Chapter 3
Southampton, England, 1972
Rosalie
When we arrive at the hospital, there are very few lights on, and a mild panic begins to set in. I’m tired, exhausted, in fact, and have no money, no knowledge of where the hell I am, and no one to turn to. I take in deep breaths to keep my mind focused on the task at hand, which is to look for somewhere hidden, and vaguely out of the brunt of the storm that is still whirling noisily around outside. I preserve the small amount of heat I have by waiting for the very last person to get off the bus, desperately trying to keep myself dry for as long as possible. The lump of my wedding rings digs into my heel where I had stored them for safekeeping. Although I should get a pretty price when I come to sell them, I don’t know where to go for something like that at the moment. So, for tonight, they are about as helpful as the paper bag of basic belongings I have, still attached firmly inside of my hand.
When the old lady with her shopping bags finally steps off into the night, I take in a deep breath and ready myself to thank the driver. I shall then have to face my fate of sleeping in the middle of the storm with only a concrete shelter to cover me. Tom has been fascinating to sit with during our journey here, always chatting and pointing out new places that might be of interest to me. From the greetings he received from all the passengers, he seems to be well-connected and very much liked. Whenever a new person mounted the bus, he always had a personal greeting and a youthful grin for them. To be honest, he’s a bit of a flirt. However, it seemed to only make him that more endearing. I frequently giggled over his ability to make women of any age glow bright red.
“Well, goodbye, Tom, and thank you once again.” I hold out my hand to shake in thanks, but he just looks at it with a pensive brow. His reaction and refusal to take it have me looking at it to see if it is dirty. When I do, I almost curse myself. I forgot that people outside of Mayfield aren’t accustomed to seeing a hand that is covered in burns. It must look repulsive to normal people. Carl had placed his cigar to it when I told him I was too tired to ‘suck him off’ one night. It was not proper for a Mayfield wife to refuse her husband, so he had punished me before taking me so roughly, I had bled for three days after. Even the doctor had cautiously advised him to go easier on me. However, all that did was embarrass Carl, so, once the doctor had left, he slapped me and said never to humiliate him in front of others again.
Blushing over the state of my hand, together with the memory of that night, I quickly draw it back by awkwardly tucking a piece of loose hair behind my ear.
“You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” Tom asks quietly, with all trace of his usual humor and fun, completely absent from his face. “You’re running from something…or someone?”
My energy reserves, the ones that usually have me smiling away the truth of it all, have depleted with the journey over here, so instead, I close my eyes and slowly nod. My resolve to be discreet and inconspicuous seems to have ebbed away with Tom. He reaches out for my hand again, the maimed one, and studies it, softly brushing his fingertips over the scars while shaking his head.
“Sit down, Rosalie, I’ll take you back with me.”
“Oh no!” I shake my head vehemently. I hardly know this man and for all I know, he could be worse than Carl (highly doubtful, but still a possibility). “I couldn’t possibly imposition you-
“Shhh,” he soothes me and smiles again. A smile that melts my fears away and tells me to trust him. “I live with my sister, Sadie. We own a small Bed and Breakfast and only half the rooms are occupied at the moment. Please? For me?”
I open my mouth to argue with him again, but when I look outside at the rain and the wind lashing against the windows, I relent, and decide to put my baby first.
“If it’s not too much trouble, Tom, I would really appreciate that.” He lets out a long breath of what looks like relief just before I lean down to get the rings from out of my shoe. I offer them to him in the palm of my hand, “I can pay you when I sell these.”
“Fuck me!” he gasps, looking at them, and with his accent sounding that little bit stronger than before. I can’t imagine what they’re worth, but I would hazard a guess they would fetch more than what Tom’s house costs. He whistles as he turns them over in my hand, studying the diamonds with sheer awe. “I’d put them back in your shoe, Rosalie. You do not want to be losing those fine things. As for paying me, there’s no need. I just want to see you safe. Come on, let’s get the bus back to the station and I’ll walk you home.”
I nod my thanks, then take my place in the seat which I’ve been resting in. My panic levels finally lower at the same time a flutter inside of my stomach tells me my little one is also relieved.
Tom’s Bed and Breakfast is a large semi-detached house with bay windows, both upstairs and downstairs. Other than that, I wouldn’t be able to describe it any further because the darkness and the weather are making it near on impossible to focus on anything. Tom huddles me in close to his body as we run toward the door. Once inside the small hallway, he helps to take off my rather inadequate coat before removing his own. Now that I look at him, I can see how tall and broad he is. He must be no older than his mid-twenties and is very handsome, but with a cheeky, wholesome feel about him. I can see, that had I the choice, I could have fallen for a man like Tom. Coincidentally, he is the exact opposite in looks to my husband.
Tom catches me looking and grins mischievously before showing me into the kitchen where a younger woman, perhaps a few years older than me, sits with a cup of tea while watching a small TV on the table. It’s a slapstick comedy show, which she is laughing at without any apology for how loud she is.
“Sadie!” Tom beams at her with his arms stretched out wide. The girl with wild brown, curly hair, looks around at him with an annoyed expression written all over her face.
“Thomas, Malcolm, Taylor!” she cries, as she jabs her finger toward him. “Tell your ‘girlfriends’ to stop coming over here during the day when I’m trying to run a business! Three!” she barks, now holding up three of her fingers in front of his face. “Three have been banging on the door, asking for you. Silly whores, all of them! Telling me they must talk to you, urgently. They made me take notes to give to you before they’d leave. I’m convinced the couple staying upstairs think we’re running a brothel on the side!”
Tom chuckles casually as he moves around the kitchen collecting up cups and teabags. Sadie, meanwhile, is now eyeing me with suspicion and without a trace of friendliness about her.
“Tom? Who’s this?”
“Rosalie, let me apologize for my sister’s lack of manners,” he says with that same cheeky grin he had given me on the bus, “it’s only because Ma loved me more than her. She had no spare time to teach her how to behave properly in social situations.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter and hold my hand out to shake, but then remember the scarring and withdraw it again quickly. However, it can’t have been quick enough, given the shocked look on her face when she sees it. “My name is Rosalie, and your brother has very kindly offered me a room for the night.”
“American?” She turns to him with a look of surprise. “Not inyourroom, I take it?”
“Oh, gosh, no!” I laugh at the thought of it, but then wonder if that’s what Tom had meant when he had offered the room to me. “No?” I turn to ask Tom with a wince in case he is expecting some sort of ‘payment’ in exchange for a warm bed. He laughs at both of us, making me feel ridiculous for even asking. In fact, I feel so embarrassed, I silently pray for the floor to open and swallow me whole.
“Nah, she’s too good for me!” he says as he stirs milk into three cups of tea, which all look very inviting with the steam rising from the top of them in soft swirls. “I thought she could go in Ma’s old room?”
“Oh, my goodness,” I fluster, “I couldn’t possibly do that!”
“Why not?” Sadie shrugs. “She’s dead. It’s not like she’ll be needing it.” She then casually returns to her place at the table to watch the show on the TV. “Come sit down, Rosalie,” she says as she pats the chair next to her, “tell me all about America.”
Tentatively, I take the wooden chair next to Tom’s sister and sit in it as quietly as I can. Tom passes me a mug of tea and then takes his own cup with him as he exits the room. Sadie continues to laugh at some comedy short on the television while I take the opportunity to look around the small kitchen that is full to the brim with cutlery, food stuffs, and cups and saucers. It’s all neatly organized, but more than that, it’s warm, inviting, and homely. Nothing like what I’m used to. I could easily settle here and be happy until the end of my days. However, I brush that ridiculous thought aside because this is nothing but a temporary arrangement until I can sell these rings and go into proper hiding.