Heart of the Cross

by Emily Madden

  ‘Yes, you’re right.’ Brie waved a hand about. She should’ve known better when Abigail insinuated Lauren and Josh had been together for years. ‘Just forget about it.’

  ‘But I can’t forget it, Brie. From the moment I noticed you had gone, I realised I should’ve handled it all differently.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I should’ve been honest—told you I wanted you there not as my plus one, but as my date. I should’ve told you that the second I saw you standing there in that dress, you looked so stunning that I thought my heart was going to explode, and all I could think about was this.’ He closed the gap between them and crushed his lips to hers. He tasted of coffee and mint, and as he moved his hand to the back of her neck to deepen the kiss, her hand clenched tighter around the key in her palm and she swore she could feel it piercing her skin, but she didn’t care.

  The kiss was only broken by the honk of a horn signalling the arrival of her ride to the airport. They stood there, breathing raggedly, foreheads touching, and as Josh finally pulled away he whispered, ‘You shouldn’t have left.’

  Twenty

  Rosie

  November 1963

  After all this time, Rosie was yet to come across the same November in Sydney. Balmy days often gave way to rain-soaked nights that would linger into the next day, or even till the day after. It really wouldn’t be until Christmas that summer would kick in properly. By then Tinahely would be well into winter, and sometimes by Christmas Day, there would be a hint of some flurries. Then, by the time Athbhliain faoi mhaise duit, the greeting for a new year could be heard, the streets would be transformed, glistening in white, bringing inches and sometimes feet of snow blanketing the village like bookends of the last year and the new one.

  There were times when she missed Tinahely, especially at Christmas. One day, she would love to take Jimmy back to where he was born, to see her ma’s resting place, some of the spots from her youth, maybe see how Mrs O’Brien was going.

  Her mother had passed not long after Tom had been sent to jail, and as much as it hurt losing her, at least she had been spared from the news that her daughter was a madam in a brothel.

  Although, these days Rosie worked in the diner with Jack and left all the running of Rosie’s House, as the brothel had come to be known, to Mary, who turned out to be every bit of the businesswoman her grandmother had been.

  Surprisingly enough, it had been Colleen Murphy, Sinead’s mother, to call Rosie with the news of Aoife’s passing. Colleen also mentioned that Sinead had married recently and was expecting her first child. The news took Rosie back to the day she saw her friend cross the road to avoid her. It was silly that it still hurt thinking about it after all this time.

  While her mother had known about Tom and Jack, Rosie hadn’t had the heart to tell her she was a madam. Instead, she told her mother that she helped out in the diner, which wasn’t a total untruth.

  It hadn’t been her intention to call it Rosie’s House. In fact, it was Mr Norris who had used the name when he mentioned that Rosie’s House was one of his most profitable ventures. A few months ago, he got rid of his tenants on the other side of Mary’s old house so that they could expand, and tonight, they were due to commence increased operation. Hopefully, the spring storm forecast for later wouldn’t eventuate. Mr Norris had made it clear he expected business to boom from the first night and rain would dampen things.

  No one had expected Rosie’s House to be as successful as it had been. Once she had paid off her debt, the income had been a steady stream. Of course, Norris had taken every opportunity to squeeze whatever he could from her—from unscheduled increases in rent to upping his ‘vice protection fees’, which Rosie was paying anyway. Most of the local vice squad were her regular customers.

  When Norris first came to her with the idea of expanding the business, he also had new terms. He wanted to up the percentage of profits he was receiving. Knowing that Rosie wouldn’t simply agree to his new demand, he threw in a sweetener. He would keep the rent capped for an extended period and remove unscheduled vice-squad payments. ‘That doesn’t mean I’ll be stopping them,’ he warned. ‘You’ll just know when they’re coming.’

  Norris thought himself clever, but if he assumed that a few token barely sweet things were going to be nearly enough, he had another think coming. Rosie got him to kowtow to a few of her own demands. She would give him his increased cut of profits, and in turn he would pay for the girls to have ongoing health checks, including protection from a number of diseases that would generally mean a girl would be out of action for up to two weeks, sometimes more. Norris at first had thumped his fist, thunderously and steadfastly refusing to agree, but when Rosie pointed out that a sick girl meant they would be losing money, then he’d come round.

  ‘Once again, you’ve proven to be a formidable businesswoman, Rosie Hart.’ Ever since the day she’d corrected him, Norris called her by her full name. ‘Have you heard from your husband lately?’

  Rosie stiffened. It was a barb in the heart to be reminded she was still married to Tom. ‘No,’ she said curtly. ‘I assume he’s still in prison.’ At least Rosie hoped that was the case.

  Norris pursed his lips. ‘Heard he got himself an early release for good behaviour and landed a job on the Hydro, making his way from town to town. Taking advantage of the visiting pleasures, too, it seems.’

  She knew what Norris was referring to. Mary had told her of the regular buses that would leave the Cross and head to the Snowy Mountains to service the men. In fact, when Norris had come to her initially, she thought he was going to suggest they do the same.

  It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought of Tom over the past four years—she was reminded of his existence every time she looked at her son. But Norris’s words unsettled her. So much so that it literally left a bad taste in her mouth. That night, Rosie’s sleep was disturbed and she woke light-headed and nauseous.

  Nerves, she thought. It was just nerves. It would all be better after they opened tonight.

  ‘You look a little pale,’ Jack commented as she cleared the breakfast dishes and hassled Jimmy to grab his school bag. ‘Are you feeling alright?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Rosie said, pushing an errant strand of hair off her face. ‘Just a little anxious about tonight.’

  ‘You tossed and turned all night.’ Jack placed the back of his hand on her forehead. ‘No fever,’ he murmured. His eyes roamed her face, his concern evident.

  Rosie sighed. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to just how attentive Jack was with her. Even after four years together, the feeling she got when he was near, when he touched her, kissed her, held her, it hadn’t waned. If anything it had grown and intensified. Her love for Jack was real and it filled her with joy. A far cry from how her life had been with Tom.

  ‘I’m ready!’ Jimmy came rushing into the kitchen, a big grin on his face, toothpaste smudged all down his emerald-green school jumper.

  ‘Oh, Jimmy!’ Rosie wailed. She stooped down to take a closer look and her light-headedness got the better of her and she keeled over.

  ‘Mamma!’

  ‘Rosie!’

  Both Jimmy and Jack cried out in unison. Jack crouched down and lifted her up, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

  ‘I’m alright,’ Rosie feebly protested.

  ‘No, you are not.’ His voice was firm but soft, and she could tell he was tapering it so as not to alarm Jimmy. ‘You’re going straight to bed. No café work for you today.’

  Rosie nodded weakly. ‘Best I conserve my energy for tonight.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘It’s just because I didn’t sleep well last night,’ Rosie reasoned as Jack led her to bed.

  ‘Will you be okay, Mamma?’ Jimmy looked at her with eyes wide and full of fear, and it squeezed at her heart.

  ‘Oh, my darling boy, Mamma will be just fine. I’m going to rest and by the time you’re home from school, I’ll be better, you’ll see.’ This seemed to
reassure her son. He gave her a quick hug, then ran off to put on his shoes.

  ‘I’ll get Jimmy to school.’ Jack bent down and placed a kiss on her forehead. ‘I’ll come back in a while and see how you’re faring.’

  ‘Okay.’ Her eyes were heavy as her head hit the pillow. Tears formed and her heart swelled with emotion at the sight of Jimmy placing his hand in Jack’s as they headed out the door. What on earth was wrong with her? Rosie wasn’t able to give the question any thought. A moment later slumber claimed her.

  When she woke, the sun slanted through the slits of the blinds, casting horizontal striped shadows on the dark wooden floor. Her eyes widened as she jolted and grabbed her watch. It was almost one o’clock. Had she really slept for almost five hours in the middle of the day?

  ‘Good afternoon, sleeping beauty.’ Jack appeared in the doorway.

  ‘I can’t believe I slept that long.’ Rosie rubbed her eyes.

  ‘I can, you were dead to the world.’ Jack sat on the bed next to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to his chest.

  ‘Well, I’m feeling much better now.’ She yawned and settled into his embrace.

  ‘Are you hungry? I’ll have something sent up from the diner.’ As if on cue, her tummy rumbled and Jack’s laugh reverberated against her. ‘I guess that’s a yes.’

  He dipped his head, capturing her lips in a slow, passionate kiss that made her tingle from head to toe. The kiss deepened as he parted her lips with his tongue and she gladly welcomed him in. Heat flooded her as she trailed her hand from his chest to the waistband of his trousers. She paused, then hooked her finger in and popped the button.

  Jack broke away, his eyes searching her face. When she bit her bottom lip, her hand hovering over his fly, he narrowed his eyes. ‘That sleep really must’ve done you good.’

  She nodded wordlessly as she undid his zipper. A guttural moan escaped from his throat and then he was with her under the covers, loving her as passionately as he always did. Later, as she lay contentedly in his arms, listening to the sound of his heart beating wildly, Jack lazily trailed his fingers up and down her bare back and her tears welled.

  ‘Hey, what’s going on here?’ he asked softly when she was unable to stop the tears falling onto his chest.

  ‘I have no idea,’ she sniffled, propping herself up on one elbow and wiping her wet cheeks. ‘Norris said something to me yesterday and I guess it opened up an old wound.’

  Immediately, his hand stilled, a warring look in his eyes. ‘What did the bastard say?’

  When she relayed the conversation, Jack shook his head. ‘I’ll have a word to Norris—I don’t like him upsetting you. As for Tom being out of prison, while I’m surprised it’s so soon, we always knew it would happen.’

  ‘I can handle myself,’ Rosie said defensively. ‘I think that Norris reminded me of just how lucky Jimmy and I are to have you, but …’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘It got me thinking. I know that we haven’t really spoken about it, but maybe it’s time I looked for Tom.’

  ‘No,’ Jack said with absolute finality. ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘Just hear me out, Jack.’ She grabbed his hands and held them up against her chest. ‘I love you and I want a life with you, a full life. I want to be your wife, and I know I haven’t fallen pregnant as yet, but if we have children, I don’t want those children to be born out of wedlock.’ Rosie was sure that by now, they would’ve had a baby, but the longer they were together, the less she thought it would happen. Yet still, she hoped.

  ‘Rosie, I don’t care how our children are born. Makes no difference to me, and those who know and love us won’t judge us if we have children but are not married. I don’t need no preacher to tell me you’re mine. We’re a family as we are, Rosie. You, me, Jimmy and any children we have.’

  ‘But imagine I could find Tom. Surely he would agree to a divorce, then I would be free from him once and for all and we could marry. I want us all to have the same name, Jack.’

  Jack sighed long and heavily, shaking his head. ‘I don’t like the idea, Rosie. I don’t like it one bit. What’s to say he won’t want to try to take some, or even all of the money you’ve earned from the brothel. You seek him out, bring it to his attention and he’ll try that, you know he will.’

  Rosie had thought of that, but if she played her cards right, Tom wouldn’t find out. It was a risk, but one that she was willing to take. ‘I’ll tell him that I work at the café. Rosie’s House has no signage, so unless he finds me there, he’d be none the wiser.’

  Jack still wasn’t swayed, but like everything, he was always willing to compromise. ‘Tell you what, let’s sleep on it for the next while, let us both think it through a little, before we make a decision.’

  It was as close to a yes as she would get for now, so she smiled and planted a kiss on his lips. ‘Deal.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, as he pulled up his trousers and reached for his shirt. ‘How do a burger, fries and a milkshake sound?’

  ‘They sound perfect.’

  * * *

  By the time she headed down the street to Rosie’s House, the nerves had kicked in again. She needn’t have worried though. Mary had put the word out and they had enough girls working, and it just so happened that a whole load of American GIs had shipped in for five days of R&R, some of whom had been previous customers, so it looked like their first week at least would be a stellar one.

  ‘Hey, Rosie.’ Hank, a young guy from Boston, a regular of Mary’s, strode in flanked by two buddies. ‘So where are we going this Saturday night for dinner and a show?’

  They played this game every time he came in. Hank knew that Rosie had a son, and he assumed Jack was her husband because that’s what she told him. But that didn’t stop him from trying his luck. It was a wonder he got posted to the Cross for R&R so often.

  ‘I don’t know about you, Hank, but I’m heading to the Chevron to see Ella Fitzgerald.’ Jack had surprised her with tickets to the show. It wasn’t often they got out, but when they did, they went to the Silver Spade Room at the Chevron-Hilton or the recently opened Chequers Nightclub. Peggy or Cheryl, two of the diner’s long-standing waitresses, would babysit Jimmy. This week it would be Peggy as Cheryl was due to have her baby in a couple of weeks and the last thing she needed was to be looking after a seven-year-old on a Saturday night.

  ‘I love Ella Fitzgerald,’ Hank cried a little too enthusiastically. ‘What time shall I pick you up?’

  ‘Tsk, tsk, Hank. Jack wouldn’t be too pleased if I began fraternising with my clients.’

  ‘Who said anything about fraternising?’ Hank wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. ‘I was thinking along the lines of another f-word, you know like—’

  ‘Hank!’ Mary appeared, luckily for Hank, in the nick of time. ‘Get your butt in here.’

  ‘I love it when she talks dirty to me.’ Hank ran his fingers through his hair and headed down the hall to where Mary was waiting.

  Rosie had just set up Hank’s pals when George Norris walked through the door. ‘Mr Norris, this is a pleasant surprise.’ Surprise yes, but pleasant was stretching it. Norris had no doubt turned up to inspect their first night’s trade.

  ‘Rosie Hart.’ He cast a gaze about, the delight in his eyes belying the thin line his lips were pulled into. Rosie’s House was abuzz, and with that buzz came money, lots of money. ‘It’s a good thing that rain held off.’

  ‘Yes, it is, although I doubt a little November rain was going to deter the GIs who shipped in earlier.’ Rosie had forgotten about the threat of rain, but she too was glad it hadn’t eventuated.

  ‘Yes, those GIs are like wild horses,’ he sneered and Rosie expected him to bid his farewell and be on his way, but instead he loitered, much like something fetid.

  ‘Was there something else I could help you with, Mr Norris?’ Rosie asked as pleasantly as she could muster.

  ‘There’s been talk about town of some trouble coming o
ut of here, Rosie. It’s talk I don’t like hearing about one of my places.’

  ‘What sort of trouble?’ She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Rosie ran a tight ship—the men who came to Rosie’s House all knew she wouldn’t tolerate the sort of tawdriness that was run of the mill at other parlours. She made sure her girls were well behaved and she expected the same from her clientele. But that wasn’t to say that there wasn’t the odd rogue troublemaker who would get heavy-handed now and then. That’s when Rosie would step in—she was the peacemaker, and some of the boys had bestowed the sobriquet of Saint Rosie upon her.

  ‘I know some of the girls are new and might not yet be accustomed to how we do things around here—’

  ‘And by we you mean me, don’t you, Mr Norris?’

  ‘Yes, of course I mean you, Rosie Hart.’ He smirked. ‘Which makes these rumours about a few of the girls being on the gear even harder for me to swallow.’

  ‘Are you insinuating that some of my girls are taking drugs? Mr Norris, not only is that an insidious accusation, but one that I personally find distasteful.’ Even though she kept a steely resolve, inside her stomach was mush and her pulse was beating wildly. She and Mary always had been very selective when it came to the girls they employed. Could it be that they had missed something? Could it be in their haste to get themselves ready for the expansion that perhaps they hadn’t briefed all the girls appropriately?

  ‘I know this, Rosie Hart, but I also know what I heard, and I’m here to say—make it go away.’

  ‘I assure you, Mr Norris, as far as whorehouses go, Rosie’s House is run like a nunnery. If there is anything untoward, I’ll stamp it out.’

  ‘I expect you will,’ he nodded curtly, ‘else I’ll hear about it.’

  Rosie knew that what Norris said was equal parts threat and truth. The man was that well connected, he was like an octopus, with tentacles in as many pies. Which sparked an idea.

  ‘Mr Norris, on a completely different note—I need to ask … how do you know where Tom is?’

  He smirked once again. Her question seemed to give him some twisted pleasure. ‘I have my ways, Rosie Hart.’ He was being deliberately cagey, and Rosie knew that if she required any more information from Norris, he wouldn’t be willing to part with it without some type of compensation. ‘Why do you ask?’