Chapter Sixteen
My old friend Bianca is waiting outside the door of my building, sitting in her smoke like a saint in a halo.
Damien stays beside me when I tell her that Mrs. Evans has agreed to interview her at eleven the next morning.
She is up quick as a flash, hugging the life out of me.
I blink at Damien over her shoulder, and he’s laughing, stitching dimples into his cheeks.
God help me, I want to kiss his mouth again.
“Thank you, thank you! Grazie, amica mia!” She steps back. “You won’t regret it.”
“I’d better not,” I say.
I don’t mean for it to happen, but my fingertips go to my chest, sheltering the locket. As soon as I do, Bianca spots it. I hadn’t planned to tell her about it. I fear she’ll tease us and strip the silver of its shine.
“What’s that pretty thing?”
I can’t keep quiet. I need to show her my treasure. I move in, then flip the locket over so she can see better.
“Look close,” I say, beaming, showing her our initials.
“Well! I thought you were only friends,” she singsongs.
She squints at Damien, judging him. Listen, the girl has terrible taste in men, for she does not think he is handsome, but I don’t care.
Then she shrugs. “L’amore è cieco. Whatever makes you happy, Rosie.
Let me see that necklace again. Good job, Damien.
I’d love to know how you paid for that.”
“That’s none of your business!” I cry, though I, too, would like to know. I am painfully aware that a waiter’s salary wouldn’t be enough, but I’m afraid to ask.
“I bet you would,” Damien says smoothly, the most charming ginger cat who ever ate a canary.
His expression gives me a nervous feeling inside.
Like he has a secret, and I am not sure if I want to know what it is.
I think of Mrs. Evans’s warning, but before I can say another word, he cups his cool hands around my upper arms.
“Good night, sweet Rosie. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Then he hugs me, right there in front of Bianca. For a second, I’m self-conscious, then I hold him tight. I don’t care what she thinks. My life has turned a corner, and I’m following that path with Damien, not Bianca.
She and I watch him walk away, a lone figure passing under the streetlamps. He tells me he’s been on his own for years, and he seems fine with that. But when he glances over his shoulder at me, I read in his expression that he’d rather have me beside him.
“Well,” Bianca says at last, facing me.
My connection to Damien separates me from Bianca, which feels a little strange. I ignore her sly smile, but I see it out of the corner of my eye.
Now that he’s gone, I’m aware of my body’s aches and pains. My feet feel like cement after my long day, and something sharp is burning on my hand. I must have missed a sliver of glass. I hope I didn’t leave any for the guests to step on. That would be terrible. I will check closely tomorrow.
“I’m in bits, Bianca. I need to sleep.” I know she wants to talk, but I shake my head when she tries to stop me. “If you get the job tomorrow, you will understand how knackered I am right now. Besides, you need to get your own sleep so you can be at your best for Mrs. Evans.”
Granny’s in her rocking chair when I tiptoe upstairs. Her head is hanging back, her mouth slightly open as she snores. I step around her as carefully as I can, but wouldn’t you know it, a floorboard creaks. Quick as a wink, she is awake and gaping at me.
“I thought you’d be in bed,” I say to her.
“Holy Mother of God. What foolishness is this?” she demands.
She’s staring hard at my necklace. How she spotted it that fast, I’ll never know.
There’s no point in lying, since she will get it out of me eventually.
And, well, I don’t want to lie about Damien, either, not really.
’Tis just that she’ll scold. She’ll make me feel bad about being so happy. That’s her way.
I lift the little locket in my fingers for her to see.
Her lips purse. “Saints preserve us, a locket. So we’ve money to throw around on pretty things, do we?”
“It’s a gift.”
“Who was the divil gave it to you?”
“He’s…” She glowers the second I say “he,” instead of “she,” but I keep on. “He’s a friend from work.”
“A friend. I see. Your friend gave you an expensive necklace with a locket.”
Granny has always been subtle as a brick.
I sit across from her, resigned to the conversation.
If only I’d thought to tuck the locket under my blouse before I came in.
But I didn’t, so here I sit. The room’s so small our knees almost touch.
I can’t figure out if I feel trapped or if I’m relieved to talk with her about him.
“He’s a fine man. I like him terribly, Granny.”
She sighs. “You were always building castles in the air, you were.”
What she means is that I’m dreaming, but that’s not fair. “Granny, I’m seventeen. I’m old enough to know my own way.”
She makes a puffing noise through her lips. “Is that right? Sure, and maybe you are. For I was fifteen when I married. Don’t mean I had a clue what I was doing.”
“Fifteen? And you’re huffing at me?” I exclaim. She’s never imparted that little gem to me before.
She tuts and wipes her mouth. “Is he a pleasant sort?”
That’s as good as an apology right there. “He’s very pleasant. And handsome.”
She puffs again. “What does that matter? Put silk on a goat and it is still a goat, aye? No one cares what you look like when you’re old. What matters is that he’ll not raise a hand to you. That he is kind and treats you well.”
“He does. He cares for me, Granny. He’d never do me harm, nor I him.”
She studies the locket again. “I’d say he does.” Then, “Do you love him, Roisin?”
You could knock me over, hearing that. She’s never so much as said that word around me before, and now she’s asking it so directly I’ve no idea how to answer.
Do I love Damien? I know I think of him every minute of every day, and I miss him as soon as I say goodbye.
I know that one smile of his melts away any sadness I might be carrying.
I know I have thought about taking up his name someday and adding it to mine.
“How do I know?” I ask quietly.
She shrugs. “Well now, I don’t think anyone knows for sure. Do you trust him?”
“I do, Granny.”
“Maybe that’s enough then,” she says. There’s a pause, and I know she is thinking deeply about what to say next. I can tell ’tis important, what she came up with, so I pay close attention. “There’s no cure for love but to marry, Rosie. If you’ve sinful thoughts, you’d best see Father William.”
I think about kissing Damien all the time. And yes, I have thought about going to see the priest, but I’ve put it off, since I don’t like breathing the same air as the man. I wonder how Granny knows that I have sinful thoughts.
She makes another sound, but this time it’s more like a chuckle. “Sure, and I’ve not always been old. We all have sinful thoughts, child. ’Tis only that we must confess them to God.”
In the morning, Damien is by my door, waiting for me.
I try to act as I always do when I’m with him, but of course I’m not the same, and neither is he.
This necklace is a promise from him. A commitment.
And I took it with my whole heart. I am making a promise to him, too, just by wearing it.
I am so happy I could float into the sky.
He’s proud, seeing that I’m wearing the locket. “Looks grand on you, Rosie.”
I squeeze his hand. “I will never take it off.”
But there’s a bit of trouble that comes with the necklace. I have questions about it, and about him. Questions that need answers. I hold my tongue for most of our walk, until I can’t bear it another second.
“I heard something about you, Damien, and it frightens me.”
“What’s that?”
“I was told you work for a criminal as well as for the hotel.”
He avoids my stare, and I see with regret that Mrs. Evans is right.
“No need to be frightened,” he assures me.
“Oh, but there is. I can’t have you getting hurt or arrested or worse.”
One side of his mouth lifts, showing me his right dimple. “I like that you care, Rosie, but I’m careful. Listen now, I’m not doing anything dangerous. I am nought but a delivery boy, and nobody’s gonna kill the messenger.”
“Promise?”
“Of course.”
I stop walking and fold my arms, unconvinced.
“Nobody’s gonna kill me. I promise.” He reaches for my hands.
“But let me tell you, the man I work for pays ten times what the hotel does. Being a waiter, I’ll never be able to give you what I want to give you.
’Tis a second job, that’s all, and it means we’ll have a home someday, and I’ll buy you all the jewellery you want. ”
“I don’t want jewellery,” I insist, leaning into his arm as we start walking again.
I feel closer to him now that we spoke of it, but I am not certain that what he said is fully true.
The pressure of his body against mine feels familiar, though we’ve done no more than kiss.
I feel like I’ve always belonged right here.
“I love my necklace, but most of all, I want you safe. So please, please mind yourself well.”
At work, I go directly to the room with the broken glass, needing to be sure it is safe for guests.
I’m lucky, because it was vacant last night, so no one could have stepped on anything sharp.
I go down to my hands and knees anyway, examining the whole carpet, and I’m satisfied I got every last bit, except for the invisible one still in my skin.
I’ll soak my hand later and it’ll pull out, I’m sure.
My second room of the day is 16-115, the Legacy Suite. ’Tis one of the grandest suites in the hotel, with all its brass and fine furniture. I like cleaning this room.