After reading the final words of Peter’s letter, Rosie felt the life leave her body. Every ounce of energy drained from every part of her physical being. It felt as though she had suddenly taken a step back and was looking at reality from a distance; as though a protective see-through curtain had dropped between herself and life, and she was viewing everything from afar.
As she felt her legs lose their strength, she sat down on something hard and wooden and then the tears came. Doubled up, she cried from her very core, great heaving sobs. Through a blur of tears, she looked up and saw the women’s concerned faces around her. Hannah disappeared and returned moments later with a glass of water. She saw her hand reach out and felt the cool liquid run down her throat, but it did not seem to quench her thirst. She saw Gloria move and sit down next to her. She looked at her friend’s grave face and realised that she was talking to her. Her mouth was moving and her face expressed such sadness and concern, but all Rosie could hear were muted, mumbled words.
She caught movement to her right and turned her head to see Martha lowering herself down so that she too was sitting next to her, dwarfing her. She felt Martha’s arm go around her shoulders as she gave her a hug. She felt her head slump onto Martha’s chest and then she felt her body shuddering. More tears ran down her face and left the taste of salt on her dry lips.
She saw Polly’s face, which seemed to be a reflection of her own. Tears were running down her cheeks, making white streaks through the dirt on her skin. Dorothy and Angie turned and disappeared. Time seemed to have taken on a different dimension, because it seemed as though they were back in the blink of an eye, with Helen in tow.
Then Dorothy was by her side, helping her up from her seat, her arm hooked into Rosie’s. She was like a rag doll, her body unable to hold itself straight. She had a flash of the night she had been attacked by her uncle Raymond. The women had hauled her to her feet. They had been there then, and they were here now. Back then she had felt the same sense of exhaustion, of being beaten.
Looking up, she noticed Bobby. Where had he come from? She saw him flash a look at Dorothy. Worry mixed with deep sorrow was etched on his face as he reached for her other arm and helped her to her feet. She was standing, although her legs still felt as though they had not the strength to support her weight. She felt herself move, a little lopsidedly, with most of her weight being taken by Bobby. She looked up and realised for the first time how tall he was. She smelled the dirt and sweat of the shipyard on him. Noticed his tattoo of a dagger going through a rose. The image hit her. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. She felt more tears streaming down her face. More salt on her lips. A rose. A symbol of love being destroyed.
She felt her boots clomp on the concrete as Dorothy and Bobby supported her across the yard. She felt the eyes of the workers on her – a squad of platers and their apprentices, a squad of women red-leaders whose overalls were speckled red, making her think of spilt blood. Reaching the timekeeper’s cabin, she looked up to see Davey, his big, innocent child’s eyes staring down at her, full of confusion and fear. And then Helen seemed to appear out of nowhere, walking towards a green sports car. Her green sports car. She was opening the passenger door. Now there was just Bobby holding her up, helping her into the front passenger seat, then gently shutting the door.
She looked to her right and saw Helen putting the keys into the ignition. Helen was talking to her, but she couldn’t understand what she was saying, her mind unable to process the words. The car pulled away and as she looked out of the passenger window, she saw Bobby and Dorothy standing together, wearing identical overalls, their arms almost touching, both watching forlornly as the car drove off.
When Rosie arrived back home, she was still crying – it was now coming in waves, first small, then tidal and uncontrollable. Helen helped her up the stairs and guided her to the bed, suggesting she should lie down for a little while and that she would go and make them both a cup of tea. Rosie nodded. If Helen had told her to walk out of the house and in front of a car, she would have done so.
She heard a knock on the front door and Helen talking to her neighbour, Mrs Jenkins, in hushed tones. Five minutes later, Mrs Jenkins came into the room with a cup of tea and told her to sit up and drink it. For once her neighbour didn’t chat on incessantly, as she was wont to do, but simply sat on the chair by the bed quietly while Rosie cried and took sips of tea, doing what she was told without question. Mrs Jenkins only left the room when there was another knock on the door and she went to answer it. She heard voices – a man and a woman. It was Lily and George. She heard Lily’s heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and a quick knock before she bustled in. She walked over, took the teacup and saucer off her and put them on the bedside table. She held Rosie’s face in her heavily bejewelled hands and told her, ‘You will survive this, Rosie.’ Then she told her to get up as they were going to the bordello. George, she explained, was waiting downstairs and had brought the car. Once there, she said, Rosie could rest.
Rosie started to speak, to ask about Charlotte, but Lily beat her to it.
‘I’ll see to Charlotte,’ she said.
When they arrived back at the bordello, Lily took Rosie up to the guest bedroom, got her out of her overalls and into a nightdress and told her to get into bed. During the whole process, Rosie did not once let go of Peter’s letter. Lily asked her if she wanted a brandy, or a sleeping pill, but she shook her head before curling up in a ball, holding Peter’s farewell letter close to her chest.
Going back downstairs, Lily closed up the bordello and drew all the curtains to show there had been a death in the family. Maisie and Vivian, who had heard the news when Helen had come knocking on the door a little earlier, said they would keep checking on Rosie every ten minutes. George and Lily left for the Maison Nouvelle to tell Kate what had happened, after which they went to get Charlotte.
Waiting at the school gates, Lily used the opportunity to tell the group of boys also waiting there that if they ever did anything to hurt or upset her charge they’d spend the rest of their lives regretting it. Running out of the main doors as soon as the bell went and seeing Lily’s face, Charlotte knew something was terribly wrong.