Rescuing Rose Read Online Free PDF Page A

I shall not get hysterical; I'll be as cool as vichyssoise. In any case the unpalatable image of him canoodling with our marriage guidance counsellor would keep sentiment firmly at bay.
    And now I masochistically replayed the scene where I'd found them together that day. I'd been invited to speak at a seminar on Relationship Enrichment and told Ed I'd be coming home late. I hadn't thought it relevant to mention that it was being held in a conference room at the Savoy. But when I left at nine I had to walk through the bar and, to my astonishment, I spotted Ed. He was sitting at a corner table—behind a large parlour palm—holding hands with Mary-Claire Grey.
    My unfailing advice to readers in such disagreeable situations is, Just Pretend You Haven't Seen Them And
Leave
! But in the nanosecond it took my brain to clock their combined presence I had walked right up to them. Mary-Claire saw me first and the look of horror on her snouty little face is something I'll never forget. She dropped Ed's hand as though it were radioactive, and emitted a high-pitched little cough. Ed swivelled in his seat, saw me, blinked twice, blushed deeply and simply said, 'Oh!'
    I was relieved that he didn't try and cover it up by saying, for example, 'Gosh, Rose, fancy seeing
you
here!' or 'Darling, do you remember our marriage guidance counsellor, Mary-Claire Grey?' or even 'Can I get you a drink?'
    'Oh… Rose, ' Ed stuttered, getting to his feet. 'Well,
what
a surprise! I, er expect you're wondering what we're.
    'Yes, ' I interjected. 'I am. ' I was so frosty I gave myself goose bumps, but inside I was as hot as a flame.
    'Well, I… we… we were just having a chat, actually. '
    'A chat?' I echoed. 'How nice. Well, don't let me interrupt, ' I added with a chilly little smile. Then I turned on my heel, and left.
    Looking back, the only thing that gives me any solace is the knowledge that I retained my dignity. It's only in my dreams that I throw things at him, and swear, and rage and hit. In real life I was as cool as a frozen penguin, which might surprise people who know me well. I'm supposed to be 'difficult' you see— a bit 'complicated'. A rather 'thorny' Rose—ho ho
ho
! And of course my red hair is a guaranteed sign of a crazy streak and a wicked tongue. So the fact that I didn't erupt like Mount Etna in this moment of crisis would almost certainly confound my friends. But I felt oddly detached from what was going on. I was numb. I guess it was shock. I mean, there was my handsome husband, of barely six months, holding hands with a troll! This realisation astounded me so much that I was able to retain my sang-froid.
    'Rose… ' he ventured an hour and a half later in the kitchen where I was tidying out a drawer. 'Rose… ' he repeated, but I was having difficulty hearing him over the deafening thump, thump of my heart. 'Rose… ' he reiterated, 'you must think badly of me. '
    'Yes, ' I said quietly. 'I do. '
    'I just want to say that I'm truly sorry. I know it doesn't look good. ' Now that elegant little apology really annoyed me, because I was enjoying being on the moral high ground. The air's very bracing at ten thousand feet, and of course there's a
wonderful
view. 'But I'd like to… explain, ' he suggested impotently.
    'No. Spare me, Ed. Please don't. '
    'I want to, ' he insisted. 'There are things I'd like to say'
    Suddenly I noticed that one of the cupboards was grubby and began wiping it with a damp cloth.
    'I'm not remotely interested in why you were holding hands with that pigmy, ' I said stiffly as I swabbed away.
    'Look, Rose. We've got to talk. '
    'You sound like the B. T. ad. '
    'Mary-Claire and I were just… chatting, ' he added lamely.
    'Ed, ' I said serenely, 'that's a lie: a) you were not just "chatting", you were holding hands; and b) there was a pool of drool under your table big enough to support aquatic life. What's the attraction?' I added breezily as I reached for the Ajax. 'She looks like a pig in a tutu to me.