DISCIALMER: I DON'T OWN ANY OF CHRACTERS OR KEEPING UP APPEARANCES (regrettably) anyway hope you enjoy! :) Gee x
Rose woke up to a horizontal crack of light seeping through the curtains cutting her, like a knife straight in two. The ageing younger sister of Hyacinth 'Bouquet' was accustomed to waking up in a bed that wasn't her own but somehow, this morning it was somewhat different.
The acrid smell of cigarette smoke and stale alcohol from last night lingered on, clinging desperately to her blonde, now rather tousled hair. Rubbing her eyes she sighed as one of her false eyelashes came away onto her index finger. Running her tongue over her teeth she retched as she could not only still taste last night's last and very regrettable swig of vodka but she could feel that unpleasant coating it had left behind, encased on her usually pearly white teeth. Boy, what they say about being more prone to hangovers as you get older is very true, she thought, as she aggressively pushed her hand to her forehead in a pathetic attempt to stop the pounding headache she was suffering from.
Of course, Rose was without a doubt the heaviest drinker of the four sisters, (Violet came a close second as she found it was easier to deal with Bruce after a few gins) but she had never been accustomed to a hangover like this before. Most normal people would take this as a sign that they should be slowing down with this 'wild' life style that they had paved for themselves. But not Rose, her analogy of life was why even bother. Every time she 'tried' to change her lifestyle it never worked so why bother over something as trivial as a headache?
Rolling over she realised the bed was empty bar herself, something that never normally happened. Usually she was woken up by a panicking man worried his wife would get home and catch them. Or if he was rich enough to afford a hotel, usually she was woken up by her 'gentleman friend's' phone conversation, which always involved in telling his wife how his non existent conference had been.
Usually Rose could tell whose bed she was in as soon as she was awake, she never forgot a face and most of the men she had slept with, she had been acquainted with them more than once. But scanning around the beige room with the equally dull cream curtains she had no idea who this bedroom belonged too and that wasn't like Rose at all. For all her faults of chasing married men on a desperate search for happiness, Rose rarely did one night stands. Even she had some standards.
The room reminded her of a guest room; it was very empty bar a few documents regimentally positioned on the desk by the window. There was a suit jacket hung up on the wardrobe door and a brief case sitting patiently at the bottom of the wardrobe. Everything was neat and clearly had its place, even her own faux fur jacked was hugging the back of the chair and her stilettos were neatly tucked underneath the desk.
She strained her neck to see if she could read the documents on the desk. No such luck as she wasn't wearing her reading glasses. She never wore her glasses, while some men found them sexy Rose really didn't. She could however, make out a hand written musical score. She laughed at that, the only gentleman she knew who was musical was that dishy neighbour of Hyacinth's and although she had tried her best to seduce him on several occasions, and she had a feeling he liked her a little, she had never been successful. Poor devil he always looks so nervous, must be living next door to our Hyacinth she thought.
"No, it can't possibly be him" she muttered stretching out, taking advantage of the empty bed.
Then, through the marginally open window she could hear that unmistakeable shrill sound of her eldest sister singing. Rose couldn't help but smirk, had she finally had her wicked way with Mr. Hawksworth? If she had she was very disappointed that she didn't remember it. What was she doing this side of town anyway? Then it dawned on her, it was because she had been upset about Boris getting engaged to some floozy from Arnold Street.