II Aunt Rosie
Rosie was the elder of the sisters, now in her early forties, and strong-willed enough that her junior Margaret had always let her take the lead. She had had one daughter, Stephanie, who was now away at university, and she had lived alone during term time for the past couple of years. She was tall, with an intelligent, open face and blue eyes, and wore her dark hair in a short, neat, youthful style. She looked fit and flexible – she may have been a nervous driver, but she was a fearless horsewoman, and had been something of a gymnast in her youth – and was not the sort of person to engineer a disagreement with, either physical or cerebral. She was, in short, undeniably attractive. Margaret was inclined put down her solitary state to two causes: a distrust of men generally, arising from the unfaithfulness of her husband, who had left her for some scatty blonde five years before; and the difficulty of finding one to equal her own spirit and energy. In any case, Margaret was not concerned; her sister seemed very happy, and she had noted with pleasant surprise that she had a couple of close friends of her own sex, to whom she seemed very attached.
So she was quite relaxed about letting her sister take the kids for the month. It had been Rosie’s suggestion, in fact, when she heard Margaret had been offered a short contract abroad. She was very fond of Sinead, whom her daughter had taken under her wing at school – they were both at St. Agatha’s together – and she was interested in Simon, whom she had seen less often, but about whom her sister frequently talked. She had the impression that, as he was growing up, he was becoming more of a handful. And she flattered herself that her superior strength of will may be able to guide him back to the straight and narrow path.
Margaret dropped the children off on a sunny Saturday morning at the beginning of June, on her way to Paris. She had decided to drive, as she would be likely to need to use a car to get to and from her place of work, and she didn’t want to rely on taxis. So along with her own suitcase, there was one for each of the kids and a present for Rosie. The luggage unloaded, the farewells said, she kissed all three of them goodbye, exhorting Sinead and Simon to be well-behaved and obedient to their aunt. Then she was gone.
“Welcome to my home, guys,” smiled Rosie. “Come on in and I’ll show you your rooms. Sinead, you know your way about, don’t you? But Simon, it’s a long while since you visited. I’ll give you a guided tour when you’ve got unpacked.”
The house was set back from the road, and the front garden was raised on a bank, with a big hedge all along the front. She led them in through the front door and up the stairs. At the back of the house, overlooking the lawn, were two adjacent bedrooms with the doors open. The one on the left was furnished in plain greens and greys, the one on the right a riot of different shades of pink. Naturally, Simon headed left.
“Oh, no, Simon. This one is yours.” Rosie indicated the pink room.
“That one?” He looked startled.
“Yes…well, you see, that is my daughter’s room, and when Sinead used to stay, of course she always had the one next door. So I thought she should keep the room she’s used to. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Too bad if you do,” piped up Sinead, with a laugh. “You’ve got the girl’s room, Sim, with all those lovely pink furnishings. I think they’ll suit you perfectly. Match your cheeks when you blush.”
Simon glared at her, and was about to say something rude, but thought better of it. He wheeled his case into the pink room in a huff.
“Come down when you’re ready, Simon,” said Rosie, “and I’ll show you round. Here, Sinead, let me help you.” Sinead had her case and a separate bag. Rosie took her case and let the way into her room. She closed the door.
“Do you think he minds? I didn’t mean to embarrass him. It’s just a room, after all.”
“No, auntie, he doesn’t mind. He likes girly stuff anyway.”
“He does?” Rosie raised her eyebrows.
“Oh yeah. I used to put makeup on him when he was younger. And put him in a dress. He liked it…at least, I think he did. Now he’s bigger he pretends to be so macho. Shows off to his little friends, all that - you know what they're like.”
Rosie wasn’t sure she did, but thought she could imagine.
“Oh, yes…I suppose all boys go through that phase. It’s not very healthy though, I don’t think. They lose sight of their feminine side.”
Sinead was delighted she was buying into it. “Yeah, that’s it. Mum would be so grateful if you could influence him, I’m sure. I think she has a tough time. When he swears at her and stuff.”
“He swears at her?” Rosie was horrified.
“Oh, yeah. And he’s cheeky, and won’t do what he’s told. He’s not bad, really. Just a bit…misguided. You could help, though. I think mum’s a bit soft on him, really.”
“Is she? Well, I’m not soft, Sinead. In view of what you’ve told me, I’m going to keep a close eye on that little brother of yours.”
“Oh, will you, auntie?” Sinead’s blue eyes widened with innocent gratitude. “That’s so nice of you.”
“Right, well, I’m going down to prepare dinner for tonight. You both like shepherd’s pie, I believe?”
“Yum! Your shepherd’s pie, auntie, is my favourite.”
“Good. See you in a while, then.”
“Oh, auntie?”
“Yes?”
“One thing. At home we always call him “Simmy”. He says he doesn’t like it, but he does. Makes him feel little and protected. He just doesn’t like his friends hearing, that’s all.”
“Oh, right. Thank you Sinead.”
As she closed the door, Rosie made a silent resolution. That Simon...Simmy...was going to learn some proper manners while his mother was away. Whatever it took. Behind the door, Sinead, eyes dancing, covered her mouth, suppressing a malicious snigger.