Baker's Gonna Bake

Chapter 27

It was lunch time, the sun was high but Rosaleigh was still in her windowless room. It was room four, the one where she had so often shared lustful trysts with Alfie, and the one which made her feel calm for that very reason. She'd spent so many nights here drifting off to sleep with blossoming hope. Hope for a future with him, hope for some kind of fairytale. Now she had no hope, none whatsoever.

John would be there any minute, and then the calm would leave her like the hope had. She wasn't sure what would come of the latest event, she was petrified of the repercussions for Alfie, for him not only been taken down on a business level and losing a woman he obviously adored, but petrified that he would end up plain dead.

She had received his letter about an hour previously, and after consulting Harold, he had encouraged her to ring John immediately as it was both their heads on the chopping block should she not. Harold was just as scared as she was after having their lives threatened so many times before. She sat there now on the chair by the dresser, her eyes red from crying and read it over and over and over again.

Her heart swelled for Alfie.

He had done the right thing, he had taken responsibility like that of a good solid man. Even though it could burden his life and his new courtship, and for that reason he needed her gone, he still wanted to take care of her.
She was well aware that a dangerous man like Alfie Solomons could've well taken care of her another way. She had seen that happen often in her line of work, married men of importance or nobility, disposing of a wench who bore their bastard so their reputation and livelihood were not tarnished.
She had seen men blot out a whores life like she had been a stain on a bedsheet.
Instead Alfie had offered her a future, opportunities and good fortune; and she wished more than ever she was bearing his child and had the freedom to take his offer with both hands. This could have all played out so differently, if not for John.
But John existed. Like the grim reaper behind her at every turn, and there was no way he was going to let that happen.

There was suddenly a sound of muffled voices and she felt his presence in the house before she even saw it, her body taking on an involuntary tremble. It was time to slip on the mask of indifference that she had mastered like an actress of the theatre. She always refused to show him her fear, sensing that he thrived on it, though the dread threatened to rise from her like a fog of black smoke that the whole of London and beyond would notice.

He barged in with menace, and she could see he was angry, like he usually was, the great bulging vein in his fat neck betraying him, but he spoke quietly. John Limbert had no need to shout.

"Show me the fucking thing" he said, holding out his hand for the letter she held in her shaking fingers.

She passed it over instantly, her eyes lowering to the hands she had begun to wring in her lap. She stood, for John demanded it upon his entrance and despite the chaotic situation he wouldn't forget a slip of her manners. She tried not to make a noise when she was breathing, he hated that too.
In front of her he scanned the words on the page, the occasional vile snigger escaping his lips under his moustache and his eyes narrowed as he completed it.

"What a fucking nobleman eh? What a saint." .. he paused, his shoulders hunched as he mulled it all over.

"Except for the fact that he's disowning you, isn't he? And your fake bastard too... after so many years of putting his nolly in you! He was man enough to put it there but not man enough to claim it. Cheeky fucking KIKE he is .... a festering JEW PIG!!!!!" He bellowed. His anger was rising further with every second that passed and Rosaleigh continued to tremble whilst trying to act nonchalant before him.

"Well how many pounds of sterling do we reckon we could fleece him for if we threaten to tell my little angel? Huh? How much of his fortune and businesses can we feast on if we threaten to reveal all and expose his dirty little secret so that she leaves him? Hmmmm?" he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, the letter still in his hands. He scanned the words on the paper again, shocked that a dirty dunce was able to write the way that he did. "We could build ten more knocking shops and put you to work in them all" he said, venomously, followed by a hollow laugh at his insensitive joke.
He took off his bowler cap and rubbed at the temples beneath his scrawny grey hair, his complexion still rosy with the heat of his frustration.

He was quiet for some moments and so was the house around them.
Rosaleigh dared to turn her head slightly, to stare in the mirror before her - chipped and dirty.
Alfie hadn't disowned her. She refused to see it that way, for he had promised to look after her and help her, and to carry on that help when she had settled. He wanted to give her a good life, one that didn't involve John Limbert and this dirty fucking house where she had committed a thousand sins, letting countless vile men between her legs. Alfie wasn't one of them.
She made up her mind through the silence, her heart hammering. Tears pricking her eyes, threatening to spill over and reveal her heartache.

"You will return a letter." He spoke finally, his voice calmer, his plan materialised.

"Instruct him here tomorrow at five of the evening, you will refuse the offer, threaten to tell my Cora all, and demand more money from him. A lot more money.... money that will make a dent in his livelihood. If he refuses we tell Cora straight away instead of later. Ruin that whole sordid charade. And if he miraculously complies then I'm one step closer to ruining the bakery as well as his fling with MY DAUGHTER" he raged again.
"Of course he could kill you, but I don't think he has it in him. Weasel Jew coward inbred bastard that he is, too fuckin soft." He grimaced.

John left the room briefly, returning with the ink and paper to compose the letter and stood over Rosa whilst she sat at her dresser and wrote out a shaky handled response. Every time she smudged the writing, or made a hurried mistake he smacked her upside the head with the back of his palm.
He was growing more and more impatient because of this illiterate whore.

Rosa was so shattered by the end of the short note, her head felt bruised and broken and her spirit was too. When she had finished he snatched it from her, planning on having it delivered directly to the Solomons door by his own men.
He took a moment to look at the weak, flame haired bitch beneath him. The control he had over her and the uses he had for her making him hard. She was pathetic, and he loved it. It ignited something inside him.
He grabbed her by the chin, squeezing it and forcing her to look up at him. She looked so miserable it made him hate her even more. The least she could do is smile, he was planning on ridding her of one customer at least.

"Now get on the fucking bed" he spat.

He was about to show her again how a real man fucked a whore.

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That evening, when she was alone, Rosaleigh felt a whole new level of numbness as she wrote a letter of her own. However, this time her hands did not shake.