The next morning dawned bright and warm, along with a feeling of renewal and freshness, despite Rose's slight hangover.
Rose woke very early, and planned to run off again for the sake of defying Amos and Scarlett. She crept downstairs, making no noise at all, until a clattering noise from the kitchen startled her and sent her sprawling down the last four steps.
Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. She scolded herself for being loud. If that was a burglar I'm as good as dead right now, she thought. She waited, but no one came out to investigate. Rose told herself not to be stupid, and peered around the corner into the kitchen.
Her mother was in the kitchen sweeping up the remnants of a teacup.
Rose let out a sigh of relief and sank into a kitchen chair. To her surprise, the table was laden with food, bacon, toast, eggs, sausage, porridge, and tea, almost as if it was a feast, just for her.
"Well, you better start eating before it gets cold," Scarlett said irritably.
Rose got to work filling her plate with food, and made a great show of eating, and enjoying it.
"Mum, when did you learn how to cook?" Rose meant this as a compliment, but her mother took it differently than she expected.
"What? Don't you remember when you were little and we lived in the cottage near the shore?" She continued, "I used to cook for you then. Do you remember the cottage?"
Rose swallowed a bite of sausage. "Yes, I remember vaguely. Mostly I remember a window overlooking the sea." Rose shrugged and took some buttered toast.
"You've always loved the sea."
Rose refilled her teacup, only half listening.
Scarlett put her head in her hands and sighed. "You're just like him."
Rose frowned, "Who?"
"No one." Scarlett stood up and left the room.
Rose was about to go after her, but thought better of the idea. She knew it wouldn't be good to push her mother into talking about something she didn't want to discuss.


Rose continued going to The Faithful Bride without her parents' permission, or notice. Maybe they didn't know she was going to the bar every time they went out, or maybe they knew there was nothing they could do about it. Either way they didn't say anything about it.
One evening her mother and Amos came to the bar while she was there, sat down at a table across the room from her and motioned for her to join them.
She reluctantly crossed to their table and sat down.
"Rose," Scarlett began, but was distracted by Jack entering the tavern.
"Rose!" he exclaimed, "Come an' have a drink, love."
Amos and Scarlett looked quite appalled. Rose told Jack to wait a moment while she talked to her parents. Jack pouted, but left her alone with her mother and stepfather.
"What did you want to talk about Mum?" Rose asked.
Scarlett still stared at Jack. Rose waved her hand in front of her mother's face.
Scarlett snapped to attention. "Oh yes, Amos dear would you let me speak to my daughter alone please?"
Amos nodded and went to get himself a drink.
"It's about your father." Scarlett put her head in her hands as she always did when she was upset.
"About Amos?" Rose asked.
"No, your real father." Scarlett looked up at Rose, "He's here."
Rose's jaw dropped and her eyes widened. "Which one?" she whispered, searching the room.
Scarlett pointed towards the bar.
Rose looked where her mother was pointing, and told herself Scarlett had made a mistake.
Jack looked over at Rose to see if she was coming or not, and wondered why Scarlett was pointing at him. He decided to go and ask what was wrong.
"Now can I borrow your daughter for a drink?" he asked good- naturedly.
"She's your daughter too," Scarlett mumbled from behind her hands.
Jack frowned. "What? Couldn't hear you there."
"Nothing."
Scarlett stood and stalked out of the tavern. Amos followed suit.
Jack blinked and turned to go back to the bar. Rose tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to look at her and got a slap in the face.
"What?" he asked, stupefied.
"That was for being my father," she said matter-of-factly, and then slapped him again.
"And what was that one for?" he wondered aloud.
"That one was for not telling me," she told him, equally calm.
Jack shrugged and told her, "Would've told you, had I only known me self."
Rose felt rather stupid and could think of nothing to say, so she just nodded. Jack shrugged again and invited her to have a drink with him. She accepted and ordered her usual pint of rum.
"So," said Rose, still not knowing what else to say.
"So, your mother wasn't always a seamstress," Jack replied.
Rose rolled her eyes. She should have known her mother was a woman of a questionable profession, with herself the only slightly good thing to come of it.
Quite suddenly, a wonderfully insane idea came to Rose."Jack, you know, I can't trust my mother or her PIG of a husband. Who would be better to look after me than my true father?"
Jack held up his hands in protest. "No, no, I'm sorry but there is no way I could do that."
Rose pouted at him.
"Anyway, I couldn't take you to sea with me, it's much too dangerous, love."
Rose glared at him. "I'm NOT going back with my mother. She'll probably come up with some other lie about my past."
Jack smiled. "Well I'm sure you'll find some accommodations, as for me, I'll be getting back to my ship."