It took almost an hour and a half to put the shop back to rights and clean up the mess that had been created. A thin layer of dust and ash had settled on the shelves and there were discarded bandages and cloth dotted around the room. Doctor Ealing collected the used cloth and bandages with the intention of burning it since none of it would be of use again. Everything had blood on it, especially the floor.

Doctor Ealing and Robert helped us out when it came to setting the shop back, but Matilda and Mrs Ealing just stood in the doorway refusing to touch anything that might have had blood on it. I wondered what the did when they got a papercut. Although we were no longer involved in helping with the disaster at the match factory, Doctor Ealing was given periodical updates about whether or not they had dug someone else out and if they were dead or not. By the time we were finished, the death toll had risen for seventeen with ten people still unaccounted for.

"Thank you for your help today, it would have been a lot harder had you not stepped in to offer assistance," Doctor Ealing said.

"I'm just glad we could help. It was a terrible thing, but I'd like to think we did some good amongst it all. Besides, we found out that Rosie is excellent in a crisis, though her sewing needs some work," James said, he laughed slightly and placed his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his chest slightly.

"Allow me to thank you properly. Dinner at our house tomorrow evening, a real thank you for all the help you gave to us today even though you didn't have to."

"Albert, I don't think this is really necessary, do you?" Mrs Ealing said. She stood awkwardly in the corner as though waiting to make a quick exit when the opportunity arose.

"It is necessary. Be at ours for seven tomorrow evening, we can discuss recent events there seeing as we were interrupted today. I'll let Miss Jenkins know you're coming."

I glanced off to the side of the room and watched Mrs Ealing fold her arms over her chest and appear to slump back against the wall of the shop in defeat. I expect she hoped never to have to discuss what had happened the previous day seeing as the explosion had stopped any form of conversation from taking place that day. Doctor Ealing, however, had other ideas. He appeared to want to mend the growing rift between James and his wife, but I didn't think that would be possible.

Mrs Ealing had always been stubborn, from the first day I met her I knew she had a stubborn side. Although Doctor Ealing was supposed to be the man of the house every decision, other than the agreement for me to work for them, had come from her. She had to be in control of every little detail, every little thing even if that included who had been invited to dinner. Her stubbornness had led to a lot of problems for me over the months I worked for them.

We finished up the last of the cleaning just as the sun had started to set it. The temperature had dropped significantly, but there didn't appear to be any sign of snow. Outside, people were still milling about and watching the clean up from the explosion which was ongoing and would most likely be going on long into the next few days. James said that rubble had been blasted far from the factory itself so it would be a long time before the street would be useable and the factory would be out of business for months.

I dumped a pile of torn-up fabric into a bucket beside the wall as the front door to the shop opened and Mr and Mrs Blacklock walked in, accompanied by Maisie. She wore a pale pink dress designed by James and had half of her hair tied back with a pink ribbon to accompany it. From across the room, I could see Robert refusing to look at me, but I was unsure if it had any relation to the conversation we had before or the fact that Maisie and her parents had just entered the shop.

"We wanted to come and see how things were getting on here, but it's chaos out there. I'd be surprised if you got any work down because of the state of it all," Mr Blacklock said.

"You'd be right, but it's because we were helping," James said. I caught him rolling his eyes slightly, something he told me would be extremely rude if I did it in front of other people.

"There are plenty of people willing to help, no reason you should sacrifice a good days work to help some factory worker."

A pin being dripped could have been heard in the silence. James turned his head by the smallest of margins to look at me, but I just bit my lip to keep from laughing. There were only a select group of people who knew I had been one of the children from the factory and Mr Blacklock had never been one of those people. He had no idea where I had been before I suddenly appeared in James shop just over a month ago and I intended to use that.

"I agree, I tried to tell him that, but he just wouldn't listen," I said. James didn't long to catch on to what I had planned and had to look away from me before he started laughing.

"Is that blood on your apron?" Maisie asked, pointing to a small red dot on the front of my apron. I thought I had done well to avoid getting blood on myself, but I had been wrong.

"Erm, yes. I offered my assistance with anyone who had been injured in the explosion, I had nothing else to do."

"A young lady should never engage with such a thing. Why on earth would you let your sister anywhere near blood or injured people?" Mr Blacklock turned to James.

"I've probably dealt with more blood and gore in the past seven years then James has in a lifetime. I was of more use to Doctor Ealing then James was. Quite possibly the only upside to spending seven years in an illegally run factory."

The penny had dropped. Mr Blacklock's eyes widened to the size of a shilling and James hid his face behind his hand before he burst out laughing. My intention hadn't been to upset Mr Blacklock if that had even happened, but to mock him for thinking an order of clothing was more important than someone's life. Especially the life of a seemingly lowly factory worker who Mr Blacklock didn't think was worth anything.

Even after the reveal of the factory and the revelation of everything that had happened behind those gates, people still didn't care. They talked about it for a week or so after it had been revealed but then went about their days completely ignoring the factory that stood out so much. Everyone still looked down on us for where we had been, even though we had no control over any of it. We were still beneath them despite all that had happened.

James moved his hand off his face and turned to look at me, accidentally making direct eye contact. We couldn't keep it together any longer and the two of us burst out laughing even though the situation wasn't all that amusing, at least not to anyone else. I could see the others all exchanging glances out of the corner of their eyes as if they weren't sure how to handle the fact that we were unable to control our laughter. I laughed so hard I almost started crying.

It took several minutes for either of us to calm down and even then, we couldn't look at one another without laughing. Every time I caught sight of him, I would have to bite down on my lower lip so I wouldn't break out into another round of hysterical laughter. If there had ever been a time to tell me off for being un-ladylike it was then. Our Aunt Molly used to say that laughing obnoxiously in public was the height of rudeness.

"Are you two alright?" Christopher asked though he looked as though he was teetering on the edge of joining us in laughter.

"Uh-huh. It's been a long day," I said. I wiped my hands across my face to get rid of any tears that had appeared when I laughed.

"You can say that again," James said, he turned to Doctor Ealing. "We'd be glad to accept the invitation to dinner tomorrow night, it will give our housekeeper the evening off."

"You have a housekeeper?" Mrs Ealing said, she sounded shocked.

"Yes, she cleans and cooks for us, but Rosie does help out."

"Once a servant always a servant," I added.

Mrs Ealing looked as though we had just slapped her in the face. She had looked down on me from the first time she saw me and probably felt the same way towards James since he was related to me. I expected she never thought of us as having the money for a housekeeper, even though James earned a fair amount through working as a tailor and Christopher had collected a tidy sum during his time in America and as he hadn't found anywhere to stay yet he was just paying rent for his office space.

All of us had been given a small amount of money when Mother died, it had been putting into the bank and whilst I wouldn't be able to access mine for another three years, the others all had access to it. Father had tried his hardest to take that money from the bank for his own drinking needs, but he hadn't been allowed despite being in charge of it. Mother had left rather strict instructions that no one else would have access to that money apart from us. It meant we all had something and as Father had disappeared, James and Christopher had retained a lot of the money they made growing up.

I understood Mrs Ealing's confusing to a certain degree, but she had never wanted to get to know my brothers or my life before the factory. Perhaps she wouldn't have been so judgemental had she been told the truth about our lives and the way we had been brought up. Maybe then she wouldn't have been so quick to get rid of me.

"So, we shall see you at ours tomorrow night at seven?" Doctor Ealing said after a little while.

"Yes, you will. Feel free to stop by later in the week so we can finish the conversation that we were having when the explosion went off," James added.

"We'll talk it over and let you know by tomorrow. Thank you again for all your help today."

Doctor Ealing held out his hand and James shook it, though apprehensively. Although they got on a lot better than James and Mrs Ealing ever had, there was still a little animosity between them. James would never forgive Doctor Ealing for the way he allowed his wife to treat me for six months, that was the only grievance he had. Christopher and I looked to one another as they shook hands and Doctor Ealing gathered up the things he didn't take back to the office with him.

We watched as Doctor Ealing gestured to the door and him, Mrs Ealing, Robert and Matilda walked through it with the Blacklock's following not long after. That left me, James, Kitty and Christopher alone in the shop with darkness settling just outside the window. The lamplighters had just started their jobs and making sure the streets were lit and James gather up his briefcase and keys. The day had been more hectic then any of us could have imagined and I think we all just wanted to go to bed.

I grabbed my coat from the stand, as did Christopher and the four of us left the shop and stepped out into the dark London streets. The air outside was bitter and I had to stuff my hands into my pockets to fight off the wind and the cold chill. Christopher huddled up as close as he could to me so we could share out body warmth as we walked down London's dark streets towards the house.

When we reached the house, Mrs Baker, the housekeeper, had already lit the candles and there was a soft glow of light coming from the hallway as he unlocked the front door. The fire in the living room had been lit and a burst of warmth hit us like a wave he opened the door. James quickly shuffled into the hallway and Christopher closed the door behind us to keep the cold out. I hung my coat up on the hook and darted into the living room to stand in front of the fire and warm up. Even though my hands had been stuffed into my pockets, I couldn't feel them.

"Does anyone want a hot drink? It was freezing outside, and I doubt we'll warm up using the fire alone," James said.

"Hot cocoa?" I asked.

"Yes, you can have a hot cocoa. Why don't you go upstairs and find something to do and I'll bring it up when it's ready."

"Is this so you can talk about me behind my back?"

"Yes. Go on, go. I take it you'll be in the art room?"

"Of course."

James shook his head and gestured me upstairs. I left the warmth of the fireplace and left the living room, heading for the art room upstairs for a little piece of sanity to an otherwise rather hectic day. Upstairs was cold, but I had never been a fan of lighting the fire in the art room just in case a piece of work went up in smoke. My bedroom fire could be lit, but not the one in the art room. I would rather have to paint wearing gloves then risk setting something on fire.

I stepped into the cold art room and closed the door behind me. Mrs Baker had lit two candles and I moved one from a table to the one closest to my easel. I took the dust sheet off and replaced the used canvas with a new one, though I had no idea what I wanted to paint. Normally I painted right after tearing myself out of a nightmare. I would paint what I saw as a way of getting all of my emotions out in one go. Without a nightmare, I didn't know what to paint.

The white canvas stared back at me as I grabbed a paintbrush from the side and tapped it against the side of my easel to try and come up with something to paint. I could hear footsteps walking up the stairs as I drummed the paintbrush. A knock came at the door and I answered.

"Hot cocoa?" James asked, standing in the doorway.

"Yes! Thank you!" He handed me the mug.

"Are you working on something new?"

"Maybe, I can't think of what to paint."

"Well don't stay in here too long. It's been a long day and you need to sleep, you look exhausted."

"Oh, thank you."

"You're welcome. Drink that and then go to bed."

"I will."

"I know I've already said this, but you did well today, Rosie. You should be proud of yourself."

"Thank you."

James smiled and then slowly backed out of the room, leaving me with my mug and the white canvas. I took a sip of the hot cocoa and stared at the canvas to try and come up with something, anything to put on it but I couldn't. My mind kept going back to that afternoon and the things we had seen and dealt with. I hadn't seen a thing like that before. I had seen injuries at the factory, but it had been one or two people, never any more than that. All those people, all that blood.

Despite all we had seen, I couldn't shake the image of the woman who came in with the head injury. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her, and I saw Isabel as though they were one and the same, but they weren't. The woman had died in an accident, but Isabel had been murdered but the foreman for a reason he had never admitted to. She was a child and he killed her for seemingly no reason.

I drank the rest of my hot cocoa in one go and switched the paintbrush out for a pencil that I had left close to the easel. The candlelight made it difficult to see, but I slowly started to sketch out an image on the canvas. I drew her as I remembered her.

Her hair had always been unkept and impossible to keep pinned back, it would curl around the side of her face and fall on her shoulders. Even though we lived in a terrible place, her eyes always sparkled like she was up to no good or planning to create a little mischief. When she smiled, she had two dimples and her nose would crinkle up like a rabbit. She always smiled with her mouth open despite missing one of her front teeth from an incident involving the foreman. She smiled even if she had nothing to smile about.

The candle had burnt almost down to the holder by the time I had finished. My hand ached from holding the pencil and I had been staring at the canvas for so long that I could hardly see straight. I put the pencil down on the table and looked back at the canvas, a faded image of Isabel stared back at me.

I left the mug on the side, grabbed onto the candle holder and left the canvas sitting on the easel so I could fill in any details the next time I was in the room. For months I had tried not to think about Isabel, but I felt like I had witnessed her death all over again.

~~~

A/N - We are back! I'm making my way through Chapter Fifteen at the moment, but it has been a bit slow. Our uni has gone online and my Dissertation is currently up the air. Things are a little crazy, but we'll get through it!

Anyway, do you think Rosie was right to be snarky towards Mr Blacklock? Do you think the dinner with the Ealing's will go well? What about Rosie's feelings towards the woman and Isabel?

Comment below!

Dedication - This chapter is dedicated to aygmonney who I have seen lurking around TFG, TSG and the recent comments on TAG! It means a lot. 

First Published - March 17th, 2020