𝗘𝗡𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗛 𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 Rosalyn has been working as an assistant for Alan Rickman for almost two years now, helping him organize his appointments. But ever since he became famous around the world for Harry Potter, the requests for appointments...
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The next morning, Alan got up earlier than usual because he couldn't wait to see if his assistant would come to work today. Excitedly, he stepped into the kitchen and began cleaning and freshly filling the coffee maker. He would make coffee for them both and surprise Rosalyn with the drink. His gaze slid over the kitchen sideboard and lingered on the six porcelain mugs safely packed in a cardboard box. Yesterday he had gotten those ugly things that Mary seemed to care so much about. An incredible 1200 pounds sterling he had paid for them. Unconsciously he shook his head, for he no longer knew from what point his wife had developed like this. In the past, the simplest things had sufficed. When they were young, they usually had very little money. It hadn't mattered if the meal had consisted only of pasta with tomato sauce or if the coffee had been drunk from a cup with a broken handle.
The longer he stood in the kitchen staring out the window, the more he realized that Rosalyn probably wouldn't be coming to work today. What was he going to do now? He had no experience in such matters. Actually, it would be his job to inform the agency or his manager, but he would rather call her, however, he was afraid that she would not pick up. It would be better if he just went to her home to see if he could still change her mind about her termination yesterday. Alan now decided to pay her a spontaneous visit. He instantly put on his coat and winter boots, took his car keys from the hook and went outside the door. Immediately he was greeted by the icy cold that this winter morning brought with it. He would rather hurry now, not that Mary discovered him before he had sought the distance. A little bit of a guilty conscience was stirring in him, after all, he had always informed his wife in the past when he left home, but lately he had done nothing of the sort.
As Alan began to drive to the other end of London, he realized that he had nothing for Rosalyn. He couldn't just show up at her doorstep empty-handed and pester her with his questions. Since it was quite early, it could well be that she hadn't had any breakfast at that time. So he decided to take her something fresh from the baker. Alan stopped at a bakery and bought several chocolate croissants, after all chocolate would be good for the nerves, at least he hoped. He didn't even notice that some passers-by were giving him curious looks; after all, he was already thinking about Rosalyn.
He knew her address, although he had only been there once. Regrettably, he had taken her to an event only once, but only because no other accompaniment had been available for him. Afterwards it had become so late that he had not allowed her to go home alone. He had taken her to the apartment door then and had said goodbye in front of it. As he reviewed the scene in his mind, the guilty conscience stirred in him again. Why had he never considered involving her more? Why had he never thought of going out to dinner with her for no particular reason? Probably because his wife constantly reproached him. Mary didn't like Rosalyn and he had no idea why.
By now he had arrived in front of the larger building and parked near the entrance, by the visitor parking spaces. He remained sitting in his car for a while and checked his cell phone to see if he had missed any important calls or messages. His wife had sent him a "question mark", but he didn't want to respond to her text message now. He would rather turn off his cell phone completely, which he eventually did, so he could have his peace. As he walked along the gravel path, someone just stepped out of the portal and Alan was able to slip inside without having to ring the bell. He paused briefly in front of the mailbox wall and looked through the name tags to make sure he was right. He preferred to take the stairs, because he didn't want to wait for the elevator. The closer he got to the apartment door, the more nervous he became. Unconsciously, he held the paper bag with the croissants tighter in his hand. Uncertain feelings made their way into his thoughts and he doubted more and more whether his action had been a good idea. But it was too late now, after all, he was already standing here with a bag full of delicacies from the bakery. He hoped fervently that she would open for him and not immediately throw everything around his ears. His thought made him smile, because he instantly imagined the whole thing.
For a short time he stood in front of her apartment, not daring to knock. Alan took three deep breaths, then pulled himself together, because after all he was a grown man. He knocked firmly on the apartment door and waited. Somehow he hoped Rosalyn wasn't home, yet he wanted to see her. When he heard noises behind the door, he automatically tightened his posture and he became even more nervous, if that was even possible. When he heard the key turn in the lock, he held his breath. When his assistant faced him in surprise, he didn't quite know what to say to her. "May I come in?" he asked almost shyly, after all he couldn't assess if she even wanted to see him.
"If you must," Rosalyn grumbled, opening the door wider for him to enter. "But I think we told each other everything yesterday, or didn't we?" she asked him directly, looking at Alan angrily.
"I absolutely don't agree with that," he replied and stepped into the apartment. To defuse the situation, he held the bag from the bakery in front of her and said to her, "Smell what I brought us. If you could possibly be so kind and brew us a coffee to go with it, that would be really excellent. After all, I plan to talk to you again, because I can't let you go so easily."
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