This is the second part of a fiction serial, in 935 words.

Rosalind.

Being the youngest of three used to mean you got spoiled, at one time. But Ros had a lot to live up to. An older brother who was a military hero, killed in Afghanistan. His photos were everywhere around the house, and she could hardly remember what he was like.

Then there was the older sister. Not that much older, but enough to have done so well at university when she was still struggling with poor results in her ‘O’-levels. Her parents were proud of their dead son, equally proud of their academic daughter, but not so proud of the one who couldn’t concentrate at school, and wanted to spend time around boys when she was too young.

So they came down hard on her, making her take a weekend job, and stopping her coming home late after school. By the time she turned seventeen, she had started to feel old before her time. However, she had to admit that working in the shoe shop at the shopping mall in Watford had turned out okay. She seemed to have a flair for convincing people to buy shoes, and even the full-time older staff liked her being around.

Exam results were worse than expected, even by her standards. It wasn’t that she didn’t get a pass grade in any of them, just that the grades were the lowest acceptable for a pass. Most of the teachers didn’t even try to encourage her to stay on at school, so when the shoe shop offered her a full-time position, she decided to leave school that summer, and start the job in September.

Hoping to make the post of the summer break, she soon discovered mum and dad were not going to let that happen. They were so pissed off that she wasn’t going to university, they said she might as well start her job straight away.

Ros walked out of school on that Friday, and was working full-time the following Monday.

At least Marian didn’t judge her, and she didn’t seem to resent that she was better-looking, either. Besides, she was doing so well in her finance job at the insurance company, putting her Maths degree to good use. But as Ros started her new job, Marian moved out of the family home, leaving her alone to face the moans of her parents. Then there was talk of her marrying Steve, the strange guy she had been with since she was fifteen. Ros understood. When you looked like someone had hit you with the ugly stick, you took the first solid offer.

Over the next few years, Ros drifted further away from her parents, and hardly spoke at home. Then when the company asked her if she wanted to take over as manager of the shop at Hatfield Galleria, she jumped at the chance. That would mean moving away, but rents near Hatfield were just about affordable, and she relished the prospect of living alone.

At the age of twenty-three, and with no current boyfriend, she signed an agreement to rent a smart one-bed furnished, pleased that the bus stop she needed for work was right outside on the street. Mum and dad helped her move, seemingly keen to get rid of her.

They sneered at the flat of course. Dad said it was “On a busy road”. Mum sniffed at the sight of a mixed-race neighbour and said, “I don’t like the look of the others living here”.

The freedom was wonderful though, and the icing on the cake was that she took to her managerial role like a duck to water, her young team of staff all warming to her immediately. Meanwhile, things were not going so good for Marian, who always looked depressed and fed up whenever they met. “Steve doesn’t want kids, apparently. First I knew about that. And I will be thirty soon. Might just as well try for the promotion in my job, if I’m never going to be a mother”.

She always saw the same guy on the bus on her way to work. Ros knew he was a security guard by his uniform, and he was already on the bus when it got to her stop. He used to chat her up, get flirty with her. Tell her she looked sexy, and he liked her hair. The first time he asked her for a date, Ros checked his ring finger. No wedding ring, but he seemed to be a lot older, maybe forty. She said no thanks, but that didn’t put him off.

Being honest with herself, she did find him attractive, but the age diference worried her. Then one day when she was shopping in town, someone called out to her as she left a supermarket. It was Lee, the bus guy. “Want a lift?” He was standing next to a big car, electric blue in colour. Ros smiled back. “Okay”.

On the way back to her flat, he asked her out again. She was cagey. “You married, Lee?” He grinned. “Was once, not now”. As she got out of the car, she said yes to the date.

It was okay, as dates go. A nice burger place, followed by drinks in the pub. But Ros didn’t feel a spark, and when he tried to kiss her in the car, she ducked away. “Thanks, Lee. I had a nice time, but I don’t think I want to take it any further, or see you again”. He had mumbled “Your loss”, then driven off as she closed the door. And she hadn’t seen him again.

Not until last night.