Out now! Rosie is just approaching her 25th birthday. With a mother who wishes she'd never been born, a brother who has never acknowledged her as a real sister, and a father who loves her dearly, but is far too meek to stand up to his overpowering wife; life has never been easy. She doesn't complain and manages the best she can. With the love of Bear, her tiny puppy and Bumble, her arrogant cat, life is perfect, for her.
Ever since she moved into her sparsely furnished flat, Rosie has made the best of friends with Anna, the elder sister she never had. Her upstairs neighbour is a very spirited, gifted artist. She takes after her mother, Jane, with her generous nature. Both are more than happy to be a part of Rosie Wodehouse's humble existence.
Here is a little snippet from the book, releasing in the next few days...
The letter arrives
Rosie was very surprised when an official letter dropped through the letterbox. Straight into the essential plastic cage on the back of the flat door. Under starters orders, Bear bounded down the laminate hallway, slipping and sliding, barking and growling at the unseen menace known as Postie.
“Too late, my precious. Mummy has it in her hands, look!” A loud bump and Bear had banged himself against the solid wooden door. The third time this week. “Silly boy! Won’t you ever learn? Would you like a bone or are you…”
By the time he eventually clambered onto the battered red sofa and negotiated the arm, finally the top, the postman was several doors away. “… Happy to sit barking at the rustling wind and fresh air,” Rosie finished.
“You are a daft mutt, but so cute.” Bear was only a small sized pup but with the heart of a lion. He had a beige overly- round puppy head with black areas. His body was a dirty grey beige and he melted Rosie’s heart. “Don’t disturb Bumble, there’s a good boy.”
Bumble, being her grumpy ginger and black cat who took no prisoners. Although her head was buried, the banging of her bushy tail was enough to tell Rosie, Bear was treading on eggshells. Once again, the cat had claimed the fireside chair. The grubby, faded yellow cover had seen better days.
The fat letter in Rosie’s hands grabbed her attention once more. It was far too official looking to be a bill, so she didn’t need to add it to her growing collection. Flicking the kettle on, she discovered the tea caddy empty. All was not lost, if she banged the hard coffee long enough, she could scrape a spoonful. She checked her food situation.
Four pints of milk, half a tub of butter, ooh! six eggs, hard, but not mouldy cheese, one large tomato. Rosie found bread, soggy cornflakes and a packet of pasta. At least her pets had food for a few more days. Was it still another four days until payday? she wondered.
The calendar confirmed it. Wednesday the 24th of April. Sometimes her wages went into the bank early. Friday the 26th would be good as the 28th was a Sunday this month. Scraping the butter on her toast, she figured she can survive with what she has. Cheese omelette, pasta with melted cheese and a slurp of ketchup. Or scrambled egg, egg and soldiers, cheese on toast. Soggy cereal, the options were endless.
She plonked the letter on the worktop and browsed through Bear’s options, which were considerably larger than hers. Settling for chicken, rice and peas, Rosie filled his small bowl and stirred in his favourite biscuits. With fresh water he is ready to go; as soon as his chairback mission is complete of course. Rosie leaves Bumble her favourite tuna meal, and cat milk on top of the worktop, well away from puppy interference.
She’s glad she doesn’t like Marmite anyway, nor jam or marmalade; well, that wasn’t strictly true. Plain toast was fine. It isn’t that she didn’t work hard, she did. When her friend suggested tele-sales work from home it sounded great. Hours to suit in the comfort of her cosy snug. Before she sank into the doldrums her mobile phone shattered the grey thoughts racing around her mind. Bear’s barking heightened above the sound of the standard ring, ring, tone.
“Okay Bear, I can handle it, no worries.” She shut the door, drowning out his yapping and then closed the kitchen door. “Hello, Mother! How are you?” Rosie was having to shout a little. In a couple of minutes Bear would stop. “Sorry, say that again. I didn’t quite catch that. A letter? Yes.”
“Have you opened it, Rosie?” Her mother’s sharp tone shrieked out on loudspeaker.
“No Mum, I’m just about to… wait a minute, how did you know I have a letter? Oh, you have one too. Listen, can I ring you back in a minute, when it’s a little quieter. Yes… I know you told me not to get a dog, especially a noisy one. Yes, I know what else you told me. Okay, I have to go, speak in a while!”
If she didn’t know better, Rosie thought Mother was actually in a good mood; first time in years. Realising little Bear was not going to shut up any time soon, she opened both doors, got back to her cold toast and stared at the letter. With a bit of luck, her cuddly friend would devour his tasty breakfast and fall asleep for a couple of hours.
Work, for Rosie, took place in the back snug. With Bear snuggled in his basket in the kitchen she could sneak away for a two-hour shift, dealing with all things concerning a certain brand of coffee- machine in her telephone voice. Mental note to herself. New pyjamas on payday. By lunch-time the world was a different place. No more work until the evening. She even had time to fit in a shower before Bear woke.
While Bear ran around with a plastic plant pot, chasing in and out of the flowers, Bumble sat on top of the fence, preening herself, washing behind her ears, majestically. Rosie cut off the mobile just as it started to ring again. Mother. Twice in one year? Oh, of course, the letter; now what’s this all about? She ripped it open and sat on the kitchen stool.
Arkwright & Sullivan Solicitors? Oh dear.
Miss Rosalyn Wodehouse,
We have been instructed in the matter of the estate of the late Dorothea Wodehouse (Spinster) a paternal great aunt on your father’s side of the family, recently deceased.
The reading of the will shall take place in our offices on Tuesday the 30th April at 2 p.m. As you are a beneficiary, we would be obliged of your earliest confirmation… blah, blah, blah. Rosie skipped over the rest of the details and immediately picked up her mobile phone.
“Mum? I’ve just opened the letter… yes I’m sorry. I had to work.”
“Well, Rosalyn, I have been trying to tell you!” she boomed on loudspeaker.
“I know. I’m sorry. Who on earth is Dorothea Wodehouse?”
“It’s a long story. Come over if you must, father will explain all. You know I’m allergic to pet fur. Have someone babysit your animals. When is good for you?”
Rosie scrabbled around in her purse. Not quite having the fare to get to her parents, she paused.
“Daddy will collect you.” Two things Rosie hated, someone who could read her mind and being called Rosalyn. Three things actually, she only had one person who could help, as her mother was all too aware.
“I have a free day tomorrow. I’m sure Anna will pet-sit for me. How about eleven a.m.?”
“Sharp. Don’t keep your father waiting outside. There’s never anywhere to park in your small road.”
Rosie closed her flat door and took the stairs two at a time. She banged on the upstairs flat. The loud music stopped.
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https://www.amazon.co.uk/Trisha-J.-Kelly/e/B06XHJZPDP
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