Rescuing Rose. Isabel Wolff

you love me then?’ I asked, tentatively, my heart banging like a Kodo drum.

      ‘I did love you Rose,’ he said regretfully. ‘I really did. But…no, I don’t think I love you any more.’

      ‘You don’t love me?’ I echoed dismally. ‘Oh. Oh, I see. Well you have now hurt my feelings Ed. You have really got to me. I am now very angry.’ I rummaged in my arsenal and found a Le Creuset frying pan. ‘And suppressed anger is bad for one’s health, so you’ll just have to take your punishment like a man.’

      As I picked up the pan with both hands, horror registered on Ed’s handsome face.

      ‘Please Rose. Don’t be silly.’

      ‘I’m perfectly serious,’ I said.

      ‘You’ve had your little game.’

      ‘It isn’t over. At least not yet.’

      ‘You’re not really going to hit me with that, are you?’ he pleaded as I advanced across the feather-strewn lawn. ‘Please Rose,’ he wheezed. ‘Don’t.’ And now, as I moved towards him, smashed china crunching underfoot, his voice began to rise from its normal light tenor, to contralto, until it was a kind of odd, soprano whine. ‘Please Rose,’ he whimpered. ‘Not with that. You could really hurt me, you know.’

      ‘Good!’

      ‘Rose, don’t. Stop it!’ he wailed, as he tried to protect himself with his hands. ‘Rose. ROSE!’ he screamed, as I lifted the pan aloft and prepared to bring it down, hard, on his head. ‘Rose!’ And now, from somewhere, I could hear banging, and shouting. ‘ROSE!’ Ed shrieked. ‘ROSE! ROSE!’

      Suddenly I was sitting bolt upright in bed, heart pounding, eyes staring, my mouth as dry as dust. I was no longer in Ed’s garden in Putney, but in my new house in Camberwell.

      ‘ROSE!!’ I heard. ‘OPEN UP!!’

      I staggered down the unfamiliar stairs, still shocked by the dream which churned in my brain like a thunder cloud.

      ‘Rose!’ exclaimed Bella as I opened the front door. ‘Rose, thank…’

      ‘…God!’ sighed Bea.

      ‘We’ve been banging for hours,’ Bella breathed looking stricken. ‘We thought you might have done something…’

      ‘…silly,’ concluded Bea. ‘You wouldn’t, would you?’ she went on anxiously. I looked at them. Would I? No.

      ‘I’d fallen asleep,’ I croaked. ‘Didn’t hear you. It’s knackering moving house.’

      ‘We know,’ they said, ‘so we’ve come to help you.’ They came in, then gave me a hug.

      ‘Are you okay, Rose?’ they enquired solicitously.

      ‘I’m fine,’ I said, wanting to cry.

      ‘Wow!’ gasped Bella as she surveyed the sitting room.

      ‘Blimey!’ said Bea. ‘What a mess.’

      The room was crammed with cardboard packing cases, bisected by shiny black masking tape. They were stacked up like miniature skyscrapers, almost totally obscuring the floor. I’d paid good money for Shift It Kwik but now I regretted my choice, for far from putting the boxes in their designated rooms, they’d just dumped them then buggered off. ‘KITCH,’ said a box by the window. ‘BATH’ announced the one by the stairs. ‘BED 1,’ said the two by the fireplace. ‘STUDY,’ declared the one by the door.

      ‘This is going to take you ages,’ said Bea, wonderingly.

      ‘Weeks,’ added Bella. I sighed. Bella and Bea’s gift for stating the screamingly obvious can drive me nuts. When I broke my arm ice-skating when I was twelve, all they said was, ‘Rose, you should have taken more care.’ When I failed my ‘A’ Levels they said, ‘Rose you should have done more work.’ And when I got engaged to Ed, they said, ‘Rose, we think it’s too soon.’ That didn’t seem at all apparent to me then, but it sure as hell does now. Oh yes, Bella and Bea always state the obvious, but they have twenty-four carat hearts.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ said Bella. ‘We’ll…’

      ‘…help you,’ concluded Bea. They’re like an old married couple in many ways. They finish each other’s sentences, for example, and they bicker a lot of the time. Like many an old married couple, they even look alike; but that’s not surprising – they’re identical twins.

      ‘Give us the guided tour,’ said Bella. ‘It’s quite big,’ she added. This was true. I’d gone looking for a large garden flat but had ended up with a three bedroomed house. The twins admired the size of the kitchen, but thought the bathroom was a bit small.

      ‘But for a single person it’s fine,’ said Bea helpfully. I winced. Single. Fuck. That was me. ‘Nice garden though!’ exclaimed Bella, changing the subject.

      ‘And it’s a sweet little street,’ added Bea. ‘It looks a bit scruffy,’ she remarked as we peered out of the landing window. ‘But friendly.’

      ‘Hope Street,’ I said with a bitter laugh.

      ‘Well,’ added Bella brightly, ‘we think it’s just…’

      ‘…lovely!’

      ‘It’s fine,’ I shrugged. ‘It’ll do.’ I thought with a pang of Ed’s elegant house in Putney with its walled garden and yellow drawing room. Moving into that had been exhausting too, but in a nice way as we’d got engaged just two weeks before. As I’d unpacked my stuff the future had seemed to stretch before us like a ribbon of clear motorway. But we’d hardly set off before we’d crashed and had to be ignominiously towed away. So now here I was, my marriage a write-off, upping sticks yet again.

      Some women in my situation might have been tempted to move a little further afield – to Tasmania, say, or Mars, but though I was keen to put some distance between us I reckoned Camberwell was far enough. Plus it would be convenient for work and the area was still relatively cheap. So, a month ago, I dropped into a local estate agents and before I knew it, One Hope Street was mine.

      ‘It’s vacant for possession,’ said the negotiator with unctuous enthusiasm, ‘and it’s semi-detached.’ Just like me. ‘It’s been empty for a few months,’ she added, ‘but it’s in pretty good shape – all it really needs is a clean.’

      When, ten minutes later, I saw the house, I took to it at once. It had this indignant, slightly abandoned air; it exuded disappointment and regret. It was the first in a short terrace of flat fronted houses, and it had a semi-paved garden at the back.

      ‘I’ll take it,’ I said casually, as though I were spending twenty quid, not four hundred grand. So I inflated my income to the building society and exchanged in ten days flat. But then I’m the impatient type. I married very quickly, for example. I separated quickly as well. And it took me precisely two and a half weeks to buy and move into this house.

      ‘Can you afford it?’ asked Bella, tucking her short blonde hair behind one ear.

      ‘No,’ I said simply. ‘I can’t.’

      ‘Why did you get it then?’ demanded Bea, who can be overbearing.

      ‘It was an impulse buy.’

      ‘We’ll help you decorate,’ said Bella as she scissored open a packing case.

      ‘You can be our first client,’ said Bea.

      ‘Have you got a name yet?’ I asked.

      ‘Design at the Double!’ they chorused.

      ‘Hmm. That’s catchy,’ I said.

      The twins have just given up their respective jobs to start an interior design company. Despite a conspicuous