Page 45 of From Notting Hill with Love…Actually (Actually #1)

By the time Rose had told me what she’d been doing over the last twenty years, her ice cream had all but melted, without the need of a hot apple pie to help it along.

Rather than the wonderful, exciting life I’d thought my mother had had working in fashion and living in London, New York, and Paris, it appeared she’d spent most of her time rolling from one disastrous relationship to the next.

It had been the men in my mother’s life that had taken her around the world, not her career.

“So, Scarlett, my life has been quite a rollercoaster ride. One minute I’d be up in the air, living the dream with a rich man on my arm and a glamorous job to wake up to every morning.

And the next, when it all went wrong, I’d plunge into the depths of despair, and sometimes even poverty, while I got myself back on my feet again.

Now is one of those down times, I’m afraid, that’s why I took the job at the cinema. ”

“But at least you’ve had an exciting life. It hasn’t been boring, has it?”

Rose laughed bitterly. “No, it certainly hasn’t been that. But if I could just go back in time…would I choose to do it all that way again? I’m really not sure I would. ”

“What do you mean, if you could go back in time? Are you saying you wouldn’t have left us if you’d known then what you do now?”

Rose shook her head. “I really don’t know, Scarlett. Things were different back then. Your father is probably a completely changed man now from the Tom I knew.”

“How do you mean?”

Rose looked across the empty table at me.

Greta had long since cleared our plates away—there were only two empty cups left now, and the rest of the café was deserted too.

I think Greta and Charlie—the man in the white apron—were hoping to close up for the night.

“Scarlett, do you really want to sit here and listen to me criticize your father? I don’t think you do—because it’s obvious that you won’t agree with me, and then we’ll just end up fighting, and I don’t want that to happen. ”

“I won’t say anything in Dad’s defense, I promise. I’ll just sit here and listen to your side of the story. All I really want to understand is why you left.”

Rose looked around at the empty cafe. “Perhaps we should continue this elsewhere, then? I think they’re waiting for us to leave.”

“All right,” I agreed. “But you will tell me the whole story, won’t you? You at least owe me that.”

Rose nodded. “Yes, I’ll tell you.”

We stood up and paid the bill. I insisted we go halves, even though Rose tried to pay for everything.

I still couldn’t think of calling her anything other than Rose. Thinking of her as Mum was still too painful to contemplate .

“Where should we go?” Rose asked, once we were standing on the pavement. “My flat is only a few tube stops from here.”

“Let’s go to mine,” I said. “It’s just around the corner and the rain seems to be easing up now, so we won’t get wet.”

Our walk to Lansdowne Road was quiet. Occasionally one of us would make a comment about the weather or something in one of the antique shop windows we passed. When I turned off the Portobello Road in the direction of my house, Rose spoke again.

“You live along here? Either the popcorn business pays a lot more than I thought these days, or you’ve a very rich man in tow!”

“Neither, I’m afraid.” Actually that wasn’t altogether true. David was quite wealthy—but he wasn’t the reason I was living here. “I’m house-sitting for friends,” I explained, taking the easy option.

As we reached the house, I noticed that Sean’s light was on in his hall, and my hopes were raised for a moment. But then I remembered that light had been on every evening since we’d returned from Paris. He must have one of those night light things set up on a timer.

I opened my own door and rushed through to deal with Buster.

“Gosh, this is very nice,” Rose said, spinning around in the hall. “You’ve fallen on your feet here. How long are you staying for?”

“About a couple of weeks,” I said, trying to remember how long I’d been here. Gosh, over halfway through my time already. “Coffee?” I asked, going into the kitchen. “Or perhaps something stronger? ”

“Coffee is just fine. But don’t let me stop you if—”

“No, I’ll just take a coffee too.” I still couldn’t quite shift the aftertaste of the brandy.

“So?” I asked when the coffee was made and we were sitting down in the lounge together on one of the brown leather settees. “Let’s hear it.”

Rose took a sip of her drink, then put it down carefully on a glass coaster on the coffee table.

She sat back in the seat and looked at me before speaking.

“Scarlett, your father and I, we were always just a bit too different, I suppose. He was the calm, sensible one in the relationship—whereas I was livelier and much more…impulsive, I guess you’d call it.

” She thought for a moment. “It was fine while we were courting; our differences were what kept our relationship fresh and exciting. And your father—he was a bit of a looker in those days, Scarlett. I always thought he had a touch of Harrison Ford about him.”

Try as I might, I couldn’t help but smile at that image.

“In the early eighties Harrison Ford was considered to be a bit of a catch,” Rose explained. “It was the height of the Star Wars craze.”

I nodded. “Yes, I know.” But I still couldn’t see my father as anything but Dad, let alone Indiana Jones.

“Anyway, eventually we got married. Everything was fine at first. Things weren’t a lot different than they were before.

Except we now had the added worry of bills and mortgage payments every month—something your dad took a lot more seriously than me.

And to be fair to him, it’s a good job someone did.

Tom always wanted us to save our money, put it away for a rainy day, that kind of thing.

And I wanted us to go out and continue living our lives as we had done before we’d got married.

I wanted to enjoy life while I was still young.

So as you can imagine, that caused many an argument. ”

I nodded; this all matched up to what little Dad had told me.

“But whatever arguments we had over money, the bottom line was we still loved each other deeply, Scarlett, you have to remember that.”

She paused and thought again.

“About a year after we got married I fell pregnant with you. This put Tom into super-saver overdrive, I’m afraid.

We had to save money for the baby, for when I had to give up work, for when we needed to buy nappies, cots, and prams. I wasn’t allowed to buy anything without your father wanting to know why I’d bought this or spent money on that—every penny had to be accounted for. And it drove me mad, Scarlett.”

I couldn’t blame her for that—it would have driven me mad too. David was bad enough, but at least I still had my own source of income.

“But then you came along, and for a while everything changed. I was besotted with you—I think that’s the only way to describe it—really I was. You were the most important thing in my life—you have to believe that.”

“So, what changed?” I had to ask. I’d been silent up until now.

Rose shook her head. “I really don’t know for certain.

I think now I may have had a form of postnatal depression.

You have to remember back then it wasn’t as widely recognized in all its various forms as it is today.

Yes, we knew about the ‘baby blues’ and no doubt if I’d sat at home all day sobbing I might have been diagnosed.

I’ve done quite a lot of reading on the subject since the Internet came along.

I can’t excuse what I did, Scarlett, but I can’t take all the blame either. ”

“Why? What happened to you? What made you so different from all the other mums who chose to stay with their babies?” My questions were all asked in the same detached voice.

It was as if I was a journalist interviewing Rose for a story that had nothing to do with me.

It was the only way I could deal with all of this—by keeping myself as far removed from the subject matter as I possibly could.

Rose stared down at her hands which she had clasped together on her lap.

“My emotions went in the opposite direction. There was no crying or endless sobbing; quite the opposite, in fact. I was so happy at becoming a mum that I wanted to go out and celebrate. The problem was I kept wanting to go out all the time. I think part of me wanted to cling to the fact I was still me —and not just someone’s mother.

” She looked up at me. “You wait until it happens to you, Scarlett. You’ll know what I mean then.

First you’re always Mrs. O’Brien when you go to the clinic, then Baby O’Brien’s mum, then suddenly everyone only knows you as Scarlett’s mother.

You start to lose your own identity; no one calls you by your own name anymore. ”

“And this is the reason you left us?” I hadn’t been very impressed so far by her weak excuses. I was sure that everything she was telling me was the truth, but it just didn’t add up. Something was missing.

“Partly, but I’m afraid there’s more to tell you yet.”

Rose looked at me as if she was considering something.

“You said you’d tell me everything,” I urged .

“Yes, I did, you’re right.” She took a deep breath.

“Well, these feelings grew worse, until I felt completely trapped within my own life. I can’t explain to you how awful that feels unless you’ve been there yourself, Scarlett.

I almost felt I couldn’t breathe sometimes, as if my life was being suffocated out of me.

I was just desperate to get away from it all for a while. ”

I could appreciate that feeling.