After she married Mitch, she had lost touch with her small circle of friends in England, all busy working or bringing up their children and she had not yet made any friends of her own in New York. The only sympathetic person who always had time for her was her ex-sister-in-law, Sabrina. She called her one evening while Mitch was out.
“I hope I didn’t wake you, Sabrina. I keep forgetting the time difference when I call Will and Matron has told me off three times already!”
“That’s OK, Ros, I don’t go to bed until way after midnight. It’s the only time I have to myself. I envy your lifestyle. No kids to worry about, entertain or clean up after. I can only dream of restaurants and dinner parties.”
“I’d give anything for your life. I miss Will so much, and New York society isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” said Rosanna, choking back a tear.
Sabrina noticed the crack in her voice and knew it had nothing to do with the three thousand four hundred odd miles or the telephone line.
“What is it, Ros?”
Rosanna spilled everything. She even let slip that she suspected Mitch had been playing away over Christmas.
“Well, that didn’t take long! Oh, sorry, Ros. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. But I never really took to Mitch. He whisked you away from us so quickly. Too smooth for my liking and seems to consider Will to be an inconvenience.”
They talked for over an hour. Afterwards, Rosanna put on one of her favourite Joni Mitchell albums, ‘Ladies of the Canyon’ and sat in the leather armchair by the window, looking at the lights across Central Park. But as soon as she heard the words “Willy is my child…” she started to cry. The only antidote she could think of was to spend the rest of the evening reading yet another manuscript full of stereotypes and clichés. She fell asleep listening for Mitch’s key in the lock.