| |
––––––––
“COME ON, ROSIE,” FREDERICK whined. “We can talk about alibis and opportunity just as easily in the park as we can at home. I can’t stand sitting inside in this sweltering heat.”
The weather had turned balmy, the heat rising up to strangle and stifle. Rosemary had to admit that an afternoon spent down by the riverbank sounded lovely, and hoped it would help clear her head so that they could solve this crime and get on with their much-needed holiday.
Vera and Desmond tossed in their lot with Frederick, and even if Rosemary hadn’t wanted to go, she wouldn’t have gone against the majority.
“Certainly, I’m game. I’m somewhat at a loose end until I get a call back from Max, anyway. Ask Wadsworth to tell the cook to pack us a picnic while Vera and I change our clothes,” Rosemary instructed.
“Yes, ma’am,” Desmond answered and headed off towards the kitchen to do Rosemary’s bidding.
Vera followed Rosemary upstairs, where they both changed into cool summer dresses with floppy hats that would keep the sun out of their eyes. By the time everyone was ready to go, the picnic basket packed and a blanket tucked under Frederick’s arm, the macabre feeling of being surrounded by death had lifted, and the foursome was in high spirits.
They enjoyed picking their way through the throngs of Londoners who had also been seduced to the riverbanks for a reprieve from the heat. Umbrellas festooned the landscape, children in various states of cleanliness ran amok, and couples perched along the banks to dangle their toes in the cool water.
“Here, I’ve found us a spot,” Desmond called from a shaded spot beneath a tree.
Beneath its leafy branches, several stone tables were set with chess pieces, pairs of players sitting quietly and focusing on their next move. Grunts of annoyance punctuated the relative quiet that enveloped the space, and finally, one elderly man swept his hand across the board, spilling knights and rooks onto the grass.
“Never again, Reginald,” he said to the man sitting across from him as he gathered himself together, albeit at a slower pace than his level of irritation indicated. Rosemary watched him bustle off, leaning on his cane, and tried to hold back a snort of laughter.
The man he’d been playing with, Reginald, merely grinned as his friend retreated, and looked to Rosemary’s group with a smile in his eyes. “He says that every time he loses, which happens frequently. He’ll be back tomorrow, I guarantee it.” He winked, then rose and made his way across the park in the opposite direction.
“Anyone fancy a match?” Desmond asked, hopefully.
Rosemary couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on his face, half a pout and half a challenge, that reminded her of their childhood together. Suddenly, she felt at ease with Desmond and allowed the trepidation she’d been feeling regarding seeing him again begin to dissipate. Rosemary realized it was becoming easier to let go of her worries and considered it a sign that her heart was beginning to heal. It would always mourn for Andrew, but the wound was turning into a scar and becoming less painful by the day.
“Nope, I’m making a beeline for the water,” Vera declared. “I plan to make a spectacle of myself by wading in the shallows with my skirts tucked up between my legs.”
Frederick winked. “I think I’ll join Vera, but you two go ahead. Unless Desmond has been taking lessons, it’ll be a short match anyway.” He set the picnic basket down on the blanket he’d already laid out and kicked off his shoes. “I’ll race you,” he said to Vera and took off before she could ready herself.
“Not fair!” Vera cried, running after him. She looked a sight in her sundress and bare feet, sprinting around groups of people settled on the grass. It brought another smile to Rosemary’s face and pushed all thoughts of Dr. Redberry and his wife from her mind.
“Are you ready to lose to me for the seven-millionth time?” she quipped, setting the pieces back to rights and grinning at Desmond across the table.
Desmond returned her smile with a look of mock malice. “Keep dreaming, Rosie Poesy.” The nickname brought back another rush of childhood memories but failed to disarm her enough to miss the intention behind his opening move.
They sat, alternately staring at the board and eying one another with suspicion for near on twenty minutes.
“And, checkmate,” Rosemary finally said triumphantly, flicking Desmond’s queen off the board with a grin and cornering his king. “Rematch? Or are you appropriately chagrined?” she quipped.
“I believe I’ve been humiliated enough for one afternoon,” Desmond said wryly. “How about a walk down by the river?”
Rosemary pretended to consider. “I suppose that would be nice,” she agreed when his face began to fall. “I know how much you enjoy feeding the ducks.”
Desmond put a friendly hand on the small of her back as he guided her towards the shore, and it sent a thrill up her spine. She didn’t know whether it was Desmond himself, or the mere touch of a man after so many months of being alone that had her breath hitching in her throat. Either way, she felt a twinge of guilt even though she knew it was absurd. It wasn’t as though she was cheating on Andrew, but it almost felt as though that were the case.
His light conversation put her at ease, and by the time they returned to the picnic blanket, the tension she’d been carrying in her shoulders was a distant memory.
Several hours later, after the four friends had lounged beneath the large oak tree to their hearts’ content, it was almost as if none of the unpleasantness of the last few days had even happened.
“I suppose we ought to get back to the real world, hadn’t we?” Rosemary mused, reluctant to return to the and even more anxious for their real holiday to begin.
Vera groaned. “Just a little while longer?” she said, and pouted in Rosemary’s direction.
Rosemary returned to her prone position and crossed her ankles. “All right, you talked me into it.”
