Chapter Six
JULY
’Tis a month since the gala night when Damien and I met, and we’ve grown thick as thieves.
We talk a lot about our futures, and ’tis plain he wants what I want.
His family came up no better than mine, slaving for pennies, knowing that to get a step further you must do more than work hard.
You’ve got to find the person who can open the right doors.
If you find them, then it is up to you to ensure they want you and only you for the next thing and the next.
Damien is an orphan, though he’s eighteen, which to me says he’s too old to carry that kind of distinction.
He’s been on his own for a few years now.
His father never made it back from the war, and his three brothers died in the Flu ten years ago.
All that was left was Damien, his cheeky smile, and a rented cot at his cousins’ place.
He’s worked every day of his life, never took no handouts.
Started off as a delivery boy, loading up crates and such, and he shined a lot of shoes, and, well, now he’s living proof that hard work and a good deal of charm can get you places.
I remember how dreadful that time was, when the Flu was here.
All those poor soldiers, God bless ’em, limping back home and bringing the sickness with them, and then the government closing all the churches and schools and everything else.
Truly, ’twas was a miracle my own family survived, but it all came down to Granny’s wisdom.
She closed all the windows and doors and wouldn’t hear of us wanting out to play, then she tied a bag of menthol around our necks to kill the germs. I can still smell it.
My brothers and I, we was bored with each other after an hour, but we was made to stay inside for a whole week.
In the end, Granny was right, and not one of us fell ill.
But Damien hadn’t the same luck at all. He lost everyone.
Damien’s a survivor. He’s good at finding what he wants, then getting it.
Right now, what he wants is me, but I am trying to stand my ground.
I do not need to fall in love. What I need is to do my job, eat, sleep, and do it all again.
I have always had one goal in life, and that is to improve my situation.
I do not want to live forever in The Ward.
I want, someday, to be helped out of a motorcar and maybe even be issued one of the Dominion’s fancy guest keys.
To touch a string of pearls at my neck. To sit in a café and sip on an expensive cup of coffee. I have no time for a man in my life.
Trouble is, Damien grows more convincing by the day. He’s a lovely man, he is. And he’s handsome as the divil himself. The truth of it is that I’m sweet on him, whether I want or not.
Most mornings he and I walk to work together, and most evenings he takes me back to The Ward. If he can’t, he leaves me a note under a loose piece of carpet in the staff corridor. I like to pretend that Da put down that carpet and he left that secret hiding place just for me and Damien.
I finally spoke with Mrs. Evans about Bianca.
The girl was on and on about it, and, being her friend and all, I couldn’t keep quiet forever.
As Granny says, a kind word never broke anyone’s mouth.
I only wish I trusted Bianca to be serious.
She wants to talk about everything and everyone, and she wants to know secrets and the reasons for them.
I have told her over and over that I will not recommend her for a job at the Dominion if she can’t learn to hold her tongue.
She took my meaning lightly, drawing her fingers across her closed lips and pretending to toss away an invisible key, but that was not enough for me.
“This isn’t a common sort of job, Bianca. You can’t just natter like a shopgirl. At the Dominion, you keep your head down and your mouth shut, see? Do whatever Mrs. Evans tells you to do until you drop. Then you sleep, then you do it all again.”
“And somewhere in there you hook yourself a man,” she teases, fluttering her lashes. “Damien isn’t the type for me, but Mama always says, ‘L’amore è cieco.’ ”
I wait.
“Love is blind.”
“Don’t be talking nonsense,” I chide, though if my cheeks get any redder, they’ll hang me out like a flag. “Damien is a friend is all. Besides, I can’t say as I think much of your man. Nico’s a gobshite, isn’t he? Bit of a hound.”
“Yeah?”
“He’s too loud, and he’s got no manners. That’s your problem as well, Bianca. If you can’t keep your mouth shut, I’ll not go to Mrs. Evans about you.”
She thinks I’m making a song and dance over it. That’s her problem, not mine.
The next day she’s back, hat in hand. “I’ll do whatever it takes to work at the Dominion. Please, Rosie.”
On the way to work, I talk to Damien about her. He’s a good lad, letting me get it off my chest like that.
“Ah now, seems to me,” he says after I’m done, “that’s up to Mrs. Evans. You tell her the truth, and she can hire or fire. That’s her job.”
We walk a bit, quiet and thinking, our arms softly brushing as we go. “But will I not look bad if Bianca behaves poorly?”
“You couldn’t look bad if you tried, Rosie.”
“Psshh.” But my cheeks are burning.
“ ’Tis the truth. You’re fierce lovely.”
“Damien!”
“Mrs. Evans sees that in you as well.”
I laugh. “Is that right?”
Now ’tis his cheeks that burn. “No, no. I’m not saying she sees you as I do. She values you and your work. She’s fond of you.”
“Oh? And you see me different? How is it that you see me?” God help me, I’m so brazen I shock myself.
His fingers curl around mine. He’s done that a few times, and every time it sets my hand on fire.
“Let’s have supper tonight,” he says.
That means he’ll be stealing from the kitchen again.
I’ve warned him against doing it, but he’ll not listen.
He’d rather see my face when he brings something for us to share under the streetlamp.
I should stop him, but I’m content when we are together.
And when he shares that food, from beef to chicken to even salmon one night, I couldn’t be happier. So I say yes.
We pause outside the hotel’s staff entrance. “I’ll bring you something you’ll like,” he promises, then he leans in, kisses my cheek, and vanishes down to the kitchen before I can object.
Not that I would.
I am beginning to think I should visit Father William.
I don’t like the man. He’s a right pup, with his weaselly face.
I don’t like his smell, and I have never made it through one of his sermons without daydreaming.
But he is the priest of the community. He is the one I must speak with about my feelings for Damien.
I shudder, thinking of facing him over this.
The tickle of Damien’s lips on my cheek stays with me as I go downstairs and change into my uniform.
Before I begin my day, I stop in to see Mrs. Evans.
It is surprising to me how close she and I have become.
’Tis not like a regular friendship, because she is about twenty years older, and besides, we cannot gossip.
Do you know, since I’ve started working here, I’ve realized that gossip makes up more of a conversation than you’d think.
Other than that, I’m not sure what to talk about.
What does that say about us? Still, safe to say, me and Mrs. Evans have a sort of understanding between us.
“How’s your granny?” she asks. She’s told me before that she had a nan that sounds much like mine. She’s not around anymore, but Mrs. Evans likes to remember her when I speak of my own granny.
“She’s the same as she always is,” I say, recalling the scene.
“I bought her a sweetie with my tips yesterday, and didn’t her face go sour when I handed it to her.
‘Ah, ’tis evil of ye, bringin’ me sugar like this,’ she said, but then she sucked on the thing for as long as she could, not saying another word. ”
Mrs. Evans smiles with nostalgia. “You’re a good girl, Rosie, bringing her gifts. She won’t be here forever.” She tilts her head. “What’s on your mind? You seem out of sorts, and that’s not like you.”
“Beg pardon, Mrs. Evans. It’s only I’ve a friend who’s been asking if I could get her an interview with you.”
Her face tightens into her business mask, all straight lines. “I see. She wants to work here as you do? Should I hire her?”
“ ’Tis not for me to say, ma’am.”
“Would she work hard? Be a good employee of the hotel?”
“Maybe she would, but I’ll not swear to it. Still, she’s a lovely girl, and she’s been my friend all my life.”
“That’s not an answer to either of my questions.”
I exhale. I’ve been dreading this meeting for days now, ever since I told Bianca I’d ask.
I have already prepared what to say, and Damien said to just tell her the truth, so I bring the words from my brain to my mouth.
Mrs. Evans regards me closely as I do, her long fingers steepled in front of her nose.
“Bianca is a little younger than me and has loads of energy, ma’am. She keeps her mother’s house clean, there’s no question. She tends to eight little ones all day long, which I’d say is a test for the most patient of us. But you’d know better if she’s suitable. Would you meet with her, please?”
Mrs. Evans studies me. “I’d like to know why you are hesitant.”
“ ’Tis only I wouldn’t want to tell you one thing when your mind’s on another.”
She is unconvinced. She is trying to read my mind while she taps her fingers on her desk. “Tell her she can come tomorrow at eleven o’clock, and not a minute later.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Evans.”
“Now, Rosie, I’ve another matter to discuss with you, since we are speaking of people’s characters. I’ve seen you of late with that charming young waiter, Mr. Walsh.”
Heat rushes into my face. “Aye, he’s a good friend.”
“I’d like to warn you away from him.”
My face tingles at that, like it doesn’t know whether to smile or scowl. His lips still press against my cheek.
“But why, ma’am? He’s a fine young man, and he’s good to me.”
“That may be so, but there’s scuttlebutt that Mr. Walsh is doing extra work outside of the hotel, and his other boss is of unlawful character.”
I feel my mouth fall open. Damien’s never mentioned anything like that. “Unlawful, ma’am?”
“He’s a criminal.”
“Criminal! Oh, no, Mrs. Evans. Damien would never.”
She pauses, taking pains to make herself clear.
“I’m not saying Mr. Walsh is a criminal, Rosie.
If he was, he would no longer work here at the Dominion.
I’m saying people have said that in addition to his job here, he also works for a disreputable man.
You know how I feel about gossip, but this bit of information seems well-founded and important that you know. ”
I think she has more to say, and I rather wish she would say it so I could better understand, but she lets it go.
“It’s not up to me who you see outside of work, but I’d like you to keep this part of his character in mind as you go. I was married for ten years to a wonderful man who fell in with this same man’s business without meaning to. He, well, he met a terrible end because of that.”
I’m shocked. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Evans.”
“It’s old news, but I’m telling you so that you will understand the possible consequences. If Mr. Walsh does not, I hope that at least you will.”
That’s all I can think of for the rest of the day. Her words of warning, which fill me with concern, and the sweetness of Damien’s kiss on my cheek.