Page 31 of Sassy & Sixty

Maria patted her head gingerly, then smiled. "You know what? Not a single one. David can take his opinions and shove them where the sun doesn't shine."

"That's the spirit," Catherine said, appearing in the doorway. She looked surprisingly chipper for someone who had consumed her body weight in wine the night before.

Areyou all OK to get your own breakfasts? Just help yourself to anything. I’m meeting Mary for a quick catch up. I’ll be back in about an hour.

“No problem – you go and see Mary and say ‘hi’ from us.”

The café buzzedwith the quiet chatter of patrons and the hiss of the espresso machine. Rosie sat across from Mary, watching her daughter bounce one of the twins on her knee while simultaneously trying to eat a scone.

"Here, let me take her," Rosie offered, reaching for her granddaughter. As she settled the baby in her arms, she caught Mary studying her with an odd expression. "What is it? Do I have jam on my face?"

Mary shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "No, it's not that. It's just... you seem different, Mum. Happier."

Rosie felt a warmth spread through her chest. "Do I?"

"You're practically glowing," Mary confirmed. "I haven't seen you like this in years. Is it the new friends? Or perhaps this mysterious Mike I've been hearing about?"

Rosie felt a blush creep up her cheeks. "It's everything, I suppose. The friends, Mike, the adventures we've been having. I feel like I'm finally living, Mary, not just existing."

Mary reached across the table, squeezing her mother's hand. "I'm so glad, Mum. You deserve this happiness. And for what it's worth, I think Dad sees it too. He mentioned how different you seemed when he saw you last."

Rosie's smile faltered slightly. "Your father... well, that's complicated. But let's not dwell on that. Tell me more about what the twins have been up to."

As Mary launched into a story about the children’s latest antics, Rosie felt a surge of gratitude. Not just for her new lease on life, but for this moment of connection with her daughter.

By the timeRosie arrived back home, she’d made some important decisions.

“Ladies,” she said, bursting through the door. “We need a house meeting.”

Catherine and Maria walked into the kitchen and sat at the big dining room table.

"I just wanted to say that you are both welcome to stay as long as you need. As long as you want. I’m really enjoying your company. There’s no pressure on either of you to leave. I just wanted you both to know that. I'm rather enjoying having my very own sitcom playing out in my living room."

“Oh, thank you,” they both said, hugging Rosie. “You are so kind to put up with us. Thank you.”

“No, you are very welcome.”

As they cleared away the breakfast dishes, chattering about their plans for the day (Maria was determined to revamp her entire wardrobe, while Catherine wanted to start a blog about life after divorce), the doorbell rang, interrupting their planning session. Rosie opened it to find Emma, Lisa, Julie, and Trisha on her doorstep, all looking far too perky for this time of the morning.

"Morning, sunshine!" Emma called out. "We've come to check on our refugees. How's life in Casa del Chaos?"

Rosie ushered them in, explaining the events of the previous night.

"Well," Lisa said, once Rosie had finished her tale, "it seems like you've had quite the adventure. Are you sure you're okay with all this, Rosie? It's a big change from your usual routine."

Rosie looked around at the women gathered in her kitchen - Maria with her flame-red hair, Catherine with her newfound confidence, Emma with her irrepressible spirit, and all the rest. She thought about the laughter that now filled her home, the late-night chats, the sense of purpose she felt in helping her friends through their own crises.

"You know what?" she said, a slow smile spreading across her face. "I've never been better. It turns out, a little chaos is just what I needed."

THE SUPERMARKET INCIDENT

Rosie stood in her kitchen, frowning at the depleted contents of her refrigerator. With three women now living under her roof, food seemed to vanish at an alarming rate. She sighed, closed the door and turned to face her housemates.

"Right," she announced, "we need to go shopping. This house has more women than food, and that's a situation I never thought I'd find myself in."

Maria looked up from her fashion magazine, her newly dyed red hair catching the sunlight. "Ooh, shopping! I love shopping. Though I suppose you mean the boring kind with vegetables, not the fun kind with shoes."

Catherine, who had been furiously typing away at her new blog, 'Life Begins at Divorce,' barely glanced up. "Do we have to? I'm right in the middle of a scathing post about Richard's controlling behaviour. Did you know he once tried to dictate what colour I painted my own toenails?"

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