She was a blonde, pretty girl with a good figure. Not so long ago she’d been much prettier, but the heroin had taken the edge off her looks. Her skin beneath the makeup now lacked bloom, and there were shadows under her eyes. Still, she attracted her share of the blokes who flocked to the Cross for sex. The girl’s name was Rosa. She’d once belonged to parents who loved her and who would never have envisaged her in her current surroundings. That was before Rosa’s mother died and her father remarried. Rosa’s stepmother didn’t give her the love she’d received from her mum, but she did what she thought was best for Rosa. She was, in fact, overzealous in her concern for her stepdaughter’s welfare, trying to put the brakes on Rosa seeing boys early in her teens. Rosa’s father sided with his new wife, who was younger than him and attractive into the bargain. The atmosphere in the Craig home became so oppressive and restrictive that the high-spirited Rosa decided she could stand it no longer.
