How She Found Achilles

Rosie banged the cottage door shut, buttoned up her coat, tucked a wayward strand of hair under her woolly cap and strode into the autumn afternoon. Achilles, the greyhound, had already bounded the length of the path and could be seen in the distance, darting in and out of the trees. The dog’s effortless athleticism often reminded her of Uccello’s famous medieval hunting scene, where white greyhounds speed through the darkening trees deep into the forest.

A strong westerly gust shimmied through the avenue of sycamores, scattering flurries of yellow leaves into the sky. Some leaves piled up against the hedges; others broke free and spiralled high above the nearby fields. Rosie leaned into the wind and picked up the pace.

Lord, how life had changed in the past months.

As an art student, Rosie was always broke. One evening in her second year a girlfriend invited her to her place for a drink. Rosie was amazed how luxurious her fellow-student’s flat was. It boasted two gorgeous en suite bedrooms, a dining room, a sitting room, an amazing kitchen with twenty thousand pounds’ worth of equipment, tasteful furnishings, a BMW in the garage. Laura lived alone.

‘Not bad for someone at the Art College. Do you have a rich Daddy?’ Rosie whistled as she surveyed the apartment.

‘No actually, he’s pretty stingy.’

‘Lottery?’

‘I may as well get to the point. I’m an escort.’ She paused as her laughing indigo eyes gauged the shock in Rosie. ‘When I’m not working for my degree at the College, that is. ’

‘Do you have to….’ Rosie spluttered.

‘You never have to do anything. You play harder with some clients than with others. Sometimes the stakes rise and rise until you’re intoxicated. Sometimes you just kinda…fall in love.’

‘But it’s always your choice?’ Rosie was recovering her composure.

‘It’s always your choice. Always.’ Laura smiled, kissed Rosie’s flushed cheek and put a friendly arm around her shoulder. ’Now we’ve got that over with, come on in and have a drink.’

The girls went through to the kitchen. Laura lifted a bottle of Bollinger from the cooler. The ice rattled as it settled back into the space where the bottle had been. She eased off the cork with a pleasing pop. Rosie wasn’t so much impressed as amazed. Although she’d always admired Laura’s quiet style, she wouldn’t have guessed this about the apparently reticent Northern girl. Not in a hundred years.

‘Cheers.’ Laura lifted her glass and clinked it with Rosie’s.

‘Cheers.’ Rosie was naturally a light drinker but downed half her glass at the first sip. ‘So, how did you get into all this?’ Rosie gestured at the immaculate Italian furnishings of the sitting room.

‘It started in our first term with a guy who ran a luxury car franchise. He hit on me at Fresher’s Week. He was a much older guy of 32. He was married, a kid, a suburban house, a Mercedes, all that stuff. I liked him because he was completely honest. He told me exactly who he was and what he was looking for. He was away from home for a few nights every week. He wanted a smart girl on his arm when he did the clubs with his customers.’

Rosie perched on the edge of a designer armchair, soaking up Laura’s story.

‘I quite liked him but was in no mood for anything long term. He moved in a circle of successful businessmen and was very happy for me to do the rounds.’

‘What do guys expect when you’re an escort?’

Laura laughed. ‘They expect exactly what you’re prepared to give. You set the ground rules up front.’ She shrugged. ‘But you always have to remember that it’s maybe that keeps them paying. Everything you see here is from hundreds of maybes.’ She waved her arm around the sitting room.

Rosie was utterly captivated by her elfin friend. Laura was draped seductively across a red Italian sofa, every inch the 1940’s screen idol. Rosie completely understood how someone might be bewitched by her.

‘Well, I’m amazed.’ Rosie laughed, leaning forward to top up her glass with the champagne.

‘Darling,’ Laura began, ’you are the first College friend I’ve brought here. You must understand that this kind of lifestyle has to be kept highly discreet.’

Rosie said nothing.

‘The reason I have asked you here is that I need a favour. Of all my friends you are the one I would trust most with this proposition. If you don’t want to help, I will totally understand and we never had this conversation.’

‘Why me?’

‘Because you are the most beautiful girl I know. You hold something back, which hints that you have a more interesting side to you than most other girls at College.’

‘I’m flattered that you say that. I like the idea of being enigmatic.’ Rosie blushed, ‘So, what favour would you like from me?’

‘My brother is three years older than me. Last year he had an accident on his motorbike that left him paralysed . He had terrible injuries throughout his body and the doctors reckon he only has a short time to live. Would you be willing to spend some time with him?’

‘Well, y..yes, I suppose so. What would you like me to do? Just sit and chat with him?’

‘You could start by meeting him and see if you have a rapport. He’s still very good-looking with a twinkle in his eye. He’s also pretty bright with a wonderful sense of humour. I thought the two of you might get on well together.’

‘There’s no downside is there, really? He hasn’t got long to go. I would be happy to visit him and be his friend.’

‘That’s fine, Darling, but he may need more than that. Until his accident he used to be quite a lad with the ladies.’

Rosie began to think she was getting into deep water. Laura caught her frown, ’Look, Darling, why don’t we just forget it? I was just trying to help dear Joe.’

‘No, no. I would be happy to meet him, honestly. I just suddenly felt that perhaps… you were, sort of, setting me up like an escort. But it’s not really like that, is it?’

‘Remember what I said a few minutes ago? You set the ground rules up front, Darling. I know he would be prepared to pay for your company, even as an unlikely maybe.’

‘I would do it as a favour for you. For nothing.’

‘So, is that a yes?’

‘Yes.’

The next Saturday Rose returned to Laura’s apartment at six in the evening. The door opened in a swirl of Ralph Lauren perfume.’ Oh, Darling, so lovely to see you. Stephen’s just arrived and we can all have a drink. I need to leave with him in half an hour, then you’ll have Joe to yourself.’

Rosie was highly apprehensive as she followed Laura into the sitting room. Laura introduced her to the two men. ‘Stephen, Joe—this is Rose.’ Stephen was Laura’s date. He was older, well over 30, tall, fashionable and urbane. He sprang to his feet and shook her hand warmly. ’Delighted to meet you, Rose.’ Well-spoken and charming too.

Joe remained on the sofa. ’I hope you don’t mind if I don’t get up.’ He said with a smile. He was beautifully-dressed in a well-cut dark suit, cream shirt and a red silk tie. His hair was jet black and well cut. He looked so young. His handshake was firm and direct. ‘Please—come and join me.’ Stephen handed her a glass of Bollinger and she sat down on the sofa.

Rosie had imagined a wheelchair-bound man submerged in self-pity, not a Peter Fonda lookalike whose deadly injuries had been cast aside with the lightness of a bird. She’d expected that evening that she would be nice to him then make excuses for an early exit after tucking a blanket around his useless legs. But she was quickly captivated. His wit, intelligence and charm enthralled her. She stayed the weekend.

As the months went by she moved into the cottage with Joe. She was ludicrously happy taking care of him, pushing him along the farm tracks with Achilles bounding ahead in the fields and woods. They laughed so much.

One Spring evening Joe broached the unmentionable subject.

‘Rosie, my Darling. You know I’m dying, don’t you? Maybe a few more months.’

‘Don’t talk like that.’ She hugged him in his wheelchair. ‘I adore you. Our love will conquer everything.’

‘Ah..Amor Vincit Omnia. If only t’were true.’ He sighed, adding firmly, ‘I need to go up to London to settle my affairs. ’

‘I’ll take you.’

‘I insist on it. But I have a further request. This is my last trip to London, so we will do it in style. 

We’ll rent a Bentley, stay in the Savoy, eat at Lorenzo–oh Lord, not sure I can face eating—and we’ll have a blast. After seeing my solicitor, I’ll come back here to the country’-- he coughed painfully—‘and die peacefully.’

‘I hate you talking this way.’ Rosie was suddenly overwhelmed by the bleak prospect of Joe’s death. She broke down. ‘But what will I do without you? There is no future without you.’ She sobbed.

‘Don’t talk such balls.’ He gripped her hand and smiled. ’You had a future before you met me and you’ll have a future after I go. I’m just an interlude. You’ve always known that.’

London was wild. They cruised around in the Bentley. Joe even managed to drive for a while. Their photo was shot by some hopeful paparazzi staking out the Savoy when they pulled up, their cultural experiences ranged from opera at Covent Garden to mad burlesque joints in Soho. How they laughed together.

Joe left the cottage in his will, and all he had, including Achilles, to Rosie. She’d set up her studio upstairs in a bedroom. On the mantelpiece was the paparazzi photograph of the two of them in the Bentley.

Whenever she finished a painting she’d face it towards the photograph, asking, ‘So what do you think of this one, Joe?’

- THE END -