AVENGE

CHAPTER FIVE - ROSE FREER

5.

ROSE FREER

Rose shuffled her way into the lounge using her serving trolley as a walking aid. The china cups rattled in their saucers as the wheels of the trolley bumped over the metal door strip.

"Tea's here," called Rose after she had paused to close the door.

Elsie Boothroyd (Rose's best friend and neighbour) turned her attention away from the television, "Hurry up Rose dear. That ventriloquist you like is on TV."

"Ventriloquist? I don't like ventriloquists," retorted Rose. She stopped next to her favourite TV chair and lowered herself into it. The serving trolley was just the right height to act as a table between the pair of them.

Rose peered at the screen, "Oh. It's Henry Morton dear. He's my favourite hypnotist. You watch this dear. It's so funny." She began to pour the tea, which was mashing in her favourite china teapot with a rose printed on each side, into two matching cups.

"There you go dear. Drink it while it's hot," the teapot rattled as Rose's hand shook. She held her wrist with her second hand and lowered the teapot towards the trolley, "My hands are getting worse Elsie."

"Why don't you accept that 'home help' you've been offered," said Elsie.

"I don't need help. I manage just fine."

"Thank you for the tea dear," Elsie left it on the trolley, knowing it would be too hot for her delicate palate, but took a biscuit from the pile laid neatly on an extra saucer. She concentrated on the TV.

A minute passed before Rose spoke again, "It's my birthday today Elsie. Emily came by earlier on her way to work. She's got us two tickets to see him at the 'Concordia'."

"See who?" asked Elsie.

Rose pointed at the screen, "Henry Morton. He's local you know."

Yes I know, thought Elsie. You only tell me every day. Out loud she said, "Really. Do you know where?"

"Where what dear?"

Elsie sighed. She was seventy-four - the same as Rose. They'd been best friends since school and had never left the area. Elsie, herself, was prone to bouts of forgetfulness but she was a spring chicken, physically, when compared to Rose. Her body had not started wearing out yet and she felt as though she would be able to go on for another twenty years or so.

"Do you know where Henry Morton lives?" she asked.

Confused as ever Rose answered, "No. Do you know where?"

Elsie smiled and pointed at the TV. Rose looked back towards it.

"I bet Tom would love to go with you," said Elsie. "I saw him earlier, ambling along outside, taking his time to pass your house."

"Mr Anderson is a friend Elsie - nothing more," said Rose a little too defensively.

"Yes - a friend who'd like to see a little more of you than he does."

"He sees me quite often as I'm sure you know."

"I wasn't talking about time dear."

"Then what..." Rose could see the wry smile on her friend's face.

"Urrggh. I'm too old for all that."

"You're never too old dear. All you need is love - to quote our favourite band from the sixties."

"Look look," Rose pointed to the screen and started laughing. A middle-aged man was waddling about on the stage, legs slightly bent, with both fists planted firmly against his hips - making chicken noises as he flapped his arms forwards and backwards.

Elsie joined in the laughter and almost choked on her biscuit. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to control her laughing and choking.