Coming out of the chip shop, Rose hugged the steaming paper parcel to her chest, breathing in the appetising aroma. Lord, she was hungry. She’d been working in the pub since ten o’clock that morning and was now dead on her feet. Thinking of the pub brought to mind what had occurred earlier with Dixon. She began to laugh quietly – the blooming cheek of the man! But what if she’d gone along with his wishes? Good God! She could just imagine her aunt’s reaction to seeing her niece sloping out of the house wearing a blouse or dress with half the top missing. Bad legs or no, Mary Miller would beat the living daylights out of her charge, and when she had finished, she’d go after the man responsible for putting such an idea into her head, even if she had to crawl all the way. The image created such an extraordinary picture in Rose’s mind that she had to smother her laughter, otherwise passers-by would think she was mad. Humming softly she quickened her step, anxious to get home. She couldn’t wait to see her aunt’s face when she told her Frankie was out of prison and asking after her. She’d be over the moon at the news.
Turning the corner into a narrow side-street of small terraced houses, she was three doors from home when a cloaked figure seemed to rise from the shadows out of nowhere. Her cry of fear was quickly replaced by one of anger when she saw who it was. Her chest heaving from fright, she said angrily, ‘Bloody hell, Jack, you nearly scared the living daylights out of me, jumping out on me like that.’
Before her visitor could answer, pounding footsteps crashed on the cobblestones behind them, then a short, stocky man, his fists bunched ready for action, stopped in his tracks when he saw who was with the woman he had been ordered to protect.
Constable Jack Adams, his hands clasped behind his back, looked with disdain at Buchannon’s man and said disparagingly, ‘It’s all right, Perkins. You can report back to Mr Buchannon that Miss Kennedy has reached home safely.’
Perkins, a known thief and bully boy, glared at the tall, uniformed figure, his upper lip curling back in a sneer. ‘Yeah, I’ll do just that, Constable,’ he said cockily. ‘Mr Buchannon’ll be very interested to hear how you was waiting for her – very interested indeed.’ Then, tipping his flat cap in Rose’s direction he added, ‘Good night to you, Miss,’ before he swaggered back the way he had come.
‘Do you have to be so nasty, Jack?’ Rose was pulling her latch-key through the letter-box. ‘The poor man was just looking out for me. There was no need for you to be so rude to him.’
Jack Adams stood back, perplexed and annoyed by Rose’s attitude. ‘If you’d let me meet you and walk you home after you finished work there wouldn’t be any need for anyone else to look out for you. Anybody would think you were ashamed of me, the way you carry on. You don’t even like me coming in for a drink when I’m off duty, and when I do, you act as if you barely know me. Look, Rose…’ He took her arm, then let go as he saw her expression. Lord! She was infuriating at times. In a more conciliatory tone he said, ‘I’m sorry, love. It’s just that, well, I want people to know we’re walking out together. For a start it would stop other lads from giving you any aggravation and—’
‘I can look after myself, Jack. And I’ve told you before. I don’t want everyone at the pub knowing my business.’
Jack’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into the rim of his black helmet. ‘Well, I don’t care who knows, but we’ll forget about that for a minute. Let’s talk about him.’ He jerked his head back down the street, towards where the stocky man had disappeared. ‘And the person who sent him. I’ve told you before how I feel about you mixing with the likes of Buchannon and his sort. He—’
‘Oh, oh, that’s a good one, Jack. And just what sort of people do you think I serve in the Red Lion? Dukes and duchesses? Anyway,’ she faced him, suddenly suspicious, ‘how did you know Frankie was out of prison? He only came out today.’
Immediately on his guard, the uniformed man looked down at his heavy black regulation boots and said hesitantly, ‘Well… Actually, Rose, he came out nearly two weeks ago. He’s been back on this patch since his release.’
Rose stared up at him in disbelief. ‘Two weeks ago! Rubbish! He couldn’t have, he…’ She trailed off. So, Frank had been out all that time and hadn’t bothered to get in touch until now. Well, he must have had his reasons, she thought loyally. Even so, she couldn’t help but be hurt that he hadn’t tried to see her or her aunt sooner.
Swallowing hard she turned away from the sympathetic grey eyes staring down at her. ‘Yes, well… Frank’s a very busy man,’ she said, carelessly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, my aunt’s waiting for her supper.’
‘Rose, please,’ Jack begged, ‘Don’t be like that. I know I should have told you he was out, but… well, I sort of hoped he’d stay away from you. And if you weren’t working in that place, you might not have seen him for months.’
Studying the silent figure, Jack moved nearer, his hands going out to embrace her. They dropped to his sides as she pushed open the door and stepped into a dim hallway. He put one foot over the doorstep and asked hopefully, ‘About the pub, Rose. Have you thought any more about leaving. I mean, with your education, you could…’
Rose tossed her head, her eyes darting down the hall to the open door of the parlour where she knew her aunt would be waiting for her. ‘Could what, Jack? Get a better job? Well, maybe I could, but the pub suits me for now. It’s near home, and I can earn good money with tips, and you know how I’m placed. Aunt Mary hasn’t got anyone else and I have to be nearby in case she needs me. So, unless you can find me a well-paid, respectable job that’s within walking distance of home, keep your nose out of my business.’
Alarmed by Rose’s unusually sharp manner, Jack nevertheless blundered on recklessly. ‘But what about Buchannon? Please, Rose, stay away from him. He’s not the lovable villain you think he is. God, if you knew only half what I know about him, then—’
Rose whirled on him angrily, the mass of copper curls bouncing around her face and shoulders. ‘Now, you listen to me, Jack Adams, Frank Buchannon has been good to me and Aunt Mary. She’s known him all his life. His mother was her best friend, and when she died Aunt Mary took Frankie in until he was old enough to look after himself. He’s never forgotten it. Oh! What am I doing telling you all this? You know damn well how my aunt feels about Frank – and that goes for me too. So don’t come round with your tales because I don’t want to know. Just because you and me have gone out together a few times it doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do or who to see. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll say good night.’
Jack, bemused, found himself staring at a closed door. He swore softly. He waited a few minutes longer, hoping Rose would regret her harsh words and come back, but the door remained shut.
He cast one more hopeful glance at the green-painted door, then with purposeful strides resumed his beat.