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About Almere

But gods, the bastards they deal with—makes me angry, that does. Drunken sods, pawin’ at ‘em, promisin’ gold then leavin’ piss-all. Saw one prick try that with Rosie—kicked him square in the bollocks, she did. Laughed my arse off! Surprised me too—thought she’d just take it, y’know? Nah, she’s scrappy. “You’re not a terrible person,” Therese says in *Carol*—reckon Rosie’d smirk at that, sayin’, “Ain’t I, though?” She’s a survivor, mate, not a saint.