Free Rescuing Rose by Isabel Wolff

Exactly. So I'm separated, pending divorce. '
    'How long were you married?'
    How short, rather. 'Erm… a bit less than a year. '
    'I
see
… So do you know anything about Camberwell?' she asked, sensing my discomfiture.
    'Not much. I just liked the house. '
    'In that case I'll give you the gen. Camberwell was so-called because it had lots of wells in the area, one of which was visited by the sick and crippled for a cure. Not that it's done
me
much good!' she exclaimed with a tinkling laugh. 'In the eighteenth century it was just meadows and streams and it gave the Camberwell Beauty butterfly its name and it also inspired Mendelssohn's "Spring Song". But in the nineteenth century it became more and more built up and it's been pretty much downhill since then. But it's still got lots going for it. We certainly like it, don't we, Trev? Milk? The up side, ' she added as Trevor passed her the carton, 'is the lovely Georgian architecture and the parks. The downside is the lack of decent shops, the wail of police sirens and the incessant screaming of car alarms. '
    I found it hard to concentrate on what Beverley was telling me as I was still mesmerised by the dog. The washing machine, which had been spinning away, had now stopped. Trevor pushed on the catch with his nose, opened the door, and was now pulling out the damp clothes with his teeth.
    'Thanks, Trev, ' said Beverley as he dropped a white bra into a red plastic basket. 'We'll hang them up in a bit. If you want the gossip on Hope Street I know it all, ' she added with a laugh.
    'Oh no, not really, ' I lied.
    'Of course you do. You're an agony aunt aren't you? I recognised you. I read your column sometimes. Right, number four opposite—that's Keith. He's in computers and calls himself "Kay" at weekends. Number six is that reporter, whatsisname, from
Newsnight
and he's getting divorced; number nine is a chartered accountant and his wife ran off with a priest. Number seventeen is a chiropodist and once did Fergie's feet. Then number twelve—Joanna and Jane—they're employment solicitors and they're both gay. '
    'Right. Well, thanks, ' I said vaguely as I was still transfixed by the dog. 'Trevor's… clever isn't he?' I added feebly as he thrust his head into the washing machine again and emerged with a pink pillow case.
    'Trev's a genius, ' she agreed. 'But then he's had special training. And in case you're wondering, which I'm sure you are, I did a parachute jump and it went wrong. '
    'Oh, I… wasn't, ' I lied as I took a proffered digestive.
    'It's okay, ' she said. 'I don't mind. It's perfectly natural so I make a point of telling everyone, then that gets it out of the way. It happened two and a half years ago. '
    'I'm… sorry, ' I said feebly. Poor kid.
    'It was no-one's fault—just one of those things: I took a risk, that's all—I did a jump for charity and my chute opened late— I hit the ground with a bit of a crunch. The
hilarious
thing though, ' she added with a good-natured chuckle, 'is that it was in aid of a new spinal injuries unit!'
    'Really?' I said feebly. I mean—Christ!—did she expect me to laugh?
    'Ironic or what!' she went on gaily. 'Mind you I raised a lot. I presented them with the cheque from my hospital bed. I had ten months in Stoke Mandeville, ' she added, 'then I had to get on with the rest of my life. I'm okay now about it—I really am—I'm okay—because I know it could have been far worse. For a start I'm alive and not dead; I'm para, not tetraplegic; I'm not catheterised any more, plus I can live independently, and I've been told I'll still be able to have kids. '
    'Do you have a partner?'
    'No. After my accident he lasted nine months. I always knew that he'd leave, ' she went on cheerfully. 'The minute I came round from theatre, I thought, that's it: Jeff'll be off—and he was. I
do
think it was mean of him to go off with my favourite nurse—but, hey—that's life!'
    My God—all these confessions! They popped up like ping pong