Chapter Fourteen

When Rose arrived at the address Rita had given her, instead of going straight in, as she had planned, she hurried by, her head hanging low as if her intention was clear to everyone who saw her. She was in turmoil as she tried to drag up the courage to return to the innocuous-looking end-of-terrace house on the corner of Graham Road. Now that the time had arrived, she wasn’t sure she could go through with it. Wandering aimlessly, Rose tried again to think of other ways out of her predicament, but there were none.

‘Come on, girl. Don’t lose your nerve now. This time tomorrow it’ll all be over and then you can get on with your life,’ she said to herself, as if she were talking to another person. ‘Just take a deep breath and get on with it. The longer you hang around out here, the harder it’s going to be.’

She turned round and retraced her steps. As she drew nearer to the house, a steel curtain seemed to drop over her eyes, blocking out all further thoughts. Then she was knocking on the green-painted door and being ushered inside by an elderly, nervous-looking woman, who glanced quickly up and down the road as if making sure no one was watching. She showed Rose into a shabby but clean parlour, talking all the while. ‘Now don’t you worry about nothing, darlin’. You’re in safe hands here. Me husband’s a doctor, so he knows what he’s doing.’

Rose stared numbly at the sparrow-like woman, who was now looking at her impatiently. ‘Well, come along, dear. Haven’t you got something to give me?’ As Rose continued to stare blankly, the woman added, ‘The money, dear. You have brought the money, I hope? Only my husband takes a great risk helping you young girls out of trouble and he can’t afford to do it for nothing.’

Rose fumbled at the clasp of her handbag and her nerveless fingers extracted the agreed sum. On seeing the folded notes, the woman became more amenable, clucking over Rose as if she were a dear family friend. The money disappeared into the palm of one hand, and with the other she steered the silent girl into another room off the parlour, talking cheerfully as if Rose had just popped in for tea. ‘This is me husband’s surgery. You just slip your things off, love, and I’ll get you ready. There’s no need to look so frightened, dear. He knows what he’s doing. Not like some of these back-street butchers you could’ve ended up with.’ As she talked, she was deftly helping Rose take off her skirt and undergarments. Rose let herself be led to a long, high leather couch, too traumatised to offer any resistance, wanting only to have the whole sordid business over and done with.

The room reeked of disinfectant and bleaching agents, but it was the trolley, bearing a row of unfamiliar and wicked-looking instruments, that struck fresh terror into Rose’s heart. Closing her eyes she lay back, trying to erase the sight from her mind. ‘Will… will he give me something to knock me out? I… I don’t want to be awake while he… he… Oh, dear… I’m sor– sorry.’

‘Now don’t you worry your pretty little head about nothing, love.’ The woman darted around Rose, making motherly sounds. ‘You’ll get the same sort of treatment here as you’d get in any fancy hospital. You wait and see… Oh, here he is.’ A large, shambling man had entered the tiny room. Rose felt a rush of air as he whipped the bleached sheet unceremoniously off her quivering body. Then rough hands were forcing her legs apart and she felt cold steel touch the inside of her thigh. With a startled gasp she tried to sit up but was roughly pushed down again.

‘Now, now, we’ll have none of that, dear. Me husband ain’t got all day. So the sooner we get this dealt with the better for all of us.’

Rose looked wildly at the bearded man looming over her. A strong odour of whisky wafted over her face and she retched. Hitting out blindly at the hands prising her legs apart, she tried to sit up again. ‘Bleeding hell! What you playing at, girl?’ The woman was breathing heavily as she tried to stop Rose from clamping her legs together. ‘If you’d kept your legs shut in the first place, you wouldn’t be here now. Look, the doctor’s gonna give you something to make you sleep. When you wake up it’ll all be over. Come on, girl, breathe deeply, that’s it…’

Rose felt a damp cloth being pressed over her nose and mouth, and her struggles became fainter. A great darkness descended and behind her eyelids tiny red spots danced erratically. Yet the chloroform didn’t work quickly enough. Rose went into shock as a razor-sharp pain ripped through her body, tearing her insides apart, and she felt a sudden rush of warmth between her legs. Then the bird-like woman started screaming – the shrill sounds of panic becoming fainter and fainter until they faded away completely.


‘You expecting someone, Rita? Only that’s the fourth time you’ve looked at the clock in the last five minutes.’

The dark-haired barmaid jumped guiltily as her companion, a livid dark bruise already forming down the left side of her face, eyed her quizzically. ‘No, no, I ain’t expecting anyone.’

Sally remained unconvinced. Sidling up to her workmate she nudged Rita and winked. ‘Go on, tell us. Who’s the lucky feller, then? Is it someone you’ve met in here?’

Rita turned away irritably. ‘I ain’t waiting for anybody, Sal. I was just seeing what time it was, that’s all.’

Sally shrugged. ‘Please yourself, Reet, It ain’t no skin off my nose – oy, watch what you’re doing, mate. You nearly had me fingers off then. What’s up with you tonight?’

Sally pulled her hand away quickly from the cash drawer and looked at her friend in annoyance. ‘I’ll be glad to get home tonight. First I get clobbered for trying to help out Rose, an’ now you try and chop me bleeding hand off.’

‘I said sorry, didn’t I? Don’t go on at me, Sal. I ain’t in the mood for your larking about tonight.’

A frown knotted Sally’s forehead. In all the years she’d worked with Rita, she’d never known her friend to be offhand or touchy. She was normally a laugh a minute, was Rita. Shoving a pint of beer across the counter to a waiting customer, Sally moved to where Henry Dixon was chatting to some of his regulars. ‘’Ere, d’yer know what’s up with Rita, Henry? She’s been like a cat on hot bricks since she came in.’

Dixon broke off his conversation to glare at his senior barmaid. ‘How the bleeding hell should I know what’s wrong with her? Why don’t you ask if you’re so worried? It ain’t – Aw, shit! What the bleeding hell’s she done now?’ he roared as the sound of breaking glass rang out for the second time that day.

Quickly Sally diverted her governor’s attention. ‘It’s all right, Henry. I’ll see to it. You carry on having a natter.’

She moved swiftly to where Rita was crouching on the floor over a smashed glass and hissed, ‘Look, Reet, are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or not? I might be able to help if you’ll let me know what’s up.’

Rita’s eyes were shimmering. ‘It’s Rosie, Sal. I should never have let her go on her own but she said she wanted it that way. Oh, Sal… if anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive meself.’

Sally’s eyes narrowed as a glimmer of suspicion sprang to her mind. She grabbed Rita’s arm and said roughly, ‘What you talking about, Reet? Where’s Rose gone? An’ what’s it got to do with you?’

When Rita didn’t reply, Sally let out a loud exclamation of fury. ‘She’s gone to get rid of the baby, ain’t she? The stupid little bitch. And you helped her, didn’t you? Well, didn’t you?

A small group of men were clamouring for service, and without stopping her tirade Sally deftly pulled the pints, slopping the contents over the counter, and took the money from outstretched hands.

Beside her, Rita moaned softly and moved over to the doorway behind the bar. ‘Don’t you go at me, Sal. I was only trying to help the poor little cow. I did me best to talk her out of it, but she wasn’t having any of it. If I hadn’t found her someone, she might have ended up with some old witch and a pair of knitting needles.’

‘Yeah, yeah, all right, Reet.’ Sally stood still for a minute, lost in thought, then asked, ‘Where’s she gone, then?’

Rita looked round to make sure no one was listening, then whispered, ‘Old Dr Lewis, you know. The one in Graham Road, opposite the Hackney Infirmary.’

Sally let out a mirthless laugh. ‘That’s a bit of luck then, ain’t it? If anything goes wrong, she won’t have far to crawl for help.’

Sally’s thoughts raced as she deliberated whether or not to ignore the piece of news that Rita had dropped in her lap. Ten minutes passed, then, uttering an angry oath directed at herself, Sally marched up to Dixon and declared, ‘I’m off, Henry. Something important’s come up. You can dock me wages later.’

Dixon choked on his drink and spluttered, ‘Oh, no you don’t, madam. I’ve had enough of you women pissing me about for one day. Now, get yourself back serving or don’t bother coming back at all.’

Sally laughed harshly. ‘All right, Henry. You know you can’t replace me. Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.’

As she pulled up the bar flap to leave, Rita caught at her dress, demanding, ‘Why are you so bothered about what happens to Rose all of a sudden? You can’t stand the sight of her, so why should you care if she’s in trouble?’

Sally shook her off. ‘I don’t! But if anything happens to her, who d’yer think Frankie’s gonna blame? Eh?’

As Rita blanched, Sally added, ‘Anyway, she’s only a kid. Look, I’ll come back later and tell you what happened.’ Then she was gone, leaving Rita to fret alone.