There were some mornings when, before she opened her eyes, Rosemary could sense Steve's presence even though she had not seen him in two years. She felt his warmth envelope her and an invisible connection would tug and pull at her until she surfaced from sleep. On mornings such as these, she would rather surrender to the memory of him than face the pain and bewilderment of his disappearance, which always lay just below the surface of everything. She told herself over and over that she was one day closer to seeing Steve again.
But the day Rosemary’s baby was stung by a bee, was the day Rosemary gave up on Steve, the love of her life. The sound of her daughter's cries made her feel like someone had ripped Rosemary open, reached deep inside her and squeezed her vital organs. She had never felt such a visceral and excruciating pain.
Of course she'd fallen in love with her newborn the moment the midwife had placed Arlandria in her arms. Rosemary was delirious with pain and exhaustion, but mostly with the wonderment of the tiny pink thing that lay quietly at her breast, black eyes wide open, staring sagely back at her. What had been growing inside her as part of her very being for nine months, was now on the outside, unattached, an entity in her own right. Rosemary found this incomprehensible and trembled at her little baby's vulnerability, wanting to protect her fiercely, forevermore.
Rosemary held Arlandria close, torn between joy and despair. "It's just you and me for now sweet thing. But not forever, Daddy will find us, he is part of us."
There were times when Rosemary fought from sinking into a deep blue depression, however her saving grace was that she came innately well-equipped for motherhood, taking in her stride everything that having a newborn entails, including having her life turned upside down. Thankfully Arlandria was as easy as a newborn could be, she fussed when she was hungry but slept like an angel. This allowed Arlandria time to get on with her life designing jewellery from a workshop at the bottom of her garden, close to Hampstead Heath. She rented this and the adjoining basement flat from an eccentric widow, Dorothy - known as Dot, who in truth needed the company more than she needed the rent.
In the garden, under the bows of a giant horse chestnut tree, stood a sturdy World War II prefab which overlooked a row of mews buildings behind, housing more craft folk and artisans. The place where Rosemary felt most at home was within the hessian covered walls of the workshop. The light poured in from the North and the East and Rosemary drew sketches and made prototypes while Arlandria slept soundly in her Moses basket. Dot would make Rosemary builder's tea and sit with them. When she wasn't cooing over Arlandria, Dot played patience at a fold-away card table, pondering the game, tapping on the Waddington's cards with her immaculately manicured fingernails. Rosemary loved the sound of the tap-tapping and the crackling of ice in Dorothy's pink gin, always resting by the cards, regardless of the time of day.
Rosemary's talent for design had been spotted early during her very first show at Goldsmiths. She'd received commissions even before she'd finished college and delivered designs and pieces well before her graduation results arrived. She always was the lucky one and had been regularly commissioned by a buyer from Liberty since that first Goldsmith's show. This client alone allowed her the ability to employ a small workforce at the production stage and meant that she lived comfortably.
By the time Arlandria was four months old Rosemary had designed and made a ring that she planned to give her daughter once she was old enough to wear it. She wanted her to understand what the ring represented. It was made of two differing shades of gold entwined together to make the band that lead seamlessly to the top of the ring where the hexagonal shapes of the stones from the Giant's Causeway were formed. It was on these slippery stones that Rosemary had met and fallen in love with Steve, Arlandria's father. At that time she had been travelling around Ireland gathering inspiration and ideas for a collection influenced by nature and celtic design. They started to talk about the surreal landscape and ended up wasting away a day together, walking side by side with their hands stuffed deep inside their pockets, each fearing that if they took them out they might high-dive into the other's arms. And what if the other didn't feel the same way?
It had been a whirlwind affair, both of them being swept along, recognising a connection that was stronger than a shared love of bands or books or political ideals. Their attraction was primitive and ardent and left them depleted of surplus energy to exert on anyone but themselves. They rode a wave of fervour for a couple of months, travelling the country around the coastline, and finally ending up in Dublin.
Rosemary was tangled up in her love and desire and felt no need to return to London. They settled in the capital for a few months, Steve worked in bars and Rosemary found a workshop from which she fashioned mock ups and posted them back to Liberty and other clients for approval. She loved their domesticity and couldn't wait to run home to Steve, or until he fell through the door and into bed after a long shift.
Eventually there was no option but to return back to London to honour work commitments and she was relieved and overjoyed when Steve suggested he move back with her.
Rosemary headed home first, and on the day of Steve's arrival, spent the time scrubbing the flat clean.
"Good Lord Rosemary darling, who the hell are you expecting? Royalty?" Her hippy landlady and surrogate mother could not believe the sterile state of the place. Dorothy wrinkled her nose at the smell of disinfectant. "Really Rosie darling, I spent very good money on a professional deep clean before you took the place on, and I swear it's cleaner now than it was on the day you moved in!" Out of the pocket of her vintage 1970s wide-legged trousers she pulled out a packet of Player's Filterless along with an ebony cigarette holder. Dot fancied herself as Dorothy Parker. She lit up, wafting clouds of smoke about in the hope of covering the stench of Dettol. "He arrives at three-ish doesn't he?" Rosemary nodded, opening the garden door to let out the plumes of smoke. "Good. Plenty of time to tell me all about him." She eyed Rosemary conspiratorially. "Now then, what's he like between the sheets?"
Three o'clock came and went, as did four, five and six o'clock. Dorothy reluctantly returned upstairs, loathing having to leave Rosemary alone and upset. Rosemary sat on the sofa, rocking. What had happened to Steve? Her efforts to locate him had all drawn blanks. The airline would relinquish no passenger information at all, the hospitals had no one by his name, and all her old Dublin landlord could tell her was that Steve had packed-up, paid up and left no forwarding address. Mystified and distraught she cried herself to sleep. She cried all of the next day, in-between straining to hear the doorbell.
The day after that she didn't wake up until the afternoon. The postman delivered and Rosemary's heart jumped into her mouth. She ran to the door and on the floor lay a letter addressed to her in Steve's handwriting. Rosemary went numb and she sank to the doormat, her ears ringing. Why had he written and not come to her? Not good. Not good. How had she read the situation so badly? They had shared so much and she felt it had been real, genuine, passionate. How could she have been so wrong? Suddenly her despair turned to anger and she didn't know whether to burn the letter or tear it open.
She tore it open.
Dear Rosemary
I can't explain why I can't come to you. Nor do I know when I'll be able to do so.
Rosemary - you're part of me. please pardon me.
I love you,
Steve
Rosemary didn't surface for four days and Dot could not bare to see her so low. She adored the girl who had woken a latent maternal instinct within her. She called her doctor to visit Rosemary at home and was unsurprised to hear he believed she was having anxiety attacks. He also suggested Dot go to the chemist, he couldn't be sure, but a pregnancy test would prove his suspicions one way or another.
Together, with the help of their friends, and with a quiet hope that Steve would appear, Rosemary and Dot managed to get through the next seven months. Dot brought Rosemary and the new baby home, made sure all their friends knew about the birth and organised a naming party. Arlandria grew up fast, bonny and bright and Rosemary saw Steve's features reflected in her every hour of the day.
One morning while pushing Arandria in her buggy under the London plane trees that lined the fringes of the Heath, Rosemary was suddenly stunned into almost complete inaction by the inhuman sounding cries that burst from her toddler at an ear piercing volume. She could barely function and accepted a stranger's help to inspect the toddler. "I think I may have seen a bee or wasp fly away." said the kind woman. Together they inspected each of the chubby exposed limbs while trying to calm the child. Sure enough they found a welt on her thigh that seemed to swell before their eyes. Suddenly Arlandria stopped her screaming and went limp.
The Royal Free Hospital was some two hundred meters away and something in Rosemary clicked into place, she shook off the stupor that had almost paralysed her, and sprinted to A&E.
The NHS staff were efficient, evaluating the situation in a matter of moments and immediately administered medication for anaphylactic shock. Once Arlandria was made comfortable and Rosemary had also begun to recover from the trauma, the doctor calmly explained that it had been touch and go. Rosemary let the doctor's words sink in, knowing that both she and her girl would forever live in fear of another sting and the after affects.
During the episode something inside Rosemary shifted and she realised she had to make a change in herself. No longer could she live on the tenuous hope of Steve's return, nor the longing of sharing whatever life threw at them together as a family unit. The dreaming had to end, she knew it was time to walk life's lonely road on her own.
Rosemary and Dorothy will appear in Arlandria.
Foo Fighters songs: Dear Rosemary, Cold Day in the Sun, Still.
