asks me. ‘Like, duh! You gave it to me in that pub earlier to pay for the drinks and told me to keep it safe ‘til we got to this place. You always forget stuff and then act like it’s my fault! I don’t want to be here! I am so bored already!’
I take the purse from her and put it in my bag, bewildered at what has just happened. I don’t know what has shaken me more – the fact that I genuinely don’t remember giving her the purse or the way she just spoke to me. Rosie never speaks to me like that, ever. We have never raised our voices to each other and I certainly don’t want it to start happening now.
‘Rosie, this is a beautiful place and I know it’s raining and the wi-fi might not be what you are used to, but I want this to be special for us. We haven’t had a holiday together in such a long time.’
‘What are you on about? We went to Salou last year. And why do we even have to go on holiday in the first place? What’s the big rush to go on holiday?’
‘Yes, you, me and Dan went to Salou last year,’ I reply. ‘I mean just you and me. I have so much planned for us over the next few days and I really want us both to enjoy it. Please don’t ruin it before it begins.’
She slumps down on the sofa and puts her nose into her phone, giggling at whatever her latest message is which stings me to the core. She is ignoring me and I don’t like it one bit.
‘Rosie?’ I say to her. ‘Rosie, will you listen to me? I’ve gone to a lot of effort to bring us here. I’ve made a—’
‘Don’t tell me, Mum, you’ve made more plans that you won’t see through,’ she mutters. At least she was half-listening but again, her words hurt. I’m really not used to this.
‘I’m going to the shop to get my dress and I really do hope your attitude changes while I’m away, Rosie.’
It is on the tip of my tongue to tell her that I am trying to make our last days together perfect. That I’m not going to be here for much longer. That I am dying. That it’s not just any holiday, but our very last holiday. But I bite my tongue and leave her to her snapchatting. I know exactly when and where I am going to break the news to her.
It’s in my plan for the week ahead, of course.
Shelley
Matt calls me for the second time this afternoon just as I’m putting the finishing touches to the mannequin in the window. I’ve dressed it in the most beautiful, glitzy gold fringed dress that arrived in Terence’s delivery. I cradle the phone under my ear to speak to him as I pin the waist in to fit my so-called size 10 model.
‘The town must be buzzing today,’ Matt suggests. ‘You know, with the match? Any idea of the score? I thought I’d call you first to check in before I looked it up.’
‘Sorry, I have no idea,’ I tell my husband, only half-listening as I admire my efforts at dressing the window. This has always been one of my favourite parts of retail and I was told more than once that I had a flair for it. ‘Hopefully we win.’
‘You say that like you really care,’ laughs Matt. ‘Shelley, the football fan. Anyhow, I’d better get back to my client. He’s a moody sod, old Bert. I was thinking if we do win, maybe you should go for a drink tonight to take your mind off things? Call one of the girls like you used to? Though I’d say there will be plenty of action around the village whichever way the result goes. It’s not often we get so far in the Championship so we may as well join in. What do you think?’
I gulp at the very thought of it.
‘What?’
‘A drink? Tonight?’
‘I … I couldn’t, Matt,’ I stutter. ‘You know that I couldn’t go out tonight, not if Galway won the world championship. No way. Not tonight.’
His silence irritates me slightly.
‘Are you still there?’ I ask.
‘Yes, of course I’m still here,’ he says. ‘Look, forget I mentioned it. I just think sometimes it’s good to keep busy and distracted. I know it’s working for me and you’re doing well at work, aren’t you?’
‘Doing well?’
‘Shelley, I’m trying my best here. I’m stuck in Belgium and missing you like crazy and this is killing me to be away today of all days but I hate the thought of you sitting at home alone tonight. Please do something. Don’t be on your own. A drink with friends won’t change things and crying at home on your own is never going to bring her back!’
That hurt. I know I shouldn’t be sitting home alone all the time, I know he is right, but I am absolutely heartbroken at his suggestion that anything I do or don’t do might make me think she is coming back. How could I celebrate a stupid football game today? How could he even think of such a thing?
‘I have to go. Sorry. Chat to you later, bye Matt.’
‘Shell?’
‘Bye.’
I hang up and jump when the doorbell sounds as a customer enters. I look up, and just as I had anticipated, it is the lady with the wig again – only this time she doesn’t look as glamorous as she did before.
‘Is everything okay?’ I ask her, breaking my own rules around overstepping the mark when it comes to conversation that doesn’t involve fashion stock or clearance sales. ‘You left in a hurry earlier.’
‘I’d like to buy that dress, please,’ she says to me, flustered. ‘I can’t believe I haven’t brought proper clothes with me. I can’t believe I’m here … and I can’t really afford to go shopping and let’s face it, I won’t get much wear out of it but just … I’ll take the dress.’
And at that she bursts into tears.
Juliette
‘I’m so sorry for all this,’ I sniffle, handing over my debit card as the unaffected shop lady packs my new dress into a very fancy paper bag. ‘It’s not like it was a big row or anything, it’s just the thoughts that it triggered, you know, it got to me and I haven’t let anything get to me so far. Not this time. This time I was meant to be strong. That’s why I’m here. To be strong. For her. To do the right thing. For her.’
I am rambling to a stranger and the poor woman is as white as a sheet behind the small counter as she hands me the very trendy bag.
‘You know, I got some gorgeous new stock in just after you left,’ she tells me, as if on autopilot. ‘Some really nice stuff so if you want to come back again and try on more, you’re very welcome. I can do discount so don’t worry about price. No point you shivering on your holidays.’
‘I can’t come back again. There’s no point me buying a lot of nice clothes, not now,’ I tell her. ‘I don’t have time to wear them.’
Was she not listening to a word I said? Maybe it’s a good thing she wasn’t. Maybe that’s how she was trained, you know, to be professional and not indulge in anything more than small talk with strangers. Just take the money and run and all that. Maybe I shouldn’t be ranting and raving like this to someone who has no idea
