The Kissing Rose

Love appears in unlikely places in this romantic short story by Martin Ryan.

If couples shared their first special moment there, they were destined to be together, the legend said . . .

MORNING, Mr Robins,” Joanie called as cheerfully as she could. She made sure not to tread on the threshold as she stepped into the old man’s room. She could do without any more bad luck today.

“Morning, lass.” He grinned. “And call me Maurice.”

“I will,” Joanie whispered, “but the boss, Mr Andrews, is in the corridor and my probation period isn’t up yet.”

Taking the old man’s rugged hands in her small ones, she helped him to sit up in bed.

As she leaned in to swing his feet on the floor, Joanie caught sight of herself in his dressing table mirror.

Her normally unruly hair was even more chaotic than usual.

That stupid pen had poked a hole in her blouse pocket and she had a clump of cotton wool caught in the hinge of her glasses.

“Oh, blooming heck,” she muttered, her heart sinking further.

“No wonder the cute guy in the café scarpered if I looked like this the other day.”

Maurice took her arm. “You look fine, lass.” His brow furrowed. “Tell me what’s really wrong.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t tell me, then.” Maurice turned away with a mock sulk.

“I’m just a lonely old man with no-one sensible to talk to other than you.

“If you don’t want to enliven my boring existence with exhilarating tales of your thrilling life and adventures . . .”

Joanie saw the teasing glint in his eye, but something in his tone told her it wasn’t all in jest.

She combed her fingers through her hair.

“There’s two dozen other residents in here you could talk to,” she pointed out.

“I’m sure they’ve all had far more interesting lives than me.”

She helped him get his feet into his slippers.

“In fact, I’d bet you’ve had a far more interesting life than me. You should be telling me stories.”

“Half of them don’t know whether today’s Thursday or Falkirk.” He grinned, patting the edge of the bed.

“Besides, all those old

stories are just that. Old. I want to hear what’s happening now.”

“Fine.” Joanie sat down. “It’s nothing really.”

She took off her glasses and began plucking the cotton wool from the hinge.

“On my way into work, I walk through the park, and there’s always an old woman there. I’m worried about her.”

“Lot of old women in here, too,” Maurice pointed out.

“She looked like she was living on a bench that’s been shaped from a fallen tree.

“It has a beautifully carved rose etched into the back of it.”

“Ah.” Maurice nodded. “The kissing rose.”

“The kissing rose?” Maurice turned to her, his face more animated than she had seen in a long while.

“It’s hundreds of years old.” He leaned in conspiratorially and Joanie felt goosebumps rise on her arms.

“Legend has it that if a young couple kiss their first kiss on that seat,” he continued, “they’ll have a long and happy relationship.”

“So why is the old woman so determined to chase people away and stop them sitting on it?”

“That’ll be Glynnis.” Maurice leaned in further.

“She kissed her first fiancé there in 1968.

“Three weeks later he fell overboard from a ferry on holiday in Greece with some friends, and she never saw him again.”

He paused and Joanie caught something in his old eyes: guilt or sadness.

She wasn’t quite sure, as it was gone as quickly as it arrived.

“She also kissed her second fiancé there for the first time, too.”

“And he died as well?” “No, a month after the wedding he ran off with her chief bridesmaid.

“She’s convinced that bench is cursed and insists on spending all day there to stop other people falling under its spell.”

“How sad.” Joanie put her glasses on and stood up to help Maurice to his feet.

“That’s a fine-looking pen,” he said, nodding to the fountain pen in her breast pocket.

“It’s not mine.”

“You stole it?” He leapt up eagerly. “This story is better than meeting old Glynnis.”

She helped Maurice to the little en suite before stepping back into the bedroom to give him his privacy while he washed and shaved.

“I met a really nice guy in the café the other morning while I was waiting to change buses,” she told the door.

“I thought he looked familiar; that’s why I noticed him.

“We got chatting and I thought we were really hitting it off. But when I went up to the counter for a refill, he disappeared.” She sighed.

“Maybe his bus arrived?” Maurice called back.

“No, there weren’t any at that moment; I checked.” Joanie plucked the pen from her pocket and looked at the engraving again.

“When I got back to the table I noticed he’d dropped this on the floor.

“It isn’t cheap, either. It’s engraved and everything.

“I was going to hand it in at the counter, but then I saw him up the road, so I chased after him.

“I lost him somewhere in the park.” She twirled the slender gold pen in her fingers. “That was last week and he hasn’t been in since.”

“So now you don’t know what to do with the pen?”

“No. I don’t want him to think I stole it, but if I don’t see him again how can I get it back to him?”

Maurice hobbled back out of the bathroom.

“Maybe it’s an omen. A stranger loses a golden amulet and you find a magic seat all in one day.

“Maybe you’re destined to be reunited at the kissing rose.”

“You really like your stories, don’t you, Maurice?” Joanie laughed, as she helped him dress.

A very small part of her, though, wondered if he might be on to something. Maurice shrugged.

“Or maybe you should give it to Glynnis to cheer her up a bit.”

Joanie smiled sadly. “I wish I could do something for her, but I don’t think giving her a stolen pen would help.”

“You could always invite her to this jolly to the coast Mr Andrews is organising.

“I heard him moaning about not having enough people to chaperone us old fogies.

“If I remember Glynnis, she was always up for a day by the seaside.”

As Joanie walked with Maurice along the corridor to the dining-room for breakfast, she wondered if she could get the old lady on to the coach.

Mr Andrews had asked her if she could find a couple of volunteer carers to tag along after all.

And if good deeds are returned, she thought, maybe I will get to meet the cute guy who dropped the pen again.

****

“Good morning, Glynnis.” Joanie had left home early to beat the old woman to the kissing rose.

Determined to break Glynnis’s constant vigil, she still hadn’t worked out how to persuade her to come on the coach trip.

She was enjoying listening to the birds singing in the trees all around when she heard the crunch of Glynnis’s cane on the park’s gravel path.

“What do you want?” Glynnis asked suspiciously, pulling up short. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m Joanie.”

She began to wonder if this had been such a good idea. Then she remembered how small and lonely the old woman had seemed before.

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, she stood and held out her hand.

“A friend of mine told me your name. Maurice. He lives at the care home round the corner.”

“Don’t know any Maurice.” She ignored Joanie’s hand, instead motioning for her to sit back down while she perched at the other end.

“You were here the other day, weren’t you?” Glynnis asked more gently. “Chasing that gorgeous young man.”

Joanie blushed as the old woman patted her knee.

“It is a little unseemly for

A small part of her wondered if he might be on to something

a young woman to go chasing after a potential beau that way, wouldn’t you say?”

“A what?” She stared at the woman. “I wasn’t chasing him. Well, not like that.”

Joanie explained how she was just trying to return the expensive engraved pen he had left in the café.

“Oh.” Glynnis looked a little disappointed.

“I did quite fancy him, though,” she admitted.

The old woman grinned. “While I’m here . . . I don’t suppose you could do me a huge favour, could you?”

“That all depends, dear.” Joanie suppressed a smile.

“I’ve got to chaperone a small group of residents from the care home on a trip out today, but we’re short of carers.

“I was hoping I could rope you in as a volunteer.

“I’m sure you’d be able to keep them under control.”

She saw the thoughts running through Glynnis’s mind.

“I wouldn’t ask, but we’re going to the seaside, and I’m afraid someone may wander into the water if I’m not careful.”

“The beach?” Glynnis asked. “Well, we can’t have some old soul wading out of their depth, can we?” Glynnis beamed.

As Joanie loaded the last of her charges on to the minibus,

including Glynnis, she heard a voice.

“Wait for me!”

She turned and saw the man from the café. Her heart jumped.

He held out his hand.

“I’m Tony, Maurice’s grandson.” He grinned. “And you’re the girl from the café.”

Joanie shook his hand, combing her free hand through her hair as she did.

He remembers me, her brain screamed excitedly. “Joanie,” she said.

“Sorry for running out on you the other day,” he said. “I lost track of time chatting and realised I was late for an interview.”

“That’s OK.” Joanie shrugged, pretending it had been nothing.

“Grandad said you were short of chaperones, and as I was in the area I thought I’d do my bit.” He smiled.

She tried to tone down the idiotic grin she could feel glued to her face.

“You’d better get on the bus, then.”

Catching a waft of his aftershave, she nearly lost her footing as she climbed aboard behind him.

Swinging into the seat next to Tony as the minibus set off for the coast, Joanie turned to him.

“I thought I recognised you the other day. I must have seen you visiting Maurice some time.”

“I’ve only managed a couple of quick visits since I’ve been up here.”

She reached into her bag and brought the pen out. “You left this in the café.” His eyes lit up.

“I thought I’d lost that for ever!” he exclaimed. “I went back to the café to see if it had been handed in.”

“I chased you halfway through the park when I realised you’d left it.”

Joanie watched him examine it.

“A very unseemly spectacle according to some,” she added, turning to see Glynnis sitting further back, chatting away.

She threw a wink at Joanie without breaking stride in her conversation.

“I’m sure you could never be unseemly.” Tony laughed.

****

The day trip was a huge success, and Tony had been a genuine help.

No-one got washed out to sea, and all the residents made it back to the home safely, if happily exhausted.

The only one who didn’t seem to enjoy himself was Maurice.

He’d been quiet and acted as if he was trying to hide all day.

While the others had been enjoying themselves, Joanie had phoned Maurice’s daughter and brother and found out a lot more about him.

What she discovered made her want to give the old man a strong telling-off. Instead she decided on a more practical solution.

“If you’re walking back to the bus station,” Tony began as Joanie grabbed her bag, “I’ll walk with you.”

Joanie felt as light as air as they strolled through the park.

“I wish today could go on for ever,” she whispered.

“I don’t,” Tony mused. “Those old guys wore me out. Here, let’s sit down.”

He ushered Joanie to a bench under the trees.

“Thank you for today.” Joanie knew she would have managed with just the other nurse and Glynnis, but having Tony there had made it so much more enjoyable.

“My pleasure.” He smiled. Without realising what she was doing, Joanie leaned in and kissed him.

She jumped back as she felt a jolt of electricity race through her.

“If that’s what I get for a day’s fun at the beach,” he said, grinning, “I’ll have to help out more often.”

He leaned in and they kissed again.

There was a loud rustling sound nearby. Joanie turned and saw a large black bird standing on the grass, staring at them.

“Maybe we’re in his chair.” Tony laughed.

Joanie’s heart froze. It was a raven: a bad omen.

She realised they were on the kissing rose seat.

“No,” she breathed, leaping to her feet. “We can’t, not here. It’s wrong.”

She knew the old superstition was rubbish, but Glynnis’s earnestness nevertheless won over.

Something inside told Joanie she had just doomed any chance of a relationship with Tony.

“I’m sorry.” She felt tears forming. Before they could fall and embarrass her even