Tommy and Polly sit in the living room of the house that once belonged to Reggie and Dottie. Polly rubs her face, wiping away the frown marks and the smudging of her makeup. She looks at Tommy with a tired look.
"How did I miss that she was being abused?" Polly asks in a quiet voice. "She's my little baby..."
"Pol, we all missed it," Tommy replies, sitting on the edge of his seat. He runs his hand up and down Polly's back.
"He abused her! You know what the first thing she said to me was when we walked in? When she told Reggie she was pregnant, it was to protect herself and her baby, form him. She told me all she could think about was how to protect her baby... what kind of monster was he?"
Tommy swallows a lump in his throat, "I had reservations about him," he says in a quiet voice as if he's trying not to upset his devastated aunt beside him, who looks at him with a curious glare.
"Thomas."
"He had told us that she didn't want to see us. That she was pregnant, and was severely ill. Arthur went round to hers one day, and said all the curtains were drawn closed. Knocked on the door for hours, said no one was home."
"She was home," Polly replies back, "when I came, I saw her downstairs. She was in the front room, the empty room. She was laying on the floor."
Tommy nods, "we all missed it, Pol... maybe if we hadn't of missed it, she wouldn't be scarred, but here we are."
"She's not scarred, she's just processing what's happened," Polly argues back. "Scarred is when your broken, when you can't be fixed..." her eyes pool with tears as she looks at Tommy, "she's not broken."
Tommy nods, grasping hold of Polly's hands. "Shes you all over, Pol. She's not broken, she never will be. We won't let her be."
Polly nods. "I hate how she is now... I can't help her, Tom... Im trying, but I can't. I don't know how to help her."
"I'll talk to Esme, see if we can get some of those herbs to get her to sleep and sort her head out. It's alright, Pol. We're all around, we'll all help." Tommy promises.
Nodding again, Polly sniffs, pulling her hands away to wipe her eyes. She sniffs again before speaking.
"Have you heard anything else from the Russians?"
—
Grace helps Dottie pack away her clothes. A large suitcase sits open on the floor, with clothes and sentimental items thrown on top of it messily. Grace had no idea what Reggie was like as a partner, but she had a feeling she would soon find out.
And she did, upon opening the top drawer in the oak chest of drawers. She pulls out two small bags of white powder.
"Why's there cocaine in the top drawer?" Grace asks in a hesitant voice. She turns round to Dottie, who sits cross legged on the bed folding up some clothes. She freezes when she hears Grace's question.
"Is it yours?"
Dottie tilts her head. "Kind of. He use to give me it mixed with water. He use to say it was to keep me from being sick."
Grace stares at Dottie. She drops the little bags down on to the oak wood and goes to sit beside Dottie.
"He took me to this doctor... the doctor wouldn't talk to me, only only talk to him. He said I was mental, but he didn't want me to be put away." Dottie looks down at her lap, fiddling with her hands.
"He mixed it with water. I didn't want to drink it. Most of the time he held me down..." Dottie's words trail off as tears begin to pool her eyes.
Grace is quick to comfort her, sitting next to her and pulling her in to her chest. She rubs the younger woman's back gently with her hands.
"It's alright," Grace coos, "you're not crazy, Dottie. I promise you're not, this is just the aftermath."
Dottie clings on to Grace like a lifeline.
Grace begins to sing. A sweet and soft melody. An Irish song that Dottie knows. It brings her back to calmness, back to life almost.
"In a neat little town they called Belfast
Apprentice to trade I was bound
And the many an hour's sweet happiness
Have I spent in that neat little town."
Dottie's breathing begins to regulate as Grace continues, looking at the wall and rubbing Dottie's back.
"A sad misfortune came over me
Which caused me to stray from the land
Far away from me friends and relations."
Grace breathes out, noticing the stillness taking over Dottie. She looks down, seeing Dottie stare up at her with large doe like eyes. She reminds her of a deer, a stray and scared deer.
"Betrayed by the black velvet band
Her eyes they shown like diamonds
I thought her the queen of the land
And her hair, it hung over her shoulder
Tied up with a black velvet band."
Dottie continues to stare at Grace with almost a vacant expression. Grace pushes aside her stray strands of hair.
"Are you alright, Dottie?" She asks, her eyes travelling over every feature.
"My mother use to sing that to me. Well not my mother, Rosemary. She use to sing that."
Grace hums.
"Whenever we were crying, she use to sing that. She said it's a lullaby. She use to sing it to Eliza... I use to sing it to her, to make her sleep. Reggie hated it, said I was filling her head with nonsense."
"You sung it as a lullaby?"
"Mhm." Dottie nods, "she use to fall asleep almost straight away... I use to sit up at night watching her making sure he didn't do anything to her..." Dottie rants, stopping to wipe her cheek.
"I hate him, you know. He took me when I was this strong woman and made me crazy. I hate him with all my life, I really do."
Grace gives her a small smile. "That's how I feel with Clive."
"Men, they're fucking horrible, aren't they?"
Grace, almost trying to stifle a laugh, nods, "you wait until you find the right one. My Tommy wouldn't do anything to hurt me."
"Yes, but your Tommy has also killed."
Grinning, Grace responds, "so have you, yet here I am."
Dottie freezes for a slightly second, before she slaps Grace's upper arm.
"Oi. Self defence don't count."
"Oh believe me it does," Grace remarks back, "listen, I'm holding a charity ball, Thomas had left me in charge of everything and it's too much. Would you help?"
"Of course. When is it?"
"Next Wednesday, but come over tomorrow. We can start planning it."
—
Dottie threw herself in to Grace's charity ball. She had Micheal or Polly drive her every day to Arrow House, not that either one of them minded, it meant Dottie was focusing on the future, rather than the past. Plus, Eliza loved being with Charlie. The two were similar ages, and were always giggling together in the corner. If the corner went quiet, Dottie and Grace knew there would be trouble awaiting for them.
Dottie and Grace got on extremely well. As well as both experiencing an abusive partner, they also bonded on the ways they both grew up. Grace grew up on the outskirts of a village, she's the youngest of seven boys. She wasn't allowed to follow the boys out to work, nor was she allowed to be around when her father had his business associates around for dinner. Grace grew up in her mother's presence, although being a daddy's girl at heart. When her mother died, she took care of the house, taking on her mother's role. It was only when Grace's father died, did she start to work, moving away from Galway slightly and finding work in several different pubs.
Dottie found her fascinating. She had lived through so many lives. She told Dottie all about her childhood from growing up in a small town in Galway to eventually moving to New York with her first husband.
Dottie felt she resonated a lot with Grace, they had similar upbringings, and similar pasts, so it was easy for Dottie to totally emerge herself in Grace's fancy organising.
It was long until it was the following Wednesday. It was the first day since Grace's wedding to Tommy that Dottie put an effort in to her outfit, curling and styling her hair, smearing red lipstick over her lips, decorating her dark eyes with dark eyeshadow and liner.
Her dress, one Polly's mother had stolen in years prior, clung to Dottie's every curve, accentuating her waist and her breasts. The stain dress sways beneath her feet, she holds up the thin material to walk down the stairs, careful of the many petticoats underneath the dress. She felt like a princess, with Polly's diamonds littering around her neck and hanging from her ears.
"You look stunning, my girl," Polly gleams, wearing an equally stunning dress. A nude one that compliments her skin.
"Wait until you see the little monkey," Dottie gushes, she turns her head round, "Eliza."
Eliza follows her mothers voice, walking down the stairs in a small black and gold dress. One Rosemary, unknowingly to Polly, had made Eliza when the pair were staying with her.
Polly grins, picking up Eliza and spinning her.
"Nana!" Eliza cries as Polly sways, hugging the girl tight.
"You look so beautiful, my darling!"
"That's right," Dottie purrs, stepping to the bottom of the steps, "but no doubt you'll change later, won't you? Mary will be looking after you and Charlie tonight, sweetheart."
Eliza tilts her head, "Charlie?"
"Yes, your bestest friend," Dottie grins.
Eliza looks behind Polly to Micheal. She kicks her legs out. Dottie frowns, watching silently.
"Let's go, Uncle Mickey! Let's go, let's go!"