Cut From The Same Cloth

by Wenlock

"Polly knew that Rose would do more than survive; she would thrive. She was indeed cut from the same cloth as Tommy – and that would be both her blessing and her curse." What began as a brief imagining of a younger Shelby sister, Rose, and an encounter with Alfie Solomons, has grown into a story of life growing up in the most notorious family in Birmingham.

27. Identity

"Did you know he was going to choose Charles? Hmm? I did. There was never any doubt in my mind."

Rose sat frozen in fear on the seat next to Father Hughes as he drove. The hood over her head was surprisingly welcome. She felt as if it was somehow shielding her from the awful reality she found herself in. She could see the light from the streetlamps go by through the small holes in the sackcloth. It smelled of earth. She was cold, her dress was wet and her hair was still dripping down her face. She couldn't stop shivering. The injuries on her face were throbbing now and she winced as the hood rubbed against the wounds. She held her arms around her waist as tightly as she could. She tried not to think. She tried to empty her head of everything. Nonetheless, she was assaulted by a hundred thoughts – none of which brought her any comfort. In her mind's eye, all she could see was the fear in Tommy's eyes when he'd looked at her. If Tommy was afraid, then there must be no hope. She didn't know what lay ahead for her now, but she did know it wasn't anything good.

Hughes continued chatting to her as if they were on a day trip to the beach.

"Of course, I was banking on him picking his son. I would have been loath to hand you back and keep the boy. What would I do with a baby? But you, my dear, you are a much better prize. You, I will treasure."

Trying to stay in control of the panic which threatened to take over, Rose worked hard not to respond in any way. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Hughes didn't seem to mind. He continued to talk to her, seemingly unaware of how she might be feeling. More likely, he didn't care.

After a while, Rose became aware that they had left the city. The frequency of streetlights flashing past slowed and she couldn't hear much traffic. She heart sank at the realisation that she was being taken further and further away from her home and her family.

Eventually, the car came to a stop and she heard Hughes get out. His door slammed shut and Rose was suddenly on high alert. What was coming next? She heard voices outside – Hughes talking to one or maybe two other people. Footsteps approached the car, coming close to her door, and she gave a small whimper. The door opened and she flinched, expecting to be pulled out of the car. Instead, the hood was pulled off and Rose blinked furiously in the light which now flooded her eyes. She brought her hands up to shield them. As she became more aware of her surroundings, she could make out a small van shining its headlights into the car. Turning her head, she looked at Hughes who was watching her, smiling.

"I'm sorry it's so bright. Come on now, it's time to get out."

He held out his hand to help her out of the car. She ignored it and began to climb down herself. He took her upper arm regardless and kept his hand there as she stood on the floor. There were in a country lane and the ground beneath her bare feet was muddy and rough. Hughes led her towards the van where she saw two men stood watching her. They looked like every other henchman she'd ever seen. Big, scruffy, silent. Hughes turned her to face him and looked down at her.

"This is where we must part ways for now, Rose. I have work to do back in Birmingham. These two gentlemen will escort you to your destination. I don't need to tell you to do as they ask now, do I?"

Rose stared at him, but didn't reply.

"No, well, I imagine you know what will happen if you don't behave. The place where you are going will have people there who will welcome you. Be obedient to them. I will be there to see you as soon as this business is done."

He moved his hand to her shoulder and she shrugged it off violently, stepping to the side to move away from him. He smiled again.

"Alright, I understand. It'll take you a while to get used to your new situation. I'll be patient."

She stared at him, the hatred in her eyes masking the fear she felt. She hated that he was in control, she hated that he'd bested Tommy, she hated that he was talking to her like he cared about her. Her voice shook as she spoke.

"He'll kill you."

Hughes let out a laugh. "You know as well as I do that your brother has no more power than you have right now. Look what it took to break him. You think I can't break you too? This display of anger, this threat, this attitude of rebellion – these things will no longer be tolerated. I will consider it my sacred duty to personally exorcise them from you. But that little pleasure will have to wait. First there is business to be done. Take her."

At this, one of the men stepped forward, took her other arm and roughly pulled her towards the back of the van. She had to work hard to keep her balance. He opened the back of the van, lifted her up and put her inside. He grinned at her.

"Get comfortable."

The door slammed shut and Rose was once more plunged into darkness. She instinctively dropped to the floor in order to connect with her surroundings. Before her eyes could get used to the darkness, the engine started and the van pulled off. Rose put out her hands to brace herself as the van bumped along the lane. She moved backwards, trying to find a wall to lean against. The van had clearly been used to transport groceries. It smelled of rotten fruit and vegetables. Rose knocked against some crates as she moved backwards. The floor was dirty, but with what she didn't know – grain maybe, or leaves. She put her hand in something which squelched and removed it quickly. Eventually, with some difficulty, she reached to back wall of the van and pushed herself against it. The van must have reached a proper road because she noticed it wasn't as bumpy. It was far from a smooth ride however and, as her eyes gradually adjusted to the dark, she began to feel sick. The smell of petrol mixed with the rotten food turned her stomach. Closing her eyes, she tried to take deep breaths to quell the nausea but if anything, it made it worse. Her eyes flew open and, leaning over a crate that was next to her, Rose vomited. There wasn't much in her stomach to throw up – the last thing she'd eaten was a piece of cake at the opening of the institute. She eventually sat back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She was so cold. Her chest had been getting tighter and tighter as the night had worn on. Coughing, she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and gave herself over to the emotions she'd been trying to keep a lid on all night. She sobbed as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Terror, anger, confusion, distress and many other emotions she couldn't name washed over her but the one thing she felt above all else was alone. Finally, spent and exhausted, she huddled into the back corner of the van. She found some old sacks there and putting one under her head and another over her, she lay down and slept – a nightmare-filled, fitful sleep, but sleep nonetheless.

She woke with a start as the van doors were thrown open, casting rectangle of light on her. Sitting up quickly, she frowned at the pain which still throbbed in her head. Squinting in the sudden light, she coughed. A voice growled at her from the door.

"Get over here."

She rose to her feet unsteadily, holding onto the wall of the van for support, and made her way to the door. As she reached it, the man waiting for her, grabbed her arm and pulled her out, catching her round her waist as she fell before putting her on the floor. Her head was spinning as she found her feet and looked around.

The morning sun was just beginning to rise and the sky was covered with small white clouds. It was a warm summer's day and Rose felt a sudden longing to be out on Nua in the fields behind arrow house, the sun on her back, the smell of the forest in her nose and the fresh breeze of morning in her hair. She blinked away the memory and looked around her. They were in a street, in front of a large, gothic building with steps up to the front door. A sign on the front told her that it was 'St Mary's Home for Orphaned and Destitute Girls." The man next to her took her shoulder and propelled her towards a gate at the side of the building. The second man was already there opening it. He stepped aside to let them through and then closed the gate behind them. They walked down the side of the building towards the back of it and then through another gate into a large, cobbled courtyard at the back of the house. In the courtyard were two sisters of the order and about ten girls who were doing laundry – washing clothes in tubs, putting them through the mangle, hanging them on washing lines. All of them stopped what they were doing and turned to look at Rose as she was led in. The girls looked exhausted, their faces pinched, their hands red raw from the laundry work. All of them wore brown wool pinafore dresses over white cotton blouses. The faces showed no signs of emotion as they looked at her though the nuns frowned at the sight of the disheveled, dirty and barefoot young girl. The man at her shoulder pushed her onwards to the back door of the house where he knocked and waited.

The door was eventually opened by another sister who stepped aside to let them in. Rose found herself in a large scullery where there were more girls busily washing pots and pans. They all turned to look at Rose but not for long. The sister who had opened the door snapped at them.

"Stop gawking. Get back to work!"

She turned to the men.

"She's in her office."

They nodded and pushed Rose across the room, through a number of doors and passageways and up two flights of stairs. They passed rooms where girls where sewing or ironing and some classrooms with a sister teaching in each one. She was beginning to understand what lay ahead of her. She almost laughed at the irony of the fact that yesterday she had been looking at the children in the Grace Shelby Institute and feeling proud that she'd chosen their uniform, proud that she was part of the family who had founded the home – and now, here she was, about to become one of those children herself. She wondered if she was in one of her nightmares and longed to wake up, back in her bed at Arrow House.

They entered a corridor which was clearly better kept than the ones she had just walked through. There were windows here which let in the light of the sun, pictures on the walls of various saints and biblical stories, a thick carpet on the floor which her bare feet sank into gratefully. At the end of the corridor was a large, wooden door and it was here that she was brought to a halt. One of the men knocked and a female voice called from behind it.

"Enter"

He opened the door and Rose was taken into a large office which had long windows along two sides of it. Despite the season, there was a fire in the grate and the room was stuffy and warm. The carpet in here was even plusher than the one in the corridor and Rose dug her toes down into it, grateful for the warmth it brought. At the centre of the far end of the room was a large, ornately carved wooden desk behind which sat a sister who looked up from something she was writing as they entered the room. She was a tall, thin woman with a long face and small bird like eyes which looked Rose up and down disdainfully. She laid her bony, thin hands on the desk and pushed herself to her feet. Her hands moved to clutch a wooden cross which hung round her neck and she walked round the desk and towards them as if she was floating just above the ground. She spoke to one of the men.

"You're staying?"

"Yes."

"I need more than two."

"He said you wouldn't need more. They'll never find her."

The sister pursed her thin, colourless lips.

"I don't care what he said. I am the one taking the risk by handling dangerous goods. Get on the phone and tell him to send two more men at least. I do not want a gang on angry Gypsies on my doorstep."

He sighed. "Fine."

The men left the room. The sister watched the door close behind them, then turned and went back to her seat behind the desk, ignoring Rose as she walked past her. She settled herself on the chair, folded her hands in front of her and lifted her eyes to Rose. Rose looked back at her impassively. She was used to sisters. Some had taught in her school and she knew them from Aunt Pol's church too. Some were nice; most were not. She had no doubt as to which category the one in front of her belonged. A long, bony finger beckoned her forward.

Rose walked to the desk and stood a few feet away. She took a deep breath. The sister held her in her gaze. There was a long pause and all Rose could hear was the ticking of the clock on a shelf behind the sister. She felt her stomach rumble. She hadn't eaten or drunk anything in hours. Her head hurt, her chest hurt, her face hurt, she was chilled to the bone and, by now, the fear which had accompanied her since the stables had become such a constant feeling that she almost didn't notice it. She startled slightly as the sister suddenly spoke. Her voice was harsh and rasping, it hurt Rose's ears.

"You look like a filthy street urchin. I was told you were a member of some kind of rich, powerful family but you really are just a dirty Gypsy, aren't you?"

Anger flickered across Rose's face. It wasn't the first time she had been insulted because of her heritage and it wouldn't be the last, but it made her angry every time. She was proud of where she came from. She knew better than to say anything though so she held her tongue. Watching all this play out in Rose's face, the sister curled her lips up at the edges in a strange, humourless grimace which made Rose's stomach lurch.

"I am Sister Mary Celeste. I am in charge of this home and you will do well to remember that. What is your name?"

"Rose Shelby"

"No, it's not. Your name is Susan Jones."

Rose frowned. "My name is Rose Shelby."

That grimace again. "One of the reasons why Father Hughes thinks so highly of my leadership here is that I am very good at making little girls disappear. Rose Shelby no longer exists. As far as her family or anyone who knows her is concerned, Rose is dead. You are now Susan Jones. Susan Jones is an orphan. Her mother was a prostitute who died of consumption, and who knows who her father is? You have very fortuitously landed here in St Mary's Home for Orphaned and Destitute Girls where, with hard work and discipline, you will be prepared for a life of service which is as good a life as anyone in your position can hope for. "

The cold, dark eyes of Sister Mary Celeste scanned Rose's face as she pronounced her new identity. They darted back and forth, enjoying the impact of her words. Rose blinked, trying to remain impassive in her expression as she heard what was said to her. She didn't quite succeed. Her eyes pricked with tears and her breathing quickened. Surely this couldn't be happening. She couldn't be just swallowed up into this place leaving no trace. Sister Mary Celeste put her hands on the desk and pushed herself to her feet. She walked round and stood a foot away from Rose, looking down at her.

"Now, girl, tell me – what is your name?"

Rose knew where this was headed. She knew things would get worse if she didn't yield, but the Shelby pride and stubbornness kicked in. She turned and looked up at the sister.

"Rose Shelby."

The sister's hand shot out and slapped Rose hard across the cheek. Her head snapped to the side and she stumbled slightly as she was knocked off-balance. Her cheek throbbed with re-awakened pain. She worked hard to stand up straight again and look the sister in the eye. She waited for the question.

"What is your name?"

"Rose Shelby."

Another slap, harder this time, making Rose gasp.

"What is your name?"

"Rose Shelby."

This time, the slap opened up the gash on her cheek and Rose could feel the warm blood as it trickled down her face.

"What is your name?"

"Rose Shelby."

The more the sister hit her, the more determined she became to not give in. Her name was important to her. It told the world who she belonged to and she wasn't going to deny it. But eventually, as the pain grew, the abuse was too much to bear, too much to endure. Rose could barely stay on her feet.

"What is your name?"

Rose didn't answer. She stood swaying, breathing heavily, her vision blurred, her head pounding, her eyes on the floor. Sister Mary Celeste allowed herself a smile.

"Well, it's a step in the right direction. Now, we could play this game all day but I'm bored of it now. And I will win eventually. I always win."

She glided across the room to a bell pull. As she rang it, she looked over at Rose.

"You have trailed mud all over my carpet and now you're dripping blood on it. You are a disgrace. I want you out of my sight."

Two sisters entered the room. One of them was a large, well-built woman and the other was not much bigger than Rose herself. Sister Mary Celeste turned to them.

"Sisters, this is our new arrival, Susan Jones. Take her and tidy her up, then find her a work assignment."

"Yes, Sister."

The larger woman strode over and took Rose by arm, pulling her towards the door. Her grip was very firm and Rose could practically feel a bruise forming around her arm. She kept her eyes to the floor as she moved past Sister Mary Celeste.

"Wait!"

Rose was brought to a halt as Sister Mary Celeste moved towards her. She reached out a hand and Rose's skin crawled as the long bony fingers touched her neck, reached into the top of her dress and pulled out the necklace which hung there. It lay across her fingers and Rose could see the red garnet stone glinting in the light of the fire.

"Girls are not allowed personal possessions."

Looking up desperately, Rose pleaded with her.

"It was my mother's. Please don't take it from me."

A smirk. "Did she steal it?"

The fingers tightened around the golden rose and with a quick tug, the sister tore it off her neck. Rose screamed and lunged forward to get it back.

"No! No! Give it back. It's mine!"

The large sister immediately restrained Rose, putting both arms around her and holding her tight. Rose kicked and screamed but she was no match for the woman who held her. Sister Mary Celeste walked to her desk, opened a drawer and dropped the necklace into it.

"Take her away, and shut her up. I hate the ones who scream."

Rose was beside herself with rage and distress and was barely aware of being dragged through the building to a large bathroom. She was pushed inside as the two sisters followed her in and closed the door. Rose span round and faced them, breathing shakily, her fists clenched. The smaller of the two sisters stepped forward and smiled at her. She was young, with a round face and a soft expression. She spoke gently.

"Susan, why don't you calm down? All this noise and fighting won't get you anywhere. You'll just get into more trouble. Let me help you."

Rose stared at her, not knowing what to make of the change in tone. The sister carried on.

"My name is Sister Mary Agnes and this is Sister Mary Gabriel. I want to help you. I can take care of your wounds and get you something to eat, but I need you to calm down. If you won't let me help you, then Sister Mary Gabriel will have to intervene and I'd rather avoid that."

Rose looked at Sister Mary Gabriel who had crossed her arms and was glaring at her, and decided she didn't want her to intervene either. She moved her eyes back to Sister Mary Agnes, unclenched her fists, relaxed her shoulders and felt all the fight run out of her. Mary Agnes saw it too and nodded. She moved over the Rose, took her by the shoulders and led her to a bench which ran along the wall. She gently pushed her down onto it and sat next to her. The sister took her hand and Rose flinched at the contact.

"There now, that's better. We're going to get you cleaned up and then I'll get you something to eat. How does that sound?"

Tears formed in Rose's eyes as she nodded. She was so tired. She just wanted to go home. Mary Agnes smiled, patted her hand and stood up. She picked up a towel and a bar of carbolic soap and brought them over to Rose.

"Let's get you out of those damp clothes and into some fresh ones. Use the showers there and give yourself a good wash."

She nodded across the room and Rose saw a row of shower heads along a pipe fixed to the wall. No cubicles, no curtains, just a small trough on the ground underneath to drain the water. She looked back at Mary Agnes, her eyes wide.

"It's ok, we won't watch. But you'll have to get used to showering alongside the other girls. Here you go."

She held out the towel and soap. Rose wearily stood up, took them and walked to the farthest shower of the room. Turning her back on the sisters, she undressed quickly and turned on the tap. She let out a loud gasp as ice cold water covered her. It didn't heat up and Rose washed herself as quickly as she could, taking short sharp breaths as the water took away any warmth she might still have had in her body. The carbolic soap smelled strongly of coal tar and it stung her wounds when she washed her face. She lathered the soap into her hair too, trying to wash it as best she could. Turning the tap off, grateful to stop the cold water, Rose wrapped the towel around her and turned round, her teeth chattering.

Both sisters were watching her and she felt uncomfortable. Mary Agnes smiled and beckoned her over. Rose, careful not to slip on the now wet floor, made her way over to them.

"Your clothes are there on the bench. And a brush for your hair. Hurry up and get dressed so you can warm up. Your lips have turned blue."

Rose did as she was told, too cold and tired to care anymore. The underwear was thick white cotton, as was the blouse, the stockings were grey wool with just two pieces of elastic to serve as a garters. The pinafore dress was thick brown wool and was too big for her. It hung from her like a sack. The boots were also a size too big and had clearly belonged to someone else; there was a small hole in the bottom of one of them and the shoelace on the other wasn't long enough to go round all the hooks. She tied it as best she could, then took the hair brush and pulled it through her hair, trying to get rid of the knots. She was glad to be out of the damp clothes but now, wearing the same uniform as the other girls in the home, she felt like she really had lost her identity. She looked at the two sisters and Mary Agnes smiled again.

"That's better. You look human again. Just one last thing and then we'll take you for something to eat."

She turned to pick something up from cabinet and when she turned back round, Rose saw a pair of scissors in her hand. She crumpled. The tears she'd been holding back for so long now fell from her eyes as she shook her head.

"Please don't."

"Come on now, it's alright. Come over here in the light so I can see what I'm doing."

Rose kept shaking her head. "Please don't do it."

Mary Gabriel took a step forward and Rose, resigned to her fate and unable to resist anymore, stood up slowly, walked over to Mary Agnes and turned round in front of her.

"There's a good girl."

Mary Agnes gathered Rose's hair together in one hand and held it firmly. She lifted up the scissors and began to cut her hair straight across. Rose cried silently as she felt the blades slice though her hair slowly from one side to the other. Her head finally pulled loose and hung forward as Mary Agnes cut through the last of it. Short strands fell forward into her face as she watched her tears fall to the floor and mingle with the pile of red curls which lay around her feet.