Rosie by Alan Titchmarsh

Author:Alan Titchmarsh [Titchmarsh, Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781471115011
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK

19

Zenith

Useful, underrated and little seen . . .

The sailing to Portsmouth was uncharacteristically quiet. Victoria had her nose buried in the guidebook, and Alex gazed out of the window of the ferry at the grey-green sea, occasionally thumping the buttons on her mobile phone in a vain attempt to prod it into life.

Victoria glanced up furtively from time to time, then returned to her research. Occasionally she wrote something down in a small exercise book, holding the pencil firmly, her head on one side and her tongue pushed between her teeth, the better to form the words.

Eventually the Wight-Link ferry lowered its ramp on to the Portsmouth soil, and they drove off.

It was then that Victoria broke the silence. ‘Who do you think it was?’

‘I told you, I don’t know,’ Alex said curtly.

‘It might have been his girlfriend,’ Victoria persisted.

‘He hasn’t got a girlfriend,’ Alex said firmly.

Victoria gave her mother an old-fashioned look.

‘And there’s no need to look at me like that. That’s what he told me.’

Victoria paused for a moment and then said ‘Maybe she was his old girlfriend come back.’

Alex had been doing her best to put that thought out of her mind. ‘Look, can we just stop speculating and wait and see? We don’t know who it was, and no amount of guessing is going to help us.’

‘Are you cross?’

‘No, I am not cross, I’m just a bit tired of being asked questions.’

‘All right, all right. I’m sorry.’ The child folded her arms, pursed her lips and stared out of the window at nothing in particular.

Alex felt mean. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that . . . well, it’s all very confusing, that’s all.’

No reply.

She tried to placate her daughter: ‘What have you been doing?’

Still no reply.

‘In your book.’

‘Writing.’ Victoria’s lips remained pursed.

‘Writing what?’ Alex persisted.

‘Now who’s asking questions.’

Alex sighed. ‘I’m only interested.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re just trying to make conversation.’

Alex laughed.

‘What? What’s the matter?’

‘Listen to us.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We sound like an old married couple.’

‘Yeugh!’

‘Exactly. So, you tell me what you were writing and I won’t snap your head off if you mention Nick.’

‘We-ell,’ she hesitated. ‘I was writing down good places to live.’

‘Ah, I see. And what conclusions did you come to?’

‘Shanklin and Sandown are too busy, Newport is too far from the sea, and Cowes is too full of boaty people.’

‘So you didn’t find anywhere nice?’

‘I like Sleepyhead Bay.’

‘But there are only about ten houses, and I don’t think you’d want to live there in winter. It must be very windy and desolate.’

‘I thought of that.’

‘And?’

‘I thought Godshill was pretty, and it’s not too far away.’

‘Mmm. A bit chocolate-boxy for me.’ Alex wondered why she had instigated this conversation. If her suspicions about Nick’s visitor were accurate, the Isle of Wight was the last place she wanted to be.

Victoria continued with her itinerary: ‘Seaview’s nice, but probably a bit too posh.’

Alex melted a little. ‘Don’t you do posh, then? It’s very select. And Henry’s gallery is there.’

Victoria turned to her. ‘Are you really interested or are you just patronizing me?’

Her mother studied her.

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