Dearest Rose (48 page)

After that Rose had been more than content to let her father go, walking into a world that was waiting to greet him, and to take quiet pleasure from seeing how very much he enjoyed a constant stream of people telling him how wonderful he was. Which was exactly how it should be, Rose decided. He’d lived too much of his life believing the opposite, and though that once had been true, it wasn’t any more.

‘This is all a bit wonderful, isn’t it?’ Frasier said, appearing at her side.

‘Yes,’ Rose said, turning to smile at him. ‘More wonderful than I could have imagined. Look at him, after all that fuss he made, he loves this!’

‘I always thought it was a shame that he insisted on hiding away for so long,’ Frasier agreed. ‘But to be honest, I don’t think he could have done this until he had you back in his life, until you’d been reconciled. Thank God you found him when you did. If you hadn’t I think we would all have missed this moment.’

‘Yes,’ Rose said, smiling thoughtfully as she watched her father throw his head back in laughter at something Maddie had said. ‘I was following love when we came here, after all. I just didn’t know which love it was.’

There had been talk of staying overnight in a hotel after the show, but John had been insistent that he wanted to go home, telling everyone that if he was going to die, he damn well wanted to do it in his own bed.

Not long into the journey Maddie had drifted off to sleep, leaning against John, who soon followed her, his chin drooping to his chest, his eyes closing. Neither Tilda, Frasier nor Rose spoke a word on the way home, content to sit in silence because there was simply nothing that needed to be said.

‘Here,’ Frasier said, as he turned off the engine outside Storm Cottage. ‘I’ll carry Maddie up to bed. Tilda, would you mind turning on the lights for me, turn down the bed for John? I’ll be back in a second, Rose, to help with John.’

Rose stretched her arms above her head as she got out of the car, taking a second to look up at the blanket of stars that shone so brightly here in the countryside, stretching right across the sky. Weary, but happy, she went around the car and opened the passenger door.

‘Dad,’ she whispered, gently tugging at John’s arm. ‘Dad, we’re home.’

‘Are we?’ John said, opening his eyes with some difficulty. ‘Good. I’m glad, I’ve been waiting.’

The evening had obviously taken it out of him. He had to lean heavily on Frasier all the way into the house, and he collapsed gratefully into the bed as soon as he saw it. Rose discreetly left as Tilda helped him wash, undress and get ready for bed, returning when she came out to pick up her bag.

‘Why don’t you stay the night, Tilda?’ Rose asked her, putting her hand on her wrist before she could pick up her bag. ‘Stay with Dad. I know that he’d like it if you were here with him in the morning and from now on. I could help you get someone for the shop, and we can collect what you need from home tomorrow. I want you to be here, we all do.’

Saying nothing, Tilda nodded, her eyes filling with tears. Rose
sensed
not to say any more, that Tilda needed a moment to collect herself after the emotional day.

At last Tilda sniffed and said, ‘I’ll make some tea. Milk no sugar, for you.’

Rose went into John’s room, where the light was already turned out and he was almost asleep again.

‘Well, it’s official,’ she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking the hand that he reached out to her. ‘The whole world loves you and thinks you are a genius.’

‘That’s what they say to your face,’ John said, but there was pleasure in his voice.

‘And that’s what they will always say,’ Rose said, adding casually, ‘Look, I know you won’t mind, but I’ve asked Tilda to stay with us until … well, for as long as she wants. That’s OK, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ John said, squeezing her fingers in the dark. ‘Thank you.’

They were content to sit there for a moment or two, neither speaking until John broke the silence.

‘Do you love me, Rose?’ he asked her. ‘I feel like a damn fool for asking, but I think perhaps that it’s all that matters to me now.’

‘Yes,’ Rose said with certainty, kissing the papery skin on the back of his hand. ‘I’ve always loved you, Dad. Never stopped, not even when I hated you. And now I know why: it turns out you are
quite
good at painting.’

John smiled. ‘I want you to know that I always loved you, even in my darkest most selfish hours. Even when I didn’t know my own name. My love for you never went away. Thank you for coming back, Rose. And thank you for tonight.’

Rose sat with him for a moment longer, the two of them watching the moon through the window as it sailed behind the peak of the mountain.

‘Tilda will be back in a minute,’ Rose said, getting up. ‘Don’t overdo it.’

‘Marian had hair that always smelt like honey,’ John said suddenly, causing Rose to pause by the door. ‘And a laugh so bright, she could light up the brightest corner. You are like her, Rose. You are her legacy. I look at you and I can see her again. Bright and brave and strong, the girl I first met all those years ago. You are her now. You will do her memory justice, I know it.’

‘Thanks, Dad,’ Rose said, her voice thick with emotion. ‘I hope so. See you in the morning.’

‘Yes,’ John said. ‘See you in the morning.’

It had been almost three weeks after the exhibition, the morning that Rose woke up and knew, as soon as she opened her eyes to the very first light of dawn, that John was gone.

The house just felt different, emptier and bereft of the life that had inhabited it so fiercely for so long. Uncertain of how to feel, because nothing seemed real, she got up and padded downstairs in her bare feet, which were numb to the icy-cold stone flags, to find Tilda sitting perfectly still at the table, staring blindly at its rough surface.

‘Tilda,’ Rose said, putting a hand on the older woman’s shoulder.

‘He’s …’ Tilda looked up at her, her eyes brimming with tears.

‘I know,’ Rose said. ‘How long?’

Tilda shook her head. ‘I’m not sure, I just woke up and he was gone. I stayed with him, held him until he was … cold.’

Rose took a seat next to her father’s wife and held her hand. ‘This was exactly the way that he wanted it,’ she said, filled with a sense of calm and peace. ‘At home, in bed, with you by his side, and me and Maddie in his life. This is exactly what he would have wanted.’

‘Yes,’ Tilda agreed, a tear tracking its way down her face. ‘But it doesn’t change it, does it? It doesn’t change how very awful it is that he’s gone.’

‘No,’ Rose agreed, feeling the sobs rising in her own throat. ‘And it doesn’t change that however much time I had with him, it would never have been enough.’

And with their arms around each other Rose and Tilda sat at the kitchen table and cried until the grey light of the early dawn turned into golden later summer sunshine; and the first day that John Jacobs was no longer in the world rose up to meet a perfect, blue sky.

Chapter Twenty-one

ROSE TRIED SHONA’S
phone again. It had been a week since John had died, the autumn was now in full swing, and Rose really wanted to talk to Shona, but every time she rang her number the answerphone picked up and Rose left another message, until finally her friend’s voicemail was full.

Life in Storm Cottage without John had been strange. Everyone felt caught in a kind of stasis, not wanting to admit that everything was different now. Tilda was still sleeping in John’s bed, even after the funeral, and Frasier was still
in situ
on the sofa, not that Rose minded them still being there; the thought of facing the cottage alone, without her father, daunted her. It was just she wasn’t sure how long this strange state of affairs could go on.

Maddie had coped the best out of them all, making Rose believe that she’d done the right thing in telling Maddie about John’s illness. The child didn’t seem to be suffering from the shock that the rest of them were in, even though they too had known what was coming. Instead she’d cried freely for her grandfather, letting the tears fall and fall for days, gradually washing away the pain, as her sadness turned to memories and happiness. As the four of them had stood at John’s graveside,
along
with Jenny, Brian, Ted, Albie from the pub and what seemed like most of the village, it had been Maddie who’d kept Rose going, talking non-stop about John, going over every single one of her memories of him in minute detail, joyously reliving the time that they had had together.

That had been two days ago, three days before Maddie was due to return to school, having taken a week off, and although Tilda and Frasier had been steadfast friends, Rose just needed to hear Shona’s voice, telling her to pull her socks up and get on with things.

At last the ringing tone ceased in favour of a human voice. But it wasn’t Shona who said hello.

‘Hello, Rose, love,’ Shona’s mum answered, and Rose knew instantly from the strain in her voice that something was wrong.

‘What’s happened?’ she asked.

‘It’s bad,’ Shona’s mum told her. ‘Worse than last time. They did tell me at the hospital, but I can’t take it in. Internal bleeding, something about bruising on the brain. They don’t know if she’s going to make it this time, Rose.’ Her voice cracked. ‘They don’t know if my little girl is going to make it.’

‘Oh God,’ Rose said. ‘Don’t say that. It’s Shona – Shona always comes back, fighting harder than ever. She won’t leave her boys.’

‘I don’t even have them,’ Shona’s mother sobbed. ‘The police put them in care. They’re frightened and alone, she’s on some sort of machine and that … brute, he’s in prison. And I swear if he doesn’t stay there this time I will kill him myself.’

Rose struggled to think of what to do. She had to be here when Maddie restarted school, but if she left now, if Tilda would stay to take care of Maddie … She looked at the clock.
It
was almost six in the evening. She could be by Shona’s bedside first thing.

‘I’m coming,’ Rose said. ‘I’ll be there in a few hours. Tell her I’m coming whether she can hear me or not. I’ll help you sort things out with the children, talk to the doctors. Don’t worry. I’m coming.’

When Frasier offered to drive, Rose didn’t have either the heart or the inclination to turn him down. The journey would be faster and smoother in his car, and, more than that, the idea of having him at her side was more than comforting. Despite her best intentions she had come to rely on him over the last few weeks and although she knew that soon she would have to wean herself off that reliance, it didn’t have to be today.

‘Are you sure this isn’t too much for you?’ Tilda asked her worriedly as Rose threw what she could find into a bag. ‘You’ve had so much on your plate, you’ve only just lost your dad.’

‘No,’ Rose said, smiling to reassure her. ‘It’s not too much. Shona would be here for me. She
was
here for me. For the longest time we were the only people who were always there for each other. I’m lucky, I’ve got you now. But Shona only has me and her mum. I’ve got to go. I’ve got to get her through this.’

Rose hugged Maddie to her tightly, kissing her hair and promising to be back the night before she was due to return to school.

‘See how Shona is,’ Maddie said looking her in the eye, ‘because I’m not at all scared about school. Grace is my friend now and Mrs Evans is keeping an eye on me. And Tilda is like practically my granny, so look after Shona. I like her, she makes me laugh and she swears out loud. I want her to get better.’

‘OK,’ Rose said. ‘I’ll see, but I will do my best to be back. With good news this time.’

Rose wondered why all hospital rooms looked and smelt the same, no matter where they were. She and Frasier had arrived in Broadstairs in the early hours of the morning, and, while Frasier was busy finding them a place to stay, he’d dropped Rose off at the hospital, where she had found Shona’s mum sitting in the waiting room, a weary, exhausted-looking woman, slumped on the plastic chair because she refused to go and leave her daughter alone. She’d come out from Shona’s darkened room just for a moment, to gather her strength before going back in. Her face crumpled with relief and sorrow when she saw Rose, who threw her arms around her and hugged her for a long time.

‘I’m here now,’ Rose said, after Shona’s mum filled her in. Not much had changed, just that they had kept Shona in an artificial coma for the last forty-eight hours in the hope that her brain would begin to heal from the swelling and bruising it had endured. They planned to scan her again in the morning, and if all seemed well, to try and wake her up. ‘I know you won’t go home, but there’s a relatives’ room round the corner. You could at least rest. I’ll stay with her.’

Rose had sat for what remained of the night in the dim light, next to Shona’s bed, unable to take her eyes off her friend’s swollen, misshapen face, which, even more than two days after Ryan had attacked her, was unrecognisable. After a while Rose had begun to talk about everything that had happened to her since the last time she had seen Shona – about her dad, and Maddie, Frasier and the business with Ted. She went
on
and on, talking about anything she could think of, hoping, even though she knew it was impossible, that Shona might wake up just to tell her to shut up.

It was early, before eight, when Shona’s nursing team came to take her for her scan. As Rose emerged into the corridor she found Frasier there waiting with Shona’s mother, his hand in hers as if he’d known her all his life.

‘Thank you for being here,’ Rose told him gratefully as Shona’s mother followed her daughter to wait outside the scan room. Frasier pulled her into his arms and held her, gently resting her head on his shoulder with one hand.

‘There isn’t anywhere I would be but here with you now,’ he said. ‘I will always be here for you, Rose. Always.’

The results of the scan were going to take time to come through, so Rose spent that time on the phone, calling the numbers that Shona’s mum had given her and eventually tracking down the social worker who’d put the boys into temporary care in the aftermath of Ryan’s arrest.