‘Mm, I may as well come to Leeds with you, I’ve nothing better to do.’ Grinning, he chucked her indignant chin. ‘While you go see your mam and dad I’ll get myself a room – no barns today, eh? An’ then I’ll lay back and wait for you to come to me.’
‘I may decide I don’t want to come,’ she pouted, then raised a laugh at his disgruntlement. ‘Oh but, Tim!’ She snuggled up to him as the cab rolled nearer the station. ‘It’s going to be murder having to come home and pretend everything’s normal.’
‘Rosie,’ he took the point of her chin in his fingers, ‘in your own words we’ve coped with this for four years – a wee while longer isn’t going to destroy everything, is it? An’ the day hasn’t been entirely wasted surely?’
‘Far from it.’ She smiled forgivingly and responded to his kiss. Then, ‘So,’ she sighed, ‘it looks like we’ll be sticking to the old Sunday routine… oh, hell!’ She broke free. ‘I won’t be able to meet you in Leeds next week, Father and Mother are going to visit friends in Nottingham. I doubt you’ll be able to make it right down there even if I got myself invited.’
Tim didn’t view this as an obstacle. ‘Come to Mr Dorgan’s if you can manage to get away. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.’
‘I’m not sure I want to see him – keeping us dangling… he’s quite ruined my day.’
Tim cuddled up to her and slipped a hand inside her jacket. ‘Oh but, Rosie, think what a great old time we’re going to have in unruining it when we get to Leeds.’
* * *
Over the years it had become relatively easy for Rosanna to respond without blushing whenever her grandparents enquired what she had been doing at her mother’s and father’s house and whether she had enjoyed herself. But this homecoming would be rather different – would her frustration over Mr Dorgan’s dictate show through the façade and give the game away?
She need not have worried. During her spell of absence another situation had developed. Belle had reached a decision about her orphans – she would rent a house of her own. It was to Rosie’s advantage that her cousin chose Sunday’s evening meal to air her proposal, thereby diverting the questions from Rosie. The diners were waiting for coffee when Belle spoke of her plan. Everyone – except Erin, whose only reaction was an extra blink – turned to Belle in wonderment. Patrick was first to voice his opinion. ‘’Tis a big step, Belle, and you’re very young. Even if you were a woman I’d not like to think of you living alone.’
‘If by alone you mean without a man to protect me there’s always Lol.’ She saw the doubt and cracked a grin. ‘I see! It’s him you’re really worried about, isn’t it, Gramps? I’ve noticed how his eyes stray – well, don’t worry, he doesn’t think of me in that way.’
Thomasin shared a look of despair with Patrick at the worldliness of their grand-daughter. ‘Even so, Belle, people will talk.’
‘They’ve always had plenty to say where I’m concerned,’ retorted Belle. ‘And I don’t give a hoot what they say about me.’
‘Well, I do,’ said Patrick firmly. ‘Look, if it’s only more room you need we could build an extension.’
‘You could build it right out as far as Malton but I still wouldn’t be able to constrain them to their own side of the house. They’d soon be annoying you all again – yes they do, I know they do,’ she countered Patrick’s disclaimer.
He grasped for a solution. ‘What if Lol stays here, then?’
‘You’re determined I’m not going to be ravished, aren’t you? Anyway, it would be very inconvenient for you, Nan, wouldn’t it? You’ve never exactly welcomed his presence.’
‘I daresay I could put up with him – and if we’re speaking of convenience it would be harder for Lol to get to work if he came with you, Belle. Here he’s got transport to the factory.’
‘Even if Lol agreed to stay here then we’re back to Grandfather’s original worry,’ Belle pointed out. ‘I’d still be in the house without male support.’
‘Ah, dear,’ sighed Patrick. ‘Your Nan and me would be much happier if ye continued to live here until ye married. If we shuffle the kids around I’m sure we could find a few more nooks and crannies to shove ’em in.’
Belle glanced at her mother, whose face was taut. ‘If I were to stay here till I got married then I’d be a very old lady indeed. I can’t ever foresee myself attaining that state.’ Patrick’s mouth twitched and he too looked at Erin. ‘I seem to recall a certain Erin Feeney voicing those same words.’ Erin barely responded, forcing him to turn back to his grand-daughter. ‘Belle, you’re a beautiful girl, ye know…’
‘You misunderstand me,’ she shook her head. ‘It’s not that I don’t think anyone would marry me, but that I prefer to stay single. Dear Gramps, I do love you, but you men are so pompous, regarding a woman on her own as a helpless creature. I’m quite prepared for the hardships that living alone will entail.’
‘Perhaps your mother…’ began Patrick. At which point Erin said she’d finish her coffee upstairs. Rosie took the opportunity to leave, too. She was feeling rather queasy – must have eaten something that disagreed with her. Nick excused himself as well and shadowed her to the door. He had been anticipating some announcement from Rosie and wanted to know why there hadn’t been one.
‘I was going to say perhaps your mother might like to come an’ live with ye,’ said Patrick when the exodus had ceased. ‘But I doubt I’d be popular with either party.’ Belle couldn’t argue. ‘I’ve no need to tell you that she’s the real reason I have to get away. I don’t mind arguments but this silence is driving me up the wall. God knows what it’s doing to her.’
‘If you cared for your mother as much as you seem to do your waifs then you’d see what it was doing to her, Belle,’ censured Thomasin. ‘And personally I can’t see how it will help matters, you going to live somewhere else. But then I don’t suppose that anything I say will convince you of how selfish you’re being, so I won’t waste my time. I think your mother deserves more of my attention than you do.’ She left.
Patrick grimaced. ‘I must say I feel for your mam as well, colleen.’
Belle tutted. ‘You both seem to think I don’t! It’s partly because I do love her that I’m going away, so that she can feel comfortable in her own home. If the talk turns to me or the children she ups and leaves the table. I don’t want it to get to the point where she has to take all her meals in her own room! I do love her, Gramps, but Mother’s choice of life isn’t mine – and after all, you know, it is Mother who’s chosen not to speak to me, not the other way around, so I don’t see how you and Nan can blame me.’
‘I’m not blaming you, I just wish you’d hang on…’ At her look of defiance he sighed. ‘You always were an independent cat – even when you were a tot you’d never listen to anyone or let them help ye. All right, you go if go you must, but swear to me that if ever you’re in need of anything you’ll come home.’
She made this promise, knowing it would never have cause to be fulfilled.
* * *
Armed with a list of rentable properties, culled from the nightly presses over the week following the discussion, Belle set about the business of finding suitable accommodation. By Sunday she had still not seen anything that really fitted her requirements, so when Brian called after Sunday lunch to say he might have something she took up his offer. ‘But I hope for your sake that this isn’t another dump like the ones I’ve been seeing or I may just find a use for your scalpel.’
Leaving the children in her grandfather’s care she departed on her mission. The house they were to view was in Barbican Road. It was as they drove in the direction of Walmgate Bar that Belle thought she spotted Rosanna. She was about to hail her cousin and had half-raised her hand in greeting, when the furtive manner in which the girl was acting and also the fashion of her dress made her drop the hand to her lap, frowning in confusion. The girl’s shabby scarf obscured most of her face as she disappeared into a house, but the brief flash which Belle had caught ha
d looked just like Rosanna. Brian caught Belle’s puzzlement as the carriage rolled on and asked what ailed her.
She still frowned. ‘Oh… nothing. I could’ve sworn that was Rosie back there.’
‘What on earth would your pretty cousin be doing around these parts?’
Exacdy, thought Belle. What on earth was Rosie playing at dressed like that – if it had been her, that is. But she smiled at Brian. ‘My pretty cousin? So, you’re an admirer too. Well, I’m sorry, Brian,’ the months of familiarity had brought them to using each other’s Christian name, ‘but you’ll have to take your turn, there’s a very long queue.’
Brian returned the smile but it was a rather sad little effort. Doesn’t she know how I feel about her? he thought. Then answered himself: no, she has no earthly idea. Then you’re just going to have to tell her, old chap, aren’t you?
* * *
‘God, I don’t know how I’ve lasted!’ gasped Rosanna as their lips broke suction. Then she lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Have you asked him yet?’
‘Asked him what?’
Rosanna spun as Dorgan rattled in with a tea tray. ‘Oh, Mr Dorgan, Tim and I can’t go on like this! It isn’t fair of you to ask us to keep it a secret any longer. My grandparents keep inviting young men round and I just don’t feel I can continue to entertain them.’
‘Still trying to marry you off are they, Rosie?’ Dorgan allowed her to take over serving the tea.
She made a face, dashing milk into each cup. ‘It’s like the Hydra-headed monster – you cut one off and two more appear. I think Nan’s ordering them in bulk. The latest is very persistent.’
Tim laid his fingers over her mouth. ‘I thought we’d agreed you wouldn’t talk about them in front of me. I want to break their heads, every one.’ As she put the teapot down he unbuttoned her coat and helped peel off her gloves and scarf, then watched as she stood warming herself by the fire.
‘I’m not trying to make you jealous, I’m just attempting to show Mr Dorgan how unreasonable he’s being.’ She seated herself on the sofa close to Tim, wishing that Dorgan would go about his business and allow her and Tim to see to theirs.
Dorgan took up his cup. ‘Ah well, it won’t be for much longer.’
‘That is what Tim said last Saturday!’ volleyed Rosanna. ‘And it’s my opinion we’ve waited long enough. We’ve got the Lord Mayor and his family coming to dinner tomorrow and we all know at whose side the son will be seated – then he’ll no doubt invite me to partner him to the banquet at the Mansion House on Wednesday. Nan’s already been invited.’
Tim’s anxiety seemed to be more pronounced. ‘Ye’ll say no of course?’
Taking this as just another example of jealousy she laughed and kissed him on the nose. ‘Of course.’
‘Don’t,’ said Dorgan.
The young couple both looked to him, Rosanna in confusion, Tim in dismay. Dorgan left his chair to cup Rosanna’s face. ‘Rosie, my cherub, as if your delightful presence in my house isn’t enough you’ve brought the means to rid me of a massive problem.’
Tim was really concerned now and it wasn’t just jealousy. ‘Mr Dorgan, I don’t think we should involve Rosie…’
‘She’s already involved, purely by association.’
Rosanna twisted her face from Dorgan’s caress to frown at Tim. ‘Involved in what?’
‘Nothing that concerns you, Rosie,’ said Tim hurriedly.
‘Ah, leave the lass be,’ cried Dorgan, then spoke directly at Rosanna again. ‘Rosie, ye’ve always said how ye’d like to help the Brotherhood.’
‘But how can my spending a boring evening at the Mansion House help our cause?’ demanded Rosanna.
Dorgan spread his mouth in approval. ‘Did ye hear that, Timothy? Our cause, says she. I like that, colleen.’ His mouth retracted. ‘You’ve no idea just how important this can be to us, Rosie… but before I tell ye what I want ye to do I need your agreement. I know it’s a bit back to front, but I need to know you’re fully with us.’
Rosanna, who had always craved something important to do for the freedom of Ireland, swore her allegiance readily, though Tim’s reaction baffled her, for he seemed to be against her inclusion. Before she could ask him why, Dorgan produced a rolled-up document and spread it on the table, placing a cup at each of the top corners to anchor it down. ‘Come an’ look at this, Rosie.’ As she leaned over his shoulder to study the paper he asked, ‘D’ye know what it is?’
‘It’s some sort of plan.’
‘’Tis a plan of the Mansion House. This here,’ he tapped an area of the document, ‘is where they’ll be doing all the dancing.’
‘But you haven’t said yet why you want me to go.’
‘I want you to meet with Tim,’ supplied Dorgan.
She turned swiftly on Tim in delight. ‘You never said!’
‘I’ll be there as a waiter.’ A glance at Dorgan.
Rosanna was mouthing her pleasure at this, envisioning cuddles by the backstairs, when Dorgan disclaimed the role of Cupid. ‘He’ll not be there for any fun and games, Rosie. He’s going there to kill somebody.’
Shock displaced frivolity. The only word she could utter was, ‘Who?’
‘His name is Sir Frederick Milner,’ answered Dorgan. ‘You know him?’
‘I know the name,’ she replied hollowly, thinking of all the names her grandfather had called the man. ‘Why him?’
‘Well… doesn’t really matter who it is, nor which party he belongs to, ’tis just to show the Government that we’re sick of all these promises they’ve been makin’ for years an’ not keeping. Milner’s as good a target as any, I don’t like him.’
Rosanna could feel herself quaking and hoped it did not show. ‘How is it to be done?’
‘We’ve had the plan set up for some weeks, ever since we knew he’d be at this do… that’s why I didn’t want you and Tim to go letting out your little secret.’ Rosanna understood now and glanced at Tim who hung his head, proving that he had known about it but hadn’t wanted to tell her. Dorgan went on, ‘Everything was fine, we’d got the layout of the place, an alternative escape route if the first was blocked… our one problem was how to get Tim inside with the gun in his pocket. There’s bound to be strict security what with all these death threats flying around. I wish I could get me hands on the soft buggers who sent them – oh, excuse my language, Rosie. But if you’re going to kill somebody ye hardly give them prior warning, ye just go out and kill them. If they only realised how they’ve messed things up for us… anyway, we had it in mind that Tim could hide the gun among all that food what’ll be going into the place and retrieve it once he’s inside, but it’s far from satisfactory and I’m so grateful that you’ve provided us with the perfect solution.’
‘You want me to take the gun to Tim?’ she asked, whitefaced.
‘I do. They’ll search the waiters an’ the maids but they’ll hardly search the guests, especially one so attractive as yourself.’
‘But it’s such a responsibility… wouldn’t you rather undertake it yourself?’
‘In other words, what part do I play in all this?’ said Dorgan.
‘I didn’t mean to be disrespectful…’
‘While you’re handing the gun to our friend I’ll be at my worship at the Minster.’
‘But you don’t worship at…’ and then she understood. ‘You’re going to plant a bomb?’ It came as a whisper. All of a sudden it had ceased to be the game it had been. He was asking far more of her than to pick up mysterious packages from his contacts. He was asking her to become involved in murder.
Dorgan had seen the dissension creep into her face. ‘There’s no backing out now, Rosie, ye gave your oath.’
She tossed her head then. ‘I’ve no intention of backing out. I’m for a free Ireland as much as you are… I’m just worried for Tim. I mean – what if he’s caught?’
‘Haven’t I told ye the escape route’s all fixed? There’ll be that much confusion he’ll be away befor
e they’ve realised what’s happened. And next week,’ he grinned and took hold of her hands, ‘the two of you will be sitting pretty in old Ireland. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?’ Rosie gripped the old man’s hands whilst gazing into Tim’s eyes, and thought – oh yes, yes… but not this way.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Each had her own room now. Rosanna was never more glad of it. Listlessly she sat on the bed, staring down at the gun cuddled in her palm, ran trembling fingertips along the barrel, then rested the weapon in her lap.
Everyone had been delighted when she had told the Lord Mayor’s son that, yes, she would accompany him to the ball. They had no inkling that she was not going there to enjoy herself but to help end someone’s life. She was desperately afraid; more for Timothy than for herself. What if he didn’t get away? What if something went wrong? And, if all went according to plan, what of the man who would die? Did he deserve to? Did his hostile words on the platform deserve to condemn him to death? Did his wife love him as much as she loved Tim?
All these questions she had asked herself over and over again since Sunday. The answer kept resounding through her brain: Thou Shalt Not Kill. But she had committed herself, sworn her allegiance to Ireland. She still passionately believed in that cause… if only it were not Tim who must pull the trigger. He was afraid too; she had sensed it when they had made frantic love that Sunday afternoon, felt it in his silence afterwards as they lay drenched in love-sweat. But she had no qualms that he would do it.
She felt the gun again, tested its weight, imagined herself in Tim’s place. Would she be able to curl her finger round that trigger and squeeze? Each evening on her return from work she had come straight up here to her room; not to just wash off the dust of the storehouse but to check that the weapon was still in its hiding-place. It was a ritual now. She kept picking it up and laying it down, experiencing now the way her legs would turn to jelly on Wednesday when Milner was gunned down. Would they be able to read the guilt on her face?
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