Heart of the Cross

by Emily Madden

  ‘Rosie? What is it?’

  She held up a finger to silence Mary. ‘Give me a few minutes, I have an idea. I just want to see if I can make it work …’

  The minutes ticked by as she concentrated.

  ‘Aha!’ Rosie finally said, lifting her head and grinning like she held the Holy Grail. ‘I’m a genius, I’ve got it!’ She sat back down next to Mary. ‘Now, before I tell you what this business proposition is, let me take you through the sums …’

  For the next few minutes, Rosie outlined a plan that would, over a period of fourteen weeks, essentially wipe out the total debt. Not only her debt but Mary’s too. What she had planned couldn’t be done alone, she needed Mary, and Mary needed her.

  ‘Now, I know this doesn’t fix it in a month, but what if we could show Mr Norris this amount,’ Rosie tapped the pencil to the figure she had written next to week two, ‘and promised him the same, if not more every week and so on—’

  ‘Until the debt has been paid.’ Mary’s eyes widened with amazement.

  ‘If we could give Mr Norris some of his money, and it’s a big chunk, before the time he’s asked for it, I reckon we could convince him to give us fourteen weeks.’

  ‘It’s brilliant, Rosie. But how are we going to do it? I only have one skill really, and without running the parlour I don’t think …’ Mary stopped short when she spied the look on Rosie’s face. She glanced at the figures then back to Rosie again.

  ‘Rosie … are you saying that …?’

  She nodded. ‘We open Dulcie’s house for trading again, in my apartment this time, and I know that you’re probably not ready—’

  ‘No, it’s fine,’ Mary insisted. ‘Dulcie wouldn’t have wanted me to wallow and she would have loved the idea of you being the new madam. She thought very highly of you, Rosie, and she loved Jimmy.’

  Rosie sighed as her gaze drifted up the hall where Jimmy was playing. ‘My concern is how all of this will affect Jimmy.’

  If her calculations were on the money, it would definitely eliminate what she owed George Norris. But there was no way she would expose Jimmy to that sort of shenanigans. She knew that life in the Cross was more liberal, more progressive than elsewhere, but she also knew that with sex came drugs and violence. She was trying to protect him, not throw him back in it. It was one thing to live next door to a brothel—it was another to be raised in one.

  ‘I’ve got it!’ Mary bounded with excitement in her chair. ‘Move in to the flat above Jack’s diner. That way, Jimmy isn’t here, which I agree isn’t ideal.’

  ‘Move in with Jack?’ she spluttered.

  Mary shrugged. ‘What’s wrong with that? You two are together anyway, and Jimmy adores him.’

  ‘Yes, Jimmy adores him, but …’ Rosie squirmed in her seat and Mary widened her eyes.

  ‘Saints alive!’ she gasped. ‘You haven’t done the deed with him yet, have you?’

  Rosie’s face felt like it was up in flames and she trained her gaze to her cup of tea. ‘It’s only been a couple of weeks, Mary.’

  ‘But you’ve been in love with each other for months!’

  ‘We agreed to take it slow. Besides, we haven’t even been on a proper date and now I’m expected to ask him to live together! How is that going to look?’

  ‘Rosie, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but in Kings Cross, no one cares about that sort of thing. So what do you say, Madam Rosie?’

  Rosie sipped her tea, mulling over the possibility. Could she do this? ‘Assuming Jack said yes, we would need to hire some more girls. Could you help with that?’

  ‘Yes. And I know a few possible girls. Dulcie had a rep of being good to work for, and I think once the girls meet you, they’ll want to work for you.’

  ‘What about the vice? How would we get around them?’ She knew that Jack had connections, but she was determined to do as much of this without his help. Living with him was more than she had planned at this stage.

  ‘You leave that up to me. I know a few who wouldn’t mind an extra quid or two.’

  ‘Even so,’ Rosie said, ‘we still don’t know if we can get George Norris to agree to our terms.’

  ‘George Norris is a businessman. He is also a gambling man. I reckon if we can get this proposal in front of him, we’ve got a pretty decent chance.’

  * * *

  Two days later, mostly thanks in part to Jack’s sweet-talking, Rosie sat down with George Norris at her kitchen table and presented her proposal.

  She explained the calculations and answered questions about logistics and so forth. Throughout the presentation, Norris was pokerfaced and Rosie swore he hated the idea. But once she was done, he leaned back, linked his hands behind his head and grinned like a madman. It was clear that he adopted the same practices in business as he did in gambling, and it was no wonder Tom had become so indebted to him.

  ‘Brilliant.’

  Next to her, Mary gave a nervous laugh, and Rosie’s chest ached as she expelled a breath she had been holding for what seemed like forever. ‘Really? I’m glad you like the idea, Mr Norris.’

  ‘Like? I love the idea.’

  She exchanged a look of relief with Mary, who raised her brows as if to say, I told you so.

  ‘But I do have some amendments to the terms of payment. There are only three little things really.’

  The smile on Rosie’s face froze as the hope within her was dashed. ‘And what would they be?’ She hoped her voice did not betray just how petrified she felt right now. She gripped the pencil in her hand so tightly that she swore it would break in half.

  ‘Firstly,’ he held up his forefinger, ‘I want payment weekly.’

  ‘I think we can manage that.’ Rosie nodded as her heart galloped like a racehorse in her chest.

  ‘Secondly, during this pay-off period, if you earn more than you’ve indicated for the week—I want that, too, but that’s not to say I’ll deduct it from the overall amount owed. Let’s call it insurance money, you know, in case the vice come looking for me—you lot are responsible for keeping the vice quiet on your end.’

  Although she kept smiling and nodding, Rosie could feel her hope slowly evaporating. Give him more than what they said they would earn? Surely there was a way of making enough to cover the payment without making too much and having Norris skin them.

  ‘And the last amendment?’ She was almost too afraid to ask.

  ‘Lastly,’ he held up the third finger, ‘when you’ve cleared the debt, I’m increasing the rent by fifty per cent. That should cover my cut.’

  ‘I think we can—’

  ‘Oh and you have ten weeks, not fourteen,’ he added shamelessly.

  ‘But that’s four things,’ she said with as much calm as she could muster.

  ‘But you’ve proven to be a formidable businesswoman, Mrs Fuller—sorry, Ms Hart. Where would the fun be if I didn’t make it interesting?’ George Norris smiled dastardly. He enjoyed making it hard for them, and Rosie could foresee he would keep moving the goalposts if she didn’t lay down some rules of her own.

  She glanced at Mary, who gave her a small nod. ‘Very well, Mr Norris, we will accept your amendments.’

  A triumphant grin spread across his face and he went to proffer a hand to seal the deal, but Rosie had an amendment to add.

  ‘Before we conclude this meeting, I want you to promise one thing.’

  His hand paused midway across the table, his eyes narrowed. ‘You have a request?’

  ‘I want your word that you will abide by the terms agreed to today. If we are to bend and break ourselves to meet the weekly deadline for payment, I don’t want you to throw in new hoops for us to jump through.’

  Norris seemed impressed with her gall, and after a brief period of consideration he nodded, extending his hand fully. ‘I accept your request,’ he said as he shook each of their hands. ‘And I will do one better than my word and have my solicitor draw up a contract. And just to prove I’m not trying to pull the wool over your eyes, you ca
n have Jack Reid’s man look it over. I know he, uh, thinks highly of you.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Norris.’

  ‘You know, if Tom had half the smarts that you do, you wouldn’t be in this mess.’

  ‘I’m fully aware of that. But it is what it is.’

  He shook his head. ‘You’re one tough cookie, Rosie Hart. As strong as steel.’

  ‘No, Mr Norris, I’m as strong as a feather.’

  Sixteen

  Rosie

  George Norris was true to his word when he said he would draw up a fair contract, but still, Rosie had got Jack to oversee that there weren’t any nasty clauses he could suddenly invoke.

  With very little time, Mary had managed to round up a few girls willing to leave their jobs and work for them. Apparently, the lure of working for a woman was enough, even if Rosie didn’t have a reputation for them to judge her by. But one thing she did have were friends with contacts, and by the time their third night rolled around, the girls were being put through their paces.

  ‘Build it, and they will come,’ Mary said as they closed trade on the last day of their first week.

  Rosie pulled out a bottle of brandy for them to toast the end of their first week. The other girls had not long departed, armed with their first pays that Rosie had allocated.

  ‘You’re breaking out the fancy liquor—are we celebrating a boom first week?’ Mary asked as Rosie poured them both a generous measure.

  ‘Not quite,’ she sighed and slid into a seat across from her. She rubbed the heel of her hand against her eye, wondering why she was tired. She hadn’t been the one working her pudendum off. ‘We’re short.’

  ‘Don’t worry, a Maltese fella I had tonight promised to bring all his friends next week. At least that’s what I think he said.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, I’ll think of something to say to Norris tomorrow.’

  Mary regarded her for a moment before reaching for the pile of money to her right—her pay—and placing it in front of Rosie.

  ‘Oh, Mary, I—’

  ‘Don’t you dare tell me you can’t,’ Mary chided. ‘You can. I insist. Just think of it as my board.’ She shrugged as if it was no big deal.

  ‘Mary,’ Rosie scoffed, eyeing the wad of bills. ‘This is close to a whole month’s worth of board.’

  ‘The way I see it, you’re not charging me to stay here. When we start making money, then you can pay me, deal?’ Mary held up her glass and Rosie chinked it.

  ‘Deal.’ She had barely consumed half her glass when there was a knock on the door.

  ‘We’re closed!’ Mary bellowed. ‘Come back tomorrow.’

  ‘Open up, it’s me.’ Floss’s voice travelled down the hall.

  ‘I’ll let her in and then I’ll get going.’ Rosie placed the money into her dillybag and then smiled at Mary. ‘I’ll make the first payment tomorrow.’

  Floss was still in costume, coming home from a night at her new job, a club that had just opened up called Les Girls.

  ‘Darl, I hope you’ve got grog and good grog, too, because I worked my arse off tonight and could use a tipple or three.’

  ‘There’s brandy in the kitchen.’ She motioned with her head. ‘I’ve got to get home to my boy.’

  ‘I hope he’s waiting up for you.’

  ‘I meant Jimmy.’

  ‘Darl, we both know that’s not the only boy you’re thinking about.’ Floss winked and gave her an affectionate whack on the backside.

  Rosie laughed as she walked out into the dark night. Spring had well and truly arrived, but the nights were still nippy. It was only a short walk to the diner, a walk she’d done every night in the past week, but tonight as she crossed the road and spied the barely there new moon through the branches of the plane trees, she heard footsteps behind her. Or she thought she did. When she turned around, there was nothing but the amber glow of the streetlight and the sound of alley cats out for their nightly prowl. Shivering into her coat, she clutched her dillybag closer and hurried her pace till she reached the door that led to the flat upstairs, where Jack sat reading on the couch.

  ‘Rosie.’ He greeted her with a smile that disappeared when he saw her face. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, placing the book face down and resting his glasses on top.

  Rosie struggled to remove her coat, realising the task was being hampered by the dillybag she had swung across her body. ‘Nothing, I just got a little spooked out on the walk home.’

  ‘How so?’ He closed the gap between them and ran his hands up and down her arms.

  ‘It’s silly really. I heard footsteps and I thought I was being followed, but when I turned around, I realised it was just some alley cats.’

  His hands suddenly stilled and a look she could not quite read flashed across his face. Guilt mixed with annoyance, perhaps? ‘I’m sorry, Rosie.’

  ‘For what?’

  Jack sighed heavily. ‘I don’t trust Norris. I know the kind of guy he is—sly and self-serving—and even though you had that agreement put in writing, I wouldn’t put it past him to have one of his thugs jump you on your way home.’

  Rosie froze. ‘You think he had one of his men out there?’

  ‘No. That was Bert.’

  ‘Bert? From the diner?’

  Jack nodded sheepishly. ‘He was supposed to be discreet.’

  ‘You had someone shadow me home?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Rosie. I know you wanted to do this on your own, without my interference,’ he took her hands in his and held them tight, ‘but I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to you. I hope you can forgive my overbearingness.’ He looked so guilt-ridden that even if she was annoyed with him, it couldn’t last more than a second.

  ‘Shhh.’ Standing on tiptoes, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. ‘Please don’t apologise. If anyone should be saying sorry, it’s me. I asked you to go slow, and then I’ve thrust Jimmy and myself in your home. It’s not your average dating situation.’

  ‘Hey, there’s nothing remotely average about you.’ He returned her kiss, but this time it was long and slow and it made Rosie tingle from head to toe. He tasted of coffee and cigars, an intoxicating combination. He pulled her close, cradling the back of her head with his hands. She skimmed the sides of his torso, all lean and strong. Her hands travelled languidly up his back, then down again. When he deepened the kiss, she pressed her body flat against his and he moaned, a deep masculine sound that reverberated against her mouth.

  When the kiss ended, she felt punch-drunk. Her lips tingled, and her body felt liquefied, like she could dissolve right into him.

  ‘I know the bed in Jimmy’s room is pretty tiny and you’re exhausted from a long day. How ’bout you take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch?’

  He was being a gentleman, respecting the boundaries and the pace she had requested, but right now, the last thing she wanted was to sleep in Jack’s huge bed on her own. Biting her lower lip, she sent him a heavy-lidded look and took him by the hand.

  ‘Rosie, are you sure you’re ready for this?’ It didn’t take long for him to read her intentions.

  Wordlessly, she nodded. She was more than sure, she had never been so certain of anything in her entire life. Jack respected her, adored her and she loved him with her whole heart. He was tender, attentive, giving—all the things she knew love could be but somehow had convinced herself otherwise with Tom.

  As he slowly explored every inch of her body, taking the time to both pleasure and tantalise her, Rosie knew what it meant to find your soul mate, that one person put on earth who fits us so well. Jack was her soul mate, and in the heat of their passion when he cried out her name, Rosie knew there would never be another, ever again. It was Jack and only Jack. As she drifted off to sleep, her mind was full of future and hope—Jimmy, Jack and the family they would build together.

  A sudden cold breeze flittered through the open window, prickling her skin, rudely rousing her from her slumber. Somewhere outside in the predawn sky, a kookabur
ra’s laugh echoed in the deserted street, as if mocking her smugness. Untangling herself from Jack’s liquid limbs, she padded across the room and shut the window tight, but even when she enveloped herself in the warmth of his body, she shivered, not quite able to shake the feeling that her bubble would one day burst and her world would come tumbling down.

  Maybe not tomorrow, or the next day, but one day … and she knew it would come when she least expected it—like walking into a pole. And for a while, she was vigilant, watched for signs, was careful.

  But with time you drop your guard and you become complacent, almost careless with your happiness. And that is when you’re most vulnerable. Evil loves vulnerability, it thrives on it, draws strength from it.

  Rosie should have known this. From the very start she should have known that evil could never be stamped out, not completely. Because evil was like a cockroach—when everything else turned to dust, it would be still there, lurking in the shadows. Waiting.

  Seventeen

  Brianna

  ‘How can someone be contesting the will?’ Brie asked as she sank into the chair across from Joe’s desk. ‘I mean, the will hasn’t been read yet; is it even legal to contest a will before it’s been read?’

  ‘While it does seem a little unorthodox, if there is a person who knows with absolute certainty that they will not receive adequate provision from an estate, then it’s not surprising that they would contest a will at this point. But of course, the actual legal proceedings cannot commence until the will has been read.’

  What a freaking nightmare.

  ‘So what now? I mean, do we even know who’s contesting the will?’ Brie had to wonder if the secret son was behind all this, though she had yet to find hard evidence; aside from the cards that Sienna had given her the other night, she had nothing to go on. But it could be anyone. Like Brie, her mother had never known her father. Could the person making the claim be Maggie’s father?

  ‘At this stage, all I know is that there’s someone who intends to lodge a Family Provision Claim. Once I read the will, if the party disputing it is deemed eligible, then they can apply to get a copy of it.’