Cold (17 page)

"Okay. Listen," Jo searched for the words. "I'm going to help you undress. Are you okay with that?"

Rocky considered her reply. "I can't manage on my own, and I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have helping me."

"I was worried; you've been so independent for so long."

"I know, and I thought it would be hard, letting someone else do everything for me."

"Is it? Hard, I mean." Jo pushed Rocky gently back onto the bed, and started to take off her boots.

Rocky looked down at the top of the dark head. "No, it's not hard." She smiled. "I'm enjoying it actually."

Jo looked up at her, a lopsided grin gracing her features. "Well, don't get too used to it." She reached for the tattered shirt, the only thing Rocky was wearing beneath the jacket. She unbuttoned it very slowly, and when the last button was undone, she sat back on her heels. "You okay?" she asked quietly.

Rocky nodded, and Jo pushed the shirt back off the slim shoulders, being careful not to jar the injury.

Rocky watched Jo's face as the shirt fell onto the bed behind her. She watched Jo's eyes leave her own and drop to take in her naked form. She watched in fascination as Jo's eyes almost changed colour, and her mouth dropped open.

"Jo?" she asked, feeling strange that she felt no embarrassment being under this woman's scrutiny.

"My God, you're beautiful," gasped Jo, looking back up at her. "But I knew that all along."

Jo leaned forward, her lips meeting Rocky's, her hands going to the waistband of the tatty trousers.

Jo pulled one side of the waistband of Rocky's trousers down, and leaned in to peer at the wound. It was still covered by the dressing that Leo had applied and there was a small amount of blood staining it.

"I'm going to pull the dressing off," she warned the blonde.

Rocky had placed her good arm on the tall woman's back as Jo knelt between her legs.

"Hold on. Ready?" she asked as she glanced up at the pale face.

Rocky nodded and Jo slowly pulled the dressing off the wound. She stopped when she heard a hiss of pain. "Sorry."

"Just pull it quickly," Rocky said, trying to see what Jo was doing.

"I'm worried I'll pull on the stitches. Hang on." She leaned in closer to get a better look beneath the pad. The stitches were small and precise, exactly what she would expect from one of the wealthiest plastic surgeons in the business. "It looks okay." And with that she quickly pulled the dressing away.

She held Rocky steady with one hand and examined the wound. To her inexperienced eyes it looked awful, but there was no bleeding.

"Right then," she said, standing. She reached into a bag on the bed. "These are supposed to be waterproof."

The pads in the packet were large squares of lint, with a waterproof backing. She placed one gently on the wound and smoothed down the edges. "How's your shoulder?"

"Not as bad as yesterday, but starting to ache now."

"A bath will help." Jo took a step back. "Do you want me to help?" she gestured towards Rocky's trousers with a waving hand.

"Well..." Rocky stood shakily and tried to ease the trousers down with one hand. She couldn't remember how she'd got them on. She'd been upset and angry and had ignored the shooting pains in her shoulder as she pulled on the two pairs of trousers before.

Now, in the warmth of Jo's presence she wanted nothing more than to let her new friend help her. "Um, could you?"

With a smile Jo stood in front of her and undid the second pair of trousers and pulled both down over slim hips, holding Rocky's hand as the blonde stepped out of them. Jo handed Rocky her robe. "Sit for a moment while I run the bath."

Rocky did as she was asked, and listened to the sound of water running into the huge bath in the next room. She pulled the robe around her shoulders, holding it with her good arm.

Jo poked her head around the door. "You ready?"

Rocky nodded and followed Jo into the bathroom.

Jo helped her into the bath, again trying hard not to let the perfect body revealed to her distract her from her task. She looked down as the blonde relaxed back against the tub. "I'll, um, leave you to soak for a while." She said, and backed out of the room.

Jo went downstairs and pulled a chair out from beneath the table in the kitchen. She rested her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. "Oh, heaven help me," she said, remembering the body she'd just left in the bath upstairs. "She has no idea what she does to me."

She scrubbed her face vigorously with her hands and stood, opening the fridge door. "Would you like me to cook something?" she called, loud enough for the woman upstairs to hear.

"If you're hungry," came the distant reply.

"Are you hungry?"

"I am if you are."

"Well, I am."

"Okay, I am too."

Shaking her head, Jo picked out some eggs, some bacon, and some mushrooms. She'd seen someone else make an omelette once, and was sure she could do it.

"Jo?"

She put all the things down on the table and went to the bottom of the stairs. "Yeah?" she called up.

"Could you help me here?"

Jo swallowed. "Sure," she said, tightly, and ascended the stairs.

She stood outside the door. "What was it you wanted?"

"I don't have a washcloth."

Jo went to the airing cupboard and pulled out a washcloth and a couple of large towels. Pausing before she entered, she knocked on the door and pushed it open when she heard Rocky invite her in.

"This is wonderful," said the blonde, relaxing in the deep water. She had sunk down so that she was completely beneath the water, just the tips of her knees showing apart from her head. "I haven't had a bath in years." She looked up at the dark-haired woman, taking in the look of shock Jo couldn't keep from her face. "I had showers; don't think I've been all these years without washing."

"Oh, I didn't," said Jo quickly. "I could tell that you'd washed. I mean, your skin it's so..." Jo cleared her throat. "It's just obvious." She placed the towels on the floor and handed Rocky the washcloth.

A small hand emerged from the water and took it from her.

Jo sat on the edge of the bath, one hand trailing in the water. "Rocky?"

Rocky said nothing, but green eyes peeking from beneath damp hair found hers, and she inclined her head slightly.

"How did you manage? Out on the streets."

Rocky closed her eyes, and Jo thought she wasn't going to answer. Then the blonde head nodded slightly and she took a deep breath. "When I first got there, I was terrified. I met Edna almost immediately. She took me under her wing. She and some of her friends."

Rocky soaped the cloth absentmindedly. "I couldn't claim benefit. I was only fifteen and they would have sent me back, or into care. Either way they would have been informed and I didn't want that." Jo opened her mouth to ask a question. "Don't stop me now, Jo."

Jo nodded.

"So I went with Edna. She didn't ask me why I was there, just accepted that I had to be there. Pretty soon after, a guy called Tito tried to get me to go on the streets for him. He had a load of young girls working for him. Edna tried to protect me, but in the end he got to me. I knocked him out. Right hook, right to the jaw. We had to get out of there then, and came to Whitechapel. I've been there ever since. Old Douggie said I punched harder than Rocky, and they just started to call me that."

Rocky was quiet, looking down at the cloth in her hands, remembering her old friends.

Jo felt an overwhelming sympathy for the girl, who suddenly looked very small, very vulnerable in the bath. "Let's get you out before you start getting cold."

Rocky looked up, tears falling from her chin into the water. She handed the cloth to Jo who soaped it again and gently applied it to the blonde's back and shoulders. When she'd done as much as she thought she should, she handed the cloth to Rocky and stood up. "I'll go and find you something to wear."

She left the bathroom, angrily wiping away the tears as she went.

Jo was laying a tee shirt and some underwear on the bed when Rocky appeared in the bedroom.

"There's some stuff for you to put on." She bent and took a pair of sweatpants out of a drawer. "I'll leave you to get dressed. If you need me just shout."

She left the room, closing the door behind her, and made her way back down the stairs to the kitchen.

When Rocky arrived in the kitchen, looking swamped in Jo's clothes, she found the taller woman peeling mushrooms. "Hi, take a seat in the lounge. I'll come in and we'll change your dressing for a dry one and put your sling back on."

Rocky did as she was told, and sat gingerly on the sofa, her shoulder starting to throb. Jo came in and made short work of changing the dressing on the wound and settling the injured arm into the makeshift sling. She took her a glass of orange juice and handed her a pain pill.

"It makes me sleepy," the blonde complained.

"You need it; don't tell me your shoulder isn't hurting." Jo stood and watched until Rocky took the pill, then left to her omelette creation.

She brought the hot food in a little later, balancing a tray on Rocky's lap and a fork in her hand. "I cut it up for you," she said, placing a plate with a couple of buttered bread rolls on the seat beside her.

Jo sat in the armchair with her own tray, and tried her omelette. Her eyebrows rose when it tasted like an omelette. She looked up and was inordinately pleased to see the blonde tucking in with gusto.

When she finished, Jo took the trays out to the kitchen and settled herself on the sofa next to Rocky. "How do you feel now?" she asked.

"I feel good. Kind of out of it. Must be the pills." Rocky eased herself back against a large cushion, and squirmed for a while before finding a comfortable position.

"Will you tell me your real name, Rocky?" Jo couldn't meet the green gaze, instead watching her hand as it worried the hem of Rocky's tee shirt.

"No-one's called me anything but Rocky for so long."

It was obvious that the girl was dredging up bad memories, and Jo silently berated herself for bringing up the subject while her friend was still recovering from her injuries. "I'm sorry," said Jo, reaching out and taking Rocky's free hand. "Forget I asked."

"No, it's okay," said the blonde, almost in wonderment. She had kept this secret for so long, living with it gnawing away at her. And now she found herself willing to give up her past. Willing to share the pain.

"Michelle."

"Michelle?" asked Jo.

"My name, Michelle Kersey."

Jo leaned over and gently kissed the blonde. "Hello, Michelle. It's nice to meet you."

Rocky put her hand behind the dark head, pulling Jo into the kiss. It was only when the taller woman felt her flinch that she pulled back, finding that her hand had sneaked under the hem of the tee shirt and was caressing smooth skin.

Jo blushed; Rocky chuckled.

"Come here," said Jo, and leaned back into the arm of the sofa, gently turning and pulling the blonde so that she rested back against her chest. She was careful to position the injured arm so there was no strain on it, and then she settled her arms around Rocky's middle.

"So Michelle, are you going to tell me who you are?"

Jo felt the head under her chin shake. "It's been so long since anyone has called me that. You know, my parents only called me Michelle when I was in trouble. They used to call me Shelley."

"Where are they now?" If it were possible to pull words back into your mouth, Jo would have done so immediately. She felt the small body in her arms stiffen, and Rocky tried to sit up. "Hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed." She spoke softly into dampened hair, her lips brushing an ear.

Rocky relaxed again. She was quiet for a long time, and when she began to talk it was in hushed tones, her voice almost strained with the effort it took to tell her tale.

"I grew up in Cornwall, near Tintagel on the north Cornish coast. My father had his own business and was very successful. Though the headquarters were in London, he ran it from home, and would only spend a few days a month away." She took a deep breath. "We were very happy. I was an only child, and I wasn't exactly spoilt, but I didn't want for much." She took hold of Jo's hand, intertwining her fingers with the longer ones. "I loved it there; it's such a beautiful place." She turned slightly. "Have you ever been there?"

"No, I haven't," Jo said softly.

"You must." She squeezed the hand held within her own. "We must.... I'd like to go back one day. Will you take me?"

"Of course," Jo whispered. "I told you I'd take you anywhere you wanted."

"I've been waiting a long time to be happy again." The blonde head rested back against Jo's collarbone. "I don't think about them often, because it hurts so much. I missed them for such a long time, and that hurt. So I wanted to forget them, but I never could. And I hated myself, because I wasn't strong enough to remember them." She sighed. "I survived by not feeling, not feeling the pain or the loneliness. Not feeling the loss of my parents." She pulled the hand up that she was holding, and brushed her lips against the knuckles. "You made me feel, Jo." She pressed the hand to her cheek. "The first time I saw you. All those feelings came rushing back. At first I was angry with you. I didn't want those feelings. I had taken five years to work out how to bury them so that I could just get through the days. And along you come and turned it all on its head."

They sat quietly for a long moment, comfortable in each other's presence. Then Rocky began speaking again.

"We'd gone out for a drive, taken a picnic. We stopped by the river; it wasn't that far from where we lived. It was a beautiful day, quite late in the year though. October, I think. But it was sunny, blue sky. We stopped beside a river - not sure which one. We were eating our picnic, and I went down to the riverbank. There were rocks, which created a path across the river. I couldn't stay off them. I was jumping from one to the next. Dad was shouting at me to get off them. I didn't of course. I fell and hit my head. They both jumped in after me. Dad got me out, but Mum got into difficulties. He put me on the bank and went back for her. It was so calm, hardly a wave. They never came back." Rocky felt the arms tighten around her, and it gave her the strength to go on. "I waited for them. It got dark, and then someone found me... If I had gone for help, maybe..."