Sweet Love of Mine

Introductions

"Come on Rosie, it'll be FUN!" Debbie's voice floated over the phone, making her sigh and roll her eyes at her unseen friend.  Spooning the last of her cornflakes into her mouth as she walked to the sink, Rosie called back across the kitchen

"Oh Debbie, I don't know, I've such a lot of work right now.  All these reports...." she trailed off, running water into the cereal bowl and then walking back to the table.  She picked up the phone and knocked it back off speaker. "And anyway, there's no-one we've heard of playing..."

She was interrupted by a disgusted snort from Debbie "That my dear Rosalyn, is JUST the point.  You work far too hard, miss out on far too much and it's "New Band Battle" tonight so you have no excuse.  Dress to impress and I'll pick you up at seven thirty - BE READY!!"  Debbie hung up and Rosie stared at the phone in amusement.

Debbie had been her friend, her best friend, since school.  They'd laughed, cried, studied and worked together for almost 30 years in total.  Debbie had always been the rebel, always in trouble but with a gift for talking her way out of most things.  She was pretty and clever, and Rosie loved her just as much as she loved Rosie.

Rosie on the other hand, had always been the bookish one with the impish sense of humour.  The quiet one, the sensible one, the never-quite-got-the- guy one. She didn't mind, over the years she'd had her share of adventures courtesy of Indiana Debbie and had been happy to play the sidekick.  Now, she had a good - if sensible - job and a wonderful - if slightly chaotic - best friend.  All she was missing was... she sighed.  All Debbie ever talked about was getting her a man.  Debbie had never been short of admirers and had never been shy about taking advantage of the buffet on offer.  Not that she was easy, far from it, she just liked to enjoy herself.  Rosie, to be honest thought her friend actually talked a better game than she played, but she never let on.  If Debbie thought she was Jackie Collins material, who was she to burst her bubble.

A strident yowl brought her out of her dreaming, and she looked down at the other symbol of her single status, Bentley her large Ginger Tabby.  He looked up accusingly and she laughed, picking him up and rubbing his head.

"Sorry lad, no milk for you this time.  It's bad for you anyway! " She dropped him carefully back on the tiles, "come on, time to do a little work then maybe, just maybe, I'll go out with Auntie Debs tonight." she walked to the door and stopped short, her hand plastered onto her forehead in shock.

"Oh dear Lord!  It's happened.  I've turned into an old maid talking to her cat.  There's no hope for me Bentley ... save yourself while you still can" she turned in time to see Bentley plop down on the middle of the kitchen floor and proceed to wash every square inch of himself shamelessly. He stopped and looked up at her voice, gave a resounding sniff and went back to his ablutions.  Rosie laughed wryly and went to the office.  Time for some reports....

At 7.30pm precisely, nothing happened.  Rosie looked out her window down to the street.  Debbie was late - as usual.  She shook her head with a smile and went back to the sofa to wait.  She'd just finished a couple of scenes from a Shakespeare play she was currently reading when her doorbell rang then the door burst open, and a slightly pink and dishevelled Debbie burst in.

"Sorry! Forgot the time, was having a soak in the bath... you know how it is...  Oh MY GOD look at you! I'd do you! Honestly, I would - you look fabulous!"

If Debbie could be relied on for one thing, and one thing only, she was a one- woman band cheer squad for Rosie.  She was unfailingly supportive, completely in awe of her friend's intelligence level about all things literary - especially Shakespeare - and absolutely thought Rosie was far too pretty to still be single.  She just needed reminding of the fact every now and again.