RUNAWAY ROSE
Chapter Nine
Rose left the theater feeling exhilarated.
She had found a job! She wouldn't wind up on the streets, as her mother had predicted,
or become a prostitute, as she had feared that morning.
Rose sat down on a bench, intending to eat
the sandwich Kathleen had given her, but stopped, realizing that there was
something more important to do first.
She had to find a place to live.
She had seen several hotels and boarding
houses as she had traveled to the theater district. There were also apartment
buildings, but Rose doubted that she could afford an apartment, even
temporarily. Remembering a street lined with boarding houses that she had
passed earlier, she headed back, hoping she could remember where it was.
Luck was with her. The street was only three
blocks from the theater, and Rose found it easily. Several of the buildings had
Room to Let signs on them.
Within a short time, Rose discovered a new
problem—many of the boarding houses wouldn't take single women. After inquiring
at two of them, Rose learned that single women were considered troublesome.
Many boarding house owners felt that a young woman on her own must have
something immoral about her, and thought that she might use her room for
immoral purposes.
Rose was ready to try the apartments, despite
their higher cost, when she saw one last house with a Room to Let sign on it at
the end of the street. Sighing, Rose decided to give it one last try.
Rose knocked on the front door of the house.
A sixtyish woman with dyed hair and too much rouge answered the door. Rose was
momentarily taken aback, wondering if she'd wandered into another house of
assignation, but decided to ask about the room anyway. She didn't have to take
it if she didn't want to.
"I saw your Room to Let sign," Rose
told the woman, gesturing at the window.
"We have two rooms available, one for a
single person, one big enough for a family. Which are you looking for?"
"A single person size room will
do," Rose told her, hoping that this time the owner would allow her take a
room.
The woman looked her over. "Are you an
actress?"
"No," Rose replied, wondering what
that had to do with anything.
"I get a lot of actresses here, because
I'm one of the few owners this close to the theaters who will rent to single
women."
Rose's sigh was almost audible. Finally,
someone who might give her a chance!
The woman grinned at Rose's expression.
"I see you've already tried the other houses."
Rose just nodded.
"They think they're the keepers of
morality, forcing young women to either stay home or get married. Truth be
told," she whispered, leaning closer to Rose, "more than one young
lady has lied about being alone so that she can get a place to live. A lot of
them have a brother or a father or a husband who plans on joining them soon,
but somehow never shows up."
Rose grinned, thinking about the reaction
that the highly moral owners must have had every time they found out.
"You're not a prostitute, are you?"
Rose looked at the woman in indignation. How
many more people where going to think of her as a prostitute?
"No," she answered coolly,
wondering if she really looked that bad.
The woman shrugged. "I didn't think so;
they usually stay in another part of town."
Rose nodded in agreement; she had been there
the previous night.
"Still, you can never be too careful,
especially in a low rent area," the woman went on. "Actresses I'll
take, but not prostitutes." She patted Rose's shoulder. "You don't
really look like a prostitute, dear. A little out of place, and a little
hard-eyed, but not a prostitute."
Hard-eyed? Rose thought. That was a new, but probably accurate,
description. She had learned a lot about the darker side of life in the past
few months.
"The rent is two dollars a week,"
the woman told her. "I know that most places rent by the month, but I get
so many actors here that it's easier to rent by the week. They move on so
quickly." She looked at Rose. "What kind of job do you have?"
"I'm a ticket seller for the Baker
Theater on River Street."
"They finally found someone? Took them
long enough. If you want the room, I'll need you to pay each week in advance.
You can also pay a month in advance, if you want."
Rose nodded. "Can I see the room before
I decide to stay here?"
"Sure, sure," the woman agreed.
"I'm Mrs. Frances Cartwright, by the way. Just call me Frances."
She hustled up the stairs, then led the way
to a room at the end of the hall. She opened the door, letting Rose look
inside.
The interior was slightly dusty, but
otherwise tidy. The room was sparsely furnished, with a bed in one corner, a
rack for hanging clothes in another, and a chest of drawers in a third. The
fourth corner contained the door.
"Bathroom's down the hall," Frances
told her, pointing to a blue-painted door. "There is indoor plumbing, but
when it backs up there's also an outhouse out back." She pointed through
the window of the room, where a small building was clearly visible. "It
doesn't get used too often, so the smell's not that bad."
Rose looked around the room. It was smaller
than her bedroom in Philadelphia, and far plainer. But it felt much homier than
her old room ever had.
"I'll take it," she told Frances,
reaching into her bag. "I think I would find it most convenient to simply
pay a week at a time." She handed the woman two dollars.
"You planning on leaving soon?"
Frances asked her, accepting the money.
"N-no," Rose stammered, although
she did realize that if Cal found her, she would need to leave in a hurry.
"I just find it easier to pay small amounts, is all."
Frances didn't quite believe her, but nodded
anyway. "All right, Miss...what's your name?"
"Rose. Rose Dawson."
"All right, Miss Dawson. I have just a
few rules here, but I expect them to be obeyed. No men in your room unless
they're related to you or you're married to them. If you want to entertain a
young man, you can sit in the parlor, or on the front porch, or out back. If
you want privacy, you'll have to go elsewhere. You clean your own room, and if
you have trouble with vermin, you let everyone else know so that they can keep
a close eye out for unwanted critters. You provide your own food. I can't buy
food for people on two dollars a week. There is an icebox in the kitchen, and
you can cook there, but be sure to label your food clearly. Starving actors
will eat almost anything, and I won't hold them accountable if you don't mark
your food as yours. Don't leave food around until it spoils, and if it does,
remove it immediately. No fighting. No smoking inside. No loud voices or
singing after nine o'clock PM or before seven o'clock AM. You wouldn't believe
how many actors practice at all hours." Frances paused, thinking.
"That's about it." She dug into the pocket of her apron. "Here
is your key. Be sure to keep your door locked when you're away or when you're
sleeping. I try to maintain order, but you just never know what might
happen."
Rose nodded in agreement. Who would have
thought, a year ago, that she would be renting a small room in a boarding house
and selling theater tickets? Things did indeed happen that no one planned on.
"There are two other people here who
work for the Baker Theater. Alice Cane has been starring in the vaudeville
productions for the past three years. She's twenty-five years old and has the
second room on the right near the stairs. Don't tell her I told you her real
age. She bills herself as being eighteen, but she's been eighteen for a very
long time. The other person is Robert Calvert. He is also in the vaudeville
shows, though not quite at the top. I'm sure he will be someday. I've had to
tell him more than once not to practice when people are sleeping. Even the best
voice is irritating at one o'clock in the morning."
Rose laughed. "Thank you for warning
me." She carried her bag into the room and set it down on the bed.
Frances looked at her curiously. "Don't
you have any more luggage?" she asked.
Rose remembered her trip on the Titanic,
where she had had five trunks just for her clothes. "No," she
replied. "I'm just getting started here." Something occurred to her
suddenly. "What time is it?"
Frances dug out a pocket watch from her
dress. "2:30, Miss Dawson."
Rose realized that she had only fifteen
minutes to get back to the theater. She reached into her bag and grabbed her
sandwich, intending to eat it as she walked.
"I have to go now. I'm supposed to back
at the theater at a quarter to three so Mr. Baker can show me what to do."
She snapped her bag shut and hurried to the door. Frances followed her,
slamming the door behind her.
Rose looked at her in surprise. Had she done
something to upset the woman?
Frances laughed at the look on Rose's face.
"You're not in trouble, dear. This door is little bit warped, and it often
doesn't close completely unless you slam it."
Rose smiled, a bit nervously, wondering what
other surprises awaited her.