‘Rosie?’ Zachariah’s voice brought her eyes to meet his. ‘If she’s gone with Charlie’s bunch an’ she don’t want to be found then likely as not she won’t be.’
Rosie stared at him with great dark eyes as she thought, But she’s been so sweet the last couple of years, we’ve got on better than we ever did. There had been none of the tantrums and harsh words that had characterized Molly’s early years. Had she been planning this all the time? No. No, she couldn’t think that, she just couldn’t.
‘Rosie?’ Zachariah had moved to sit at her side. ‘Now listen to me, lass, you’ve nothin’ to reproach yourself for, you hear me?’
She shook her head, her distress overwhelming her for a moment and causing her to push at his hands as he went to take hers, and it was in that moment, with her senses heightened to near breaking point, and Zachariah’s guard temporarily down, that Rosie saw the look on his face and a veil was lifted from her understanding. It stunned her. For one moment it actually stunned her and she lay back limply on the sofa as he continued to talk to cover what had become an embarrassing rebuff as far as he was concerned.
Why hadn’t she realized before? She should have. She had got so used to him cracking a joke to cover up any awkwardness about his small stature that she had ceased to look behind the words, and besides, she simply didn’t think about the fact that he was a bit short any more. She hadn’t for years. But he thought of it, of course he thought of it. And she’d called her mam stupid . . . The revelation had brought a quietness, and now she knew exactly what to say.
‘You’re probably right, Zachariah, and I know she’ll be sixteen soon, she’s not a little bairn any more.’ She reached for his hands then and held them as she said, ‘But I’d still like to try and find out exactly where she is, if that’s all right with you.’
‘Me?’ His eyes had narrowed slightly at the tone of her voice which was soft and low, and in marked contrast to the flat painfulness of moments before. ‘Of course, lass. It goes without sayin’.’
Too much had gone without saying. Rosie took a deep breath and now her voice was softer still as she said, ‘You’ve always been here when I needed you, haven’t you, Zachariah, through the good times and the bad.’
Dear God, dear God . . . It wasn’t blasphemy; Zachariah was calling for a strength outside himself as he forced a quick smile and drew his hands from hers before rising and walking over to the fire. She had no idea what she did to him and it was her very innocence that made her cruel. He steeled himself and turned to face her, his voice robust as he said, ‘Lass, you’ll get through this, don’t you worry. There’s a strength in you that fair amazes me at times.’
She looked straight at him now, and after a moment she said quietly, ‘I was worried about you, going down to that quarter by yourself tonight with that man, Charlie Cullen, knowing who you are.’
‘What?’ He blinked, and then grinned as he said, ‘Oh aye, Charlie knows me right enough, but there’s good an’ bad at all levels, lass, an’ I’ve a few pals down there an’ all. An’ I can hold me own in a spot of bother. They always say the little ’uns are the worst, don’t they, an’ if nothin’ else I’ve proved that.’
‘Don’t.’
‘Don’t?’
She continued looking at him steadily as she said, ‘Don’t talk about yourself like that, about your height, as though you’ve always got to make a joke of it. You are more of a man than anyone else I know.’
She saw his eyes open very wide, his face naked and vulnerable, before he breathed out slowly through his nose, his eyes narrowing as he said, ‘Thank you, lass. It’s nice of you to say it although I doubt it’s true. But thanks anyway,’ before he turned from her.
‘Do I appear young to you?’ asked Rosie quietly.
A blank pause and then, ‘Young, lass? No, you don’t appear young, not silly young anyway, even though I’m near old enough to be your da.’ He turned back to face her then but Rosie could see it was an effort.
He was smiling, but although he wasn’t touching her, and there was no visible proof of it, she could sense he was trembling. She stared at him long and hard, then she said, ‘You’re doing it again, aren’t you?’
‘Doin’ what?’
‘Trying to put an obstacle between us.’
‘Tryin’ to . . .’ His face was unsmiling now, and she watched him take a deep breath and then release it very slowly before he said, ‘Rosie, lass, you’re nineteen an’ you don’t appear young to me, all right? But you’re tired an’ it’s bin a day an’ a half. Go on up an’ get your head down.’
‘No.’ It was now or never, she’d never find the courage to do this again, but if she didn’t say it he never would, feeling as he did. ‘No, I won’t go.’ She watched his eyes narrow still more until they became slits of blue light and she knew he was wondering what was afoot as she rose slowly to face him. When she spoke her voice was low and rapid. ‘I love you, Zachariah.’ There was a small inarticulate sound from him and then silence as she continued, ‘I’ve loved you for a long time but I know you won’t say anything to me so I’ve got no choice but to say it to you. There, it’s out.’
Zachariah remained standing still, his face blank, and if it hadn’t been for that one tiny echo of what was in her own heart she would have thought she’d got it horribly wrong and his regard for her was only one of friendship.
She took a long shuddering breath. ‘Zachariah?’
And then, as she made a step towards him, he jerked away from her with a violence that spoke of deeply suppressed emotion, and his voice vibrated with the depth of this feeling when he said, ‘Go on upstairs before you say anythin’ else you’ll regret when you’re yourself again.’
‘I am myself!’
He had stepped back from her before throwing his body into the armchair behind him and now he leant forward, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands as he said, ‘This is because I got Molly out of that place afore an’ you was grateful an’ tonight has raked it all up again. Whatever you say you’re not thinkin’ straight. How - how long have you known how I feel about you?’ He didn’t look at her as he spoke.
‘I didn’t know until tonight.’
Zachariah swore, just once but the sound was ugly, and then he said, ‘Human sacrifices went out with the dark ages, lass. Now get yourself away an’ we’ll forget this ever happened.’
Forget it ever happened? Rosie didn’t know if she wanted to hit him or kiss him but such was the feeling flooding her chest that she didn’t trust herself to speak, and so she fell down on her knees by the side of his chair and leant her chin on the padded armrest as she reached out and held on to his arm.
‘Rosie.’ His voice was dragged up from the depths of him. ‘You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me, lass.’
Yes she did, she wasn’t a bairn any longer and working with Sally had been an eye-opener in more ways than one. She knew what marriage entailed, the close proximity of the body and the linking of the flesh, as well as the joining together of two minds. She stared at his averted face, wondering how she could say it without appearing any more forward than she had already.
He wasn’t making this easy. The annoyance that came with the thought enabled her to open her mouth and say quite sharply, ‘You don’t know what you’re doing to me, either, it works both ways you know. I should never have had to speak first, my mam would be horrified if she knew.’
He did look at her then and there was surprise etched on his face. Before he could glance away she said quickly, ‘I do love you and I think it’s insulting you don’t believe me. And it’s nothing to do with Molly or anyone else, I’m not a child and I know how I feel. I love everything about you: your intelligence, your kindness, your generosity. And you’re handsome, you know you are, you must look in the mirror sometimes. And your smell, I love your smell; it’s clean and fragrant, not like some of the men who come in the shop and make me want to fumigate the place afterwards.’
None of it
had come out as she’d wanted it to, but he remained looking at her for a good few seconds before he said, ‘An’ these? What about these?’ as he gestured at his legs. ‘Do you love these an’ all, ’cos bein’ married means more than sittin’ readin’ an’ learnin’ together in the evenings you know. Have you considered what bein’ wed to me would mean?’
She wanted to fling her arms round his neck and kiss the hurt of thirty-three years away, so poignant was the feeling that gripped her, but she knew he would misconstrue it as pity. That could come later. And so now she waited a moment before she said, her voice very level, ‘If you didn’t have any legs at all it wouldn’t make any difference to me, and there are plenty of lads that came back from the war in just that condition. You’re a darn sight better off than them, now then.’
His head jerked, his neck stretched slightly, and then he said, ‘Lass, you don’t really know me. You think you do but you don’t. There’s things about me mam an’ da--’
‘If you mean about them not being married, I’ve known they probably weren’t for a long time, but that’s nothing to do with knowing you as a person and I do know you. As for your mam and da, I’m sure they had their reasons but that was then and them, and this is now and us. I don’t care that they weren’t married, Zachariah. I don’t care about anything but you.’
There was a long screaming silence before he said, his voice shaky with the fierce emotion that was threatening to burst out of every pore, ‘Rosie, are you sure? Now think on, lass, because I couldn’t stand . . . If you need time to think about what you’ve said . . .’
Now she allowed a smile to touch her lips for the first time and in answer she reached up and put her mouth on his. It caused such a swell of desire in Zachariah that he had to check himself from pulling her to him and ravishing her mouth, but his trembling must have been apparent because her voice was soft with understanding when she said, ‘Zachariah. Oh, Zachariah.’
And now he did pull her up and onto his lap, his strength formidable, and as his mouth became fierce Rosie knew a brief moment of panic as Shane’s clumsy assault flashed through her mind, and then she relaxed with a little sigh, her lips opening beneath his as she thought, This is Zachariah, Zachariah, and she loved him.
Chapter Twelve
Rosie married Zachariah on Saturday, 25th July, on the same day when violence erupted at a Miners’ Gala from a crowd angry at the mine owners’ demands for longer working hours and lower wages, and Davey Connor boarded the good ship HMS Admiral II bound for England’s green, familiar shores without a backward glance at his adopted country of the last five years and with excitement filling his heart as the ship sailed. The wide expanse of blue-green, froth-crested waves, the endlessly clear sky above and the smiles and elation of the other passengers all seemed to offer a promise, the precise nature of which he wasn’t sure of but which he felt he would understand once he looked into Rosie’s face. And so he stood at the bowrail of the massive passenger ship with his hands gripping the smooth steel and his heart beating with the force of a sledgehammer.
Now he was underway, now he had actually made the break and committed himself to going back, he couldn’t believe he had waited five years to see her - and home - again. And yet Rosie had always been with him somewhere deep inside, in the secret recesses of his heart, along with the desire to hear his native tongue and walk familiar northern streets again. He had known he would find her one day, even as he’d fought against the knowledge. And why had he fought it? he asked himself. For a whole host of reasons, but the main one - the one that superseded any other - was the realization he had made the biggest mistake of his life when he had left England. And he would stop at nothing to put things right.
He had not questioned what ‘putting things right’ would entail, not yet; it was enough for now that he was going home. The fact that he only had two sets of clothes to his name and a few pounds in his pocket after he had paid his second-class fare could be dealt with. Anything could be dealt with - once he had seen Rosie. It was all that mattered.
It had been a happy wedding day.
The marriage had taken place at St Barnaby’s, mainly to please Jessie, who was a lapsed Catholic, but a Catholic nevertheless, and although the service had been a quiet one without the paraphernalia of bridesmaids and such, Rosie had looked lovely. She had been adamant that she wanted to marry Zachariah quickly and without any fuss, and for his part he would have marched down the aisle the day after they had declared their feelings for each other if it could have been arranged.
Rosie had taken Zachariah’s breath away as he had turned from his position at the front of the church at the side of Tommy Bailey to see her walking towards him on the arm of Joseph Green - Rosie’s employer having become a dear friend over the years. The simple white dress in a soft light fabric had just skimmed the top of her ankle-strap shoes, and the lacy little white cap on her shining dark hair and small posy of pink rosebuds had completed the picture of ethereal innocence. Rosie had made the dress herself, a wealth of dreams in every stitch, and as she reached Zachariah’s side and the two of them looked at each other, no one present could have doubted it was a love match. Not that Rosie’s family and friends had questioned it, after the initial surprise. Rosie’s glowing face and Zachariah’s immense pride as they had broken the news had convinced everyone that this marriage was going to be a blessing to them both.
Flora and Sally, who was Mrs McDoughty now, had arrived at Benton Street first thing, Sally insisting Rosie borrow her pearl necklace to fulfil the old rhyme Something old, something new, Something borrowed, something blue, and Flora with a small bottle of Chanel No. 5, a newly launched perfume by French fashion queen Gabrielle ‘Coco’ Chanel, and tiny seed-pearl earrings which had been her grandmother’s for the something old and something new. Rosie had promised they could leave the blue part to her, and when she had tweaked up her dress to reveal a saucy blue garter complete with tiny velvet rosebuds, which she had made, the three girls had shrieked with laughter. And Flora and Sally had kept the morning full of fun and hilarity in the time before the wedding car - which Zachariah had ordered for Rosie, her mother and Hannah, and her two friends, he himself having spent the night at Tommy Bailey’s - had drawn up outside, knowing that Rosie would be conscious of the missing face on this special day.
In the four months since Molly’s departure all Zachariah’s investigations had proved fruitless, and although the matter had been reported to the local constabulary the police had displayed a marked lack of urgency once the full details had come to light.
There were times when the thought of her sister wrung Rosie’s heart, and others when she was filled with rage against Charlie Cullen, Ronnie Tiller and all such men. Strangely she never felt angry with Molly, something she had fully expected to do once the shock of her disappearance had worn off, but as the weeks and months had gone by she had become reconciled to the fact that Molly was gone. Her sister had chosen to step out of their lives with a ruthless decisiveness that suggested she had no intention of ever stepping back in, and unless Molly had a change of heart, or a miracle occurred, she would continue to be lost to them.
But if she had lost her sister then she had found her mother. When Rosie reviewed the happenings of the past four months it was with a deep sense of gratitude for the good which had emerged from all the turmoil. She had expected Molly’s going to be the final push in her mother’s downward spiral, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. From that very night, when she had sped upstairs fresh from Zachariah’s arms to find her mother still awake and the two of them had cried and talked the night away, Jessie had changed. The drinking had stopped, she had started taking an interest in Hannah and their home, and when Rosie had asked Joseph Green to give her away, and the upright and sprightly fifty-year-old had visited the house to meet Zachariah and the family, Jessie had actually gone and got her hair done for the first time in five years. Rosie felt all this augured well for the future, although occasionally she felt
an aching sadness that the transformation couldn’t have taken place earlier, before Molly had gone.
But now it was the evening of her wedding day, and the only thoughts running through Rosie’s head were ones of apprehension mixed with curiosity and nervous anticipation about the night ahead. She knew the mechanics of what went on once you were married; Sally had jumped the gun with Mick months before she officially became Mrs McDoughty and hadn’t been in the least bit reticent about what the two of them had got up to. ‘You grin an’ bear it the first time, lass, no pun intended,’ Sally had giggled when Rosie had confided she was in the grip of wedding-night nerves earlier that morning. And then, when Rosie’s puzzled smile had revealed she didn’t understand, Sally had nudged her in the ribs as she’d chortled, ‘You know, lass - bare it,’ with a ridiculous leer. ‘It gets better the more you practise an’ I dare bet your Zac knows what’s what. For all Mick’s workin’ with his flippin’ horses he was as green as grass the first time we did it in his mam’s scullery when they’d all gone to bed. Do you remember? You asked me why I was walkin’ funny the next mornin’, but what with havin’ me backside jammed up agen their sink an’ Mick thinkin’ he was ridin’ the winner in the Derby, it was a wonder I come in to work at all.’ Rosie and Flora had been helpless with laughter as the other girl had elaborated further, but now Rosie didn’t feel like smiling.
‘Penny for ’em?’
Rosie jumped, she couldn’t help it, but as she turned her head and saw Zachariah’s engaging grin she relaxed a little. He had just walked through from the sitting room of their hotel suite to where she was standing looking out at Hartlepool’s sea front from their bedroom window. The hotel was a grand affair and the imposing establishment had rendered Rosie speechless when they had first arrived earlier that evening. There had been bellboys to carry their valises and cases through to their ground-floor suite and when, after a quick freshen-up, they had gone straight through to dinner in the formal dining room, the elegance of the other women’s clothes and the general air of refined prosperity had filled Rosie with awe. Zachariah, on the other hand, had seemed singularly unimpressed.
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