Page 56 of Sassy & Sixty
But it was a happy mess. A mess full of life and laughter and friendship. Looking at it, Rosie suddenly realized that this – this joyful chaos – was what she'd been missing in the latter years of her marriage. This sense of adventure, of never quite knowing what might happen next but being excited to find out.
She turned to Mike, who had been watching the scene with an amused smile. "You know," she said, "I think I'm going to like this next chapter of my life."
Mike's smile widened. "I think I'm going to like being a part of it," he replied, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on her cheek.
Of course, because the universe (or perhaps just Emma) had a sense of humour, this tender moment was immediately interrupted by a shout from the living room.
"Oi, lovebirds!" Emma's voice rang out. "Stop canoodling in the kitchen and get in here! Julie's about to unveil her masterpiece, and I've got twenty quid riding on it being either a nude portrait of the house or an interpretive piece about divorce featuring at least three different bodily fluids as paint!"
Rosie and Mike exchanged a look – part exasperation, part amusement, and entirely fond.
"Shall we?" Mike asked, offering his arm with exaggerated gallantry.
Rosie laughed, linking her arm through his. "Oh, why not? I have a feeling we're about to witness either a artistic triumph or a crime against canvas. Either way, it'll be memorable."
As they made their way back to the living room, Rosie took one last look around her kitchen. Yes, she was leaving this house. But she wasn't leaving behind the warmth, the laughter, or the love that had filled it. She was taking all of that with her, into whatever adventure came next.
The living room had been transformed into an impromptu art gallery, with Julie's easel taking centre stage. A sheet covered what Rosie assumed was the painting, adding an air of dramatic mystery to the proceedings.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Julie announced, her voice carrying the gravitas of a museum curator unveiling a long-lost masterpiece, "I present to you: 'Rosie's House: A Journey Through Time and Questionable Fashion Choices'!"
With a flourish that would have made any magician proud, Julie whipped off the sheet. There was a moment of stunned silence as the gathered guests tried to make sense of what they were seeing.
The painting was... well, it was certainly something. At its centre was a fairly accurate rendition of Rosie's house, but surrounding it were swirls of colour and what appeared to be scenes from various moments in Rosie's life.
There was a remarkably detailed depiction of the "Yoga Incident," complete with Catherine frozen in an impossible pose and Emma wielding what looked suspiciously like a wine bottle instead of a yoga mat.
In one corner, Rosie spotted what she assumed was meant to be her first meeting with the Sensational Sixties Squad, though why Julie had chosen to paint them all wearing superhero capes was anyone's guess.
"It's... certainly unique," Lisa offered diplomatically.
"It's bloody brilliant is what it is!" Emma declared, already halfway to tipsy and apparently loving every bizarre inch of the canvas. "Look, she's even included that time we tried to give Rosie a makeover.”
Rosie, torn between mortification and amusement, stepped closer to examine the painting. Despite its eccentricities (or perhaps because of them), she found herself deeply touched. Every strange little scene represented a moment of friendship, of laughter, of life lived to the fullest.
"Julie," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "it's perfect. It's us."
Julie beamed, clearly pleased with the reception. "I wanted to capture not just the house, but the spirit of everything that's happened here. All the joy, the craziness, the love that have happened since we all met."
"Well, you've certainly captured the craziness," Mike murmured in Rosie's ear, causing her to stifle a giggle.
As the guests gathered around to examine the painting more closely, exclaiming over various details and sharing the stories behind them, Rosie felt a sense of completion wash over her. This was the perfect way to say goodbye to her home – surrounded by friends, laughter, and a truly bizarre piece of art that somehow encapsulated it all.
The party continued late into the night, fuelled by Emma's punch (now served from the salad bowl, much to Lisa's ongoing dismay) and an seemingly endless supply of stories and laughter.
By the time the last guest had been poured into a taxi, the house looked like it had hosted a particularly enthusiastic tornado.
Rosie stood in the doorway, surveying the aftermath with a mix of exhaustion and contentment. Streamers hung limply from the ceiling, deflated balloons littered the floor, and Julie's masterpiece stood proudly (if slightly askew) in the corner, a testament to the evening's festivities.
"Well," Mike said, coming up behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist, "I'd say that was a successful send-off."
Rosie leaned into him, grateful for his steady presence. "It certainly was. Though I'm not sure my poor house will ever recover."
"Oh, pish posh," Emma's voice floated in from the living room, where she was attempting to untangle herself from a string of fairy lights. "Houses are meant to be lived in, not preserved like museums. And I'd say we gave this one a proper send-off, wouldn't you?"
Lisa, who was methodically sorting recyclables from general waste (because even in the aftermath of a party, some habits die hard), nodded in agreement. "It was a lovely evening, Rosie.Though I do think we should ban Emma from punch-making duties for the foreseeable future. I'm fairly certain I saw Mary trying to salsa with your coat rack at one point."
"That wasn't the punch," Julie chimed in, carefully wrapping her painting for transport. "That was just Mary being Mary."
