And now Frankie was becoming suspicious, as well he might. He had always given Rose a generous allowance, as well as access to the wall safe in his study, but until recently Rose had rarely taken advantage of the liberal funds available to her.
Leaning back on the chesterfield now, he contemplated his wife lovingly. There was at least fifty pounds missing from the wall safe, and if she hadn’t spent it on the children, then it was a reliable guess that she was planning a Christmas surprise for him. He reached over and fondled her knee, saying good-humouredly, ‘Why don’t you take a cab up to the West End one day next week? You could spend the day browsing around the shops and have dinner out. It’d make a nice change for you, instead of standing out in the cold dishing out soup in Stoke Newington, or stuck at home all day with the children… and Mary!’ He made a face of mock horror, and Rose laughed despite her private worries.
Rose put down the evening newspaper she had been pretending to read and laid her fingers over the strong hand clasping her knee. Her face soft, she said, ‘You are good to me, Frank. And I think I might do just that. It’s been ages since I spent a day by myself shopping.’
Frankie squeezed the slender fingers then looked up as the front-doorbell chimed. ‘That’ll be the boys.’ Standing up, he bent over and kissed the top of Rose’s head, adding, ‘I won’t be too late, Princess, but don’t wait up, eh?’
Rose giggled. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t. The last time I did, I saw the dawn break.’
Frankie grinned at her then moved to the door. He paused, then asked, ‘By the way, Princess, you ain’t seen or heard from any old friends lately, have you? ’Ere, what’s up, Rosie? You’ve gone as white as a sheet.’ A steely note had entered his voice at the sudden change in Rose’s demeanour. She looked scared to death.
Rose took a tight hold on herself and managed a bright smile. ‘It’s these headaches I’ve been getting. They come on so quickly it takes me by surprise. Look, you go on, Frank, I’ll ask Myrtle to fetch me some aspirin. A couple of those usually do the trick.’
Frankie hovered by the door, not wanting to leave her if she was in pain, and not entirely convinced by her words. Then he seemed to make up his mind. His manner noticeably cooler, he said, ‘All right, Rose. I’ll send Myrtle up. See you later.’ Then he was gone.
Rose stared at the open door, her face drawn with anxiety. Frankie knew something was wrong. He had always been quick on the uptake, especially where she was concerned. But how could he possibly have found out about Sally? No! That couldn’t be the reason behind his change of manner. If nothing else, Frank had always been direct. If he had found out about Sally, then he would have confronted her with it straight away. So what on earth had he meant by that remark about hearing from old friends?
‘Frankie says you’ve got a headache. That right, Rosie, love?’ Mary, her homely face drawn in concern, came into the room carrying a glass of water and two flat white tablets. ‘Here you go, girl. Get these down you.’ Handing Rose the glass, Mary waited until her niece had swallowed the aspirins, then sat down in the spot Frankie had not long vacated, her expression troubled. ‘You oughter tell Frankie what’s going on, girl. You can’t keep dishing out his money to that trollop without him finding out.’ Seeing the pale eyelids flutter, Mary sighed. ‘Gawd help us, love, I know this Sally woman helped you out once, but you’ve paid her for her trouble, ain’t you? Why d’yer keep giving her money? It’s blackmail, that’s what it is, girl, blackmail, pure an’ simple. If you keep on giving in to her, she’ll bleed you dry.’
Rose sighed wearily. ‘I know, Aunt Mary, I know. It’s just… Well, she’s down on her luck at the moment. I feel sorry for her. It’s like… I’ve got everything I could want for, and she has nothing at all. If it wasn’t for Sally…’
Mary gave an impatient grunt. ‘Oh, don’t give me that old story again, Rosie. All right, so she helped you out – saved your life, I know, but that don’t mean you’ve gotta spend the rest of your life, and Frankie’s money, paying her back. Now, you’ve already given her a fair old whack. If she was genuine, she’d have used that money to get herself back on her feet, but she ain’t. And why should she, when she’s found a mug like you to support her for the rest of her life?’ Mary wagged a disapproving finger. ‘Now, look here, Rosie, I ain’t never kept anything from Frankie in me whole life, and I don’t like lying to him not after all he’s done for us. You keep on talking about how Sally saved your life, well, what about what Frankie’s done for you? Gawd knows, how we would’ve managed if he hadn’t stepped in to take care of us? He’s been good to you, Rosie, now you can’t deny that, he’s been a bloody saint. I mean, look at the way he’s brought up Vicky, like she was his own kid. He thinks the world of her. Sometimes I think he loves her more than little Ben, an’ when you think whose kid she really is…’
Rose sprang up from the chesterfield. ‘That’s enough, Aunt Mary. We agreed, all of us, that that subject would never be mentioned. Victoria is Frank’s child, and I don’t ever want to hear you talk like that again. Do I make myself clear, Auntie?’
Offended, Mary struggled to her swollen feet. ‘Yeah, I understand all right, Rosie. Keep your place, Mary, that’s what you mean. Well, don’t you worry, girl. I know where I stand now. But I’ll tell you this for nothing.’ Mary hobbled over and stood within a few inches of Rose’s wan face. ‘Don’t expect me to lie for you any more, ’cos I ain’t gonna do it. If Frankie asks me what’s happening to all his money, then I’m gonna tell him. It’s only fair. It is his money you’re chucking about, after all.’
Rose felt her knees buckle and caught hold of the irate woman’s arm. ‘Please, Auntie, I feel bad enough as it is. Look, I promise, the next time Sally comes, I’ll give her one last payment, and I’ll make it clear there isn’t going to be any more. I promise, Auntie. Only – only don’t tell Frank, please. He would be so hurt that I didn’t confide in him… and angry too, terribly, terribly angry.’
Mary’s features softened. If the truth be told, she still partly blamed herself for Rose’s past misfortune. It had been hard for Mary to discover that Rose hadn’t felt able to come to her old auntie for help in the first place – had been in such fear of her that she had risked her life at the hands of a back-street abortionist rather than face her wrath. And what made Mary’s conscience trouble her even more was that she couldn’t say that she would have received the unwelcome news of her niece’s pregnancy with kindness or understanding. Oh, Mary knew she’d have been all right later on, when she’d got over the first shock. Then she would have done all she could to help, and flattened anyone unwise enough to offer any critical remarks. What was clear to her, though, too, was her undying loyalty to Frankie, and with this thought uppermost in her mind, Mary said sharply, ‘Look here, me girl, I’ve said me piece an’ I ain’t going back on it. I’ll hold me tongue till after that trollop’s next visit, but if you give in to her again, then I’m telling Frankie what’s going on. I know you feel sorry for her, and there ain’t nothing wrong in being kind, but there’s a world of difference in being kind and letting yourself be walked over. I thought you had more gumption than that, Rosie.’
Mary’s words hit home. It was true, Rose was trying hard to keep her life on an even keel. Everything was going so well and she was afraid to do anything to spoil it. But Mary was right: Sally’s demands must stop. It would be unpleasant, for Sally wasn’t going to take kindly to having her new-found source of wealth dry up, but it had to be done. Mary was right: she, Rose, had become soft. It was time to get the old Rose back.
Then the doorbell chimed, and Rose felt her courage slip away. She cast a pleading look at Mary, then waited.
Myrtle’s disapproving voice rang through the house. There was no need to ask who the late-night visitor was.
‘Now, don’t you go backtracking, me girl,’ Mary urged. ‘Tell her straight. After tonight, there’s gonna be no more. ’Ere, d’yer want me to come with you, love? I’ll soon settle her, don’t you worry
about that. I—’
Rose stepped in front of her. ‘No, Auntie. This is my mess. It’s up to me to sort it out. But thanks.’
‘Well, I’m here if you need me,’ Mary called after her gruffly.
As on other occasions, Myrtle had shown Sally into the library. When Rose walked in, Sally turned eagerly to face her.
‘Hello again, mate. Coo, it’s bleeding tatties out there. I nearly froze me arse off waiting for Frankie to leave. Still, I’m here now.’ Warming her hands over the blazing fire, Sally laughed self-consciously and added, ‘I was gonna leave it till nearer Christmas, but I thought to meself, Rosie’ll probably be busy later on.’
Rose walked further into the room, and when she spoke there was no friendliness in her tone. ‘You were here only two weeks ago, Sally. You can’t have spent all that money I gave you so soon.’
Immediately on the defensive, Sally’s face settled into hard lines. ‘You’ve forgotten what it’s like out there in the real world. By the time I’ve paid for me lodgings and food there’s not much left.’
‘You can still find the money for drink.’ Rose looked at her scornfully. ‘I can smell it on you, Sally. You reek of whisky.’ At the look of shame that passed over Sally’s ruined features, Rose felt herself weakening, as she always did. She reached out to touch Sally’s arm, then flinched when it was rudely jerked away. Determined to say what must be said, Rose lifted her chin and said, ‘Look at yourself, Sally. Take a good look at yourself. The Sally I once knew wouldn’t have accepted charity. That Sally was proud and independent. Look at you now. Why, you’re still wearing the same dress and shawl you had on the first time you came here, even though you could easily have afforded to buy yourself some decent clothes with the money I’ve given you over these past few months.’ When Sally remained tight-lipped, Rose went on, ‘Good Lord, Sally, it’s the depth of winter. You’ll freeze without a good coat, yet you spend all your money on drink. You haven’t even tried to get another job, have you?’
Like a wild animal ready to pounce, Sally leaped towards Rose, forcing her to step back in alarm. Between clenched yellow teeth, she ground out, savagely, ‘You make me sick! D’yer hear that, Rosie? You make me sick to me stomach. “You haven’t even tried to get a job!”’ she mimicked, then made a growling sound in her throat. ‘Everything’s so black and white in your little world, ain’t it? You’ve never known what it’s like to be on your own. You’ve always had Frankie to fall back on. Good old Frankie, always there when you needed him. He wouldn’t have seen you starve, or thrown out on the streets if you’d lost your job. And you always knew that, didn’t you? At the back of your mind, you must have always known he would be there to step in if things got too rough. Oh, yeah, good old Frankie. You never could see any wrong in him, could you? Even though it was staring you in the face, you could never see what he was really like.’
Her face carved into lines of stone, Rose said stiffly, ‘I think you’d better leave, Sally. You’re no longer welcome in my house. I’ll give you one more payment, then it’s over between us. You helped me once and I’m grateful, but I’ve paid you back handsomely for that one good deed, and I’m not paying any more.’
Sally feigned astonishment. ‘Is that right, Rosie? Well, we’ll see about that. Sit down, lady. You’re about to hear some home truths about your dear, kind husband.’
Outraged, Rose prepared to leave the room, but with a swiftness that startled her, Sally bounded across the room barring her exit. ‘Oh, no, you don’t. You’re gonna listen. You’re gonna find out why I helped you that night.’ Rose stared with growing unease into the wild, ravaged face before her. Unwilling to provoke a fight, she prepared herself to listen calmly to Sally’s rantings.
Sally relaxed slightly, but she remained firmly in front of the door. ‘I told you that night in the infirmary that I’d gone through the same thing once, d’yer remember?’ Not waiting for confirmation, she gabbled on, ‘Well, what I didn’t tell you was that it was your precious Frankie’s kid I got knocked up with. Oh, you can look surprised,’ she said bitterly, as Rose’s eyes betrayed disbelief. ‘I was only nineteen, still wet behind the ears. I thought Frankie was gonna marry me and we was gonna live happily ever after. Only he didn’t see it that way. What was his exact words when I told him?’ She pretended to ponder the question, then clicked her fingers in Rose’s face, forcing her to step back a pace. Sally followed her relentlessly, breathing whisky at her. ‘Oh, yeah, I remember now. He said, “What you telling me for? It could be any one of a dozen other blokes’. Why don’t yer put all their names in a hat and pull one out? Just make sure it ain’t mine, ’cos you ain’t saddling me with no bastard kid.”’ Dreamily now, as if talking to herself, Sally continued, ‘Oh, he wasn’t completely heartless, oh, no. He gave me a couple of quid, and told me to go and sort meself out. So I did. Only it all went wrong. And there wasn’t any friend to come looking for me—’ She broke off, tired suddenly. ‘Anyways, that’s all in the past. I ain’t come here for a walk down Memory Lane. I survived. And when Rita told me what you was planning on doing, it all came back to me. And before I knew it, I was tearing up to Graham Road trying to stop you.’ She lifted her shoulders hopelessly. ‘It brought it all back. I wasn’t thinking of you. I’d’ve done the same for anyone in the same boat. It – it was like I was trying to turn the clock back and save meself.’
Moved by the tragic story, Rose murmured softly, ‘I’m sorry, Sally. Really I am. Look, I’ll give you enough money to get you back on your feet again and…’
But Sally was staring blankly at the far wall as if in a daze. She wandered through the room, trailing her fingers over the expensive pieces of furniture and letting her eyes roam around, as if seeing it all for the first time. Inside she was thinking, with maudlin despair, This should have been mine. This room, this house, the nice furniture and all that went with it, this should have been my home, not Rosie’s. It should have been me dressed in that cream and black satin outfit and all the other lovely clothes she’s got. It should have been me with children growing up around me. Everything that Rosie’s got, including Frankie, should have been mine. And now the smug-faced bitch is trying to get out of paying a few bob to help me out. Well, we’ll soon see about that! Her face settled into hard lines of defiance and she hissed, ‘Oh, no, Rosie. You ain’t getting rid of me that easily. I’ve got used to being kept. It certainly beats working me guts out for a living. No! We’ll keep to our arrangement and—’
Springing into life, Rose yelled, ‘You’re mad. Mad! I don’t have to give you anything. I only helped you out because you helped me once, and because I felt sorry for you. But not any more. You have no hold over me, Sally. You can’t hurt me, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you bleed me dry. I’ll tell Frank what’s been going on.’
Sally’s index finger was drawing a circle on the walnut bureau, and when she spoke again, Rose felt the blood drain from her face. Every bone in her body seemed to turn to jelly. ‘Did you know that Jack’s back, Rosie? I saw him the other day. Didn’t recognise him at first in his posh new uniform. Inspector, I think he is now. Anyway, there he was, all togged up, going into Hackney police station, and I thought to meself, Hello, I wonder if he knows he’s a father. I mean, he should be told, shouldn’t he, Rosie? After all, I know you said Frankie’s brought Jack’s kid up like his own, but he ain’t her real father, is he? Oh, Gawd! Is that the time?’ Her eyes had darted to the wall clock. ‘I’d best be on me way. If you wouldn’t mind getting me Christmas present first.’
For a few moments, Rose was frozen to the spot. Then a wave of uncontrollable rage swept through her, and with a roar that surprised even herself she lunged at the unsuspecting Sally screaming, ‘You bitch. You evil bitch. You’re not getting another penny out of me. I’ll see you in hell first. And if you tell Jack about Vicky, I’ll kill you. Do you hear me, Sally? I’ll bloody kill you.’
Taken off guard Sally stumbled back. The heel of her worn-down shoe caught in th
e edge of the Persian rug and before Rose could move, she fell back heavily, hitting her head against the side of the bureau with a sickening thud.
Almost instantly the door to the library was flung open, and a grim-faced Mary charged into the room shouting, ‘That’s it. That’s enough!’
Rose cried hoarsely, ‘Don’t, Auntie, don’t. She’s hurt. Help me get her up.’
But Mary bellowed, ‘I’ll help her up, all right. I’ll give her me toe up her arse. Come on, you trollop, get up off the floor.’ Standing over the dazed Sally, Mary was a formidable figure. And Sally, shaking her head groggily, decided wisely not to push her luck any more that day. There was plenty of time to get more money out of Rose.
She felt a rough, heavy hand jerk her to her feet, then she was being propelled along the corridor. The next thing she knew she was out in the cold, dark street with the solid door slammed firmly behind her.
Still dazed and feeling sick, Sally began the long walk home. In the high street, she stopped to rest against a lamp-post, fighting down a wave of nausea and faintness. When she felt a little better she put her hand to her head. She had a terrible headache. The pain went right round the top half of her head like a vice. Stumbling and cursing, she rooted in her bag to see how much money she had on her and sighed with relief when her fingers closed around two half-crowns and some loose change. It was enough to get home to Hackney, and for a couple of glasses of whisky.
In the back of the cab, Sally closed her eyes and felt worse. Bugger that bitch, and that fat old cow for interfering. Well, they hadn’t seen the last of her. And if they wouldn’t cough up, then a certain inspector would be only too happy to see her right.
The cab wheel rolled over a dip in the road, bringing a cry of agony from Sally’s lips. Bloody hell, she felt rough. The sooner she got home and into bed the better.
Frankie's Manor Page 20
