☆ ᴡᴀᴛᴛʏꜱ 2024 SHORTLISTER!! ☆
A tragic misunderstanding. A murder. A secret. An unlikely partnership. A spirited countess and an enterprising racketeer.
~~~
Manchester, England. May 1925.
The Roarin' 20s. An era of glamor, decadent parties, jazz mus...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Rose's hand was clasped firmly within William's as he led her up the metal staircase and onto the wide platform. His eyes darted back and forth, in a constant state of heightened caution, likely on the lookout for Gallagher or anyone who might be in his employ.
Rose followed William in a daze, feeling much like a small, lost child. What were they doing here? It made no sense.
At last, her promise to ask no questions could no longer be kept. Pulling to a stop, she wrenched her hand away from him. “Victoria Train Station?” she demanded, the pitch of her voice elevated due to her distress. “William, why are we here?”
He didn't answer, instead opting to turn in a full circle, scrutinizing every person on the platform through narrowed eyes. Seeming satisfied, he ushered Rose to the far side and positioned her behind a pillar. “Stay right here,” he instructed. “Don't move. Keep your eyes on the stairwell, alright? I'll be back in two minutes.”
At a loss for words, she had no choice but to obey. Unsettling thoughts swirled around in her mind like angry wraiths in the night. What was William up to? Was he planning to hide her somewhere? Would he also go into hiding? That seemed unlikely, as he had no luggage. So, what were they doing at the train station?
With each passing second, Rose liked the potential answers less and less.
A train arrived, the billowing black smoke from its coal engine causing a pungent cloud in the air. The locomotive screeched to a halt, its breaks engaged. Rose watched as uniformed train managers emerged from the cars and began assisting passengers down the steps and onto the platform. The crowd swelled and migrated toward the exits, a sea of strangers.
Just as Rose's mind began to enter a panic, William returned. In his hand, he carried two slips of stiff paper.
Rose stared at the slips, confused and affronted. “What are those?” she questioned, her voice shrill.
“Your tickets,” he replied.
“My tickets?” she echoed. “Tickets to where?”
“You'll board this train,” he said, pointing to the locomotive that had just arrived. “It'll take ya as far as Leeds. Once you get there, you'll switch trains and ride to York.”
Rose gaped at him, beside herself. “You cannot be serious. I will do no such thing, William. I'm not leaving Manchester!”
“Yes, you are,” William argued. He took her hand and placed the train tickets along with a stack of pound notes onto her open palm. “You're leavin', Rose. I know ya don't wanna go home to your mum, so you're goin' to East Riding of Yorkshire. Once ya get off the train, hail a taxi. You can stay with that grandmother of yours. At her manor.”
“Violet. Grandmamá Violet,” Rose whispered. A wave of numbness came over her, and she stared helplessly at the tickets and money in her hand. Flummoxed, she slipped them into her pocket.
