Rescuing Rose Read Free Page A

you that
—
is not to do anything rash. You haven't been married long, so just keep talking and I'm sure that, in time, things will improve
. Then, on an impulse, which I would later greatly regret, I added:
Maybe marriage guidance might help
…
    It didn't. Far from it—I should have known. Ed suggested we went to Resolve—commonly known as 'Dissolve'—but I couldn't stand our counsellor, Mary-Claire Grey. From the second I laid eyes on her she irritated the hell out of me, with her babyish face, and dodgy highlights and ski-jump nose and tiny feet. I have been hoist with my own petard, I thought dismally, as we sat awkwardly in her consulting room. But by that stage Ed and I were arguing a lot so I believed that counselling might help. It wouldn't have been so bad if Miss Grey inspired any confidence, but the idiotic little woman simply did not. She was thirty-five(ish), divorced, and a former social worker she told us in this fey, squeaky voice.
    'What I shall do,' she began, smiling winsomely, 'is simply to listen to you both. I shall then reinterpret—or, to give it its technical name,
reframe
—what you both say. Got that?' Catatonic with embarrassment, and already hating her, I nodded, like an obedient kid. 'Okay, Ed,' she said. 'You first,' and she actually clapped her podgy little hands as though this were nursery school.
    'Rose,' Ed began quietly, as he looked at me. 'I feel that you don't care about me any more. '
    'What Ed is saying there,' interrupted Mary-Claire, 'is that he feels you don't
care
about him any more. '
    'I feel,' he went on painfully, 'that you're more concerned about the losers who write to you, than you are about
me
!
    'Ed feels you're more concerned about the
losers
who write to you, Rose, than you are about
him
!
    'I feel neglected and frustrated,' Ed went on sadly.
    'Ed feels
neglected
and—'
    'Frustrated?' I snapped. 'Look, my marriage may be a bit rocky at the moment, but my hearing's perfectly
fine
!'
    And then, I don't know, after that, things went from bad to worse. Because when it came to
my
turn, Mary-Claire seemed not to hear what I'd said.
    'Ed, I'm really sorry we've got these problems, ' I began, swallowing hard.
    'Rose admits that there are
huge
problems, ' Mary-Claire announced, with an expression of exaggerated concern.
    'But I love my new career, ' I went on. 'I just. .
Jove
it, and I can't simply give it up to please you. '
    'What Rose means by that, Ed, ' said Mary-Claire sweetly, 'is that she doesn't really
want
to please you. '
Eh
?
    'You see, until I became an agony aunt, I'd never really felt professionally fulfilled. '
    'What Rose is saying
there, '
interjected Mary-Claire, 'is that it's only her job that makes her feel fulfilled. '
Huh
?
    'And I guess
I am a
bit overzealous on the domestic front, ' I went on uncertainly, 'and I know that's been an issue too. '
    'Ed, ' said Mary-Claire soothingly, 'Rose is acknowledging that at home she's been a'—theatrical pause here to signify sadness and regret—'
control freak, '
she whispered.
What
?
    'But I do love you, Ed, ' I went on, heroically ignoring her, 'and I think we can work this through. '
    'What Rose is saying, there, Ed,' "explained" Mary-Claire benignly, 'is that, basically, you're through. '
    'I'm
not
saying that!' I shouted, getting to my feet. 'I'm saying we should try again!' Mary-Claire gave me a look which combined slyness with pity, and Ed and I split up within three weeks.
    Looking back, I think I'd been semi-hypnotised by Mary-Claire's squeaky, sing-songy voice—like Melanie Griffith on helium—otherwise I'd have been tempted to give her a slap. But for some reason I found it impossible to challenge her bizarre interventions. It was only later on, that I twigged…
    Now, as I came downstairs again, I could hear Bella and Bea in the kitchen, arguing about flooring.
    '—hardwood would look good. '
    '—no, natural stone would be better. '
    '—but a maple veneer would look fantastic!'
    '—rubbish!