by Emily Madden
Rosie was horrified.
‘She was there when it happened, old enough to remember it, too. Lucky she had Dulcie. I remember when she came—she had such sad eyes, much like the ones we are seeing now. But Dulcie showered her with love, and after some time she thrived.’
Rosie opened her mouth to answer, but the sound of Mary crying out sent her and Floss fleeing to the outhouse. In the dim light, Rosie could barely see, but there was one thing she could see as clear as day—blood. Mary’s hands were covered in it.
‘I’m bleeding,’ she managed, her teeth chattering, her body shaking. ‘What’s happening?’ Her voice was full of fear.
Rosie could see blood trickling down her legs, forming a pool on the concrete.
‘What’s happening?’ Mary’s voice was louder now, her fear escalating. Rosie felt heat and cold consume her body. She knew exactly what was going on.
‘Mary, I think you’re losing the baby.’ She stepped towards her and gently took her by the shoulders.
Mary stared vacantly at her. Even though this was ultimately what she had wanted, Rosie could tell it scared her. Perhaps it was that she was suffering another loss.
‘Floss, call Jack. We need to take her to the hospital.’
Cleaning her as best as she could, Rosie found some fresh clothes, bundled Mary in a coat, and as soon as Jack arrived, they headed back to St Vinnie’s for the second time that week.
The loss of an old life, the loss of a life unborn—they both mattered, and now Mary truly had lost everything.
* * *
It was after midnight when Jack drove them home from the hospital. As Rosie had suspected, Mary lost the baby. The hospital was keeping her overnight, but if all went well, they would release her tomorrow.
Rosie didn’t want to leave her. Mary was a right mess, but once she was sedated, they were told that she would sleep most of the night. The light was on as she approached the house. Had it been on when they’d left for the hospital? Rosie couldn’t recall.
With her stomach full of knots, Rosie slid her key into the door and clicked it open. The kitchen light was on. Slowly she walked down the hallway, her footfalls echoing in her wake. There he was, sitting. Waiting.
‘Where were you?’ His voice was calm, but there was enough rage in his eyes for Rosie to know he wasn’t happy.
She took her time unwinding the scarf from around her neck, the thing that had hidden his sin, and bared it as a reminder. ‘We had to take Mary to the hospital. She … was ill.’ It wasn’t Tom’s concern why Mary was ill.
‘We?’
‘Yes, Floss and … I.’ Rosie deliberately omitted Jack from the equation.
‘Where’s Jimmy?’ He didn’t seem concerned that their son wasn’t with her. His question seemed to be more of the accusatory nature.
‘He’s at the Di Norros’.’
‘And what is he doing with those wogs?’ His rage was growing. She could tell by the way a muscle in the side of his neck twitched.
‘They looked after him while I was at Dulcie’s funeral. Jimmy wanted to stay and Rubina was fine with it—’
Tom moved so fast. He upended the table in one fell swoop and had her against the wall within seconds, his hands wrapping tightly around her neck.
‘Tom!’ she pleaded, struggling to breathe. The pain was worse than before; of course, the bruising would be the reason why.
‘You’re a fucking liar.’ His breath was acrid, and saliva sprayed out of his mouth, covering her face, her eyes. ‘I know it wasn’t just you and that tranny in that car, I know it was the Yank!’
‘No … nothing …’ She struggled to form words, but how do you speak when you cannot even breathe?
‘I saw you this afternoon. You were there in his little diner, having a cosy conversation. Yeah, I saw the way he was looking at you, I know you’re fucking the Yank.’ His wrath was mounting. Rosie didn’t think he could tighten his grip on her any more than he already had, but he did. He was squeezing the life out of her. She flung her arms about, but it was no use.
‘I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you, dump your body in the harbour and tell Jimmy his mummy left him. How do you like that?’ His grin was sick and twisted. He was serious. She could see the intent in his eyes. But all she could think of was her Jimmy. Her sweet little Jimmy.
Rosie closed her eyes and prepared for the darkness to wash over her. She wouldn’t beg, she wouldn’t allow for her last moments on earth to be begging to this man; instead she would think of Jimmy.
‘Let her go!’
The voice seemed to come from nowhere. Her eyes were watering, but strain them as she might, she couldn’t see who it was.
Tom glanced to his right, and gave a maniacal laugh. The next thing Rosie saw was a barrel of a gun pressed to the temple of Tom’s head.
Her heart flew into her mouth. It was Jack.
‘I said, let her go.’ His words were authoritative, and within seconds Tom loosened his grip and Rosie fell like a rag doll onto the floor.
She struggled to catch her breath, the very act of drawing oxygen seeming an effort as her windpipe felt as though it was crushed. ‘Darl.’ Floss was bent down next to her, gently helping her up. ‘Here, let’s sit you down.’
‘Jack …’ Her breath was wheezy, ragged.
‘He’s dealing with Tom. You don’t worry about that, you just sit here.’ Floss sniffed.
‘Are you … crying?’ Rosie managed.
‘Shhhh.’ Floss stroked her head. ‘Don’t try to talk.’
She could hear shouting.
‘I’m fucking done with her; you can have her!’ Tom yelled.
‘You’d be best to leave now, Mr Fuller. I see you near Rosie or Jimmy ever again, I will not hesitate in pulling that trigger, you hear?’
Tom muttered something unintelligible, his voice fading as he left. Then the front door closed and Jack was by her side.
‘He’s gone now,’ he said softly, pulling her close to him, and Rosie could not help but fall into his arms and quietly begin to sob.
‘Hush now. You’re safe. He won’t hurt you no more,’ he said, but his words only made her cry harder.
‘Did you mean what you said?’ Rosie asked when she had calmed down enough.
‘That I would kill him if he came back? Absolutely.’
Gently, he cupped her face with such tenderness that her heart almost exploded, and slowly he captured her lips with the softest kiss. ‘What better way to tell you that I love you than to show you just how much I do. Rosie, from the very first time I laid eyes on you, I wanted to kiss you, to hold you, to love you. I know that you’ve been through a rough time. God, you almost died tonight, and if I lost you …’ His voice broke. ‘I don’t think I would’ve ever forgiven myself if I lost you. I will take it as fast or as slow as you want, but know this. I don’t want to spend a single moment without you in my life.’
‘But I didn’t die. I’m here, a little broken and bruised, but I’m alive because of you. I love you, Jack, and I want you in my life, but I also want to build a life for myself and for Jimmy, too. I want to be able to stand on my own two feet without being reliant on a man.’
‘I have no problem with that. I always knew that there was tenacity and drive in you. Any idea what you want to do?’
Rosie felt a small smile form on her lips, sending a silent thanks to Dulcie up above. ‘Well, there is one thing I could do.’
‘Alright, you two.’ Floss appeared, holding three tumblers of whiskey. ‘I was going to make tea, but after the night we’ve all had, especially you, Rosie, I thought something a little stronger was needed.’ Floss handed out the tumblers and looked pointedly at her. ‘Rosie, do you want to make a toast?’
‘Why me?’
‘I dunno.’ Floss shrugged. ‘You’re the one that almost died.’ Floss was being flippant about it now, but they all knew just how close to the truth it was. Another minute, another thirty seconds and it could’ve been a completely
different story.
Swirling the amber liquid in her glass, Rosie contemplated. There was something her mother used to say often that suddenly struck a chord. ‘To feathers.’ She raised her glass and watched as both regarded her with nonplussed looks. ‘Hope is like a feather, light but strong. They’re easily bent, but not easily broken. Tonight, you were both my feathers. You were my hope in my darkest hour. Sláinte chuig na fir, agus go mairfidh na mná go deo.’
‘All I understood from that last part is sláinte, so cheers to you.’
‘Health to the men, and may the women live forever,’ Jack murmured, peering at her over the rim of his glass.
‘Well—I guess that gives me good health and immortality,’ Floss quipped, and Rosie couldn’t help but laugh.
Jack reached over and took her hand in his, and for the first time in a long while, Rosie felt safe. She felt loved. She had hope.
Fifteen
Rosie
A few days later, Tom was arrested when the vice raided a number of illegal gambling rooms throughout the Cross. Rosie suspected Jack had a hand in it, although he was quick to deny it. Word was that if Tom was convicted, he would be put away for a long time. For Rosie, the longer the better, and it seemed that at least for the time being Tom would be out of her life, but more importantly, out of Jimmy’s life.
She should’ve walked away the moment she realised Tom was not the same man she had married. Looking back, she should’ve picked it up in his letters. The ones that arrived in the first six months were full of hope and described a vibrant Kings Cross, the same that Rosie had come to love.
When Tom’s letters slowly became shorter, devoid of vividness and lacking emotion, she should’ve known. Instead, in her mind she told herself that Tom was busy working and setting up a life for them. She thought that once they were all together, it would change and she had clung blindly to this hope for far too long.
But really, how well had she known Tom before they married? He had already admitted that had she not been pregnant, he would not have married her. She had known from the very beginning of their relationship that he was planning on emigrating to Australia and now it was evident that she and Jimmy were an inconvenience. Had their time apart fuelled Tom’s resentment that he had a wife and child?
While she was free from Tom, what Rosie didn’t envisage was becoming homeless. Two weeks after Tom’s arrest, there was a knock on the front door.
‘May I help you?’ she asked the burly-looking man on the other side, rubbing her hands dry on her apron.
‘Yeah—I’m George Norris. I’m looking for Tom.’ By his accent, she could tell he was American, but unlike Jack’s accent, which was smooth and melodic, the man in front of her spoke with a drawl that seemed unrefined.
‘Tom’s not here … he’s gone away for a while … for work,’ Rosie informed the man, who didn’t seem impressed with her response.
‘Is that right? Well who does live here; would that be yourself, Ma’am?’
Rosie felt her back straighten. ‘Not that it is of your concern, but yes, I live here.’ Jimmy at that point ran up the hall and tangled himself in her skirt. ‘I live here with my son.’
‘With all due respect, Ma’am, it is my concern, as you’re living in a property that I own.’
‘Oh.’ Rosie felt winded. ‘You’re—’
‘Yes, I’m George Norris, your landlord.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Norris, Tom never mentioned you by name.’ In fact, come to think of it, Tom had never mentioned the landlord at all.
‘Well, now you know my name.’
‘So how can I help you, Mr Norris?’ She detangled Jimmy from her legs and propped him on her hip. ‘Would you like to come in?’
‘No thank you, I will be brief. Your rent is due. Today.’
‘Oh.’ Rosie instantly felt half-witted. Of course he was here to collect rent. Why else would a landlord come? Which begged the question, why hadn’t she seen him before now? Certainly, she’d been home more often than Tom. ‘If you could let me know how much is owed for the week, I could see if I have it here, otherwise I could go to the bank and …’ She stopped when she spotted his snarly grin.
‘It’s not just this week, Ma’am. Rent is due for the past fourteen weeks.’
‘Fourteen?’ she shrilled. ‘We’re three and a half months behind?’
‘It’s good to see you’re better at maths than Tom was. The only reason I allowed it to go this long was that he was so shit at gambling I was getting his money some way. But I can’t let it go on any longer. I need my money, Ma’am.’
Feeling like she’d just been punched in the gut, Rosie lowered Jimmy to the ground and asked him to go play in his room. Luckily, he didn’t seem fussed and toddled off.
Inhaling sharply, she turned back to face the landlord. ‘Mr Norris … just how much money is owed in rent?’ She was almost afraid to ask.
When he named a preposterous sum, she gasped. It was more than she had in her savings account, which had been slowly dwindling as she supported Jimmy and herself.
‘But that doesn’t include his gambling debt.’
Rosie stared at him, hoping that he was joking, but there was nothing jovial about the way Mr Norris was looking at her.
‘Mr Norris … are you suggesting that I clear Tom’s gambling debt as well?’
‘When are you expecting him back?’
‘I’m not expecting him back at all. And if you knew Tom was a gambler, then you know he’s in jail.’
‘Yes, I heard he was in the slammer. Are you still married to him?’
‘Technically yes, but—’
‘I don’t need to know your marital woes, Mrs Fuller, all I need is my money. Since I’m in a generous mood, I’ll give you a month to come up with the full amount.’ He pulled out a notebook and scribbled something before handing it over to her. There were two amounts—the top was the amount he’d mentioned that was owed in rent, the bottom presumably was Tom’s debt.
‘A month?’ She baulked, her hand shaking uncontrollably as she gripped the paper. ‘For all this?’ She had never seen so many zeros in her life. ‘How do I even know you’re telling the truth about this debt?’
‘There are plenty of people that can vouch for your husband’s debt, Mrs Fuller. And just so you know, I rounded that figure down.’
She wished he would stop calling her Mrs Fuller. Rosie’s head felt like it was about to explode. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to get you this money, Mr Norris.’
‘You’re a smart gal,’ he swept a leering gaze up and down her body that gave Rosie the heebie-jeebies, ‘and a pretty one, too. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other business to attend to.’ He tucked the notebook and pen inside the breast pocket of his jacket and tipped his hat. ‘Good day.’
More like other people to skin alive.
‘What if I can’t find the money by the end of the month?’ she called out to him when he was halfway down the front path.
‘Then you and your son will be homeless and the debt still stands. No matter where you go, I’ll find you.’
Rosie wasn’t going to allow that. Somehow, she would find a way to repay him. ‘You’ll have your money by the end of the month, Mr Norris.’
He sent her a look that read he highly doubted her, but to his credit he merely nodded. ‘I like the sound of that, Mrs Fuller.’
‘It’s not Mrs Fuller. It’s Ms Hart. Rosie Hart.’
‘Well then, Rosie Hart of the Cross, I’ll see you in a month.’
Rosie closed the door behind her and crumpled to the floor.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but a while later, there was furious banging on the door. She thought it might be Mr Norris again, but it was Mary, looking every bit as shell-shocked as Rosie felt.
‘Oh, not you, too!’
‘He’s given me a month to pay what is owed and get out. He’s selling the house!’ Mary bemoaned. ‘How long has he given you?�
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Rosie sighed. Mr Norris hadn’t mentioned selling the house to her, but she wouldn’t put it past him. ‘Come on,’ she ushered Mary inside, ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
Over tea, Rosie and Mary exchanged their woes. As Mary had indicated, Mr Norris was selling her house and issued a notice to vacate the premises within a week. On top of it all, she had lost her job at the nightclub. Her boss, who’d been the baby’s father, decided that even without the pregnancy, Mary was a liability, and even though her debt was nowhere near Rosie’s, she still needed to find a place to stay.
‘I can’t believe that he’s making you cough up Tom’s debt.’ Mary shook her head angrily. ‘It’s just not fair.’
‘Fair or not, it’s not Mr Norris’s fault. It’s Tom’s. George Norris is simply trying to recover his money.’ Rosie exhaled.
‘You need to talk to Jack. He knows Mr Norris—they served together in the war. He won’t be able to talk him out of selling my place, he’s already told me that much, but surely he could help with the debt? Maybe even get an extension?’
‘I can’t ask that of him,’ Rosie said. ‘This is my mess to take care of.’ And once it was done, she would be rid of Tom and all that bound her to him once and for all. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He was, in the eyes of God and the law, her husband, which it seemed was the reason why she was lumped with his debt.
‘Rosie! Jack would never let you be homeless.’
‘The debt will follow me no matter where I go. Jack wasn’t the one to cause this—Tom was. Somehow, I need to find that money without selling my body and soul.’
Rosie thoughtfully sipped her tea before tilting her head to one side. There was only one solution to this problem. Scraping back her chair, she grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil.
Thinking back to the time she had spent talking business with Dulcie, she scribbled some notes. Puzzled, she stood to retrieve a sheet of paper from her kitchen drawer.
