Rose is back on the dancefloor of Rainbow Corner, with the smell of brilliantine and sweat-soaked rayon catching at the back of her throat. The band plays on, ever on and on, light from the chandeliers glinting off the brass section as Rose is dipped and twirled and spun round.
Everyone she loves is here. Reunited with her girls, her precious, precious girls. Sylvia, as beautiful and brilliant as ever, brushes past in the arms of a strapping GI. Phyllis waves each time Rose glides by, shouts something out that’s lost in the beat of the music and Maggie’s sitting with a drink in her hand and her smile is no longer a dark, secret thing.
Sometimes she thinks she sees Danny. Men she danced with. Girls who gave her hankies, spare change, a shoulder to cry on. Gosh, even Shirley is here, absolutely splendid in her pale blue taffeta. But Rose only has eyes for Edward, who’s holding her in his arms and he hasn’t once stepped on her feet.
She’s going to stay here for ever. Because Rainbow Corner never closes. They never turn anyone away.
When they opened the doors of Rainbow Corner, they threw away the key.