Chapter seven:
With clammy hands upon the wheel, Jack seemed to just drive out ahead, without a destination in mind, as always. The air about them had shifted somewhat and as though it was perhaps now, rawer than before.
Rose had never been one for cars. To a man now though, they seemed to be the newest play thing for them. The way Jack tore down the narrow lanes should have frightened her, but there was something about clinging to her seat and been almost afraid for her life and then fully trusting him with her own that was refreshing. Her eyes travelled over him now and again, for that was all she was able to do whilst trembling in the passenger side. Her once exhausted state of mind was now plunged into some sort of exhilaration. The sight of him was breath-taking; how he was now a man in utter control of everything, including her destiny. The destiny which at this very second seemed to have no clarity.
Rose clung to her seat, her nails digging into her palm and she was struck between utter panic and the need to scream aloud to slow down, to opening the windows and allowing the wind to take them where ever they wound up.
''You spoke to him, didn't you?''
''Yes.''
''Does he know of us?''
''God no, and I have no reason to tell him.''
''There is nothing to say, is there.'' Rose responded, waiting for his reaction. He turned to her, incredulously. ''Only that you took me to the beach twice, and dumped me into the freezing cold water.''
''I did not!'' he shouted.
A laugh crawled up, and suddenly Rose was hysterically giggling at him. The corners of his eyes creased with his own laughter, and it was rare that one saw that genuine happiness these days.
''I love that sound.''
With that, her smile faded as he reached over to take her hand into his own and squeezed it with such a reassurance that she could have almost cried.
''Why won't he stop?''
This was it. The moment of truth.
''I wish that I knew. Mother doesn't quite think that I am serious about ending the engagement. Perhaps she thinks I am a fool to have given up such a catch but the truth is I wasn't just scared of his hands and what they would do to me but for myself too. I didn't want a life as predictable as him. A life like my mother's; lunch at the country club, tea with Mrs. Gardener, shopping for the latest fashions as though my life is dependent on it.''
Jack sensed that there could be more than what she wished to reveal and so, he drove to a place where they would find some peace.
The house wasn't more than five rooms and the tiniest garden. A porch wrapped around the house and as the Dodge pulled up at the front, a yappy terrier made its presence known and its entire body trembled as it sounded.
This was Jack's home. Quaint. Tidy. Lovely. It wasn't what she pictured it to be; perhaps she envisaged a place full of masculinity but this was almost pretty.
''Here we are,'' he held out his hand, in a mock grandeur and narrowed his eyes to the window, ''it looks like Tommy's home, too.''
Rose glanced out of the car window. It was so small she didn't even know how much furniture could sit inside but she had to admit; it appeared homely and inviting. She smiled to Jack, watching over at how the little terrier shook its stumpy tail and yet still made so much noise.
''And the dog?''
Jack sighed in annoyance. ''That's Fred, as in Astaire. My friend's English terrier. He barks at his own damned shadow.''
Rose laughed, nerves bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She felt as though she was entering some new territory and wasn't sure on how any of this worked but she decided to just go with it. It wasn't as though she was about to meet his parents but a friend was as much part of Jack's life as a family could be, if not more so.
''He seems a lively character.'' Rose watched Fred's face and then his feet padding the floor with giddiness as he saw Jack's face.
''Oh, he is. His barks are worse than his bite, believe me.''
Jack opened the car door and then went around the front of the car to open the door for her, holding out his hand as though she was about to make an exit from a grand carriage. His manners made her feel something deep down which she never had before, as though she was cared and nurtured all of the time. The simple things.
''Thank you.''
As their eyes met, she felt his gaze sweep away quickly.
''Come on inside.''
As they approached the front door up three wide steps and past a small wicker furniture set, Jack placed his hand in hers. Rose glanced about. The street was quiet but people sat on their porch enjoying the sun, some read and children played near the road under the watchful eye of their parents. People were alive and enjoying life. Enjoying the sun. Living as though there were no limits and above it all—they smiled. Childrens laughter filled the air. It felt wonderfully cosy.
Just inside the front door, Jack released hand as the dog circled their feet, excited for the new faces. Rose giggled, watching as his tail wagged happily. His barking had stopped finally stopped and was replaced by squeals of happiness. She bent to touch his wet nose and was rewarded with a small tickling lick across her knuckles.
''You are sweet really.'' Rose whispered, but Jack raised a brow.
''Don't tell him that, he might even start co-operating if you do.'' He laughed. ''He already thinks he is twice his own size.''
''So he should. Appearances should never determine how a person looks at another. Animal or not.'' Rose responded, playfully.
''Tommy?'' Jack shouted as he led her through a tiny hallway to the kitchen. With a stove, a table for two and a few cupboards here and there, it didn't look big enough to cook inside.
''In here.'' A voice answered. Fred followed, yapping at Tommy, happy to hear his owner's voice but still glancing behind to ensure that Jack followed.
In the living room, Tommy sat on one of the dark red sofas. Rose came through the threshold to spy dirty blonde curls first and then as he turned, revealing the fact he was sat without a shirt on, his naked torso exposed, Rose stammered.
''Oh-'' She blushed, quickly covering her eyes, turning her face into Jack's chest and he clasped his hand to the back of her head, as she nuzzled into his white shirt. Jack raised his eyebrows quickly in query.
''Shit, you didn't tell me you got a girl back.'' Quickly, he scrambled about to find a shirt then he realised than they were all in the laundry. Fred yapped loudly, following Tommy about as he went.
''It's all right.'' Rose smiled as she pulled her face from Jack's chest. The initial shock had worn off. She focused her eyes on his face. She would say he was in his early twenties with odd markings here and there and a faded bruise on his cheek and then she remembered that Jack had told her his roommate was a bare-knuckle fighter. An English profession she assumed, for she had never heard of such a thing. It resonated with her that perhaps he was very physical in his work, either way, for his shoulders slumped and his knuckles were raw.
''I'm Tommy.'' He held out his hand to her. ''Tommy Ryan. This is Fred, let me put him in the damned kitchen''
She stepped forward to take his hand. ''Rose.''
Tommy nodded, keeping his eyes on Jack. ''So, this is all new, right?''
Jack indicated for Rose to sit down. The living room had a two-seater sofa, a guitar sat in the corner next to a record player and an unlit fire. Tommy put Fred in the kitchen where faded barks could be heard through the door. ''The damned thing barks at his own shadow. Thinks he's high and mighty until he sees another dog and Hell breaks loose.'' Tommy rubbed his hands across his faded jeans and then raised a brow. ''So, you two are-''
''Well, we have just met.'' Rose completed the answer, as Tommy appeared to be looking for an answer. The truth was, neither knew what they were to each other. A few beautiful kisses and sunsets spend together had left little time to consider anything else.
''Yeah, Rose and I met a few days ago at the Grill.'' Jack told Tommy, taking a seat beside Rose, who sat straight backed on the low sofa.
''You, sneaky bastard!'' He slapped Jack's shoulder hard. ''That's why you have barely been home!''
Tommy shook his head as he found his cigarette tin and he rolled one for himself.
''I have also been working.'' Jack told him with a smile. ''I pay my way about here too, y'know.''
''Yeah, sure.'' Tommy disappeared under a cloud of his own smoke. ''It doesn't bother you, does it?'' He asked Rose, failing to remember his manners.
''Oh, no.''
Rose had to admit she wasn't the biggest fan of smoking cigarettes but this was his home and she couldn't be the one to tell him not to smoke. She watched the dynamic between Tommy and Jack and wondered how they had met, what their story was. She tucked a curl behind her ear as she felt Jack squeeze her hand but she felt entirely at ease there with two men who were less than gentleman and yet, so inviting and careless that it was enough to envelope her into a level of comfort which she had never experienced.
''Are you new here?'' Tommy asked Rose. ''I haven't seen you about that I can remember.''
Rose addressed Tommy. 'No, I came here a little over six months ago now.'' Glancing at his face, she couldn't recall seeing him about either. ''How about you, Mr. Ryan? That sure doesn't sound like a local accent.''
Tommy inhaled his smoke. ''Is it so obvious? Well, I came over from Dublin last summer. Got a job here, met Jack and didn't look back. I mean, I live on the fuckin' beach, it doesn't get any better. In Ireland, we have shitty grey skies, nothing there for us. Unemployment is at a low after the War. We have nothing!''
Rose winced at his language but she admired his honesty. ''Well, it sounds as though you're in the right place.''
''I am. Jack here, he had been living under the fuckin' bridge until I met him. I had some money from fighting and I said come on, let's get a place. A roof. Some dignity!''
Rose turned to Jack; she hadn't known that he had been homeless. Her heart filled with something; a longing perhaps to find out more about him. To submerge herself into entirely drowning in his secrets. ''How long have you lived here in this house?''
''About two months.'' Jack replied. ''It's not much but it's a roof, right?''
Tommy finished his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ash tray which was full next to him on the floor. He ran his dirty fingers through his unruly curls before stretching out and yawning. Rose did wonder if he had just woken up even though it was now late afternoon.
''Jack tells me that you are a fighter?''
''Aye, undefeated. Local hero.'' Tommy laughed, almost proud as he puffed out his chest and it was then, she saw the true Irishman within him.
''What do you do when you fight?''
''Well, we throw punches only. No kicks allowed. Nothing dirty but it's fun. Good way to let off the steam and earn a pile of money, the kind I won't ever see back home in Ireland.''
''Well, you sound a good man to have around when there is ever a spot of bother.'' Rose smiled, politely, intrigued by his profession, is one could call it that.
''Aye, I don't fight unless I need to. If someone's in trouble but fighting should never be a group activity. If you fight, it's like a man; one to one. No weapons. Bare knuckles. Survival of the fittest. Not like that these days. People hide behind all these things; guns, knives and it doesn't make you a better man, it makes you a damned weaker one, if you ask me.''
His passion was wonderful. Even if it was about violence. About how people fought. But in his words, sparks of truth did resonate with her. Sensing her silence, Tommy came forward to stub out his cigarette.
''What is your story then, Rose?''
Rose shuffled nervously. She blinked several times before glancing at the tidy, swept wooden floor. ''Well-I, I moved here after my father died. I-was living in Philadelphia. I grew up there.''
''You know those Hockley punks from out there? They moved here too not so long ago.'' Tommy shook his head as his face screwed up. ''I'd knock their teeth all out if I got my hands on them.''
''Tommy!'' Jack warned, with a cut throat tone and a slap to his cheek which ensured he was fully awake now even if he wasn't before. ''Consider your language.''
Tommy softened, straightening with sorrow as he shook off the slap knowing that he deserved it. ''Sorry, Rose. I didn't mean to be so uncouth, not used to ladies about here, you see.''
''It's all right.'' Sensing the awkwardness, she felt Jack hold onto her hand and it tightened around her fingers. She seemed to gain strength from his touch. Enough to continue. ''Caledon Hockley and I were engaged until almost two months ago.''
''Oh.'' Tommy raised his eyebrows, glancing to Jack who seemed to signal to remain silent on the matter. ''Jesus Christ, I didn't know.''
Closing her eyes, Rose felt her mind start to sift through old memories. The ones which she had tried too hard to lock away and yet, sometimes, the urge to speak of it aloud pulled at her. Like now. She didn't even open her eyes to see the look at Tommy's face. Instead, she continued with her story; feeling relief leave her body with every word which she said. She needed to say this out aloud. She had been keeping it inside for so long. Something told her to trust these people. To trust the hand holding hers. The ears of two, almost strange men, who she also felt would protect her with their own lives.
It was a settling feeling. Unnerving.
''Cal couldn't keep his eyes or his hands away from other women. Particularly a young pretty brunette, Cara I believe was her name. She was the one I caught him with. Of course, Ethan, his brother was there to make up some poisoned lie but I never believed him.'' Rose paused for a moment to take a breath. ''He left Cara with Ethan and when I left Cal at the car, he followed me, running after me. I gave him my ring back and told him that our engagement was over.'' She bit the inside of her mouth. ''Then he hit me. First on my face,'' she touched her cheek with her left hand as she relived the night and it seemed to be there in the front of her mind just as though it was happening again at that moment.
Two months previous...
Cal had ordered Rose to undress for bed, and when she hadn't done as was told; he had raised his hand to her; a cut had appeared and bled until she had used her dress sleeve as a compress.
It was the first time Cal had ever laid hands on her and the first time Rose had ever been hit. She didn't like blood. She never had.
"Come on, Rose. Take off your clothes.'' Cal's voice seemed to echo into the dark room of the hotel. He forced Rose from the floor to her feet and held her against the wall.
Rose could feel her own heartbeat in her ears. She had never felt so much fear. She just wanted a big hole to swallow her up and take her away from this hell.
"Why are you doing this, Cal? You were the one who went to bed with a whore."
A sting came around Rose's cheek as she felt his hand strike her sharply. After that, he let her go and began to wander around the hotel room, somewhat absentmindedly. It was as though he had been split between his anger, his worry and his desire.
"Don't speak to me like that, Rose."
Rose watched him go and had wondered whether to make a run for the door to get out, but she knew he would follow her. She knew it. She was too afraid to speak. Too shocked for words. Too much in pain to move from the floor where she sat, tears running from her eyes.
Violence was never the answer to anything, Rose had always thought. It was a way of being punished. But why was she being punished for loving this man? If she did love him, that is.
"Why are you doing this, Cal? I have never hurt you."
Her voice revealed her fear, like that of a small child. A bitter laugh came from Cal as he opened a bottle of whiskey and downed almost half of it. He seemed to feed off her energy, her fear and he loved it. Relished it. That was what he waited for; once he seemed to have her right there in that sticky spot where she almost feared for her life, then he would play with her. Torture her. Sometimes he would play kind to be cruel. Be cruel and then kind. A mental and physical twisting tale which always ended with Rose drained through and left hanging out to dry.
"You don't disobey me, Rose. I am your husband in practice. You honour me. You don't make a fool out of me."
"You made a fool out of yourself, Cal. You went to bed with a woman who wasn't even your fiancée."
Rose found inner strength and stability from somewhere to stand. She looked at the man she had once thought she loved and stared with contempt and disbelief.
"How could I go to bed with my fiancée when she wouldn't let me? This is your fault. Now it's your punishment."
With that, Cal swooped Rose from her feet and carried her kicking and screaming to his bed. His scent was vile and when he tried to kiss her, she squirmed away.
"Cal. Stop. Please stop."
Cal just laughed at her whimpers of desperation. He would get what he wanted, whether she liked it or not. He pulled violently at the buttons on her dress as she attempted to move from under him. He pinned her down strongly with his legs and one arm. He was strong, and it seemed the strength of the alcohol had added to it.
Tears spilled from her eyes as she didn't know what was happening. Her back was to him and she could hear his muttering of curse words and feel his dreaded touch.
He hitched up her skirts and began to pull at her stockings.
"No. No! Get off me, Cal."
Rose attempted once again to kick him away, but he just covered her mouth with his dirty hands.
Tears spilled from her eyes and she panicked. She wished someone would just walk in or he would just stop. She had never felt so much pain in her life. She wished she could give him the same pain in return. Then she thought of something. Cal continued to struggle with her dress as Rose opened her mouth slightly and bit as hard as she could on the finger which Cal had over her mouth.
He seemed to back off slightly and moaned with pain.
"You little bitch!" he stormed, and then more violently threw himself at her. She panicked and rolled over from her back onto her stomach, raised her legs, and kicked his chest. Cal stumbled backwards.
In a few seconds, she saw Cal stumbling back towards her. Rose had never seen her life flash before her eyes before. Blood poured everywhere. She could taste the blood from biting his finger.
She screamed a little, seeing the scene before her. It seemed too violent to be reality. Then it faded to black.
It faded to black.
Bile came to Rose's throat and suddenly, she was flying out of the living room and into the streets of someplace where she failed to remember she was.
It just felt like Hell.