Heart of the Cross

by Emily Madden

  Rosie,

  I know I upset you today, and for that I am truly sorry. Please take care of your ankle, rest it when you can, and as much as I know you will not, I still would ask you to see a doctor.

  Sincerely,

  Jack

  PS—I am returning the money you left. I meant it when I said I didn’t want you paying for your meal. It was my honour to introduce you to your first cheeseburger. I didn’t get to ask you what you thought of it, but I am hoping that it will not be your last.

  Pressing Jack’s note flush against her chest, she could feel her heart racing, and try as she might, she couldn’t slow it down. She loved the cheeseburger, more than she imagined she would, and she too hoped it wouldn’t be her last.

  Six

  Rosie

  Good Friday, April 1959

  It was early. Dawn’s first rays of light broke through the ink of the disappearing night, and next to her Tom stirred, grunting before hauling himself out of bed.

  ‘Tom.’ She rolled groggily towards him. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To work,’ he answered shortly, his voice still full of sleep.

  Propping up on her elbows, she watched him in the darkened room, wide awake now. ‘But … it’s Good Friday.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I thought you didn’t work on holidays. I thought we could spend it together, as a family. We’ve hardly spent time just the three of us.’

  Tom’s sigh spoke volumes. It told her that he was annoyed with her line of questioning so early in the morning. It told her that he didn’t care that it was Good Friday, or any other day. ‘I need to keep my job, Rosie. If I’m asked to work, I’ll work.’

  ‘I know that, Tom,’ she replied tersely. ‘But it wouldn’t kill you to make an effort and get to know your son.’ Rosie knew that a forty-hour working week had been instigated over a decade ago, and anything over the standard was paid as overtime at a lucrative rate, the money needed by many families. She had no problem with Tom working to earn more money—it certainly helped with only one wage. But she didn’t think it was too much to expect that on Good Friday Tom would be home with his family.

  ‘We need money, Rosie. Don’t you think I want to stay home with my son and wife?’ he spat. She wanted to believe he was being honest, that he wanted to spend the day with them, but it was hard when every spare second he had, he spent at the pub, wasting the money he was supposedly saving. Rosie wasn’t totally clueless about money. She knew they needed it, but with the amount he was working, and even with Doug leaving, apparently going back to his wife, she knew there should be more.

  When Tom had left to come to Australia, Rosie had moved back in with her mother, and after she’d had Jimmy, her mother had encouraged her to resume working for Mrs O’Brien. When Rosie had tried to give her mother money for board, Aoife Hart had refused, telling Rosie she needed the money more.

  ‘Yes, you’re right. It will help me get to Tom sooner.’

  ‘No, Rosie,’ her mother had said firmly. ‘The money you earn will be for you and your son only. Never let a man take what is rightfully yours. There is no need to let Tom know you have your own money.’

  Rosie’s first instinct had been to fight her mother on this matter. She didn’t want to keep anything from Tom and she surely didn’t want to keep any secrets, and yet for some reason, every time she’d written to Tom, she’d avoided telling him about her job with Mrs O’Brien. By the time she’d boarded the ship, Rosie had a thick envelope that she’d tucked into her tiny brown suitcase, and with each passing day, she was thankful for her mother’s advice.

  A knock on the front door broke the silence. ‘Tom, you up?’ Doug’s brusque voice sounded.

  ‘Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute,’ Tom replied and resumed getting dressed. Rosie waited for their conversation to continue, but it didn’t. Tom put on his shoes, and a moment later she heard footsteps, muffled voices and the slamming of the door.

  Rosie lay awake for what seemed like hours before realising she wasn’t going to fall back asleep. As her bare feet hit the floor, she felt her ankle throb. Wincing in pain, she sat back down and rubbed the tender, swollen spot. It had been almost a week since her fall. The first few days were the worst. On the first night, as the medication had worn off, the pain had returned. She was thankful to discover when unpacking her groceries that Jack had also packed her some aspirin. She had spaced out the dosages so they lasted longer, but she had run out last night. Rosie had hoped that by the morning she would wake with no pain, but it seemed it wasn’t to be.

  Tom had berated her for falling. Called her a clumsy, silly cow. She had been shocked by his callousness and lack of empathy and she’d decided not to disclose the whole story. Not that he’d asked for details, but it still didn’t make her feel good to know she had lied to him. Mrs Hawkins and Mary had been an immense help, minding Jimmy for hours during the day. In return, Rosie had done some mending for them—a few odd buttons and sewing holes for Mrs Hawkins, and taking up hems for Mary.

  Yesterday, Aurelian had sent a basket of bread and Alberto had sent his niece, Elena, with an assortment of goods. When Elena saw she was hemming Mary’s dress, she asked if she could bring her some mending. Rosie gladly said yes.

  Pulling on her robe and slippers, she shuffled down the hall and cracked Jimmy’s door open to check on him. He was sound asleep, his tiny body rising and falling with every breath.

  She shuffled into the kitchen, placed the kettle on the stove and mechanically went about making breakfast. She poured her tea and was about to sit down when there was a knock at the door. Slightly bewildered as to who could be calling on her so early, she slowly hobbled down the hallway. When she opened the door, she found a small brown box on her doorstep. She stepped out into the chilly morning. She tightened her robe, shivering against the cold, and cast her glance this way and that, but there was no sign of whoever had delivered the box.

  Her first instinct told her it had come from Jack, but it was only after she took it back inside and unpacked it that she knew without a doubt that it had. There was no note this time, and Rosie was surprised how much that disappointed her, but there were more pain-killers as well as a fresh bandage and a hot water bottle. She almost wept with relief. The care package was exactly what she needed.

  By the time Jimmy woke, she’d had time to have breakfast, place some heat on her foot and re-strap it. She was sure it was nowhere near as tight and effective as the way Jack had wrapped it, but it seemed firm, and not long after taking the tablets the pain had subsided considerably.

  She fed and dressed Jimmy before making her way next door. Mary was home and agreed to mind Jimmy for the morning.

  ‘Hello there, my Jimmy-Jam.’ Mary greeted them in a pink baby-doll nightie with tiny straps and a plunging neckline that showcased her ample assets. Her hair was askew from sleep, her eyes were smudged with remnants of the night before, and her voice was still full of sleep, all telltale signs that Mary had worked late. In addition to working for her grandmother, Mary waitressed at The Roosevelt.

  Since the Second World War and more recently, the Korean War, the Cross had been the place of choice for soldiers and sailors on Rest and Relaxation, keen to have a good time before returning to the battlefront. The influx of foreign armed forces was the driving force for the growing number of topless bars along Darlinghurst Road, which carried the sobriquet ‘the Strip’.

  Rosie didn’t judge Mary. She knew the girls who worked on the Strip tended to earn good money. She also knew that Mary was saving to go to teachers’ college, and judging by the way she was with Jimmy, Mary Hawkins would make a fabulous kindergarten teacher.

  ‘Are you sure you can mind him?’ Rosie asked. ‘I can probably do all that I need to get done in between his naps.’

  ‘I’m sure.’ She nodded, her pretty auburn curls swaying and bouncing. ‘I love having this little man here.’ She snuggled Jimmy, rubbing her nose against his, which caused him to giggle uncontrollably
and bury his head in Mary’s chest.

  ‘Is that James I can hear?’ Dulcie appeared from behind Mary. She was the only person to refer to Jimmy by his proper name and it seemed that Rosie’s son was the only person that could elicit a smile from Dulcie Hawkins. Mary often referred to her grandmother’s trademark scowl as resembling a cat’s bum.

  ‘Doolcie!’ Jimmy’s excited squeal said it all.

  ‘Come ’ere.’ Dulcie eased him from Mary and wrapped him lovingly in her embrace. The sight of the older woman cradling her son filled Rosie with both joy and sadness. Sadness because her own ma was missing out on watching Jimmy grow. With each letter her mother sent, she could literally feel the melancholy leaping off the page. But at the same time, and with some guilt, there was joy because she had come to understand how fortunate she was to have the Hawkins women next door.

  ‘I’ll be back later. I cannot thank you both enough.’

  ‘You know it’s no trouble. I love this boy here as if he were me own flesh and blood.’ Rosie didn’t doubt Dulcie’s words.

  ‘But I do have a little something I want to talk to you about.’

  ‘Oh, what’s that?’ Rosie asked, her curiosity piqued.

  ‘Nothing that can’t wait till later on,’ Dulcie said. ‘You go off and do what you need to do. We’ll have a cuppa and a chat later.’

  Knowing her son was in good hands, Rosie made her way back home and started on the mending, her mind often wondering what Mrs Hawkins could possibly want with her. And later, as Jimmy played at her feet and Rosie sipped the strong tea that Dulcie placed into her hands, she had her answer.

  ‘I like you, Rosie Hart,’ Dulcie stated without fuss or fanfare, as was her nature.

  ‘Thank you.’ Rosie smiled politely, peering at the other woman as she took a seat opposite her.

  ‘You have a good face and a strong mind. You’re stronger than you think; you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Well, I …’ Rosie blushed, caught slightly off guard.

  ‘I have a proposition for you.’ Dulcie lit a cigarette and took a drag.

  Rosie choked on her tea, the still-warm liquid spilling out of her mouth. Hastily, she grabbed a handkerchief out of her pocket. ‘What … what kind of proposition?’ she dared ask once the coughing subsided.

  A hoarse laugh erupted from Dulcie. ‘Dear girl, not that kind of proposition.’ Smoke billowed in the dim room as she spoke. Outside, the afternoon sun was quickly fading. ‘I’m not going to ask you to work as one of my girls.’

  Rosie could barely contain her relief. ‘Thank the Lord for that.’ The words left her lips before she realised how they came across. ‘I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with your girls …’ Her face felt as hot as the tea.

  ‘Ah.’ Dulcie waved her hand about, not looking the slightest bit offended. ‘I know that’s not for you. But I do think you could help me, on the business side of things.’

  ‘How? I mean, I know nothing about …’

  ‘Running a brothel?’

  Rosie nodded as Dulcie stubbed the cigarette butt. ‘Fear not, dear girl, I’ll teach you all there is to know.’

  ‘But why me? I mean, surely Mary would be the one you should be teaching?’

  Dulcie gave a quick shake of her head. ‘Mary is remarkable, and she surely would be of great assistance to you, but my granddaughter doesn’t have the head for business. And besides, she has grand plans to become a teacher. She doesn’t want to be a brothel madam.’

  ‘But why me?’ she asked again. ‘You barely know me, Mrs Hawkins.’

  ‘I’ve been in this business for more than thirty years. Started in a whorehouse on Kellett Street back in the twenties. Worked for the infamous Tilly Divine at one stage. That’s what got me thinking I needed to get into the business myself. William Hawkins, Mary’s grandfather, was the man who made it happen for me. Left his wife and young son when I fell pregnant with my Eliza, Mary’s mother. I’m not proud of that, I can tell you. I spent many a night with the guilts for wrecking a home. But we were happy.’ Dulcie gave her a watery smile, the most emotion Rosie had seen on her face.

  ‘Anyway, after he died, William left me some money. I fought the ex-wife and won. I had to, you see, for my Eliza. I don’t need to spell out what a woman would do to protect her flesh and blood. I see that same tenacity in your eyes when it comes to this little man right here.’ She nodded towards Jimmy and Rosie’s glance drifted to her son.

  ‘Mary wasn’t much older than James when she came to live with me, and I can tell you that after Mary came to me, I was even more wary of people. I too was battered, you see. Losing my William, then Eliza. I was determined to make sure that I would do whatever I could to provide for her. She was all I had, still is, and after I’m gone—I’m not getting any younger—I need someone I can trust to look after not only Mary but what I’ve built up here. Don’t be fooled by the modest appearance. It’s quite a money-maker, and as long as men have needs, and are prepared to pay for them, and Christ, I don’t see that changing anytime soon, it will continue to do so. And you, Rosie, are the one. In the short time you’ve been here, you have charmed many. You have a way with people.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I’d be a good businesswoman.’ She gave a nervous laugh, not even sure why she was considering it. ‘As I said, I wouldn’t know the first thing about it all.’

  ‘I would teach you what you needed to know. As long as you have a good head on your shoulders, and some sense up here,’ she tapped her temple, ‘that’s all you need. It doesn’t hurt that you have the looks about you either.’

  As much as Mrs Hawkins’s words were flattering, Rosie couldn’t help thinking—a brothel madam? Her? How would it affect Jimmy? What would Tom think of it all? She couldn’t see him liking the idea one bit. The older woman read her mind.

  ‘You don’t worry about the lad, he’s smart enough that he’d love his mother no matter what you did, and as for that husband of yours … he doesn’t need to know a thing for now.’

  There was something in the way Dulcie referred to Tom that made Rosie bristle some. She previously had got the impression that Dulcie didn’t think much of Tom. Still, Tom was her husband and she was committed to her marriage. What Dulcie was proposing certainly would cause tension. ‘I’m not quite sure how Tom would feel if I … I mean, he came here, we came here for a better life and I don’t think …’

  Dulcie considered her for what seemed like an age before she spoke. ‘Can I ask you something, Rosie?’

  ‘By all means.’ Rosie was intrigued.

  ‘Why did you move to Australia?’

  ‘Why?’ Rosie was puzzled by Dulcie’s question. ‘Because my husband was here and I wanted Jimmy and I to be with him.’

  ‘And is it all you expected?’

  ‘Australia? It’s even more beautiful than I imagined, and the food—’

  Dulcie waved her hand about, cutting her off. ‘I’m not talking about the scenery or the cuisine—you’re not a tourist, Rosie. I’m talking about your life. Living apart for years can take its toll on a wedded couple. Is Tom the same man you married?’

  Rosie felt her cheeks flame. ‘Well, I don’t think that’s a question I would feel comfortable discussing with you.’

  Dulcie didn’t seem to be perturbed by her briskness. ‘Let me tell you something, and mark my words. The Cross, it’s like nowhere else in Australia. It changes people. That’s what happens when you throw people into a melting pot.’

  ‘I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.’ Rosie wasn’t being entirely truthful. She had a fair idea where Dulcie was headed with this conversation.

  ‘What I’m saying, Rosie, is that the man you married came here and was exposed to … temptations that he himself didn’t expect, so I’d say if he’s different to how he was, then the Cross may be the reason why.’

  ‘Are you saying that Tom has been unfaithful to me?’ Rosie asked in a high-pitched voice.

  Dulcie shrugged. ‘If he ha
s, he has not been here either before or after your arrival, but I do know a little about Doug. Booze, gambling and hashish are his main games. I know they’ve been mates for a while and he’s been here a few times. I’ve had to give him a few warnings for being too rough with some of my girls.’

  Rosie remained silent. A part of her knew what Dulcie was trying to imply, but the other part was clinging to a feeling she had been holding for a while. Doug was the problem. If it weren’t for Doug, their lives would be a whole lot better.

  ‘Life rarely turns out how we planned, Rosie. You just have to make the most of what you’ve got and try to make it better. Think about it. I don’t need a yes or no today.’ Dulcie stood, gathering the now empty teapot and cups.

  ‘Yes.’ Rosie smiled politely as she gathered Jimmy. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  * * *

  As she was pulling the baked potatoes out of the oven, Rosie heard the front door open.

  ‘Pa’s home!’ Jimmy’s eyes lit up as he bounded down the hall.

  Rosie felt her stomach knot in a bundle of nerves, and in her heart she prayed that this would be the time that Tom picked up his son and showered him with the love and affection he deserved.

  She held her breath. Hoped. Wished. Waited.

  She heard both Tom and Doug’s voices as they came into the kitchen. Tom was holding Jimmy, whose face was beaming with delight. ‘Take him, I need to shower,’ Tom said as he walked up to her.

  Rosie’s heart sank to her knees. As she took Jimmy from Tom’s arms, she was thankful for her son’s blissful ignorance of his father’s blatant indifference.

  ‘Is this fish?’ Doug asked as he lifted the lid off a pot, screwing up his face as if she had cooked up a pile of turd. The sooner Doug was out of the way the better. Rosie was sure that without Doug’s influence, Tom would have more time to dedicate to his family. Recalling her conversation with Dulcie, a tiny pebble of doubt lodged itself in the corner of her mind, telling her she was only making excuses, but she quashed it as quickly as it had appeared.