‘Rita, have you got a minute, please? There’s – there’s something I want to ask you.’
‘Yeah, course, Rosie love. What can I do for you?’
The two women were having their dinner break in the kitchen, much to Dixon’s annoyance. Sally’s shift wasn’t due to start for another hour, and there had been an unexpected rush of customers. At the moment he was running the bar with only the elderly potman’s help.
Casting a wary look over her shoulder to make sure no one else was listening Rose felt her face begin to burn and her hands tremble as she asked, hesitantly, ‘Do you know of anyone… anyone that… that gets rid of unwanted pregnancies?’
Rita’s jaw dropped open in amazement. The thick-cut sandwich she’d been holding fell from her fingers. ‘Gawd, blimey! I thought Sal was just being a cow, but you are, ain’t you? You’ve gone and got yerself into trouble. Aw, Rosie… Oh, I am sorry, love. But what about your feller? He’ll stand by you, surely. He’s mad about you, love – I’ve seen the way his eyes follow you whenever he comes in here: I wish someone’d look at me like that.’ She wiped her hands on her skirt, and added, ‘Look, I know you’ve had words – bleeding hell, who doesn’t? Oh, don’t look so surprised, Rosie, you can’t keep much secret round here, but to try and get rid of a baby… Does Jack know about it?’
Rose shook her head tiredly. ‘No, I didn’t tell him. There wasn’t any point, not now.’
‘No point?’ Rita almost shouted, then quickly lowered her voice, ‘Listen to me, love. If there’s a chance of you getting married, then bloody well grab it with both hands. There’s plenty of women with your problem – believe me, I know. But not many have the chance to marry the father. Most of ’em don’t even know who the father is. Now, I don’t know why the pair of you quarrelled, but I’m telling you, Rosie, compared with what you’re thinking of doing – well! Even if you don’t love him no more it don’t matter. There’s plenty who’d run up the aisle with a monkey in your condition, and your feller… Well, I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.’ She studied Rose’s ashen face, and sighed. ‘Was it really bad? Was he knocking you about? Is that why you called off the wedding?’
Rose reared back in horror. ‘No! No, of course he wasn’t,’ she said, rushing hotly to Jack’s defence. ‘He never laid a finger on me.’
Rita leaned back in the upright wooden chair and smiled wryly. ‘Yes, love, if you say so. But it ain’t his hands what’s got you into trouble, not on their own, anyway.’ Rose’s head drooped and Rita stared at the copper curls in sympathy. ‘All right, it ain’t none of me business why you don’t wanna marry him, though I still think you’re barmy – Yeah, all right, I won’t say anything else about it,’ she added, as Rose made to rise. ‘Sit still, an’ let me think a minute, will you?’ Drumming her fingers on the table, she asked quickly, ‘Have you tried hot baths and gin? That sometimes works.’
Rose pushed back a strand of hair. ‘I’ve nearly scalded myself and I’ve got through a bottle of gin, but nothing happened.’ The smile wobbled and disappeared, then, with tears blurring her vision, Rose implored the other woman, ‘Oh, Rita, please, you’ve got to help me. I don’t know anyone else to turn to.’
Unable to bear the girl’s despair, Rita got to her feet and paced the small room, deep in thought. ‘I don’t know, love. I’ve known women die at the hands of those butchers. It just ain’t safe. Look, won’t you try and make it up with—’
Rose’s face was set against any further argument. ‘I couldn’t now even if I wanted to. He’s gone – Jack’s gone to Southampton. He left last week and, from what he said, I don’t expect him back.’
Her lips trembled as she recalled their last meeting. He had been waiting on the doorstep the day she and Mary had returned with Frankie after seeing his new home. The usual insults had been traded between the two men, resulting in Jack marching away, only to return that night to plead his case once more. Rose had kept him on the doorstep: Mary was still in a volatile mood, and Rose, weary of endless arguments, had finally closed the door in Jack’s protesting face.
But Jack wasn’t a man to give up easily, and for the next two weeks he had turned up at the house, in the pub, had waylaid her in the street, dogged her every step in a desperate attempt to win back the woman he loved. And every time she had felt herself weaken, there were her aunt and Frankie reminding her of what Jack had done. The pair of them went on and on at her, keeping up the pressure to persuade her to forget Jack and get on with her life. And with the extra worry of finding herself pregnant she’d hardly known what she was doing any more. Yet when she had realised Jack had taken her at her word and gone to Southampton she had been stunned. Because, somehow, even though it had been she who had demanded that he leave her alone, she had never thought that he would. The noise from the bar was becoming louder as the customers began to get tired of being kept waiting for service. Over the din Rose could hear Henry Dixon calling for them to get a move on.
‘Mr Dixon’s calling us, Rita,’ she said numbly.
‘Let him bleeding well call, then,’ Rita said harshly. ‘I ain’t leaving here till I get you sorted out. Look, love,’ she came to Rose’s side and took her hand, ‘have you thought about keeping it? I know it won’t be easy, what with you not being married. But you won’t be the first girl to have a baby without a ring on her finger. And it’s not like you’re all alone, is it? You’ve got your aunt and Frankie to help you out—’
‘No. No. They can’t find out. Look, leave it, Rita. I’m sorry I asked. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot. I’ll find somebody myself and…’ She trailed off in a soft moan.
‘Where you gonna find somebody like that, love?’ Rita asked scornfully, although her face had fallen into lines of compassion at the look of desolation in Rose’s eyes. She was so young – so vulnerable. Rita thought swiftly: it was obvious that her young friend was determined to find someone to get rid of the unborn child and if she, Rita, couldn’t stop her, then she had to make sure Rose went to someone respectable – that is, as respectable as you could get in such a sordid business. She made up her mind, then asked sharply, ‘How much money have you got?’
‘Not a lot. I mean, I don’t have any savings of my own. Jack was seeing to that side of things. I couldn’t save anything on what I earn. Why?’
‘Because it’ll cost you.’
Hope sprang into Rose’s eyes. ‘You’ll help me, then? Oh, Rita, thank you. You’ll never know how much I appreciate it.’ A great sigh of relief escaped her dry lips.
‘Don’t go thanking me yet, love. And, like I said, you’ll need money. The sort of person you’re looking for don’t come cheap – not a good one, anyway. Couldn’t you ask Frankie for a loan? He’s not short of a few bob, is he? You could always say you needed it for something special. You don’t have to tell him what for.’
Hastily Rose stammered, ‘I couldn’t do that, Rita, it wouldn’t be right. I got myself into this mess, so it’s up to me to get myself out of it.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘How much will I need?’
Busying herself with cleaning crumbs off the table, Rita said diffidently, ‘I ain’t sure. I’ll ask around, but you’ll probably need about five pounds, maybe more. Can you get the money if I find someone? You can’t wait too long, you know. How far along are you, anyway? About three months? Or is it more?’
Rose nodded. ‘Just on three months.’ Suddenly she felt curiously detached from the situation. It was as if she was looking in on the conversation instead of being a part of it. ‘And don’t worry about the money. I know how I can get hold of it.’
Rose turned towards the bar and walked in ahead of Rita. She took Henry Dixon to one side and said calmly, ‘About what you asked me a while ago, Mr Dixon. You remember. About me showing a bit more tit behind the bar.’ Before the astonished man could reply, she added, ‘Well, you give me a rise in pay and I’ll show as much tit as you want.’
‘Remember I told you I was going to be home a bit late tonight, Auntie?’
Mary glanced up from the cardigan she was knitting. ‘Yeah, I remember, love. Look, are you in any trouble, Rose? Only you’ve been acting strange lately. You don’t look too good neither.’ Laying down her knitting she said gently, ‘You know you can always talk to me, don’t you, love? What I mean is, if there’s anything troubling you, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes, of course I would, Auntie.’ Rose felt the strain of trying to smile. ‘But there’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m just feeling a bit down. You know, what with Jack and everything.’
Mary’s mouth softened into an understanding smile. ‘Ah, I thought it might be that. I said to Frankie it were probably that ’cos he’s noticed you ain’t been yourself lately, too. He don’t miss much, don’t Frankie.’
Gathering up her bag from the table Rose answered flatly, ‘No, he doesn’t, does he?’
As she went to leave, Mary hesitated then said awkwardly, ‘Now, don’t get angry, love, but I told Frankie you was working extra shifts, and he wasn’t too pleased. I told him we don’t need his help, even though we’re grateful to know he’s offered if we was to need it. But you know what he is. He’s never liked you working in that pub, and I agree with him there. Rose, love, I’ve been thinking. Now, I ain’t gonna say we can do without your wages, especially with me not being able to earn – though for all the extra time you’ve been putting in, you don’t seem to have much to show for it. But that’s beside the point. Like I said, I’ve been having a chat with Frankie, and now he’s settled in his new house… Well, you don’t have to worry about me being on me own so much. You could leave the pub and start looking for a decent job. You could even try and get your old job back. You was getting on well there, before you gave it up to take care of me. ’Cos, like Frankie said, we know where to find him now he’s not wandering round all over London. So if I needed anything while you was at work, I could always go to Frankie’s.’
Rose snapped her handbag shut. ‘And how would you manage that, Auntie? Grantham Avenue is a good half-hour away by tram. And while the neighbours wouldn’t mind coming to fetch me from the pub in an emergency, I doubt if they’d be happy to go all that way even if they could be sure of finding Frank in.’ A sudden burst of impatience shot through her. ‘Look, Auntie, I’m in a bit of a rush and I’ll probably go straight to bed when I get in, so we’ll have a chat tomorrow.’
Wounded by Rose’s offhand manner, Mary turned back to her knitting, but not before Rose had seen the hurt in the pale blue eyes. Instantly contrite, Rose threw her arms around the fat neck and said softly, ‘Lord, I’ve been a trial to you lately. But things will be different soon, Auntie, I promise. I’ve just got to get myself sorted out.’
Mary brightened. That’s all right, love. I ain’t always a bundle of fun meself, now, am I?’
Kissing the smooth cheek, Rose gave a small laugh. ‘You said it, Auntie. Now, remember, don’t wait up for me and I’ll see you in the morning. ’Bye.’
She picked up a paper bag, which held her new working clothes, and glanced back at the placid figure, sitting so contentedly by the empty grate. She had a sudden wild urge to run back into the room, throw herself into Mary’s ample lap and unburden herself. But she checked the impulse: she knew better than anyone else how swiftly her kindly aunt could change into a cruel, vicious harridan.
Pausing in the hallway she closed her eyes, terror draining every drop of energy from her. With an effort, she pulled herself together and made for the door. Then she looked back once again. This time, though, she didn’t see the benevolent Mary seated quietly in her armchair, she was confronted by a bloated, drunken woman, her red face filled with rage, and heard again the savage, hateful words that had been flung at her that ill-fated night.
‘Don’t you come crying to me if you suddenly find yourself up the spout, ’cos I won’t lift a finger to help you.’
‘It’ll be either your fancy man or the workhouse. And he might not hang around now he’s got what he wanted.’
‘… wouldn’t the neighbours have a field day to see me pure, innocent Rose come waddling down the street with a bastard bulging in her stomach.’
‘I won’t have it, Rose… D’yer hear me?… I said… D’yer hear me…?’
Rose’s stomach churned but she lifted her chin, swallowed hard and left the small house quickly.
After Rose had gone Mary sat quietly, her thoughts returning to a conversation she’d had with Frankie a couple of days ago. He’d asked if she and Rose would like to move in with him. Oh, he’d joked about being lonely on his own, but Mary thought that was nearer to the truth than Frankie would admit. She hadn’t mentioned it to Rose yet, because she wasn’t sure how she herself felt about leaving her home. She had been prepared to move if Rose and Jack had found a place nearby, even though she hadn’t been happy about sharing a house with Jack Adams. So, she had reasoned, if she had been willing to do that, why wouldn’t she consider moving in with Frankie, a man she thought of and loved as if he was her own flesh and blood?
Because, as she had said when they went to see the place, she would feel like a fish out of water in that massive, posh house. She wasn’t used to such luxury. Oh, Gawd! She didn’t know what to do for the best. She’d have to wait until Rose was in a better frame of mind before she broached the subject, although Gawd only knew when that’d be.
Mary picked up her knitting once more, but her fingers remained idle.
‘I never thought I’d live to see the day. Miss Goody Two Shoes, all dressed up like a tart just to rake in more money. I hope you’d jump in me grave as quick. I’ve only been off for a couple of weeks, stuck in me bed with a lousy cold, and you’ve already took me place, ain’t you? You little two-faced bitch.’
Rose swept past the irate Sally to take an order from a young man who ogled her plunging neckline.
‘I’m talking to you, you stuck-up cow.’ Sally nudged Rose sharply in the side, which brought forth a cry of pain from her victim.
Rose had opened her mouth to fight back when she felt herself grabbed roughly from behind. Her head spun round and her eyes widened in shock at seeing Frankie, angrier than she’d ever seen him, glaring at her. ‘So this is why you’ve been trying to stop me coming in for a drink. All that bollocks about wanting to be left alone for a while, I should’ve known something was going on. Well, you can get your things, right now. You ain’t stopping here looking like that. You look like an old slag.’
Dumbfounded, Rose could only stare at him, her heart beginning to beat wildly. Tugging to release herself, she cried, ‘Let go, Frank, it’s nothing to do with you. Go away, I don’t want you here.’
‘Well, that’s just too fucking bad, girl. ’Cos I’m here and I’m taking you home.’
The bar had fallen silent, all eyes and ears on the couple struggling across the bar.
Holding Rose’s wrists in a vice-like grip, Frankie snarled at the publican, ‘This is your doing, Dixon.
I warned you what would happen if you took any liberties with her. I’ll be back to deal with you later. As for you, you stupid little cow, get yourself from behind that bar and no fucking arguments. I ain’t in the mood.’
Rose felt as if she was being suffocated. As well as the pain Frankie was inflicting on her wrists, she felt overwhelming humiliation and struggled even harder to free herself.
Then, an unexpected ally came to her rescue. Sally, her face troubled, stepped forward. ‘’Ere, come on, Frankie, let the girl go. She ain’t doing any harm – just trying to earn a few extra bob like the rest of us. She—’
Frankie lifted his free arm and brought the back of his hand down viciously across the barmaid’s face, sending her reeling back against the bottle-lined shelves.
A united gasp went up from the crowd, but none dared interfere; not when Frankie Buchannon was involved.
Rose watched in horror as Sally crashed to the ground. Then, all the pent-up anger, fear and frustration that had been building for weeks were suddenly let loose. She snatched up an empty bottle from the bar and waved it in Frankie’s face, screaming hysterically, ‘You bastard! There was no need for that. She was only trying to help me. And take your hands off me, or I swear I’ll brain you with this. I mean it, Frankie. I’ve had enough of people telling me what to do. I’ve had enough. Do you hear me, Frankie? I’ve had enough, I can’t take any more.’
Slowly Frankie released her, the anger dying from his face. Looking behind Rose to where Sally was stumbling to her feet, and then to the strained face of Henry Dixon, he snarled, ‘You ain’t heard the last of this, Dixon.’ Then he was gone, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. In the hushed bar, Henry Dixon shook himself into action. He was badly shaken, but he’d never admit it. In his position to show any sign of weakness would be fatal. He’d stood up to Buchannon, and others like him, for years. He wasn’t going to start crumbling now. He cast a scornful eye over the crowded bar as he roared, ‘What’s the matter with you lot? Seen enough, have you? Well, the show’s over so you can all stop gawping and get on with what you were doing. And you, Bill,’ he shouted down the bar, to where the frail potman was attempting to comfort the weeping Rose, ‘get your arse down here and sweep up these bleeding glasses before I fall over ’em and cut me throat.’
The white-haired old man gave Rose an awkward pat on the arm and shambled off to do as he was bidden.
Dixon poured himself a large whisky. Both of his barmaids looked as if they were about to keel over. His eyes swept over Rose and a sense of outrage filled him at the thought of the way in which Frankie had treated her. Poor little cow. Something was bothering her – else she wouldn’t have offered to pull in the punters by showing her wares.
Frankie’s parting words reverberated in his mind, and he poured himself another drink. He must have been mad to take Rose up on her offer: he’d known there would be hell to pay once Frankie found out. But this was his livelihood, this pub. It was up to him to decide who served behind the bar, not Frankie Buchannon or anyone else. Besides, once Rose had made the offer, what could he have done? Admit he was afraid of upsetting Frankie and turn her down? Never!
The whisky had settled in his bloodstream, giving him courage and helping to blot out the threat hanging over him. He strode down the bar, replenished his glass and poured one extra which he held out to Sally. ‘’Ere, you look like you could do with it. What about you, Rosie, love? D’yer want me to pour you one an’ all?’
Weakly, Rose shook her head. She was trembling all over and felt as if she was going to be sick. In all her life she had never seen Frankie behave like that – and the language he’d used! She shivered, hugging herself for comfort. He had been like a stranger and it had frightened her badly. If he could behave like that at seeing her in a low-cut blouse, what would he do if he found out she was pregnant? Dear God! It didn’t bear thinking about. She had to get out of here and do what she’d planned. Rose clenched her sweating palms and appealed to Henry, ‘Can – can I leave early, Mr Dixon? My shift’s nearly over and…’
Fortified by the amber spirit, Dixon nodded, his voice strong and decisive for the benefit of his customers. ‘Yeah, you get off, Rosie. Me and Sally will manage till Reet gets in, won’t we, Sal?’
Rose looked at the woman who had always had it in for her, bewildered at why she should risk Frankie’s wrath for someone she didn’t like.
Sally’s face still bore the imprint of Frankie’s hand, but she shrugged indifferently. ‘Yeah, I suppose so.’
Mumbling her thanks, Rose went into the back to get her bag, her legs wobbly. On her way out she stopped by Sally and said shyly, ‘Thanks, Sally. It was good of you to try to help me like that. I’m very grateful, and I’m truly sorry for what Frank did to you. I feel ashamed for having brought it on you. I’m sorry.’
Embarrassed by the fulsome speech, Sally muttered self-consciously, ‘Yeah, well, I’d’ve done the same for any woman ’cos no other bugger will.’
Rose gave a tremulous smile, understanding the other woman’s brusqueness. Just because Sally had tried to help her didn’t mean that they had suddenly become good friends. The bickering would probably start all over again, once this episode was forgotten, but she was grateful, and she wouldn’t forget how Sally had put herself at risk to help her while others had stood by and done nothing. She checked the clock over the bar: her appointment with the doctor Rita had found was in an hour’s time.
A rush of bile rose in her throat, sending her stomach into a lurching wave of renewed fear. But there was no turning back now. Any idea she might have had about changing her mind had been washed out by Frankie’s murderous rage.
Head held high, Rose passed the curious men and women who had witnessed the altercation between herself and the proclaimed Lord of the Manor, and let herself out of the pub.
It was a lovely August evening. Warm, clear and sunny. An evening when it felt good to be alive. And she was on her way to murder her unborn child.
Trying to calm the nervous fluttering in her stomach she walked grimly away from the pub. With each step she took she murmured to herself, ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but I don’t have any choice. I’m sorry, little one. You’re never going to see the beauty of this world, nor the cruelty and pain. I’m sorry, love… Please, please forgive me… please…’