by Emily Madden
Who was she? Rosie barely knew anymore. What had happened to the girl who wanted to design dresses? The one that was so full of hope she was sure she could be a mother and work too. What had happened to Rosie Hart? It seemed that she had been left in Ireland. The other day when she had introduced herself to Jack as Rosie Hart, it had been a slip of the tongue.
The bead of doubt from earlier not only grew—it pulsed.
Seven
Rosie
June 1959
Winter arrived in Sydney like a slap in the face—suddenly and out of nowhere. While mornings and evenings had been cool, the days were sunny and warm and reminiscent of spring at times, but that all changed just after the long weekend in June, known as the Queen’s Birthday. It was also the week of Jimmy’s third birthday; his first in Australia and as a family.
Rosie had desperately hoped that without Doug being around, Tom would would be home more often, but nothing much had changed. He was, for the most part, distant and aloof, his interaction with Jimmy much the same. Yet, Rosie refused to give in to her worries.
They fell into a routine of sorts—she cooked and looked after the household duties as a wife was expected to do, and in turn he worked, provided and ensured there was money to buy food. That was a positive sign, wasn’t it? She had to take comfort in having this.
Early Tuesday morning thick grey clouds had rolled in, yielding unrelenting rain teemed with bitter winds. It may not have been anywhere near as cold as winter in Tinahely, but still the air had a bite that seeped to the bone.
By Wednesday afternoon, Jimmy was getting more than slightly grizzly. It was the first time since their arrival in Australia that he hadn’t been allowed outdoors. The furthest she’d been able to venture was to Mrs Hawkins’s, but even that wasn’t enough to quell Jimmy’s cabin fever.
On Thursday, Jimmy’s third birthday, there was a slight reprieve and Rosie took the chance to head to Darlinghurst Road. Jimmy was jubilant, skipping down the pavement and jumping in puddles. Normally, Rosie would’ve discouraged it, but he was wearing his fire-engine-red gumboots, a birthday present from Floss.
She couldn’t believe that Jimmy was now three. With each passing day, he grew out of his baby features and more into a little boy. His fine blond hair was beginning to curl at the ends. Rosie usually trimmed it, but maybe now it was time to consider taking him to Kostakis, the barber a few doors down from the Di Norros’ deli.
‘My name is Jimmy Fuller, I am free years old, I live at …’ Jimmy recited as they walked, something Mary had taught him. This morning, Mary had presented Jimmy with coloured crayons, which Rosie predicted would give him hours of endless fun.
Rosie had wrapped a present for Jimmy, a beautiful red truck he had spotted in Grace Bros in Broadway a few weeks back. It cost a little more than she would’ve hoped and she had to dip into her savings.
A couple of months ago, she had confessed to Floss that she had a tidy sum of money she had brought with her. Along with the mending jobs, she was steadily growing her savings, so she wasn’t too concerned about dipping into them.
‘Good for you, darl.’ Floss was clearly impressed with her tenacity. ‘But you really should think about getting that money out of your house and into a bank. You know, for safekeeping.’
‘I’m not sure that’s even possible … I mean, I’m not allowed to open a bank account without Tom’s permission, am I?’
‘No,’ Floss shrugged, ‘but you can take off that wedding ring and open one in your maiden name. They ordinarily ask for your father’s permission, but I know a guy that works in the bank and he’d be willing to bend the rules.’
‘My father is dead.’ Rosie wasn’t sure if that was true, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t know where he was and that was almost the same thing.
‘Great—then all you need is a birth certificate and we’re set.’
The next day, Floss had knocked on her front door and Rosie had almost slammed it back in her face. It was the first time in six months she’d seen her dressed as a man.
‘Floss?’ she asked, bewildered.
‘For the purpose of today’s excursion, I will be Floyd,’ she said, sighing dramatically. Even dressed as a man, Floss had better style and substance than Rosie had.
As they walked into the Commonwealth Savings Bank, Rosie’s heart was thundering in her chest. ‘Are you sure your … friend will help us?’ she whispered.
‘Of course, darl,’ Floss whispered back. ‘You did remember to take off your wedding ring, didn’t you?’
Rosie thought she was going to pass out. Her palms were sweaty inside her gloves, and she felt her hands were on fire. She moved her thumb and slid it along her ring finger before sighing in relief.
The whole process was over before she knew it, and ten minutes later she stepped out into the bright afternoon sun clutching a depositor’s passbook in the name of Rosaleen Claire Hart.
‘I can’t believe it, I have a bank account.’
‘Yes, you do, darl. Now we can celebrate by taking me to Apolloyn for a drink.’
Tonight, she would be able to see the delight on Jimmy’s face when he opened his gift. Now all she needed was to buy the ingredients to make his cake.
Jimmy proudly told everyone they met that today was his special day. Aurelian treated him to a birthday pain au chocolat and slipped three candles into the bag. ‘For his cake tonight,’ he explained.
On the way home, it began to drizzle. When it became a deluge that even Rosie’s umbrella couldn’t withstand, they dashed to Maggie’s Diner to seek shelter.
‘Rosie.’ Jack smiled at her from behind the counter. ‘It’s been a while.’
‘Yes …’ She grappled with the challenge of forming a sentence as she simultaneously tried to wrangle her umbrella, a dripping child and her bags. The truth was, she had been actively avoiding Jack, for reasons she didn’t care to disclose to him. She knew the more time she spent around him, the more time she would want to spend around him. ‘Yes, well, I’m here now,’ she finally managed.
‘But only because you got caught in the rain.’ He nodded towards the front windows that were being battered as they spoke.
‘I …’ she opened her mouth to lie, but couldn’t bring herself to do so. ‘There was a break in the weather and I thought I would take Jimmy out. He’s been cooped up indoors all week and—’
‘It’s my birfday today!’ Jimmy piped up. ‘I’m free years old.’
‘Yeah, I know that, champ.’ Jack reached out and ruffled Jimmy’s damp hair before crouching down to be at eye level with him. ‘I have a present for you.’
Rosie wasn’t sure whose gasp was more audible—hers or her son’s. Why had Jack bought Jimmy a present? How did he know it was Jimmy’s birthday?
‘Really?’ Jimmy’s childish joy warmed her heart.
‘You bet, buddy. Why don’t you climb into that booth over there,’ Jack motioned to a booth a few feet away, ‘and I’ll get you your birthday sundae, my treat to you, as well as your present.’
‘Oh boy! A sundae!’ Jimmy bounded away from them and clambered onto the seat of the booth.
‘How did you know?’ Rosie asked when Jimmy was out of earshot.
‘I saw Mary last night and she told me.’
‘Oh.’ Her stomach dipped with disappointment. Rosie knew she had no right to be jealous. After all, Mary was young and single, and Jack was very handsome, and she guessed him to be mid-thirties … the point was—Mary and Jack were both single. She was married, so she had no right to feel this way. Melancholy … No, this was stronger than that. It was full of maudlin misery at its finest.
‘Come on, I’ll treat you to a cheeseburger.’ Jack touched her lightly on the small of her back and she all but jumped out of her skin.
‘Hey, are you alright?’ he asked, eyes clouded with concern.
‘Yes, it’s just that I’m … flattered at everyone’s kindness. Floss, Mary and Mrs Hawkins, even Aurelian and the Di Norros and now
you.’ While she meant her words wholeheartedly, that wasn’t why she reacted to his touch.
‘We’re a community here, Rosie. A lot of people care about you and Jimmy.’
Rosie’s face flamed. There was so much implied but not said. ‘I’m eternally grateful to have such amazing friends.’
‘We just want to see you happy. Are you happy, Rosie?’
A frisson of anxiety flowed through her. Had Floss said something to Jack? While she hadn’t shared her marital woes with anyone, Floss did help her with the secret bank account, so it wouldn’t be a stretch for her to assume there was something going on.
‘Why would you ask that?’ She forced a laugh. ‘Of course I’m happy. It’s my son’s birthday, we’re about to go home and bake a cake, and when his father comes home, we’ll sing happy birthday to him and it will be the happiest, most wonderful sight to behold.’ Rosie wasn’t sure whom she was trying to convince—Jack or herself.
‘I wish I could be there to see Jimmy blow those candles out,’ Jack said, sounding very genuine.
‘Ma! Ma! Come look!’ Jimmy called excitedly as a sundae the size of his head was presented to him.
‘I’d better get that gift.’ Jack walked away, and as always, Rosie felt both annoyed and foolish. He was constantly trying to help her and she was continually rebuffing him for doing so. And then there was the way he made her feel when he stood so close to her, when he looked at her, when she felt his touch. It was ridiculous how much of a boy-crazy schoolgirl she resembled when she was around him. This was the exact reason she avoided coming to his diner.
Jimmy didn’t quite finish his sundae. He was too engrossed in the snap cards Jack had given him. They were a perfect gift. Jack showed him how the game was played and they went a few rounds before Rosie decided it was time to go home.
‘I’m going to play with Pa tonight!’ Jimmy announced as she buttoned up his coat.
‘Yes, and you’ll have so much fun!’ Rosie injected cheer into her voice while her heart broke for her son. The likelihood of Tom wanting to play with Jimmy was slim to none.
‘Then you’ll be an even better player when I see you next time, Jimmy.’
‘I’ll come ’morrow, Mr Reid. Can we come ’morrow, Ma?’
‘We’ll see,’ she said dismissively, pretending to ignore Jack’s expectant look. ‘Now say thank you, Jimmy. We have baking to do.’
‘Fank you, Mr Reid!’
Jimmy babbled enthusiastically as they walked home, then promptly fell asleep as soon as his shoes and raincoat were removed. He woke just in time to ice the cake.
When Tom came home, she gave Jimmy the gift and watched as his eyes grew as wide as saucers with pure delight, and Tom’s eyes narrowed.
‘The boy is only three. There was no need for such an extravagant gift. I don’t want to get into the habit of spoiling him.’
‘It’s a toy truck, Tom. Every little boy dreams of toy trucks and cars. What’s the harm of affording him a gift on his birthday?’
Perhaps it was that her tone was a little more acerbic than she had intended, or perhaps it was that she had dared to question him at all, but she knew as soon as the words were out that Tom would later punish her for her insolence.
After the cake was cut, she allowed Jimmy to stay up a little longer to enjoy a piece. When, as he was finishing the last crumb, she could see his eyes drooping, she scooped him up and took him to bed.
She was cutting some cake to take to her neighbours when Tom walked in. ‘Where are you taking that?’
‘I promised a slice for Mrs Hawkins and Mary, as well as Floss and Roberta.’
‘You mean the whore next door and that tranny poofter?’ he sneered.
Rosie drew a sharp breath. ‘I don’t care what they are. Floss and Mary are my friends, and they’re kind and decent …’ And then because the words were on the tip of her tongue, leaving her lips before she could think, she added, ‘Unlike some of the filth you associate yourself with.’
Rosie knew from Floss and Roberta as well as Mrs Hawkins that Tom was running with a motley crowd. There were also rumours that he was involved in illegal betting, and as much as Rosie wanted to dismiss them, she wasn’t totally clueless. No matter how much he was drinking and smoking marijuana (she had figured out what it was with Tom repeatedly coming home bearing the fetid smell), there should’ve been more money than what was coming in.
‘What did you say?’ His voice was whisper quiet, his nostrils flared, eyes wild.
Rosie cowered, the small of her back digging painfully into the hard kitchen bench. She’d seen Tom annoyed, but never angry like this. Part of her wanted to apologise—she shouldn’t have spoken her mind—but when she said nothing he took it as defiance and raised his fist. Instinct told her to move, but instead she raised her own hand as warning.
‘Don’t.’
Tom stood opposite her, frozen for a moment. Rosie wasn’t sure how much time passed. It may have been merely seconds, perhaps more. What she was acutely aware of was her galloping heartbeat, the bead of perspiration that had formed on her nape and the single drop of sweat that travelled down her spine.
Only when Tom lowered his hand did she do the same. Relief flooded through her. Relief that was dashed an instant later.
‘We never should’ve married. I only did so because you were up the duff.’
His words were harsher than the bitterest of winter winds. Rosie was so stunned at his callousness that she barely registered him walking out the door and slamming it closed.
She had waited patiently, hoping that things would change, but now it seemed undeniable. Her marriage had been a sham all along and she had been foolish to think otherwise. She had wanted a family for Jimmy so desperately. But her son deserved better than to be in a loveless home.
Rosie had two options. She could fall apart, or she could remember who she was meant to be.
While Tom wasn’t the man she had married, he wasn’t the only problem. The problem was that she’d forgotten who she was. She wasn’t Rosie Fuller, not really. She was Rosie Hart, and it was damn well time she remembered that.
Leaving her sleeping son, no doubt dreaming of presents and birthday cake, she knew what she needed to do.
She started towards Mrs Hawkins’s only to stop dead in her tracks when she heard voices. It was Mary and a man.
‘It was a pleasure, as always, Mary.’
Rosie felt her heart skip a beat. It was Jack. What was Jack doing at Mrs Hawkins’s?
‘No, Jack, the pleasure is all mine.’ Mary giggled before leaning into Jack’s embrace and planting an audible kiss, presumably on his lips.
‘Good night, Mary.’ Jack’s footsteps echoed down the damp and darkened street.
Rosie stood rooted to the spot. Why should she care if Mary and Jack were an item? Mrs Hawkins was right. As long as men had needs, there would be brothels.
Dodging the pouring rain, she dashed next door and let herself in. Weaving through the hallway strewn with scantily clad women, she ignored men full of drink and grabby hands, and she found who she was looking for.
‘I’m ready,’ she stated boldly, loudly, drawing attention.
Mrs Hawkins paused mid-conversation and gave a solitary nod. ‘We start tomorrow.’
Eight
Rosie
For the next two weeks, Mrs Hawkins tutored Rosie, covering everything from bookkeeping to how to deal with a drunken client. Day by day, Rosie was growing in her own confidence, not only with what Mrs Hawkins was teaching her, but also in her resolve to end her marriage.
It changed the day Rosie came home to find Tom sitting in the kitchen drinking beer midmorning.
‘Tom! You gave me a fright. What are you doing home so early?’
He took a swig of his beer and set it down on the table before his gaze slid from the bottle to her. ‘I lost my job,’ he said soberly.
‘Oh, Tom, what—’
‘Pa!’ Jimmy said at the same time, breaking free of h
er grasp and running to wrap his arms around his father as he sat. As she unbuttoned her coat, Rosie braced for Tom’s inevitable rebuff. Any second now he would ask her to remove the boy as dealing with Jimmy was the last thing he needed.
‘Hey, little man.’ Tom lifted Jimmy and placed him on his knee. Rosie merely stared at them, her mouth agape. ‘You’re getting big, aren’t you?’ There was a wobble in his voice. Rosie wasn’t sure how much could be attributed to drink, but there was something else threaded in his voice … Emotion? His eyes seemed misty or were they simply glassy? Even though she had prayed, hoped and wished for the scene she was witnessing before her, she was sceptical, mainly because Tom had just announced that he’d lost his job and her gut, which normally wasn’t all that brilliant at navigating murky waters, could tell as clear as day that it wasn’t good.
‘Jimmy, why don’t you head to your room and play a while?’ Her heart broke to ask him to do so, especially since Jimmy was revelling in his father’s attention, but she had to get to the bottom of what had happened with Tom’s job.
‘Go on,’ Tom gently urged when Jimmy looked crestfallen. ‘Go and draw me something with those crayons Mary got you for your birthday. I’ll be in soon to see it.’
It seemed this was enough for Jimmy. He hopped off a second later and ran down the hall to his room.
Tom was silent, his eyes glued to his beer as he peeled the label off the bottle. Without a word, Rosie moved to the stove and put the kettle on. She grabbed two mugs, and when the kettle whistled she poured them both a tea and slid one across the table. Tom gave a small smile of thanks.
She sat, and only when she had taken a good few sips did she ask the burning question. ‘What happened, Tom?’
Tom wrapped his hands around the steaming mug. ‘McWilliams pulled me aside this morning and told me I no longer had a job.’
‘What? Just you? There weren’t others?’
Tom shook his head. ‘Not as far as I could tell.’
‘And Doug? What did he say?’ It occurred to Rosie that there weren’t a lot of occasions when Doug wasn’t lurking around Tom like a malevolent shadow.
