Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

Rosie

I could barely walkon Monday morning my pussy was so damn sore, even after a good day of rest. Lola laughed as I approached her in the library at lunchtime, because she knew exactly what I’d been up to.

“Yeah, ouch,” I said.

“Was it good, though?”

“Yeah, it was incredible. Hurts now, but it was worth it.” I cracked a grin. “Very worth it.”

She winked as I sat down beside her. “You’ll get used to the after pain, I promise. And pelvic floor will be your friend.” She laughed. “And Julian’s.”

“No doubt, but Julian says he doesn’t want me to get used to it. He says it’s only for very special occasions.”

“Same here. Pete always makes me beg for it before he dishes it out, but still. Pelvic floor, believe me. It’s a life skill.”

She gave me a whole load of techniques and I committed to them, wanting to make sure I was the slut dreams are made of – especially Julian’s. I wanted to grip him like a vice, as he liked to put it.

I also completed an essential assignment that had been on my radar for weeks, and I booked in to my doctor for the contraceptive pill. As much as I loved Julian’s cum dripping from me every chance I got, I didn’t want a baby to add to our situation. Not even if it was Julian’s.

Maybe he’d end up like one of those celebrity eighty-year-old fathers with four generations of kids or something. The thought made me laugh, and it occurred to me, just how immune I was getting to ponderings about age gap dos and don’ts, even if the rest of the estate wasn’t. I was still getting barrages of insults, and bitching everywhere I went, but fuck that, and fuck them. People needed to get a life, rather than being so concerned with mine, but like hell they would. I’d probably still be getting bitched at for years to come.

Unless we moved away.

The thought was there. Always.

What if Julian and me moved away when I was done with college?

Did I really want to be in Crenham Drive for the rest of my life? No. I didn’t. The place felt like a claustrophobic dome of judgement and small-mindedness that I used to take for granted, but I was past that. Once the veil is pulled back and you see things as they really are, there is no returning. I wouldn’t have been able to pretend to be sweet little Rosie in my crappy life on this estate, even if I’d wanted to.

But there was something else, of course. Something that would hold me back beyond anything.

Mum.

Every day without her was getting harder. It was like a gulf widening, minute by minute, my heart growing more and more desperate to hear her voice and see her smiling. Memories were springing up at me, constantly. The tiny details of things I missed were magnified. Even the thought of how she clutched her mug of tea was enough that I felt tears calling. I needed her so bad.

Just not badly enough to give up Julian.

With Mum back at work, and me at college, our paths through the block wouldn’t cross very often, if at all. It was hell, knowing she was so close, but so far. One floor separated us, but that floor symbolised the world. Yet again, I could only begin to imagine the pain Julian went through when his whole family cast him aside.

He was smoking at the window one night later that week when I was missing Mum especially bad. I looked at how he was staring into the distance and wondered how bad he was missing his kids and his brother, and even Katreya. Surely all the time.

“Do you think about them?” I asked. “When you look out there, are you ever imagining Oxford in the distance?”

He didn’t hold back, turning to me with a sad smile.

“Yes. A lot of the time.” He stubbed out his cigarette. “Thank the Lord I have you to ease my pain, or I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have hung onto life for much longer.”

He sat next to me when he was done with his cigarette, and put his hand on my knee. I leant into his side, hating how awful his situation must be, regardless of me being in it. Every tiny memory of his family must cut like a knife.

“I miss Mum,” I said. “I don’t know how you do it. Really.”

“It’s simple. I find solace in you. That’s how I do it.”

The hurt in me was a nasty fog, most likely because it was Mum’s birthday in a few weeks’ time. I rested my head on him and gripped his arm, sighing at the thought I wouldn’t be there.

“Would you go back to Oxford? If you could?”

He straightened up, looking down at me with piercing eyes.

“Would I return to my wife, do you mean?”

“Not necessarily, no. But your life in general. If someone gave you the option on a plate, right now, go to Oxford and pick up life again, or stay here, with me, which would it be?”

“No one is ever going to do that. It’s a pointless thing to ponder on.”

“You would ponder it, though?”

He sighed, his eyes warm. “Sweetheart, of course I’d love to return to Oxford. Believe me, I miss my children, and my family, and my life. Friends, career, neighbours. My dog. Everything.”

I didn’t blame him in the slightest. Being upstairs from Mum was bad enough. He ran his thumb across my cheek in the way I loved. His stare was meaningful. Soulful, even.

“I miss it all, but that doesn’t mean I’d be willing to leave you behind. Oxford, or not.”

I opted to make light of it, even though I’d jabbed a wound that ran very deep.

“It would be the best thing ever if they did let you back into their lives again, and I’d love to be the girl at your side through all of it. I’d even love to meet your dog, but I can’t see I’d be invited to family gatherings with you for the next hundred years. They’d probably throw eggs at me.”

“No, they wouldn’t. They’d be far too busy throwing eggs at me.” His thumb was still on my cheek, and he read me. He always did. “I know you miss your mum, and in your case I hope it’s not going to be an all or nothing situation. We don’t have to leave this place, and you don’t have to leave her, and hopefully one day, preferably soon, she will be willing to speak with you again, even if she still despises the very sight of me. I believe she loves you too much to hold you at arm’s length for ever. Most certainly.”

It was always the case with him. Such faith in me, such little in himself. It made me sigh.

“Wouldn’t your family do the same? Don’t you believe they love you too much to throw you out for ever?”

His eyes were fixed firm.

“No, I don’t. I’m dead to them. Figuratively, if not literally.”

I wasn’t nearly so certain. I couldn’t be. Julian was such an incredible man that I didn’t believe anyone would want to cast him aside permanently, no matter what the situation was, but he knew them better than I did, just as I knew Mum and Crenham Drive better than he did. With everyone’s voice in Mum’s ears constantly, she’d be under the spell of judgement, and I’d be lost to her.

Still, it was what it was. The world would keep spinning, and Julian and me would still be together, pain binding us as well as love. I didn’t expect anything different, genuinely.

I read Julian’s amazingly written scenes at night, and focused on college in the day, and I spent time with Lola after lessons, and she and Peter joined us for one of Julian’s pork roasts at the weekend. It was great.

But still, I didn’t see my mum.

I stood strong through jeers and whispers, and revised for my exams, and played filthy games with Julian every evening, and it was all fine for weeks. Apart from the fact that I didn’t see my mum.

I thought about hammering her door down, or calling on repeat until she either answered or blocked me, but I knew what she was like. She’d cry and scream and it would push her further back into her shell, and give Trisha more ammunition for her there, there, Rosie’s been turned into an evil, naïve bitch front, or whatever other bullshit people were spewing, so I steered clear.

Mum needed to make the move. I wasn’t Scottie. Some garage flowers and expressions of adoration weren’t going to cut it. I was her little girl and would need to let go of Julian. But I couldn’t do that. I’d never be able to. I loved Julian just too damn much.

I was used to kids giving me jeers on the way back from college. It was the same rubbish every day, whether from laughs of girls sniggering, or the guys from block seven giving me their usual crap from the garage bench, or the scathing looks I got from the dog walkers on their usual routes. One person I hadn’t seen in weeks was Jayden, presuming he was just keeping his distance because he hated my guts so much, so I jumped back in shock when I turned the corner for our block to find him there one afternoon, leaning against the wall, waiting for me with hate in his eyes. He was smoking a cigarette, but he tossed it to the floor as I gathered myself together and approached him.

“Hey,” I tried.

“Don’t fucking hey me,” he said, “I went to see Dad. The prick you’re with is a true psycho. He was gonna stab my dad. Kill him. For fucking real. And he’ll kill you, as well.”

“What?”

“He’s dangerous, Rosie. Once he’s tired of fucking you, he’ll stab you as well and move on to his next little girl victim.”

“Are you for real? Julian’s not dangerous. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“He threatened to kill my dad. And you’ll be next. He’ll soon get tired of you, and you’ll be next. Dad says we might as well do it ourselves to save wasting time. If we got rid of the pair of you, Dad would be able to come home again.”

What the–

“Did you just say your dad thinks you should kill me? For real? Seriously?”

“Why fucking not?” Jay said, like he’d lost his mind. “The sicko’s going to do it anyway. Dad says…”

I’d had enough. I shook my head as I walked on by, not wanting another stupid battle, especially such a nasty, overblown one as this one. Scottie could fuck off. Jayden could fuck off too, and I told him so, giving him the middle finger as I passed him. But he didn’t let me go. He grabbed my arm, tugging me back to him and holding me in a grip, his teeth gritted in anger. Just like his father.

“My dad’s gone away because of you, you think that’s fucking funny?”

“No!” I snapped. “I think it’s fucking deserved, because your dad is a piece of shit, who should be in prison, and nowhere else.”

“Yeah, so what about your fucked up boyfriend? He’s the one who wants to be a fucking killer.”

“Whatever, Jay,” I said and tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t let me go. He kept his grip on me. “Fuck off and leave me alone!” I said, but he didn’t. He was too angry. Too wound up. Too fucked up.

“This is your fucking fault!” he said. “And you think it’s alright, parading around like a slut who got the prize! I’ve heard you’ve been bragging to people. Skipping down the street with that psycho cunt’s hand in yours like a stupid little puppy bitch.”

“FUCK OFF!” I yelled. “Your dad’s the fucking psycho! Not Julian! And it’s definitely, DEFINITELY not my fault!”

“IT IS YOUR FUCKING FAULT!”

I was prepared to launch into another attack of my own, but a voice cut in from across the street, footsteps dashing. I recognised the heels and my heart cried out in relief to hear Mum’s scream, right there beside me.

“Jayden! You’d better leave Rosie the fuck alone, do you hear me? If you don’t, there’s going to be trouble for everyone, not least your fucking dad!”

Jayden let me go, just like that. His eyes locked on Mum’s and he saw her rage, and it seemed to jolt him back to himself. He stumbled back with his hands in his hair. Mum spun around, looking at the onlookers gathering on the outskirts.

“And you lot can fuck off, too!”

People pretended they weren’t watching, going about their business like they hadn’t just observed Jayden practically wrestling me into the road.

“Sorry,” Jay mumbled. “It’s just a fucking mess!”

He was poor little lost Jayden again as he turned and sloped away.

“Jay!” I called, but he didn’t listen. “Jay, wait! Let’s talk about it! Let’s at least try, right?”

He’d been my friend, and the person going through the same shit as me for so long, that it felt painful to watch him leave, but not nearly so painful as when I turned to thank Mum and found she was already walking away.

“Mum, wait! Hang on a minute!”

But she held up a hand, not wanting to hear from me.

“MUM!” I shouted, dashing after her, with relief, and hurt, and love all melting together in one big pot, tears in my eyes. “Thanks, Mum! Just wait! Please!”

She sucked in a breath, and turned to me, and her eyes were teary, too. But it wasn’t enough. Her pain was too strong to build the bridge between us. Even now, after defending me, she still looked as though I’d shit on her doorstep and was nothing but dirt.

“Leave him!” she told me. “Leave the prick and come back home. We can forget it ever happened. You can move back in. Just leave him.”

“I don’t want to leave him! I love him!”

“Fine, then,” she said. “Please yourself, but I’m not having it. I’m not seeing you with a piece of shit like him. No fucking way.”

“Mum–” I tried again, but she kept on walking. “MUM!” I shouted again, and I saw her shoulders hunch as she fought back tears.

And that set me off. I couldn’t hold back.

I dropped to my knees at the side of the road, not giving a fuck about anyone watching me, and I cried like a little girl who’d truly lost her mum. Beyond help. Beyond reason. Beyond anything.

Because I was one.

I was a little girl who’d lost her mum, and I loved her. I needed her. Nothing would ever make that go away.

Not even Julian. He wouldn’t be able to stop the pain of me losing my mother. But that didn’t matter, I wasn’t ever going to give him up.

I sucked in a breath of my own as Mum turned the corner at the bottom of the street, and forced myself to my feet, wiping away tears with the back of my hand as I composed myself as best I could.

And then I went home – my new home. And to the man upstairs.

The man who loved me.