day. I sound as if I’m young with my whole life still ahead of me, she thought. She pushed back the duvet in its white cotton cover and sat on the edge of the firm mattress.
Well, so what? There’s nothing wrong in thinking that way. My mother and father take that attitude, it’s the reason they’ve retained their youthful outlook and why they don’t place limitations upon their lives. And there’s nothing wrong with ambition either, it gives me a reason to get up in the mornings. She stood and stretched and went to pull back the curtains. The bay shimmered, its surface covered in dancing silver ripples which would be dazzling in an hour’s time. ‘It’s going to be another hot one,’ she said before creeping quietly along the landing to the bathroom in order not to wake her parents. Her effort was in vain. Trying to avoid the creaking board, she stepped straight on to it then the wash-basin cold tap made the awful strangulated noises which emanated from it if it wasn’t turned on full. It was six thirty but Rose had always been anearly riser. Broad daylight flooded the room, bouncing off the original white porcelain suite and making her squint.
Evelyn appeared in her dressing-gown just as Rose was pouring her first cup of coffee of the day. ‘Did I wake you?’
‘No. Your father’s snoring did. Didn’t you hear him?’
‘No.’
‘I told him not to drink brandy after dinner. For some reason it always sets him off. What are the plans for today? Of course, Truro, isn’t it? Do you think I’m getting senile?’
Evelyn was not forgetful, Rose knew she was making conversation rather than saying what was really on her mind. ‘Out with it, Mother, what is it you’re trying not to ask me?’
‘How well you can read me.’
‘I ought to be able to, I’ve known you all my life.’
Evelyn laughed and took a mug from one of the hooks beneath the hanging cupboards. ‘You’re not a Scorpio,’ she said, puzzled, as she read the words beneath the Zodiac sign.
‘No. David was.’
‘Oh, Rose, I’m so sorry, that was thoughtless of me.’ She put it back and took another. It would be awful if she broke it. ‘That young man, Jack. Tell me to mind my own business if you like, but he seemed so right for you. I know I’ve only met him the once, but I just got that feeling.’
‘I thought so too at one time. But we’re better off at a distance.’
‘And there’s poor old Barry still mooning around after you.’
It was Rose’s turn to laugh. ‘Jack’s older than Barry. You called him a young man and then say poor old Barry.’
‘You know what I mean. He’s always got such a hang-dog expression.’
‘It’s just the way he is. He’s okay. He’d never cope with living with someone after all these years. Especially not me. And neither would I,’ she added firmly to stop what she imagined might turn out to be her mother’s match-making attempts. ‘I’m going to get dressed. The bathroom’s free. Shall I take some tea up for Dad?’
‘Good God! Don’t you dare. He’ll start expecting me to do the same.’
They were preparing to leave for Truro when the telephone rang. It was Barry Rowe, inviting them out for Sunday lunch. ‘As you know, I haven’t room here, Rose, but I’d like to treat you and your parents. If you haven’t made other arrangements, that is,’ he added quickly. He did not want Rose to accuse him of monopolising her time, a criticism he accepted as fair.
She accepted the invitation on behalf of them all and thanked him, grateful to have such a friend, one who wanted to enhance her parents’ visit.
‘That’s extremely generous of him, Rose. Can he afford to pay for us all?’
‘Indeed he can,’ she replied indignantly. ‘You don’t know him as I do. He rarely spends anything although I try to encourage him. You’ve only to look at the way he dresses. He won’t throw a thing out until it falls apart. And his flat!’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘So
Well, so what? There’s nothing wrong in thinking that way. My mother and father take that attitude, it’s the reason they’ve retained their youthful outlook and why they don’t place limitations upon their lives. And there’s nothing wrong with ambition either, it gives me a reason to get up in the mornings. She stood and stretched and went to pull back the curtains. The bay shimmered, its surface covered in dancing silver ripples which would be dazzling in an hour’s time. ‘It’s going to be another hot one,’ she said before creeping quietly along the landing to the bathroom in order not to wake her parents. Her effort was in vain. Trying to avoid the creaking board, she stepped straight on to it then the wash-basin cold tap made the awful strangulated noises which emanated from it if it wasn’t turned on full. It was six thirty but Rose had always been anearly riser. Broad daylight flooded the room, bouncing off the original white porcelain suite and making her squint.
Evelyn appeared in her dressing-gown just as Rose was pouring her first cup of coffee of the day. ‘Did I wake you?’
‘No. Your father’s snoring did. Didn’t you hear him?’
‘No.’
‘I told him not to drink brandy after dinner. For some reason it always sets him off. What are the plans for today? Of course, Truro, isn’t it? Do you think I’m getting senile?’
Evelyn was not forgetful, Rose knew she was making conversation rather than saying what was really on her mind. ‘Out with it, Mother, what is it you’re trying not to ask me?’
‘How well you can read me.’
‘I ought to be able to, I’ve known you all my life.’
Evelyn laughed and took a mug from one of the hooks beneath the hanging cupboards. ‘You’re not a Scorpio,’ she said, puzzled, as she read the words beneath the Zodiac sign.
‘No. David was.’
‘Oh, Rose, I’m so sorry, that was thoughtless of me.’ She put it back and took another. It would be awful if she broke it. ‘That young man, Jack. Tell me to mind my own business if you like, but he seemed so right for you. I know I’ve only met him the once, but I just got that feeling.’
‘I thought so too at one time. But we’re better off at a distance.’
‘And there’s poor old Barry still mooning around after you.’
It was Rose’s turn to laugh. ‘Jack’s older than Barry. You called him a young man and then say poor old Barry.’
‘You know what I mean. He’s always got such a hang-dog expression.’
‘It’s just the way he is. He’s okay. He’d never cope with living with someone after all these years. Especially not me. And neither would I,’ she added firmly to stop what she imagined might turn out to be her mother’s match-making attempts. ‘I’m going to get dressed. The bathroom’s free. Shall I take some tea up for Dad?’
‘Good God! Don’t you dare. He’ll start expecting me to do the same.’
They were preparing to leave for Truro when the telephone rang. It was Barry Rowe, inviting them out for Sunday lunch. ‘As you know, I haven’t room here, Rose, but I’d like to treat you and your parents. If you haven’t made other arrangements, that is,’ he added quickly. He did not want Rose to accuse him of monopolising her time, a criticism he accepted as fair.
She accepted the invitation on behalf of them all and thanked him, grateful to have such a friend, one who wanted to enhance her parents’ visit.
‘That’s extremely generous of him, Rose. Can he afford to pay for us all?’
‘Indeed he can,’ she replied indignantly. ‘You don’t know him as I do. He rarely spends anything although I try to encourage him. You’ve only to look at the way he dresses. He won’t throw a thing out until it falls apart. And his flat!’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘So
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