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 her 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.
Tom gave an acerbic laugh. ‘That fucker is the reason I lost my job.’
‘What?’ She was truly shocked.
‘Filled McWilliams’s ears with lies about me being on drugs at work.’
‘Oh.’
‘Listen, I’m not going to deny it—I have been smoking hashish for a while now, but never at work and …’ he lifted his head and looked her straight in the eye, ‘never at home.’
‘Well, then … that’s good to know,’ Rosie said curtly.
‘I’m sorry, Rosie.’
She was speechless. It was a good thing she was sitting, she could’ve been knocked down with a feather. ‘For what?’ she finally managed.
‘For everything. I know things haven’t been what you expected.’
‘You could say that.’
‘But I want you to know …’ He reached out across the table and grabbed her hand. His touch made her jolt and spill her tea all over the table. ‘That it’s going to be different. From now on, I’m going to be the husband you married, the father that Jimmy deserves. From now on, we’re a family. But … only if you want to.’
She listened to his words, but did she dare to believe them? This was a man who had lied to her, married her under false pretences, abused her, and yet … he was promising to change, and he had apologised.
What was that poem by Emily Dickinson? Something about hope having or being a feather? Right now, Rosie felt like that feather, full of hope and wanting to believe that what Tom was saying was heartfelt, that his words held truth. Rosie had two paths here. She could say no and move on with her life, or she could try to save her marriage.
I can fix this.
Tom deserves another chance.
Jimmy deserves a family.
So, she took a deep breath and spoke the words that inevitably would seal not only her fate, but her son’s, too.