They had called in Haydock’s sweet shop from which Hannah had emerged with a bag of ogo pogo eyes and black bullets and a sherbet dib-dab, before continuing to the Palace Theatre for the early evening pantomime where Zachariah was waiting for them.
It had been an exhausting day but fun, and Rosie had found that the hours with Hannah, as she had watched the unbridled childish enthusiasm and experienced the magical anticipation of Christmas again through her sister’s wide eyes, had done her the power of good. But now the world outside had encroached once more, and as the banging came again and Zachariah made a move towards the door, Rosie found herself hanging on to his arm as she said, her voice soft with just the hint of laughter, ‘I don’t suppose we can pretend we’re not in?’
‘Shame on you, lass.’ Zachariah grinned at her before he walked to the door, but as Rosie watched him, her face outwardly calm, a part of her was feeling slightly uneasy about the late caller and she had to warn herself not to let her imagination run riot.
Zachariah thought it was because of her condition, but for some weeks now she had had the feeling that someone was watching the house. It had started when she had drawn the bedroom curtains one night and thought she saw a shadow lurking in the dimly lit street beyond the front garden. She hadn’t thought too much of it at the time; the evening had been a windy one with dark clouds scudding across a full moon and such nights could play tricks on your eyes, but then the same thing had happened a few nights later when it was as still as the grave. Zachariah had gone out armed with his trusty club which had travelled with them to their new home, but returned with nothing to report. On the third occasion, just a week or so ago, she had not mentioned what she thought she’d seen to Zachariah, but the incidents had been enough to put her on her guard.
She hadn’t divulged Shane McLinnie’s presence outside the Co-op in Hendon Road once or twice a week since September to Zachariah either. Shane had bought himself a car, a Morris Cowley, a shining black beauty with two brass headlamps on the front of the bonnet.
On the first occasion when he had been parked and waiting outside the Store she had not realized who it was in the car until some sixth sense had made her turn and look back. The start she’d given had been visible and he had smiled, nodded, and continued sitting impassively. From that day she had ignored him.
Zachariah only opened the door an inch or two at first, and then she heard him say, in tones of deep surprise, ‘Why, man, what is it?’ before he flung the door wide and said, ‘Come away in, man. Come away in.’
Rosie raised her hand to her throat, and then as Davey Connor stepped through the doorway and she met the greeny-brown eyes head on it took every ounce of her willpower to remain standing perfectly still and say, her voice only one of polite enquiry, ‘Hallo, Davey. Is there something wrong?’
‘Aye, yes, I’m afraid there is.’
Davey turned to include Zachariah but then seemed lost for words, and it was Zachariah who said, ‘Come on, man, come through to the sittin’ room, we’ve only just left it an’ the fire’s still burnin’.’
‘I . . . I feel bad disturbing you.’ He was beside himself, they could both see it, and now Rosie felt her concern overriding everything else and she added her voice to her husband’s. ‘Don’t be silly, that doesn’t matter. Come and sit down and I’ll make some tea.’
‘No, no please, don’t worry about tea.’ Now that the flush of dark red colour that had stained his cheekbones when he’d first entered the hall had drained away, Davey looked white, and Zachariah actually took his arm and guided him through the door of the sitting room to the right of the front door, his voice soothing as he said, ‘Sit yourself down afore you fall down, an’ get your breath.’
Once Davey was seated in one of the big armchairs close to the glowing fire Zachariah indicated for Rosie to sit down but remained standing himself as he said, ‘Well? What can we do for you? You don’t look none too good if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.’
‘Oh, I’m all right, it’s not me.’ Davey took a deep breath but his voice was still shaking when he said, ‘It’s Flora, Flora and her mam and . . . her da. There’s been an accident.’
An accident? Flora had been in an accident? The intervening weeks were swept aside as though they had never been and everything in Rosie wanted to fly to Flora’s side. ‘What sort of an accident, Davey?’ she asked urgently. ‘Is she all right? Is Flora all right?’
Davey nodded once as he said, ‘Aye, of a sorts. Her da, he was leatherin’ her and her mam went for him. Did you know Mr Thomas used to knock ’em about?’
‘Flora and her mam?’ Rosie’s shocked face spoke for itself even as she thought, So that’s what it was! All these years, that’s what it had been.
‘No, I thought not. Apparently he’s been hitting them both for years but neither of them said a word to anyone. Anyway, there was a row this evening and Flora was getting the worst of it. She’d managed to get away from him and up to her bedroom and he’d come after her, trying to batter the door down by all accounts. When I got there the neighbours were out in the street and the old lady next door said there’d been all hell going on inside but it’d gone quiet just as I got there. And then in the next minute we heard Flora start screaming . . .’
‘If this had been going on for years did the neighbours know about it?’ Rosie asked shakily.
‘It’s been going on all right but this was the first time anyone had heard owt, according to the police after they’d questioned everyone. I don’t reckon they believed ’em but everyone keeps themselves to themselves in that part of Fulwell.’
‘The police? They got the police involved?’ This was from Zachariah, his voice sharp.
‘Aye. Her, the mother, Mrs Thomas, she’s dead. Broken neck. According to Flora’s da she came at him with the breadknife.’
‘She
what
!’
‘And in the struggle she fell down the stairs, at least that’s what Flora’s da is saying ’cos there’s no witnesses, Flora still being in her bedroom when it was all happening.’
‘Saints alive.’ Zachariah looked at Rosie and she at him, and then they both turned back to face Davey who was still ashen and clearly in shock. And no wonder. Mr Thomas had been hitting them? And now Flora’s mam was dead? And he was actually saying that that little mouse of a woman had attacked him?
‘Flora’s in the infirmary.’ Davey shook his head, drawing the breath hard through his nose before continuing. ‘They thought it best ’cos she went crazy when she saw her mam, screaming and trying to get at him. She kept calling for you, Rosie, all the time she was there, but they wouldn’t have any of it and they sedated her so she didn’t know what she was doing in the end. But once it wears off . . .’
‘I’ll go to her. Of course I’ll go to her.’ Rosie glanced round abstractedly as though she was going to take off that minute and then, as Zachariah’s hands covered her own and he said, ‘Come on, lass, she’ll be all right. Don’t fret,’ she leant fully against him, her head on his shoulder as she murmured, ‘Why didn’t she ever
say
, Zachariah? She should have
said
.’
‘Aye, lass. Look, we’ll go to the infirmary first thing but I can’t see the point of you goin’ now when they’ve given her somethin’ to make her sleep. She’ll be out for the count.’
‘But what if she wakes up and asks for me again?’
‘She won’t.’ Zachariah’s voice was firm. ‘An’ there’s someone else to consider besides you an’ Flora in all this you know.’
Rosie thought for a moment he meant himself and then when he nodded pointedly at her stomach his meaning became clear.
She couldn’t look at Davey, and when his voice came a moment later saying, ‘Do I understand congratulations are in order?’ she still didn’t raise her head as Zachariah answered, ‘Aye, too true, man. It’s due the end of April.’
His voice was so proud it made her want to weep.
‘Then of course she must get a good night’s sleep before she goes in.’
They were talking over her now as though she wasn’t there and normally she would have reacted strongly, but tonight Rosie didn’t mind. All her thoughts were with Flora.
Davey left after a few minutes, again refusing the offer of tea and then Zachariah’s suggestion of something stronger, and Rosie herself did not press him to linger, something that Davey noticed.
He walked briskly down the street away from the house and the lighted doorway with its two occupants, and after raising his hand at the end of the street in farewell he walked on a few more yards before pausing and drawing the icy air deep into his lungs. He had felt sorry for Flora tonight, gut sorry, her screams and her cries had turned him inside out, and if the police hadn’t turned up when they did he would have gone for her father right enough. So why, when he had been in the midst of such a tragedy with such awful consequences, had the news of a future new life affected him so adversely? That wasn’t right, was it?
He shook his head at himself, swearing softly before he started walking again. He should never have come back to Sunderland.
The Sunderland Infirmary had been founded in May 1794, and after moving from Chester Road to Durham Road in 1867 had been extended several times throughout the 1880s and 1890s, but as Rosie and Zachariah approached the vastly imposing building with its grand steepled towers, Rosie was barely conscious of the magnificent hospital. Her heart was aching for the emotionally battered young woman within its benignant confines.
What was she going to say to Flora? How was this monstrous abomination - her da killing her mam,
her mam
- going to affect her friend? And this gulf that had come between them, she had lain awake half the night agonizing over that, along with the fact that you never really knew someone, not deep deep down inside. She had known something was wrong at Flora’s house, but that? Never. And Flora wanting Davey . . . The tram creaked and rattled down the street, past the wall with its railings above and bare-limbed trees beyond which formed the perimeter of the Infirmary grounds. She would never have imagined that in her wildest dreams but it was a fact. She had faced it last night, head on and without any shirking, and in the facing of it she had felt a deep, consuming sadness envelop her. But along with the poignant sense of grief had come the knowledge that she didn’t want to lose Flora. She loved her. You couldn’t do away with nineteen years of friendship just like that.
‘Penny for ’em?’
The tram had rumbled to a halt and now, as Zachariah helped her down off the step and the raw air caused Rosie to take an involuntary gasp, she pulled her hat further over her ears before she said, ‘They aren’t worth a penny, Zachariah.’
‘Now that I doubt, lass.’ But he didn’t press her further, simply taking her arm and tucking it in his as he said, ‘Careful now, we don’t want you visitin’ an’ then stayin’ on as a patient, these pavements are all ice.’
Once inside the antiseptic confines of the Infirmary, Rosie found the sheer size of the place overwhelmed her, and she was glad of Zachariah’s presence as he made the necessary enquiries and they eventually made their way through the endless maze of cold corridors to Flora’s ward.
They had been warned - by the reception staff and also a nurse and then a porter they had stopped to ask directions of - that there was little chance of their being allowed to see Flora outside normal visiting hours, but on reaching the ward and speaking to the sister in charge, the whole situation altered. Yes indeed they could see Miss Thomas, the small, sharp-eyed sister informed them abruptly, her voice clipped and tight. If nothing else it might serve to alleviate the distress Miss Thomas was causing the other patients with her undisciplined behaviour. The sister had had to post a nurse at the side of Miss Thomas the whole time, such was her conduct, and didn’t Miss Thomas realize that that meant other patients were being denied the care they needed?
But perhaps the other patients hadn’t just lost their mother in violent circumstances which had necessitated their father being taken into police custody? Rosie kept her voice calm and even as she spoke, but from the glare the sister gave her the message had gone home and was not appreciated.
‘I’ll wait here, lass.’ As the nurse the sister had designated to lead them to Flora’s side gestured for them to follow her, Zachariah pointed to one of the three straight-backed wooden chairs in the small waiting area outside the ward. ‘It’s you she wants to see.’
For a moment, as the prim-faced nurse gestured towards the far end of the utilitarian ward to the narrow iron bed which had an equally prim-faced nurse sitting on a chair at the side of it, Rosie didn’t recognize the occupant. And then Flora saw her, sitting up and facing her fully as she said, ‘Rosie, oh, Rosie,’ and holding out her arms, and Rosie saw her friend beneath the puffy swollen face and wild tangle of hair.
She was at Flora’s side in an instant, her heart melting with pity, and for long minutes she just sat on the bed holding Flora close as they cried together, and even when Rosie’s face became dry she continued to enfold Flora as a mother might her child and murmur soothing words of comfort into the knotted curls of her hair.