Her newest commission work was coming on leaps and bounds, despite the shift in her relationship and its effects on her mental state. The first new illustrations had already been passed off to her new contract, and she only had five more to do for this book.
Rose had become a highly sought-after artist in children’s illustration in the last few years. There was talk with her agent to move into prints for the general sale of some of her most popular images in the coming year, and contract offers fast piling up for future work. The book’s author was ecstatic with the illustrations; her agent had yet another contract already in the works! Financially, Rose had a bright future, and the move here was showing in her work. Her art was far easier flowing and natural since coming here. More vibrant with a lot more character and charm. Her agent had seen the change too and admired it with enthusiasm.
It was not just falling in love with Rob. It was the place, the people, Abby, and her cottage! It seemed to fit like a glove effortlessly, and she could not imagine ever going anywhere else again. The turmoil of her love life was not distracting the need to paint and get lost in magical worlds of make-believe.
She could now see why her aunt had spent her adult life here until she had married. The locals were all so welcoming and friendly. They popped by to bring her baked goods, casseroles or invites in passing. They greeted her at the coffee morning meet-ups and jumble sales like an old friend or just around town.
Muffin had become somewhat of a celebrity, and most food shops gave him a free treat on sight. The butcher kept his bones every Friday afternoon for their weekly shopping trip, and everyone they met knew him by name, calling him over for a frantic clap. He even had a camaraderie with Rob, snuggling up to him whenever he was here and trying to sleep between them in bed on the rare occasions he stayed nights.
She had never ventured near the museum again, and something inside her sang with relief when she saw the banners coming down for the art exhibit when she was passing. She guessed that meant Matt had returned to the states, and there would no longer always be a chance of bumping into him, free from any more awkward encounters.
The cottage was complete in that every corner, every wall, and every room was exactly how she wanted it. Her own stamp was finally in place. Even the gardens under the care of her gardener, Malcolm, looked full and stunning. He had surprised her with a handmade dog kennel for Muffin only days ago, painted bright white with a shiny red roof. She had been so moved by the gift she had welled up, and the red of the little house had pushed her to pay him to redo her front door. It was now a bright glossy pillar box red with a gleaming brass handle and letter box. The cottage was everything from her memories and more. It was complete. It was her home, finally.
If only her relationship with Rob could be as effortless and uncomplicated as life here was. Maybe she could finally shift the ever-looming grey cloud from her life and be truly happy.
All this clicking into place and coming together made Rose even more frustrated. She wanted more than anything to walk hand in hand with Rob into town or stand holding his arm at the next dance or charity night. Smile when people saw them together and have everyone know she was his. The mere thought of it got to her more than she ever let on to him, for fear another huge row like the one that night would overcome them.
The longer things stayed the same, small doubts started to creep into her mind about the situation with Morag. Doubts that they could get through this for much longer before she snapped and made Rob wonder why he was even trying anymore.
Rose had spoken to her parents on and off since moving here, through Facebook, Skype and phone on occasion, before she had started to avoid the most recent calls. They had hinted several times at visiting for a long weekend, but so far, Rose had put them off, explaining she was lost in her commission work and needed to concentrate until it was done, but they were becoming persistent.
She loved her parents. She loved her two older brothers too, but somehow coming here while things were this way felt wrong. She wanted them to meet Rob as her significant other.
How could they?
All this cloak and dagger stuff and secret love life! She didn’t want to lie to them either. It was easy to exclude her love life from the conversation. They didn’t pry and figured she would tell them if any romance sprung up. Somehow, though, she knew her mother would see it face to face. See the look in her eye when her phone beeped. The constant checking of her watch when they had arranged to meet out of town somewhere, and she was eager to leave. The restlessness when she did not hear from him as planned or he took an age to reply to her texts. The constant tension in her brow as she mulled over the lack of change in circumstances between them. She would see that her daughter was living the life of a glorified mistress, and the thought made her sick to her stomach. This was not how she imagined finding ‘The one!’ would be.
***
Abby threw a cushion across the bed at Rose. They were sitting in her bedroom for once instead of down at the cottage after a long morning shopping at the nearest outlet forty miles away. The bags were all strewn across the fluffy cream-carpeted floor, and the contents were pulled here and there after they had admired and tried on several summer clothing items. The new perfumes they had bought nestled in the covers of the luxurious bed. Rose had picked up a bottle of her favourite scent. Hers had been dwindling low, knowing how much it drove Rob crazy. One of the reasons he would bury his face in her neck from behind and breathe her in. He was forever telling her she smelled amazing and edible, tracing nibbles and kisses across her skin deliciously, so she had made sure it would continue.
Rose had been celebrating and splashing out after a good phone meeting with her agent yesterday; some new contracts she had lined up and the news that her fee had been raised for her next two due to high demand. Both were by authors she had previously worked for, and she loved that she could return to once-loved characters and create more scenes.
Stuffed from takeaway food and chocolate muffins, the girls had decided to make an entire day of it to meander down to the private lounge, of which they were two. One that was grand and opulent, a huge fireplace and mantle were taking over the largest golden wall of the room for guests and visiting clients. The other small cosy room, full of stuffed couches, throw pillows, and the largest TV screen known to man, nestled off the large country kitchen.
It used to be Rob’s office, but when he had parts of the house remodelled, he had the large room put to better use and moved his office directly next to his ground-floor bedroom with a joining door. They liked that it was only accessible via the kitchen, giving them a cosy family room to relax and watch movies together. The girls were going to watch a succession of chick flicks in there, gorging on pizza and letting the world rock on by, a perfect ending to their girly shopping day.
Rob was away again. She did not know when he would be back this time. He had flown out, heading for Glasgow in the early hours, briefly stopping by the cottage before dawn to say his goodbyes and satisfy their need for each other. It was an impromptu trip to sort out something unforeseen, and he did not know how long a resolution would take. Short and bittersweet moments crammed in before he headed out, and long lingering kisses by her bedroom door. He had seemed stressed and distracted, but she had not pushed him to talk about it, knowing he wouldn’t. Business was his forte, and he always played it close to his chest. This was fast becoming commonplace.
Her phone had lit up several times throughout the day with texts from him, he was missing her, and the feeling was mutual. They texted sporadically, nothing of value, just small talk, but the contact mattered. Wherever he was, she could still reach out to him; knowing he was always at the other end of the phone somehow helped her relax.
Muffin was running about crazy under Abby’s bed, grabbing discarded shoes and pulling them around. The girls had given him too many treats today, and the hyper-buzz coming off him was a little extreme. They watched him, laughing before scooping him up to belly rub the little fur ball and try to calm him down. It was the dog equivalent of a sugar rush, and he was rolling around wildly, eager to play. Attacking any skin with licks and nibbles and whimpering like he was excited. She knew the rush would dive soon, and he would crash out for a long nap before long.
A huge commotion down in the hall drew the girl’s attention. Alice’s voice could be heard echoing in a very aggressive manner, and another female voice was equally angry in return. Abby groaned, sliding from her bed and moved quickly out the open door. Following Abby out onto the balcony over the grand stair, they caught sight of Morag nose to nose with dear old Alice, yelling at one another. Their voices echoed loudly around the large space below them. There was a smashed vase on the floor by the wall and water and flowers everywhere.
‘Wow! What the actual hell!’ Abby yelled and made her way down towards the women angrily. Rose stayed put from her high perch, unsure what to do but stayed back. Out of sight and out of that woman’s way.
‘MORAG!’ Abby yelled again, catching both women’s attention and halting the argument briefly as she closed the gap between them.
‘What the hell???’
‘She demands to know where Mr Munro is, Abby!’ Alice put her hands on her hips, pushing her chin out defiantly. Rose loved that fierce little old lady. She did look like a force to reckon with, standing there all bosom, plump floral dress and angry glare. Her grey curls bounced in agitation. Morag was scowling at her angrily, pointing a bony finger at her in mid-air.
‘This Shit again? Really?... He’s not here, Morag! I’m sure Alice already told you! He’s gone to Glasgow for a few days.’ Abby could not conceal her hatred of the other woman. Coming close to her in a defiant aggressive manner.
‘LIAR!’ she almost screamed in Abby’s face, causing Rose to jump where she was shielded from view, her nerves tingling with the impulse to protect her friend. She swayed against the balcony, torn between staying put or going down there and getting in between them.
‘He’s with her. Isn’t he? He’s with his fucking whore!’ She was spitting venom, her normally controlled face contorted and ugly. Her red-rimmed eyes narrowed and cruel.
‘Here we go again!’ Abby spat back, ‘He has NO whore Morag. Your crazy ass self and multiple fucking personalities make sure he can’t do a bloody thing with his life without answering to you! You’re more than enough versions of female for him to keep up with!’ Abby swung away, throwing her hands up in exasperation. A sign this was a common argument and showed no ounces of fear or intimidation in the face of this angry woman.
‘I’m not stupid! Do you think I don’t know he has some slag shacked up somewhere? He’s made enough hints that he was dating... Tell me... Where has he been going lately?... Always checking his phone. Always busy running errands. Creating distance between us... Barely any time anymore to take me to the hospital or come for my therapy appointments... He missed my last flight back, and I had to get a taxi home at four in the morning because I could not get hold of him and whenever I come here he is never in his own bed! Now he disappears without any word and leaves me high and dry again. I need help with the museum, and he’s always fucking busy! Won‘t answer my calls. Leaves me lame excuses that he’s in a meeting or dealing with a client. Doesn’t text me back for hours on end.’ She was high-pitched, close to hysteria, and rambling, and Rose suddenly saw what she needed to see.
Morag behaved like Rose but for different reasons and a lot more extreme. The agony of a woman in heartbreak, the pain of a man trying to pull away from her while she clung onto him like a lifeboat. Rose had felt only a margin of this ache when she had seen them together at the bakery, and now, seeing her here like this, she put herself in Morag’s shoes for a second. If the man you were wholly dependent on and crazy in love with were trying to find happiness with another woman, it would send you off the edge much like this. Whether you had mental health issues or not.
Abby muttered something about hardly being ‘Dry’ and the smell of booze. Not helping things at all, she could see that Morag was swaying on her feet quite drastically. This was what he had been dealing with for god knows how long.
The elegant, seductive woman from the museum was replaced with this wild-eyed, erratic mess before her. Hair was tangled and unkempt. Clothes dishevelled and normally manicured nails chipped and broken. Her makeup slid under her eyes, giving her an almost panda look. Her mouth, normally precision lined in red, was faint and smeared, which added to the hysterical ambience. She looked like a train wreck, the air of someone scrubbing her fingers over her head and face in desperation, her voice several keys higher than normal and with a slight slur. Her normally upper-class manner was now rough and full of common slang and slurs; the facade well and truly slipped. She did not seem to hear Abby’s insults. Lost in her manic pacing and raging as she cursed out Abby.
‘Maybe he has just had enough of your bulls...’ Abby continued, waving her hands dramatically and stomping closer to Morag.
‘Language Abby!’ Alice cut in like a motherly hen, patting the girl’s shoulder and pulling her back to intervene. The voice of reason and calm in this household. Mother Alice.
‘Morag?... Mr Munro left on business in the early hours. I packed his bags last night, and Tommy got his car ready for an early departure. Go look at the airfield, and you will find his car parked in his usual spot...There is no woman, Morag! He barely has time to relax, let alone carry on some sordid affair!’ Alice folded her arms under her ample bosom and tried to sound sympathetic.
Rose felt the pang of pain hit her stomach and heart in unison. Knowing that Alice was unaware, somehow her words had struck a chord.
Was that how it would look to everyone? Is that what people would think? That she was carrying on with him behind Morag’s back, having a dirty little fling? The cause of this woman’s anguish?
It made her feel dirty and stricken with pain, looking at herself in a new light.
‘I’ll check, alright, and I’ll check his flights and make sure he was alone!!!’ She was still seething and spitting feathers. Rob had mentioned that he let Morag use his private jet when needed, so the threat was probable. She didn’t put it past this version of Morag to ravage through the flight papers and check for other passengers.
‘Do whatever the fuck you want, psycho, and you will pay for that!’ Cut in Abby, pointing at the mess to the side of them on the floor. The remains of a crystal vase and a beautiful floral selection which had been sitting in the side hall earlier.
‘Shut up. You jumped up, little br...’ Morag swung forward violently, just missing Abby by mere inches with an attempt at a slap.
‘Oh no, you don’t!’ The voice came out of Rose without prior thought and even shocked herself. The way Morag had moved towards Abby aggressively with that look in her eye. It had impulse-kicked this loud, aggressive reaction from her, and she was already halfway down the stairs, her temper flying.
No one would lay a finger on HER Abby! Especially not this crazed hag!
‘Don’t you dare talk to her like that, and you get the hell away from her! You lay one finger on her, so help me, god, I will snap you like a twig!’
Astounded into silence, everyone stared at Rose as she approached at speed. She had scaled the stair in bare feet in a matter of seconds, her hair flying wild and her temper roaring like a lioness. She bounded to push in between all the women speedily and was now only inches from Morag herself.