"You're daft as a fucking brush, Ro'." Finn was shaking his head as he was shuffling cards. "You're lucky you didn't break your neck."
"Lay off," she grumbled.
"No, I don't think I will. Split it?" Rose split the deck and Finn started to deal the cards onto her quilt. "This one's for the history books."
Rose made a face at him, but it was mainly to keep herself from grinning.
A very odd thing had happened. Everyone in the family knew what she'd done and no one appeared to be angry with her. Sure, they had given her endless shite about it, but they'd also all of them made it a point to appear by her bedside (or, in Finn's case, on her bed) to lavish her with attention.
Rose had been brought books and sweets and her cousin Karl had presented her with a dozen cockroaches in a jam jar, which turned out to be surprisingly hypnotic to watch in their tireless pursuit to find an exit.
Her uncle Arthur, who seemed largely unavailable these days, had come up to drunkenly ruffle her hair and called her a "callous little bastard" with so much affection, she'd very nearly cried.
There had been absolutely no retribution.
Her aunt Polly had even gone so far as to claim that Rose's night on the roof had not been the root cause of her illness.
"There's only so much heartsickness a person can take," she'd told Rose. "You could've stayed in your bed all warm and dry that night and you'd've still woken up with a raging fever. Some things can't be kept in, they'll make a passage out for themselves one way or another."
While Rose was not convinced, there was no denying that she felt...better. She'd been in bed for the better part of a week and was still coughing a little and a bit short of breath, but it was as if the giant hand constantly clenching her insides in an iron grip had somehow disappeared. Weirder still, she'd been so used to the tightness in her guts, she only really knew it had been there now that it was gone.
Rose couldn't grasp what exactly had shifted, but it seemed to have taken almost all of her rage at the world with it.
Even Charlie didn't seem to be quite so irritating anymore. He was certainly an apt steward and could be down to the kitchen and back with a biscuit in 65 seconds flat, she'd timed him. He had not grassed on her either, not even – as he proudly pointed out to her – when the doctor had been called and asked if anyone in the house had an idea what had brought this on. And, if Rose was perfectly honest, there was something very nice about having someone so completely convinced that the sun shone out of her arse.
"D'you know Bonnie Gold?" Finn asked, picking up and shaking his head in disgust at his hand.
"His da's terrifying," Rose said, slamming a Queen down with relish.
"Fuck off..." Finn groaned. "You've a fucking deck up your sleeve, haven't ye?"
Rose flapped her arms vigorously to prove him wrong.
"Unbelievable... anyway, they've set up a fight for him, grand affair at the King's Hall." Finn picked up again to no avail. "You know how he's not very big, Bonnie?"
"I'd say a welterweight, at most," Rose said gravely.
"Spot on," Finn said, shaking his head in amusement. "Anyway, the fella he's fighting is fucking enormous in comparison. They even call him Goliath."
"He must've made weight though, surely? Can't be that much bigger." Rose neatly deposited a trio of nines on the pile between them.
"I'm never shuffling again," Finn announced. "I'm clearly useless at it. But yea, anyway, you're mistaken. He looks twice his size. Arms like bloody anacondas. It'll be a massacre."
"Are you goin'?" Rose asked.
"Everyone's going," Finn finally managed to unload a small part of his hand.
"Ha!" Rose slammed her last two cards down and raised her arms in victory. "Cough up. When's the fight?"
"Friday." Finn dug two ten penny coins from his pocket. "Two-up for it?"
"Orright."
They took a coin each and silently flipped them into the air. There was no need to call a side; Rose was always tails, Finn was always heads, it was a universally acknowledged truth and had been for years. They watched the coins land on the blanket.
"Ah, fuck." Rose gave Finn the money back. "Friday?"
"Yea."
"Does that mean everyone'll be off their chops on Saturday still?"
"Arthur def'nitely will be. What's it matter though?" Finn asked innocently. "What's on Saturday?"
"Piss off," Rose pulled a pillow from behind her back and tried to hit him over the head with it.
"Why? What's wrong?" Finn dodged the pillow and fell out of the bed.
Rose jumped out and on top of him, fruitlessly trying to pin him down.
"Frances, Rose is getting out of bed," her uncle shouted before flipping her off him and kneeling on her arms.
"Back in bed, Rosie," they heard Frances from the bottom of the stairs.
"Gerroff, you thick bastard," Rose coughed, but before Finn could oblige, Charlie came barreling into the room and rammed him with enough speed to knock him off balance.
"Why thank you, Charles," Rose croaked and sat up.
Charlie grinned like a mad thing.
"What is going on here?" Frances had made it to the doorway now and was shaking her head at the chaos before her.
"She's delirious, Frances," Finn got up and offered Rose a hand.
"You're not to wind her up," Frances glared at him. "She's meant to be recuperating."
"I didn't do anything," Finn insisted. "Just asked what was up on Saturday and she went berserk. I don't know what's the matter with her. D'you know, Charlie?"
Charlie looked up at Finn as if he was the biggest ejit he'd ever seen.
"It's Rosie's birthday," he said reverently.
"You're joking!" Finn exclaimed in mock horror.
Rose dropped back into bed and gave him the evil eye.
"You knew," she said.
" 'course, I bloody knew," Finn picked his jacket off the floor and made for the door. "Behave now, children, I'll see ye later."
"We used to be children together, old fella!" Rose shouted after him, coughing a little.
"Rest," Frances said firmly. "Come on, Charlie."
"But-"
"Your sister needs to rest."
"I'll be quiet," Charlie whispered.
"He's orright, Frances," Rose said generously.
"Wonders'll never cease," Frances muttered as she left them to it.
Rose lay back on her pillows and felt as if she had a slice of hot buttered toast growing inside her. Perhaps she should make a habit of getting ill.
#
Rose was reading Peter and Wendy and was so absorbed that she didn't notice her father until he was crouching down beside her bed.
"One more page," she whispered without looking up.
"One more just and I'll turn off the light, orright? Please?"
Tommy took the book from her hands. Rose frowned at him and noticed he looked rather serious, not angry, but really very serious indeed.
"What's wrong?" she asked a bit too loudly.
Her father put his finger to his lips and nodded over towards Charlie, sleeping already.
"Come downstairs for a bit," he said quietly. "We've got to talk."
Rose swung her legs out of bed and followed him down the stairs. She could feel small bits of gravel forming in the pit of her stomach.
"What's wrong?" Rose asked again once they'd made it to the kitchen.
"Nothing's wrong," her father said calmly. "Will I make tea?"
She shrugged and Tommy put the kettle on.
"Sit down," he said. "D'you want a biscuit?"
"No," Rose said, staring at his back. "I want to know what's goin' on."
"Fair enough." Her father turned and leaned against the benchtop. "D'you know what's happening on Friday?"
"Bonnie Gold's boxing the big bastard," Rose answered.
"That's right." Tommy gave her a small smile. "And afterwards Mister Gold is driving out to his people to distribute their winnings."
"If Bonnie wins," Rose interjected.
"He'll win. But-" her father cleared his throat, "- more importantly, I've told Mister Gold to take you with him..."
Rose inhaled sharply but managed to keep her mouth shut.
"...you and your brother, both."
Tommy was watching her closely as she wrestled with all the implications of this new plan.
"You'll be well enough to travel," he went on. "I'd say you're well enough now, but there's no time to take you until after the fight."
Rose looked at him silently.
"It won't be for long." Tommy met her gaze unflinchingly. "And you'll have your brother to look after, show him what's what."
Rose gave him nothing.
"I'll be coming to get you," her father said. "As soon as I can. It'll only be a little while, chavi, but I can't say how little a while exactly."
They looked at each other over the table until the whistle of the kettle broke the silence. Tommy turned the flame off without breaking eye contact. They kept staring until the kettle fell silent again.
"Yea, orright," Rose said nearly inaudibly.
Her father cocked his head.
"Is that all you've got to say?" he asked after a moment.
Rose nodded, chewing her bottom lip hard enough to almost draw blood.
"Well, bloody hell..." Tommy's shoulders slumped a little and he stared at Rose with an expression she could neither place nor stand without squirming.
"Are you annoyed?" she asked when her skin started to crawl with discomfort.
"No," he said. "I'm proud."
This, Rose felt, made spending her birthday on the road with Charlie and the people of scary Mister Gold almost entirely worth it.
"So, what's the plan?" she asked with only a little of her nerves in her voice. "Is he collecting us here after the fight's over?"
Her father shook his head and a cigarette from the packet.
"No. You'll come to King's Hall with everyone and he'll take you straight on from there once we're done. Better that way."
"Why's that better?" Rose asked.
"Because the King's Hall will have been searched, cleared and packed to the rafters with Blinders," Tommy lit his cigarette and gave her a wink. "Come Friday afternoon there'll be no safer place."