Rescuing Rose

‘Of course I’ll come,’ I said.

‘It’s a ball. Fancy dress,’ she added. Fancy dress? Oh shit! ‘But it’s not ordinary fancy dress,’ she explained as she slipped Trevor a pork scratching. ‘It’s in a marquee at the Courtauld, everyone comes as a work of art, and the best costume gets a prize. Fancy another pint?’

‘Wouldn’t say no to a half.’

‘Okay, Trev, our shout.’ She wheeled her chair to the bar, Trevor barked for service, then she passed him her purse. He stood up on his hind legs then placed it on the counter while the barman took the cash. Then Beverley carried each drink in turn back to our table, whilst Trevor collected her change.

‘I bet he drinks Carling Black Label,’ said the barman with a guffaw.

‘Nah, he’s teetotal,’ Bev replied.

So thanks to Beverley, Ricky’s happier so there’ve been no ‘bollockings’ for a while. But my workload’s piling up what with pre-Christmas depression; well I’m feeling pretty gloomy myself. I spent last year’s in a blissful romantic blur; I’ll spend this one alone and semi-divorced.

‘Christmas…suicidal,’ said Serena perkily as she logged the letters yesterday. ‘Christmas, just can’t cope. Christmas, want to kill myself,’ she went on briskly. ‘Christmas, I wish I was dead…’

‘Okay Serena, I get the picture.’

‘Mind you, I think Christmas is going to be pre-tty grim for us this year,’ she went on serenely as she tucked her hair behind one ear. I looked at her when she said that and realised that she’s suddenly going rather grey. ‘I mean, it’s such an expensive time,’ she said with a shudder. Well, yes, but she and her husband both work. ‘And you see Rob’s been a bit traumatised since his little accident