’s a brilliant cook, isn’t she, Mum?’ Jo whispered as Ghita went to get the desserts. ‘And she loves cooking.’
‘I’m going to put on weight.’
‘You need to. Why have you let yourself get so thin? You look run down. Do you have to work so hard? You’re not short of money now, if you can run a luxury flat like this one on your own.’
Beth was so surprised she couldn’t think of an answer, then shrugged. ‘I was busy and I never felt hungry somehow. When you live alone, eating seems more of a necessity than a pleasure.’
‘You’re not alone now. Are you going to see Edward again? If he’s sent flowers, he must be seriously interested.’
‘I – um, saw him this afternoon. We went for a walk.’
‘You’re blushing. Mum!’ Jo beamed across the table at her. ‘Are you two an item?’
‘Maybe. It’s a bit early, but yes, I think we might be.’
‘Good. That’s Gran settled and you too. Maybe it’s catching and I’ll find someone. What do you think, Ghita? Do we want husbands?’
Her friend shuddered visibly. ‘My father has someone in mind, but he and I don’t share the same taste in men. He thinks of money and position in the community, I think kindness. I’m only going to get married if I like and respect the man.’
‘What about love?’ Beth asked.
Ghita looked thoughtful. ‘That too, but love alone isn’t enough for me. I’d want a kind man, who could love Kaleel as well as me, and who’d let me do more with my life than act as his servant.’
They settled down to an earnest discussion of the qualities that appealed to them in men, and went on to say what they didn’t like. It was as if they were three friends chilling out together, Beth thought in wonderment. She caught her daughter’s eye and Jo winked.
‘That was fun,’ Beth said as the evening wound down. ‘I’ve enjoyed your company. Now, let me do the clearing up.’
Ghita stood up quickly, shaking her head. ‘That’s my job now.’
Beth didn’t want anyone to wait on her hand and foot. It wasn’t her style. ‘Not all day, every day. We’ll all share the clearing up in the evenings. With a dishwasher it won’t take long. Anything that doesn’t fit into the machine tonight can wait and go in the next load tomorrow.’
‘I don’t know how to work a dishwasher,’ Ghita confessed.
‘I’ll give you lessons tomorrow.’ Beth yawned suddenly. ‘Come on. I’m tired. Let’s make a start.’
She felt happy as she lay in bed, optimistic enough to hope that Pete wouldn’t hurt her mother too badly and Edward would continue to be so attentive.
Could life be so good? Could this state of affairs continue?
As the concert ended Pete applauded loudly with the rest of the audience. He hadn’t realized quite how wonderful Rosa’s voice was, because it sounded so much richer in this building than it did on a recording. He went to find one of the theatre staff and showed her the ticket Rosa had written on. With a smile, the woman led him behind the stage and showed him into a room full of people holding drinks.
He wasn’t in the mood for chatting, but knew two or three of the men so had to exchange greetings with them. He prowled on, taking a glass of wine when it was offered to him and sipping it, not really interested in drinking tonight. Strange, that. He usually enjoyed several drinks in the evening, too much according to medical research, but hey, something would kill you so why not make it a sin you enjoyed?
Only he was too upset to enjoy a drink tonight, it seemed.
‘Pete. You came?’
Rosa was there, smiling at him, looking tired, wearing a simple white dress with a trail of lace down one side. She had a gold chain round her neck and her dark hair curled loosely on her shoulders. Compared to Fran she looked a bit out of date, but he rather liked that quietly feminine look, he decided.
‘I enjoyed the concert very much, Rosa. Your voice is beautiful.’
‘Thank you. Mario is great to sing with. Our voices match well.’ She looked round. ‘Is your wife not here?’
‘Ex-wife. We split up recently. We’re getting a divorce.’
‘I’m sorry. That must be hard.’
And damned if tears didn’t come into his eyes, not because he cared about Fran – he certainly didn’t – but because everything had been upsetting this week.
Rosa reached out to grasp his hand and he held on to her tightly. ‘Can we get out of here? I’m in no state for socializing, but I’d enjoy a quiet drink with you.’
‘I’ll have to speak to a few people on the way out, Pete, but yes, I’m tired too.’
A tactful way to cover him being tearful and emotional, he thought. Tired. She seemed sorry for him. He didn’t want her sympathy, just some gentle, undemanding company.
When they got to the now-empty foyer, he asked, ‘Where would you like to go?’
‘Why don’t you come back to my house for a nightcap? You don’t seem in the mood for public places.’
‘No, I’m not. But I’m not in the mood for my own company, either.’
She stopped walking to stare at him. ‘We need to get one thing straight. I’m not inviting you round to sleep with me. I don’t hop in and out of bed with people.’
‘I’ll behave myself.’
Outside they picked up a taxi and he leaned back with a sigh. ‘Thank you for your company. It’s comforting. You’re very easy to be with.’
‘If we can’t help one another, we’re not much as human beings, are we? Anyway, you were kind to me after I appeared on your show, and the photos people sent in afterwards have been a great joy to me.’
The taxi ride was longer than he’d expected and they drew up in front of an older semi-detached house, one of a row of old-fashioned dwellings, not a block of flats. ‘I’d not expected you to live in a place like this.’
‘It was my parents’ house. I grew up here.’
‘I’ve got a flat overlooking the river.’
‘I like having a garden.’
He followed her inside. She switched on lights, revealing old-fashioned furniture, a worn rug, books everywhere, not just in the many bookcases, but on the low table and even stacked on the floor by an armchair. Some of the books looked very battered and there were scratch marks on a table. He remembered suddenly that her ex had trashed the place.
‘You read a lot.’
She smiled. ‘It’s my favourite pastime. I can take books with me wherever I go. They’ve kept me company in countless hotel rooms. I like gardening too when I’m at home.’
‘So does my mother.’
‘It’s very satisfying to grow plants and vegetables. Would you like a drink of wine or brandy or something?’
‘No, thanks. I’m not in the mood for alcohol.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘It must be the first time in years.’
‘Something’s upset you. Not the divorce, I think.’
‘Yes, something has. And you’re right, it’s not the divorce.’
‘If you’d like to talk about it, I promise I’ll keep your secret. But if you don’t want to talk, we can listen to music or simply chat.’
‘Don’t you watch TV?’
‘Not often. Mainly the news. I’m away so much, I can’t keep up with the various series, though I do quite enjoy archaeology programmes.’
To his surprise, he found the old-fashioned armchair with its frayed armrests far more comfortable than the low, ultra-modern furniture in his flat.
‘I usually have hot milk with honey in it. Can I get you one too, Pete?’
He smiled at the thought. ‘That’s a children’s bedtime drink.’
‘It helps me sleep. I sometimes have trouble after a performance.’
‘I’m not surprised. You were brilliant tonight, must have given a lot of yourself. I can’t get over the way your voice soared across the theatre.’
‘Thank you. I love singing. Now, I won’t be long.’
She went out and he felt himself relaxing in the quiet room. No accent lights here to show off an expensive art piece, just two frilly table lamps glowing softly pink in the corners.
He opened his eyes as Rosa came back. ‘This is a very relaxing house.’
‘I like it. I moved into a flat once and it never felt like a home to me without a garden. When my parents went into a retirement village, I came back here.’ She put a mug down on the low table between them and took the armchair on the opposite side, sipping her drink.
He picked up his mug. It was made of thin, translucent china, with flowers painted on it and a gold rim. Steam rose gently and there was a sweet smell. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything with honey in it. It had far too many calories for Fran even to allow it into the house. The sweet warmth slipped down very easily. ‘I must have this more often,’ he said, setting the mug down carefully. ‘It’s delicious.’
The next thing he knew, Rosa was shaking him gently.
‘You fell asleep. I hate to disturb you, but it’s getting late.’
He blinked, disorientated for a moment, then focused on her. ‘Sorry. I’ll call a taxi.’
‘You can sleep in the spare bedroom, if you like.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course. My friends often stay over.’
‘I’d like that.’ Not to wake up to an empty flat would be wonderful at the moment.
Smiling, Rosa switched off the sitting room lights and led the way upstairs, showing him to a small bedroom whose single bed was covered by a virginal white cover. She opened the wardrobe. ‘This is an old dressing gown of my brother’s. And his pyjamas should fit you too. There’s only one bathroom. You can’t miss it.’
He took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Thank you. I’m really grateful to you.’
‘I’ve done very little.’
‘You’ve given me some peace in a very troubled time and that’s worth a lot to me. I’ll tell you about the other thing tomorrow, if I may.’
‘Of course. Sleep well.’
She was gone and he wished she’d stayed. Which was silly. They weren’t lovers, just friends. He wondered briefly what sort of a lover she’d make. Not as skilled as Fran, he was sure, but undoubtedly more loving.
He snuggled down in the narrow bed, murmuring in pleasure at its soft feel. He didn’t know why it helped not to be on his own tonight, but it did.
On the Sunday Edward took Beth for a drive in the country, stopping for lunch at a pub. They talked easily and the time flew.
He grinned at her as he dropped her off at her flat. ‘See. Taking it nice and easy. But still courting you.’