Chapter seven:

The Black Bull in comparison to a morning spent with her bare toes in the cool surf, watching the waves break upon the rocks and then, straighten back out was like comparing heaven to a strange type of Hell.

On the return from the beach, Jack had used what little pennies that he had left over to purchase a slice of jam sponge cake from a market stall which he had seen earlier that day. It might not have been the more beautiful and fanciful cakes that would have been served if Rose had been allowed to indulge in such a treat with her folks and fiancé, but it had been enough to touch her implicitly with the kind gesture. The light and fluffy texture had pleased her, with the sticky jam adding to the oddity of consuming something so forbidden and yet so widely available to anyone else but her. It was after the last crumbs were left, that Jack returned to the table located in a quiet corner of the public house, away from the card players and drunken gamblers, where Rose accepted a dark ale from Jack, her fingertips catching his as he handed the glass to her. After their hands had been clasped together just that morning, as he had taken her to almost break flight across the ocean and frolic in the surf, Rose had felt a tingling in her fingers and it happened again as she pulled the ale from his grasp a loud eruption of cheers came from the other side, as a rickety table gave way beneath an elder man's weight and with it came down countless full cups which smashed, sending endless shards of glass in every which way across the area and an explosion of expletives followed. Casting a glance over, Rose could only laugh in response, for what else could one say? Even animals in the wild seemed better behaved than most in the town. She had a feeling it wasn't just the town, but perhaps a universal thing in which those who worked so hard for a living, played even harder. There was something about the absolute carelessness-the way in which they absorbed themselves into the freedom of the world, despite its hardships.

"I wonder if it's always so lively here."

"Of course. This is nothing to the bars in Paris. But there it was a celebration of art, of expression and freedom."

"And gambling and heavy drinking?"

"Yes."

Taking a hesitant sip of the ale, Rose glanced in appreciation of the after taste. Casting a quick glance across Jack, she found the quiet interlude a chance to speak.

"I want to thank you for this morning. I am truly grateful for the experience."

"For cake?" He nodded at the remaining crumbs, with a suggestive grin, and she could only smile in return.

"Well, yes, and for taking me to the beach. It was quite the unknown for me. I shall cherish the experience of it."

Jack took a gulp of beer, placing it on the table beside hers and let his hands fall into his lap while she still played with the condensation upon her own glass as though it was a distraction. Even the brawling idiots couldn't seem to shake her mind from reeling. From what, she wasn't quite sure. The man in front of her, just seemed to be quite something. The way in which he seemed to change everything about her. Seemed to make her very core shaken. Seventeen years of such a strict upbringing and completely rigid ways of life seemed to just melt away with him. Perhaps that was the fear that Rose had already within her belly. The fact that a stranger knew much more about her than her own fiancé. A man she had met just the previous day; a man who had talked her out of leaving Southampton, saved her life and then lied to protect her. A man who had sought her out, knowing the repercussions to ensure that she was all right. A man who knew of her utter misery, stress, and hell and yet, in his eyes, she never saw any pity. There had to have been some, surely?

''I may have not had much in my life, but today, I think shall remain within my thoughts for some time.''

Perhaps there was no pity in his eyes. There was something though: the way he seemed to look right through her as though he had known her a thousand years. It was unnerving and made her very aware of the contents of her own head.

''Well, you're welcome,'' Jack finally nodded, his eyes watching over the chaos in the public house.

It took a second, quite that, for her to observe him: his hands so calmly placed within his lap, the way that his fingers, which apparently had such a talent for creating artwork, seemed to stay so still. She vividly recalled the feel of them within her own hand; how strong and detailed each callous was to her own delicate skin and that was something which, as she gazed down, she seemed to wish to feel against her fingers again.

Upon another blink and look, Rose saw him. Truly. He was so handsome in his own way. He was almost angelic in his features, and now, having the time to truly watch him, she could only feel how her heart moved in a certain way that it never had before. She had to keep diverting her eyes away from him. She wondered if this was what her life would be like if her fiancé was more like Jack. Would she be happier? Would he ever take her to a place like this, or to a quieter places where they could do nothing but look into the others eyes? Somehow it didn't appeal to her that much with Cal, as it did right now, watching a group of fifty-something miners' squabble like school-children sat beside a person, with whom she wasn't too familiar. A person, who she felt had changed something about her, she wasn't entirely sure what but she felt it within her depths.

''Besides, I wanted us to celebrate.'' He took a sip from his beer. ''Although I didn't know if you would want to.''

Rose felt herself frowning.

''What is there to celebrate?''

She sat forward, her back not as straight as it had been once after being so rigidly trained by a corset. The corset which she still wore, as loose as she could possibly get it. She took a breath which sounded more like a sigh.

''Your freedom. As temporary as it may be.''

Rose smiled, as though it was one of those forced ones which she was so used to feigning whilst at formal events with her mother. ''Yes, it will be temporary,'' she watched as his smile faded. Her breathing accelerated a second. ''I feel so trapped. I feel like everybody around me is living except me.''

''This is what today is about.'' Jack told her, beautifully watching her as he cocked his head. ''To live. To make the time count. The time that you have to cherish, because you never know what could happen tomorrow.''

''Oh, you speak with such wisdom.'' Rose bit back the slight hesitance, with a glance back him, she could almost taste the beauty of the morning spent playing in the surf and she pined for that. ''I do wish we could head back to the beach, to stay there for a full day, perhaps on a beautiful warm summer's day.''

''Why don't we?''

Rose bit the inside of her lip. The temptation was almost too much but she knew she couldn't. She had already spent so much time with Jack. The adventures they had, the long talks getting to know each other, she knew she couldn't stay any longer. Their friendship had to end sometime and it would be harder to if they spent more time together than they already had. During their time at the beach, they had shared many of their inner most thoughts and it had left her more unsettled than she could have imagined.

''I just...I can't. I am sorry.''

The stress of the last few days was suddenly, obviously sneaking up on her. There were things which she wasn't prepared for; girls like her didn't run away in the night. Thoughts whirled about her head and she was suddenly feeling completely out of her element. In the moment, right there, with Jack at her side, in the strangest of towns and places; she found herself thankful.

''Hey, don't worry.'' Jack told her softly. ''It's all right, you don't have to apologise for anything.''

She smiled, gratefully. ''Jack, I- I really don't know what to do with my life.''

Sitting forward, Jack listened intently to her words. He felt that she was about to reveal something more of herself.

Tears finally came down her face, and she quickly wiped them away feeling instantly awkward and self-conscious, she had never cried in front of another human being except her father. It was almost unheard of in her own world. To Cal, crying was a sign of weakness. Her weakness...which he played on to the extreme. This was it; the build-up of everything which was finally coming away from her. The burdens of every single factor of her life were completely suppressing her. Killing her softly. Slowly. That morning, Jack had opened her eyes to something completely unbelievable that the gesture had bowled her over. His kindness touched her; he was like a tender wind carrying her through the uncertainty.

''Oh, Rose.''

Quickly, he took her hand in his and began to run his finger over it, and Rose was surprised by how much she was comforted by his touch. She raised her head so her eyes met his and saw the genuine look of concern on his face. She knew in that moment that she could trust him. With more than her life. He cared so openly. Everything which he had said to her so far, everything which he had done seemed to be so – real, so open, and that was something which she had never experienced before. What was it about a strange man that potentially could be a danger to her that appealed to her so much?

''I trust you, Jack.'' She whispered, still taking hold of his hand. The table jolted suddenly, as one of the men who had been gambling tripped against the leg on his way to the exit, sending Jack's bag flying onto the bench where they sat, tipping it onto its side and a leather-bound portfolio landed almost in front of them. Rose caught sight of it and smiled, releasing Jack's hand from hers as excitement filled her.

''Is this your work?''

Jack nodded, once.

''May I?''

''Sure.''

Rose opened the leather-bound portfolio to the first page; it was a sketch, a drawing, of a mother breastfeeding her baby. Rose glanced upwards to Jack, stunned by the realness and beauty of the sketch - it was obviously a very private thing to see on a drawing, but it was so real and right there in front of her, something which was rarely seen. She was drawn into the picture as though she was a witness right there. Jack indicated for her to proceed looking through the sketches, sensing that this was something which made her uncomfortable. The next one was a small child in her mother's arms. Rose could only glance at the sketch intensely, seeing the reality in the drawing as though it was an actual photograph of such an intimate moment. It was these moments of intimacy which she craved to experience. Just once. One true time.

''These are brilliant, Jack.'' Rose said in amazement; never had she seen such a talent like his but it wasn't just his talent. It was the subjects of his art. These people were so real. He drew from life, from a place where no one else seemed to. His heart seemed to be smeared right there on the paper across the sketches and it was that, which caused her stomach to falter.

A small smile appeared on his face, as he watched Rose and her reaction to his drawings.

''Thanks, but they don't seem to be worth more than ten cents apiece in most places.''

''Oh, but why, these are so wonderful and different...modern. Never have I seen such a stark honesty on paper with such simplicity.''

The next sketch was another child, this time perhaps with a sibling.

''I can see everything about these pictures. The close resemblance between these two children.''

Shrugging in response to her question, Jack picked up some of the drawings which were sprawled on the floor; there were several nudes. As Rose watched Jack pick them up and placed them inside of the portfolio, she saw they were of delicate natures and almost didn't know where to place her eyes, but her curiosity caught the better of her.

''Oh...oh.'' She stuttered, turning one landscape so she could see it properly. She studied the woman in the picture, laid out naked, so openly beautiful and yet fragile.

''Yes, they were the only ones who respected a crazy, starving artist in Paris; willing to be models and showed me how to be bohemian in some ways.''

Rose continued to examine the sketch before her. ''You liked this one in particular. I think you must have had a love affair with her.''

''No. Never. She was a one-legged prostitute with the most beautiful hands.''

Rose studied the sketch, until Jack guided his hand to hers, before turning the page to show the same lady using an aid to help her stand whilst still, topless. Rose could only gawp in disbelief, awe, whatever emotion which it had provoked within her was a complete first.

''I see. Well, you do have a gift, Mr. Dawson. You see people, truly you do, perhaps deep into the depths of a person.'' Jack touched Rose's hand and turned the sketch over to another nude who was just as beautiful as the one before. Rose felt a little awkward looking at these drawings, she cleared her throat and Jack glanced at her almost sensing her awkwardness. His eyes questioned her for just a moment and he realised that his hand was lingering atop hers once more. It took a second for him to remove it and she clung to each one of them, for some unknown reason.

''Oh, there's this lady.'' He remembered, turning the page again to a lady sat on a bar stool wearing ill-fitting clothes and wearing a lot of tasteless jewellery. ''She used to sit in this bar in Paris every night, wearing every piece of jewellery she owns just waiting for her long-lost love.'' Jack shook his head and Rose studied the drawing; the woman looked melancholy, and Rose could almost sympathise with her. The way Jack had captured her was amazing; it was like looking at a photograph. Every single line on the page captured the mood of the lady. ''Madam Bijoux is her name, see her clothing is all moth eaten.'' Jack pointed and Rose nodded.

''Jack, you have a gift. You really do.'' Rose could feel Jack's hand still on hers from when he had turned the pages of the portfolio and it seemed all of her senses heightened, she could feel his warmth sitting beside her and their faces were a mere few inches apart. "You see people.''

''I see you.'' Jack lowered his guard. His station. His entire persona seemed to have disappeared as he surrounded and soaked himself within the innocence and the vibrance of the woman in front of him.

''And?'' She glanced just once at his lips and her heart beat so fast, slowly he seemed to be leaning towards her closer and closer. How had she gotten into this situation?, She wasn't sure, but she was going to go with it. He didn't kiss her lips; he simply stayed close to her lingering there for a few minutes before pulling away. It wasn't that he wanted to pull away; he simply didn't know how she would react. She was a fragile being, so haunted by something she was running away from. She was just a girl, perhaps almost a woman.

''And, I think you'll find those answers soon.''

Pulling back from the drawings, Rose seemed to query him with a glance until the brawling miners continued to cheer and it had distracted them. Both, seemed to be grateful for the change of mood. She slowly moved away from Jack, placing her hands on the table and wringing them, she placed her hand flat onto the paper in front of her. It was a drawing, some lines here and there. She assumed he had abandoned his work at some point.

The truth was that Rose had seen a lot of art in her time and had been lucky enough to own several pieces back home. None of them, however, quite spoke to her the way Jack's work did. Where was the realism in most art? Jack's sketches were sprawled out before her like different pages of a book; each telling their own story from a mother's bond with her child or a woman's naked body. The way in which Jack had seen them both was astounding; startlingly different in contrast, and yet both as honestly beautiful in vision.

''Where did you study?'' Rose broke the silence, still touching his papers.

''I didn't.'' He ran his fingers through his hair, exposing his face even more. '' My folks could never afford tuition fees.''

Jack really was talented. All of her education had been a waste of time and effort. She had no raw talent like he did; she could barely complete a household task and here, was a man who could draw almost anything. Who could do almost anything; effortlessly.

Rose seemed to see him with a fresh pair of eyes. He was just as lonely as she was. ''I would love to just head out for the horizon. To never settle.''

''To never settle or just run?''

She turned to him, surprised. ''Excuse me?''

''Would you call it never settling in one place or is it just running away?''

He was direct and to the point. She felt the air stay in her lungs as she struggled to get her words out. ''You are being very rude.''

Jack reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his tin of cigarettes just like the day before, but this time, they were already rolled. He placed one between his lips. Something which distracted her. She watched as he expertly struck a match before taking the first puff. ''It's a simple question, Rose.''

Knowing he could almost see right through her. It was unnerving, Rose found herself responding there and then without a slight hesitation and trusting him entirely; for some reason.

''If you are so craving an answer; perhaps it is both.''