The Hanging Noose

Forty-One

Dottie lays across the sofa in the house Polly once lived in. She has a flannel over her forehead, her hands folded on to her lap as her eyes are locked shut. She tries to ignore the grumbling from her stomach as she breathes, feeling the tightness across her chest.

"Katie's good with your Eliza," Esme comments, sat on the floor in front of the fire, she strokes her stomach, looking at Dottie and seeing Polly in the corner of her eye.

Polly's also resting. With an identically cloth over her forehead. She has her legs propped up on a chair as she leans back on another chair.

Like mother like daughter.

A bottle of cheap rum and vodka sit on the table, both with their lids screwed off and half empty.

Dottie hums, half listening.

"Katie adores her. Says she's an angel for her. Says she slept all night long, didn't wake up once."

"She's a deep sleeper, that girl," Dottie mutters, her head spinning so she keeps her eyes shut as Esme stands up, walking around the kitchen.

Lizzie looks up from the place on the sofa, where she sits with Dottie's legs on her lap.

"Fancy a cup of tea?" She asks, walking away from the fire. She turns around she hears no answer. "Oi. Tea, anyone?"

Polly grunts, her voice hoarse. "Put the kettle on then. Stop your whining."

"A cup for me," Lizzie says, moving Dottie's legs to stand up.

Dottie doesn't say anything else as she breathes out, listening out for Esme's or Lizzie's footsteps. She winces when she hears the kettle begin to boil, squealing and whistling. Then everything goes quiet. She imagines Esme grumbling to herself whilst pouring four cups of tea. The only noises heard is that of Esme placing the mugs down in front of the two Gray women, either one of them acknowledging the action.

The four women sit in silence for some time, allowing the hanging of their heads to calm down. Every so often, Dottie clears her throat, trying to resist the urge to move. When she does, she jumps up, running past Polly and Esme and through to the toilet. She drops herself down on to the floor before she heaves.

Dottie tries to ignore the tightness across her chest as she vomits, trying to keep her hair out of her face with her free hand.

Once Dottie is sure she can't vomit anymore, she stands up, washing off her hands and her face and flushing the toilet. She wipes her hands as she walks back to the living room, seeing Tommy glare emptily at Polly.

"Oh, Tommy, we were having a laugh. You know, actually, the crowd around me was bigger than the crowd around Jessie Eden."

Tommy glances at Dottie, offering her a small nod of his head before he questions Polly. "Who's Jessie Eden?"

"She's too soft." Polly replies vaguely. "You're not gonna break the capitalist system talking about separate lavatories for women."

"Who is Jessie Eden?" Tommy repeats as Dottie leans against the doorframe, careful if she needs to run back to the toilet.

"She's our new best friend." Dottie remarks, looking at Tommy, "shop steward at the Lucas factory, apparently."

Tommy nods his head slightly. "A woman shop steward, I've heard of her"

Polly, still with the flannel over her head, throws a leaflet in Tommy's direction. "There is a leaflet here if you want to take a look, Tommy."

Tommy takes hold of the leaflet, glancing over it. "So, a separate lavatory? Is that it? Is that what you want? I don't know what you want. You have to tell me what it is that you want and then I'll know."