Wishful Thinking (a journey that will change lives forever) (33 page)

With that, he strode off out to the hallway, his face crimson, his muscles clenched in rage.  Then he banged the front door behind him with such fury that the apartment shuddered. 

Dara sat there, stunned.  In the stillness of the room, her mind began to go over everything Mark had just said, the accusations he had levelled at her. 

He was right, she realised then. All this time, she had never really considered his true feelings.  She’d imagined he’d be hurt certainly, but she’d never really believed that he wouldn’t stand for it, that he wouldn’t allow himself to be humiliated like this.  She had always assumed that
she
would be the one to decide if they had enough to keep the marriage going, and that Mark just would sit around and wait for her to make that decision.  Naively, she had always assumed she would be the one to make it.

But having heard all he had to say, having experienced his hurt and downright fury at her duplicity, she began to view things in a brand new light.  What if there were no longer two men to choose from, no longer a decision to make.  What if the choice had already been made – by Mark?

“Here, Twix, good girl!” Rosie cried out once again, but deep down she knew her frantic calling would be in vain.  There was no sign of the dog.   She’d looked all over the estate, walked down the hill to the main road (just in case) and had even knocked on a few of the neighbours’ doors in the hope that someone might have seen her.  But it was no use.  It was as though Twix had disappeared off the face of the earth.  Rosie’s stomach churned with dread and fear.  She had a picture in her head of the little dog scared out of her wits in a place she didn’t recognise, unable to find her way home, or even worse, lying injured and dying somewhere.  Her eyes blurred with tears as she wandered the streets in the cold, and she prayed to whoever might be listening that her dear friend would be all right.  What would she do without poor old Twix? She couldn’t imagine being without her. 

Damn David for being so selfish! 

All of sudden, Rosie felt astonishing disgust towards her son. What had happened to him? How could he be so cruel, so unmoved by the dog’s disappearance? Granted there was no love lost between David and Twix, but why couldn’t he understand his mother’s panic and distress about losing her? 

Because David didn’t give a damn, that’s why.  In fact, neither of her children seemed to give a damn about her, she admitted unhappily. 

After the first half-hour of panicked, anxious searching, she’d eventually gone back to the house and frantic, picked up the phone to the first person she could think of – the only other person who might be able to help. David’s car was no longer parked outside the gate, and Rosie safely assumed that he hadn’t gone off to help with the search effort. 

“Sophie?” Rosie cried tearfully, when many long rings later the phone was eventually answered.

“Mum? Is that you?” Her daughter sounded hassled.

Rosie sniffed. “Sophie, I can’t find Twix. She’s run off, and I’ve looked everywhere, and I think she could be hurt, and David –”

“Mum, I’m very busy here – can I call you back?”

“Oh, Sophie love, I don’t know what to do!” In her panic, Rosie didn’t properly register her daughter’s reply. “Can you and Robert come over – maybe give me a hand to look for her? I’ve no car, it’s so cold out and she could be anywhere, and I’m just so worried, and I –”

“Mum, it’s really not a good time,” Sophie interjected impatiently, while at the same time trying to keep her voice low. “I can’t just take off at the drop of a hat to go looking for a dog!  I have guests here!”

“Guests?”

“Yes, well …” Sophie seemed embarrassed.  “We’re having a bit of a housewarming tonight – just a few close friends … friends who live locally,” she added quickly.

“Oh.”

“So as I said, Mum, it really isn’t a good time. Normally I’d love to help but …  Look, I’m sure the dog will be fine.” When there was silence at the other end, she went on quickly. “I’ll give you a buzz tomorrow and we can look then, maybe?”

But tomorrow could be too late . . .

“Don’t worry about it,” Rosie replied, her voice low and hurt. “And I’m sorry for interrupting your party.”

“Look, Mum, it’s not like that!” Sophie was petulant. “Look, if I’d known you were – ”

“Forget it,” Rosie said, and with a brief goodbye, dejectedly put the phone down and let her daughter get back to her housewarming celebrations in the house she’d helped her attain.

Now, having searched for close to three long hours in the blistering cold, Rosie’s feet were numb, her body ached, and her was heart was well and truly broken.  Exhausted, but still determined to keep looking – there was always the slim chance that Twix might have made her way back home by now – she began to make her way back up the hill. 

Then, as she reached the corner of her estate, she heard a car-horn beep at her from behind. 

“Rosie?” Stephen called out from the open window and pulled up alongside her. “Are you alright?”

She put a hankie to her face and blew her nose, refusing to look at him and trying to hide her tears.

“Rosie? What’s wrong?” he urged, when she didn’t answer straight away. “You weren’t at class tonight, so I wondered …” His voice trailed off, as he caught sight of her expression. “Rosie, please – tell me what’s happened? Are you hurt? Jesus, you must be freezing … wait.” Stopping the car, but keeping the engine running, Stephen hopped out and put a strong arm around her shoulders.

“It’s Twix,” she told him through chattering teeth.  “She ran away – David let her run away, and I can’t find her.”

“Rosie, get into the car – you’ll catch your death if you stay out in this cold.”

“I can’t. I have to find Twix – she’s out in the cold too.”

“Look, we can still search for her in the car – we’ll cover more ground that way and at least it’ll be warmer.”

Rosie finally acquiesced, grateful at least for some help, let alone the warmth of the car. 

The two of them continued the search for another hour.  They drove all over the estate, all over town, anywhere they could think of, but there was still no sign of little Twix. 

“Rosie, there’s always the chance she could make her own way back home,” Stephen said eventually.

Rosie sighed. After four hours of continuous searching, she had finally begun to admit defeat.  It was dark, very late and very, very cold. 

“Not when he’s there,” she insisted. “She hates David, and the feeling is mutual. That’s why she ran away in the first place. I think he might have hit her,” she added, her eyes downcast, ashamed to admit out loud that her own son could do such a thing.

Stephen patted her on the arm.  “Look, you never know – she might turn up looking for you anyway.  But if nothing else, you should go home and get some rest, Rosie.  You’ll be lucky if you don’t catch pneumonia after being out in this weather all evening.”

Rosie nodded quietly, although she doubted very much that Twix had returned.  But her bones ached, she was cold and weary, and there was little else she could do anyway.

But, as Stephen drove along one of the back roads on the way back to Rosie’s house, he caught sight of something lying very still at the side of the road.  Rosie saw it at the same time and her heart leapt as she spotted Twix’s familiar golden coat and tartan collar. 

The car pulled to a halt, and the two jumped out, Rosie unable to believe that after all the worrying, and all the searching she had finally found her!  

But poor Twix was in trouble. The little dog lay on her side, her huge brown eyes sorrowful and glassy, her chest barely rising up and down.  Although clearly in pain, she managed a brief and very faint wag of her tail when she recognised her mistress.

“Oh Twix, pet – what’s happened to you?” Rosie cried tearfully.  Her heart racing, she bent down and gently stroked the injured dog.  Although the spaniel looked perfectly fine at first glance, on closer examination there was quite a bit of blood on the ground beneath her, and she was shivering badly. 

“She’s been hit by a car, I’d say,” Stephen confirmed what Rosie was almost afraid to admit. He was tapping numbers into his mobile phone. “Stay with her – I’ll see if I can find a vet.  I know a fellow who visits the farm next door to me – maybe he can help.”

Rosie blinked back tears. 
Please, please, let her be OK
, she whispered inwardly, all the time gently stroking the little dog’s silky head and floppy ears, afraid to touch her belly for fear of injuring her further.  Twix whined faintly, she was obviously in serious pain, and at that moment, Rosie felt something so close to hatred towards David that the strength of the emotion shocked her. This was all his fault.

“It’ll be all right, Twix – don’t worry.  The vet will come soon, and he’ll make it all right. Then we can bring you home, and give you a nice bit of chocolate, and tomorrow we
might go for a good long walk.” Rosie didn’t believe her own words, but she’d stay here all night if she thought her voice was having any kind of soothing effect on Twix. 

Again, the dog’s tail moved slightly at the mention of the word ‘walk’, and her huge dark eyes held Rosie’s, a silent communication passing between them.  It seemed that Twix understood well that there would be no more chocolate or doggie treats for her and certainly no more walks.

The fact that her little friend was in so much pain and there was nothing she could do about it broke Rosie’s heart in two.  Feeling utterly helpless, tears began to stream down her cheeks.  Twix steadily held her gaze, and whimpered again softly. There was so much intelligence in a dog’s eyes, Rosie reflected sorrowfully, recalling all those times Twix had been there for her after Martin’s death, how her excitable and playful nature nearly always lifted Rosie’s spirits, and helped her get through the tough times.  She remembered the first time she’d seen her peeping shyly out from under the bushes, how the little dog had followed her home, and then spent the next few days soiling every corner of the house.  She thought about the wonderfully enthusiastic and excitable welcomes she’d always got from Twix upon her return to the house – even if she’d only been gone a few minutes – and what a huge comfort she’d been since David had come home.  What would she do without her?

“It’s all right Twix,” she soothed, a huge lump coming to her throat. “I’m here – you’re all right.”

Then, seconds later, the little spaniel whimpered once more, and Rosie knew in her heart and soul that they were too late – there was nothing any of them could do now for poor Twix.  And finally, as her mistress continued to gently stroke her injured and trembling little body, Rosie’s most loyal friend slowly slipped away from her.

*******

Afterwards, Stephen had taken her in his arms as she wept, and Rosie had no idea how much time had passed when the tears finally stopped.   The vet had arrived soon after and taken poor Twix away, saving Rosie the heartbreak of having to deal with her broken body.  The poor man was almost inconsolable upon arrival, and was deeply apologetic that he hadn’t been able to help.  But he couldn’t be blamed. In Rosie’s opinion there was only one person to blame – David.

“Him and the heartless bastard that hit her!” Stephen had said, shaking his head in disgust.  “What kind of person would run over a poor defenceless animal, and then drive on without checking to see if he could do anything?”

But they both knew there was no point in even discussing it.  Twix was gone and there was nothing anyone could do about that.

Now, they were heading towards Brittas Bay, where Stephen had insisted Rosie spend the night. 

“You’re not going back to your own house tonight – I won’t have it,” he’d said, when the tears had finally stopped and Rosie had to decide what to do next. “You’re coming back to Brittas with me, and you can stay in my spare room.”

“But –”

“Rosie, you’re in no fit state to go home.  I don’t know what’s going on between you and your son, but you’re upset enough as it is without having to go home and face that.  After all you’ve been through tonight, it sounds to me as though you need a friend – the last thing you need is to have to go back there and think about … about everything.”  He patted her gently on the hand. “Please, let me look after you for a while,” he’d said and when Rosie looked up and saw genuine concern in his eyes and the hand of friendship he’d offered – one that just then, she so desperately needed – she knew she couldn’t say no. 

She’d stay with Stephen tonight, she decided numbly, and then she’d get him to drop her at the train station in the morning so she could talk it all over with Sheila.  She sorely wished her good friend lived nearer than she did now; if she’d known about the dog’s disappearance Sheila would have been over in a shot and no doubt would have stayed out all night trying find her. More than anyone, Sheila understood how important Twix was to her, and was the only one who could truly appreciate how lost she would now be without her. But living all the way out in Blackrock as she did, Rosie couldn’t have asked Sheila for help.  After all, if her own flesh and blood wouldn’t help …

The evening’s events having drained her completely, Rosie felt numb.  All the walking around and searching not to mention the sheer enormity of the little dog’s death had left her more exhausted than she’d ever been in her life.  And it’s not as though David would care if she didn’t come home.  Chances were he wouldn’t even notice.

Her heart hardened as she thought about her son.  She wasn’t going to let him know where she was either. Let him think what he’d liked.  She could have been the one dead at the side of the road for all he cared anyway.  Normally such a notion would hurt and upset her, but right then, Rosie didn’t give a damn.

Right then, she was beyond caring.