Page 28 of Sassy & Sixty
Maria looked up, her eyes wide and vulnerable. "What do you mean?"
"Well," Rosie said, straightening up with determination, "for starters, you're staying here tonight. No arguments. I won't have you going back to that house, not when the wounds are so fresh."
"Oh, Rosie, I couldn't possibly impose?—"
"Nonsense," Rosie cut her off firmly. "What are friends for if not for providing a shoulder to cry on and a spare room in times of crisis? Besides," she added with a wry smile, "we can stay up late, eat too much ice cream, and plot our revenge on all the men who've ever wronged us."
That startled a watery chuckle out of Maria. "I'm not sure I'm up for revenge plotting just yet."
"Fair enough," Rosie conceded. "How about we start with some mindless telly and a large glass of wine instead? I think I've got a bottle of that Rioja you like squirrelled away somewhere."
As Rosie bustled about, fetching wine and fluffing pillows, she kept a watchful eye on Maria. Her friend still looked shell-shocked and devastated, but there was a tiny spark of something in her eyes now. Determination, perhaps. Or the first flickering of hope.
Later that evening, as they sat side by side on the sofa, wine glasses in hand and some ridiculous reality show playing in the background, Maria turned to Rosie.
"Thank you," she said softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you. Without all of you," she added, no doubt thinking of Emma, Lisa, and the others.
Rosie smiled, reaching out to squeeze Maria's hand. "That's what the Sensational Sixties Squad is for, love. We've weathered our fair share of storms, you and I. We'll weather this one too."
Maria nodded, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "I suppose we will. Though I'm not feeling particularly sensational at the moment."
"Give it time," Rosie assured her. "Before you know it, you'll be out there painting the town red with the rest of us. But for now, it's okay to not be okay. You take all the time you need to grieve and heal. We'll be right here beside you every step of the way."
As Maria leaned her head on Rosie's shoulder, both women fell silent, lost in their own thoughts. Rosie's mind wandered to her own failed marriage, to the pain and betrayal she'd felt when Derek left. She'd never imagined she'd find happiness again, let alone the kind of deep, abiding friendship she now shared.
Life had a funny way of surprising you. Just when you thought it was all over, that there were no more adventures to be had, it threw you a curveball. Sometimes those curveballs hurt like hell, but they could also lead you to unexpected joys.
She glanced down at Maria, who had dozed off, her face finally peaceful in sleep.
With a contented sigh, Rosie settled back into the sofa, letting the gentle drone of the television wash over her. Tomorrow would bring its own trials, but for now, this was enough – this quiet moment of friendship, of shared pain and shared strength. In the morning, they would rally the troops, plan their next move. But tonight, they would simply be: two friends, supporting each other through the storms of life, one cup of tea and one glass of wine at a time.
LIKE TEENAGERS
Maria had had good days and bad days since then. Some nights, Rosie would hear her crying in her room, other days, Maria would be up and about, planning a bright and wonderful life without David.
Having Maria to stay had been fun, and the woman was spotlessly clean and organised. Rosie had never seen anything like it. No sooner had she lain a teaspoon in a saucer that Maria had picked it up and washed it.
Mary was a different character all together. She was a thundering ball of chaos, flying through the house, knocking things over and bashing into every piece of furniture she passed.
As Rosie got up to move some of Mary’s clothes off the table, the doorbell rang, and a disconsolate Catherine stood on the doorstep.
"Richard's at it again," Catherine said without preamble, her voice tight with frustration. "He showed up at my book club meeting, told everyone I was 'too fragile' to be out on my own. Can you believe it? We've been divorced for five years, and he still thinks he can control my life!"
"Oh Angel. Come in. I'll put the kettle on."
Catherine settled at the kitchen table, dumping an enormous handbag that seemed to contain half her possessions.
Rosie smiled to herself. How had her orderly life had spiralled into this sitcom-worthy scenario. Not that she objected. There was something anarchic about it all and, surprisingly, that appealed to her. She texted Emma to let her know that the troops were amassing at hers, and if Emma fancied coming over, she was very welcome.
"Is that you, Catherine?" Maria called, appearing at the door in a headscarf that made her look like a 1940s housewife. "Oh good, I need your opinion. Do you think I should dye my hair red? David always hated red hair, said it was too 'attention-seeking'."
Catherine blinked, momentarily stunned by Maria's suggestion. She couldn’t think of anyone in the world less likely to dye her hair red. "Um, well, I suppose if it would make you happy..."
"Wonderful. I'll just pop to the shops and get some dye. I need to pick up some cleaning products and some paint for the windowsill. Rosie, you don't mind if I borrow your car, do you? Mine's still at the house, and I can't bear to go back there just yet."
Before Rosie could formulate a response, Maria had taken the car keys and was out the door, hair scarf and all.
"Well," Rosie said faintly, "I suppose that's one way to make a statement at the supermarket."
