Little Sparrow

Chapter Nineteen

Mrs Ealing – Rosie as she had asked me to call her – started to remove the stacks of paper from three chairs.

I took a seat at the one closest to the door so I had a quick get-away had I needed one, but I did not think I would need one. This did not seem like a situation I needed to escape one, and I had seen plenty of those in the past. Although William had taken the time to partially explain why we had come to see her, I knew I would have to explain a little more and ask a few questions that I had never asked anyone before. He might have had good intentions, but I wished he had spoken to me about it first.

Once all the chairs had been cleared of paper, everyone sat down but no one wanted to say anything. I sat there and just looked around the room, taking in the scraps of paper and the piles that appeared to be never-ending. There were shelves with more paper but also little trinkets and what appeared to be a photograph in a wooden frame. On the wall behind the desk hung a painting of a small cottage alongside a stream. It looked like such a calming place, but I did not know if it was even real.

Rosie offered around a stack of shortbread biscuits with William taking a handful of them – how he could eat so many after that the amount of bacon he consumed remained a mystery – whilst I took one and only nibbled on the corner of it rather than eating it. I did not know what to expect from this impromptu meeting with Rosie, but I did not like the idea of having so tell a stranger everything about my life, even if William said it may help.

When Rosie moved to put the plate of biscuits back on the table, her dress sleeve moved and for the first time, I noticed the burn that wrapped around her left arm. It had scarred, like William's, but stood out a lot more and appeared to be larger, wrapping around her fingers and moving up past her wrist. She did not make a move to try and cover it when she saw me looking and instead just sat back in her chair and looked between William and me.

"If I am to know exactly how I can help, either one of you or both of you will have to speak. I cannot read minds, although don't go telling my niece and nephew that," she said.

"Since this was my idea, I guess I should explain it," William said. "We were wondering how you managed to move on from the fire and everything."

"That's a loaded question." Rosie sighed and pressed the palm of her hands. "Well, it wasn't easy. After Isabel died it was hard to adjust and even harder once I met Matthew for the first time in seven years. If it weren't for Robert or my brothers, I doubt I would have been able to move past it at all. Sometimes, having people who are there for you, even if you don't feel like you need them, is the best thing."

"That's easier said than done," I muttered.

"Perhaps, especially if the thing you are trying to move past was caused by someone you were supposed to trust. I know trying to rebuild that trust can be difficult, especially if you don't know who to trust and whether or not trusting someone is the right thing to do. But, despite that, you have William who, despite being a pain most of the time, will probably be the most helpful and Mr and Mrs Atkinson who I know would want to help you. You just have to be willing to let them help you."

"What if I don't want any help? What if I'm content with the way everything is now?"

"Then that is your choice, but you have to be sure it's the one you want. I changed my mind constantly after the fire. I went from being a servant to living at home with my brother to being trained as a nurse and now I do both that and help those who are in a similar position to the one I was in just a few years ago. The truth is, Lizzie, people can tell you what's best, they can try and convince you to their way of thinking, but you're the only one who can make your mind up. The decision about your future is yours alone."