Rescuing Rose (51 page)

'—I prefer a Newtonian reflector myself. '

'—fascinating lecture on helio-seismology. '

'—there was a brilliant fireball in Ursa Major last week. '

'—did you see the occultation of Saturn?'

'—too cloudy, but there's going to be a perihelic opposition of Mars. '

'Star bores!' whispered Beverley with a laugh. Trevor trotted ahead, parting the crowd for us as if he were a border collie carving up sheep.

'Hey!' Theo exclaimed, as he caught sight of us. 'My two favourite women!'

'Congratulations!' we said.

He saw that we were holding copies of his book, 'I hope you didn't pay for those. '

'Of course we did, ' said Bev. 'It looks lovely, ' she added.

'Yes it does. But it was touch and go that we'd have them in time for the party as they only came back from the printers this afternoon. '

'Well we'd like you to graffiti them. But please write clearly Theo as your handwriting's so atrocious, ' Bev giggled, 'and could you sign it to me and Trev?'

'What wonderful pictures, ' I murmured as I flicked through it. There were photographs from Hubble of glittering star clusters and of the Stingray Nebula like a vast pink and green fish. There was one of a sun in its death throes throwing out great shells of red and mauve gas. There was another of a cartwheel shaped galaxy—the result of two galaxies crashing—spinning through the blackness of space. There was a photo of Neptune, as blue as the sea, with a swirl of streaky white cloud. And here was the Shoemaker-Levy comet smashing into Jupiter, and the sun setting on Mars. The images were so utterly beautiful, they made my soul ache. I sighed, then turned to the opening pages ready for Theo to sign. He'd dedicated the book to the memory of his maternal grandfather, Hugh Adams, 'who first encouraged me to look up'. On the opposite page was the list of acknowledgements; to my amazement, I read my own name.

'Thanks, Theo, ' I heard Beverley say as she read his inscription. 'That's really nice. '

'Theo, ' I said, 'you didn't have to acknowledge me—I didn't do anything. '

'You did. You let me live in your house, and that made me feel a lot happier and so I was able to work. ' I smiled. Theo's hand hovered over the page for a moment, and then he began to write. As he did so I looked at him, and thought of how he would soon be leaving me, going beyond my sphere: and now the astro-babble seemed to fade to silence as I remembered the last six months.

—
You'd look great as the Botticelli Venus
…

—
You could easily attract a man of my age
…

—
Are you up for it…
?

—
A galaxy's a city of stars
…

—
The thought that your mother might he out there, somewhere
…

—
There's life beyond every relationship, Rose
…

—
I could teach you, if you like
…

—
Now add the lemon grass and the ginger
…

—
Look for her
—
it's not too late
.

'There you are, ' he said as he handed me the book. I read his inscription.
To the celestial Rose, who drew me into her lovely orbit. With love and gratitude, Theo
.

'Oh that's so… nice, ' I said impotently. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. 'It's just lovely, Theo. I don't know what to say. ' We stood there, smiling at each other awkwardly, drawn together by gravity, or perhaps simply pushed together by the press of the crowd.

'Tell me again when you're going?' I said.

'Well I exchanged today and the flat's vacant for possession so I'll be completing in a day or two. '

'I didn't think it would happen so quickly, ' I said. 'It's really taken me aback. '

'Me too. I thought it would take me months but it's only been a fortnight. I'll miss you, Rose, ' he added suddenly. My heart did a swallow dive.

'I'll miss you too, ' I whispered.

'Really?' I nodded. 'So we'll both miss each other then. '

'Looks like it, doesn't it?'

'Yeah. ' He smiled his funny, lopsided smile. 'It does. '

'Its been lovely having you staying with me. '

'Really?'

I nodded. 'You've made, well, a big difference to my life. '

'I have?'

I nodded again because I found I couldn't speak. Theo was leaving me.

'Rose, ' he said.

'Yes?' My eyes were stinging and my throat ached.

'Rose, I—'

'Theo!' An attractive blonde had come up to him and laid her hand on his arm. She was from the publishers; she looked crisp, brisk and official.

'Oh hello, Camilla, ' he said.

'Theo, can I just drag you over to meet this guy from Channel 4, the one I told you about? He's heard you lecture and thinks you're going to be the new Patrick Moore. Then Felicity from the
Mail
wants to do an interview with you. She says you're going to be to star-watching what Jamie Oliver is to cooking—you know, The Naked Astronomer!' Theo laughed. 'And then I want you to meet Clare from the Discovery Channel, she's got a few ideas she'd like to discuss. '

'Sorry, Rose, ' said Theo. He shrugged. 'I've just got to talk to some people. '

'Of course, ' I smiled. 'You go. ' He disappeared into the crowd, which seemed to suck him in like a black hole, and I couldn't see him any more. And now, all around me, people were talking about him.

'—He's really going places, that boy. '

'—He'll get a TV series, I'm sure of it. '

'—Well he's very telegenic'

'—Oh yes. '

'—And that attractive Yorkshire accent. '

'—He's a populist, but his science is sound. '

Theo's life is going to change hugely, I realised. This book is a watershed and nothing will be the same after this. It'll take him into a whole new sphere, and he'll be meeting all kinds of new people. Everything will change. He'll leave Hope Street and move into his flat and maybe we'll stay in touch for a while. And then the phone calls will gradually stop. And I'll open the
Post
one day at the gossip column and see that he's got engaged. And I'll have a huge pang of regret and I'll be out of sorts for a few days and my friends will wonder what's up. But then I'll decide to be sensible, and to think of him simply as that nice person who lived with me for a while, and who taught me to look up… Theo was at a major crossroads. His life would be very different after this. So would mine I saw. For I was at a crossroads too. But there was no question which was the best direction for me to go in—Wright.

I hardly saw Theo for the next three days. He was busy doing interviews about the book, and to-ing and fro-ing to his solicitor's and the estate agent's, and I was still looking after Ed. But on Monday, Ed went back to work. I drove him in as he can't risk being jostled or barged on the tube. As he had to be there by nine, I got in to work earlier than usual. To save Beverley, I opened the mail.

'What have we got today?' I wondered out loud as I ripped into the first envelope.

Dear Rose
, I read,
I suffer from premature matriculation and my girlfriend is threatening to leave me. Please can you help
? I was fairly sure he didn't mean he'd passed all his 'A' levels at twelve. I sighed, fired off a short letter, enclosing the relevant leaflet, logged it, then opened the next.
Dear Rose, I don't know what to do
—
I feel so bad because for the past two years I have been having an affair with a married man, but it wasn't international
. Oh God.
Dear Rose, I recently got married to a man with a rather unfortunate surname. When I announce myself people snigger and make all sorts of unfunny remarks. I'd like to revert to my maiden name but I know that this will offend my husband and his family. What should I do? Mrs
77
Bottie
. Why didn't she think of that
before
? To avoid hurting her husband's feelings I advised her to hyphenate both names, continental style—as long as her maiden name wasn't 'Bigg'.

Then there was a letter asking about wedding etiquette for a couple who'd both been married before.
With me exchanging vows for the third time and my fiancée for the fourth, we're very worried about the ceremony. Not least because it turns out that my fiancée's ex-husband but once dated my father's new girlfriend, and it didn't end very well. Plus my ex-stepdaughter is threatening to boycott the wedding if her father's new boyfriend is there, but I can't not invite him as his ex-wife is my accountant and has stuff on me about my VAT. I'm having sleepless nights, Rose and can imagine scuffles on our big day. What should I do
? Don't bother getting married, I was tempted to write back. With a track record like yours what's the point? Instead I suggested that they should invite
no-one
to the service but throw a party, at a later date, in a very large venue, so that the warring factions could be kept apart.

I glanced at the clock—it was ten to ten. Beverley would be here soon. There were a couple of cross-dressing letters, I'd leave them for her as she does those ones very well. Now I opened another letter on blue Basildon Bond. The handwriting, though slightly shaky, looked vaguely familiar, although I couldn't think why. Suddenly my mobile phone beeped, announcing a text message. LUL, scrolled across the tiny screen, then O:-) Ed. Mystified, I looked it up in Serena's dictionary.
Love You Lots… Angel
. I smiled, not least at the effort that Ed must have put into it, painstakingly tapping out the letters with his left hand. The phone beeped again, and I read
CantW2XU
! I laughed. But then what does the ad say? 'Touch someone with a text message, ' and I
did
feel touched. In fact I felt suddenly cheerful and uplifted as I turned back to the letter in my hand.

Dear Rose, I have a problem, and am very much hoping that you might be able to help me
. I'll try my best, I thought.
Just over a year ago, I was diagnosed with leukaemia. You can imagine the shock. Apart from the odd nosebleed, and a couple of infections, I'd had no idea there was anything wrong. I was 35, in the 'prime' of life, supposedly, and my wife had just had our first child. The main treatment for acute myeloid leukaemia is chemotherapy. I've had three lots and I've responded quite well each time, but unfortunately my remission period has been very short.

'Morning, Rose!' I heard Beverley say brightly. 'Rose? Are you okay?' she asked. I looked up.

'Oh sorry—hi, Bev. Hi, Trev. '

'You look serious. Is it a bad letter?'

'Yes, ' I replied as I read on. 'It's sad. '

The doctors have told me that the disease has now progressed from the chronic, to the accelerated stage, and that my only hope is bone marrow donation. But I have an unusual blood type, and so far no match has been found, either in my family or on the national database of bone marrow donors
. Poor bloke, I thought.
All my family have been tested
—
my mother, uncle, aunts, cousins and siblings
—
all except one. My brother. He's refusing to do it because we fell out six years ago, over money, and he has not spoken to me since
.