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Rosie had no idea why she was being like this with Charlie. What was the matter with her? Hadn’t they called a truce?
‘For your information, you are the first girl I have taken to Mike’s farm, or down to James’ pub for that matter, since Lucy. I don’t have a string of girls on the end of my arm, as you suggest.’
‘But they’ll be queuing up in London when you arrive there, won’t they?’
Why was she continually pushing him away? She knew Charlie had a profound effect on her, that in the few months she’d known him, he had managed to get under her skin and discover the real Rosie, not the one she presented to the outside world. She knew that if she was staying on in the UK, she would love to continue with their quirky days out.
Charlie paused. ‘Maybe they will, but…’
‘Bye, Charlie.’
Rosie felt bereft when she dropped the phone back into its cradle, as though one of her limbs were missing or the lights had been dimmed. Had Charlie’s friendship been a mirage, an oasis of fun in the problem-strewn desert of her life? So Charliedidhave a coterie of women desperate to linger on his arm in the swanky establishments of Covent Garden, or wherever the hip and trendy frequented.
She needed to get out of the cottage. She grabbed her Barbour from the banister and wheeled the silver bicycle down the weed-free, gravel path to the road and slung her leg over the saddle, pointing the straw basket in the direction of Susan’s village shop to deliver a brown paper bag crammed with still-warm scones for her tearoom. These would be the last batch of what had unexpectedly become her weekly offerings as, like Somersby Manor, Susan closed the tearoom for the winter at the end of September.
The shop was empty, and Rosie found Susan perched on top of a short stepladder wiping down the wooden shelves, her ample hips swinging to and fro to an imaginary tune.
‘You knew I would find my aunt’s journal and diary didn’t you, Susan?’
‘What do you mean, Rosie dear?’ Susan’s face was blank. She’d make a great witness for the defence under pressure, Rosie thought but she persevered.
‘Did you also know about Aunt Bernice’s enduring love for a man she couldn’t be with?’
Susan reversed her bottom down the steps, waddled to the shop door, and turned the sign to Closed, even though it was only three o’clock in the afternoon.
‘Yes, dear, I knew. Gordon was the love of Bernice’s life. She was heartbroken when he left the parish to go overseas eighteen months ago. But she’d accepted a long time ago that they couldn’t be together in the way she wanted. Nothing I said over the years could convince her to move on and find someone else. She carried her torch for him until the day she died. I did wonder if his absence had something to do with her untimely death. She missed him and their brief meetings dreadfully.’
When Susan met her gaze, Rosie felt as though she was scouring her very soul; that she could read every painful thing that lurked there. She had changed a lot since arriving in Somersby in her smart business suits and pristine stilettos, dragging her expensive luggage behind her. Now when she looked down at her attire, she looked a little bedraggled having travelled to the village shop on the back of a rickety old bicycle and substituted her elegant outfits for her aunt’s cast-offs.
But she had changed on the inside, too. She was calmer than she had been for a long time, and every day she had a spring in her step, a reminder that life was for the taking, all she had to do was reach out and grab it, then hang on to it, not hand it over on a plate to others more worthy. It had been an important lesson to learn, and for that she was incredibly grateful.
‘Rosie, who was that handsome young man I saw you go out with the other week?’
‘Ah, you mean Charlie?’ Rosie smiled, twiddling distractedly with her earring. ‘He’s just a waiter from up at the Manor who dreams of becoming their head chef in his spare time. But… well, he’s gone back to London now that they’ve closed their doors for the winter.’
She saw Susan give her a strange look, as though she was weighing up whether to share the secrets of the world with her.
‘Does it truly matter to you how Charlie earns his living, Rosie? It’s an honest profession, although granted, not glamorous. Just a waiter, you say? Do I take it from that assessment you prefer the sharply suited solicitor who’s been romancing you over the summer months? Because when it comes to affairs of the heart, you need to look deeper than the plastic-coated shell.’
‘I know that, Susan!’
Rosie was shocked and more than a little offended at Susan’s words. Was that how she sounded when she spoke of Charlie? Was his status in the employment field the true reason she played down her attraction to him? Because he was not some corporate slicker who wore the same business badge as she did? Was she really a stuck-up snob as Emily had intimated? Suddenly, she was desperate to get out from beneath Susan’s microscope and her uncomfortable home truths.
‘I’d better go. See you later.’
Rosie cycled back to the lodge, her head reeling. She then spent the rest of the afternoon mulling over Charlie’s offer to visit him in London, as well as musing on Susan’s astute observations on her criteria for potential dates. What did Susan know about her, anyway? But as she peeled and cored a mountain of apples from the tree in her aunt’s back garden, chopping and slicing them harder than was strictly necessary, she knew Susan had a valid argument and, reluctantly, she admitted the truth.
Shehadn’truled Charlie out at all.
In fact, he occupied the top spot on her expansive list of two. His first-rung-of-the-ladder position at the Manor and his laidback lack of ambition did not matter to her one jot. He was handsome, quirky, inordinately cheerful, and fun to be with, andhis presence did instil a storm of desire deep in her heart that she couldn’t ignore. But he had decamped to London, gone back to his old life where he had a multitude of women willing to join him for a zip-wire ride from the Shard or a canoe race down the Thames, or whatever other ridiculous “dates” he organised.
However, he had been instrumental in helping her to hone her skills of self-insight. With his gentle encouragement, she had opened her heart and mind to trying new things and to just go with the flow. Not everything had to prearranged and then controlled to within an inch of its life. If something went wrong, if the cakes burned, the musician got drunk, your boyfriend was found in a clinch with your sister, you simply inhaled a steadying breath and tried something new. And she had done exactly that with Charlie.
But she had never expected tofall in love!
As she scattered the apple pieces into the bottom of a buttered dish and covered them with a thick layer of brown sugar, Rosie made a decision. She would stick it out in England for another four weeks until the cottage was safely sold on the last day of October. Then she would return to New York with a firm business idea, along with a cogent, detailed dating strategy. Perhaps she would also enrol on a baking course in Manhattan to make sure she didn’t revert to her obsessive tendencies of all work and no play. Yes, her aunt would approve of that plan, she thought, though she wasn’t so sure of Lauren’s reaction.
Her phone buzzed and she pressed the answer button.
