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The Christmas Rose: The most heart-warming novel of 2018, from the Sunday Times bestseller
Dilly Court
The third book in the stunning ‘River Maid’ series from Sunday Times bestseller, Dilly Court!Standing on London’s Victoria docks with the wind biting through her shawl, Rose Munday realises she’s been abandoned by her sweetheart. She had risked everything to get to London but, stumbling through the peasoup fog, she has nowhere to go, and no one to turn to.Scared and alone, Rose steps straight into danger, only to be rescued by two women with even less to their names – a woman of the night and her young sidekick, Sparrow. With only a cluster of love letters to her name and all hope of her sweetheart’s return fading, Rose finds herself forging a new life with her unlikely companions.But when a good deed turns sour, a dangerous enemy threatens to ruin them all. Will Rose be able to save her new friends and her future? If she can, a Christmas gift awaits that will change her life forever…







Copyright (#u40ff26be-dccf-51e8-9218-248f909f4da2)
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2018
Copyright © Dilly Court 2018
Jacket Photographs: © Gordon Crabb/Alison Eldred (Girl); © Heritage Image Partnership Ltd/Alamy (street scene), © Shutterstock.com (http://www.Shutterstock.com) (all other images)
Cover design by Claire Ward © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018
Dilly Court asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008199685
Ebook Edition © November 2018 ISBN: 9780008199692
Version: 2018-10-01

Dedication (#u40ff26be-dccf-51e8-9218-248f909f4da2)
For Sam Avant.
Contents
Title Page (#u41774152-e1b9-5891-a8bc-f71f9755e2d7)
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Read on for an exclusive extract of Dilly’s next novel
Keep Reading …
About the Author
Also by Dilly Court
About the Publisher

Chapter One (#u40ff26be-dccf-51e8-9218-248f909f4da2)
Royal Victoria Dock, London, October 1882
Rose leaned over the railings, peering into the fog that had crept up on the steamship as it entered the Thames Estuary. It was even thicker when they arrived in Bow Creek, and as the vessel slid gracefully into the dock they were engulfed in a peasouper, making it impossible to distinguish the faces of the individuals waiting to greet the passengers.
‘Is he there, love?’
Rose turned to give the small woman a weary smile. ‘I can’t see very far, Mrs Parker. But I’d know him anywhere, and I can’t spot anyone who looks remotely like him.’
Adele Parker laid her gloved hand on Rose’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure your young man is there somewhere.’
‘Max promised to meet me.’ Rose could not quite keep a note of desperation from her voice. ‘We planned it all so carefully.’
‘Then I’m sure he’ll be here soon. It’ll take a while for the crew to put the gangplank in place and unload the luggage.’ Adele wrapped her shawl more tightly around her plump body. ‘It’s so cold and damp. We’ve been away for five years and I’ve almost forgotten what the English winter is like.’
‘I was only nine when we left for Australia,’ Rose said, sighing. ‘But there’s nothing to keep me in Bendigo now.’
Adele gave her a searching look. ‘How old are you, Rose?’
‘I’m eighteen, ma’am.’
‘I do worry about you, dear. I sympathise with you and your young man, but you do know you can’t marry without your parents’ consent, don’t you?’
‘I’m an orphan. Ma died when I was very young and Pa was killed in a mining accident a year ago. He gave up the sea because he thought he could make more money in a gold mine. It was a bad move.’
‘You didn’t tell me that, you poor dear.’ Adela gave her a hug. ‘You’re a brave girl, Rose. I wish you all the luck in the world.’
‘Thank you.’ Rose returned the embrace. Adele had shown her nothing but kindness during their time at sea, and, despite the difference in their ages, they had become good friends.
‘We’ll be staying with my mother-in-law, who lives in Elder Street, Spitalfields,’ Adele said gently. ‘I forget the number of the house but it has a black door with a lion’s head knocker. Ma-in-law is very proud of that.’
Rose smiled vaguely. ‘That sounds nice.’
‘If you need anything just come and see me.’ Adele craned her neck at the sound of the movement from a lower deck. ‘The gangplank is in place. I must find Mr Parker.’ She started off in the direction of the companionway, but she hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. ‘We’ll be catching the next train from Canning Town. You’re more than welcome to travel with us if your young man doesn’t put in an appearance.’
Rose was acutely conscious of the need to watch the pennies, but she managed a smile. ‘Thank you, but Max will be here. He promised.’ She strained her eyes as she peered into the thick curtain of fog, hoping to catch sight of the man for whom she had given up her home and her adopted family. A feeling of near-panic made her clutch the wet railing until her knuckles turned white. If Max, for whatever reason, could not meet her, she would be in a terrible fix. The possibility had not occurred to her during the voyage from the Australian port of Geelong to London. She had lived in a haze of romantic visions of what her life would be like as the wife of a dashing cavalry officer, but something as simple as a London particular was in danger of shattering her hopes and dreams.
Sadie, the woman who had become a second mother to Rose, had uttered dire warnings and these came flooding back to her now. Perhaps she ought to have listened, but she had ignored them and had allowed Max to purchase a berth for her on the Bendigo Queen. Sadie had been quick to notice the deepening affection between Rose and Max. He was five years Rose’s senior and she had been slightly in awe of him when they first arrived in the mining town of Bendigo, and it was Jimmy, his younger brother, who had been her particular friend. Two years later Max had been sent back to England to attend Sandhurst Military Academy, and it was on his first trip home that they had met again. Rose closed her eyes, conjuring up a vision of Max, his gleaming blond hair waved back from a high forehead, his classic features, piercing blue eyes, and his newly acquired military bearing. It had been love at first sight when she had met him then, even though they had known each other since childhood, and, to her surprise, the feeling was mutual. What a handsome young man from a wealthy family had seen in a skinny green-eyed girl with wildly curling copper hair she had never been able to fathom, but Max loved her and she loved him. Unfortunately his mother and Raven Dorincourt, his aristocratic stepfather, disapproved, and Max was promptly packed off to England to finish his training, but his parents could not prevent them from corresponding. Rose had a bundle of Max’s letters tied with pink ribbon, stowed carefully in her luggage. Reading them at night before she went to sleep had kept her going through the long days of their separation and during the voyage home to England.
‘Rose, dear. We’re leaving now. Are you coming with us?’
Adele’s voice brought Rose sharply to her senses, and she was left facing a wall of thick pea-green fog and an uncertain future. There was nothing she could do other than to follow Mr and Mrs Parker down the companionway to the lower deck. Everyone was pushing and jostling for position as the passengers disembarked. The level of sound from the dock grew in intensity as people called out to each other, whistling and shouting to attract the attention of those who had come to meet and greet them.
Festus Parker disappeared into the crowd, telling his wife to stay where she was while he went to retrieve their baggage. Rose could only stand there, damp, cold and increasingly panic stricken as she searched the crowd for the young cavalry officer who had stolen her heart in such a dramatic way.
Adele tugged at her sleeve. ‘Maybe he was delayed by the fog. Come with us, dear. We’re going to stay in Elder Street until we get out next posting.’
‘Thank you, but I’ll wait. Max will be here – he promised.’ Rose’s voice caught on a barely suppressed sob, but she held back the tears of desperation that threatened to overwhelm her as she struggled against a wave of homesickness. Sadie would tell her to keep a stiff upper lip, whatever that meant, but Rose was beginning to wish she had never left the noisy, often chaotic house attached to the school in Bendigo.
Adele fumbled in her reticule and brought out a pencil and a religious tract. She tore it in half, pulling a face as she did so. ‘I’m sure the Good Lord will forgive me, but this is the only piece of paper I have.’ She wrote something and passed it to Rose. ‘This is where we’ll be for the foreseeable future. If you get into difficulties, you know where to find us.’
Rose put it in her pocket. ‘Thank you, Mrs Parker. I won’t forget your kindness to me during our voyage.’
‘Nonsense, Rose. You’ve been a delight and you helped to alleviate the boredom of the long days at sea.’ Adele moved aside as her husband emerged from the gloom, carrying a large valise and Rose’s carpet bag.
‘You travelled light, Rosie,’ Festus said cheerfully. ‘I wish my wife could limit herself to so little in the way of clothing.’
Adele beamed at him. ‘It’s my one weakness. I know it is pure vanity, and I should try to overcome my love of pretty gowns and lovely colours, but we are as the Good Lord made us.’
‘I’m sure you make up for it in kindness, Mrs Parker.’ Rose leaned over to kiss Adele’s round cheek.
‘You can still change your mind and come with us, Rose.’
‘Thank you for your offer, but I will wait here for Max. He’ll come, I know he will.’
Adele and her husband exchanged worried glances. ‘Have you anywhere to stay in London?’ Festus asked abruptly. ‘Has your young man found suitable accommodation for you?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Rose said airily. ‘We’ll be lodging at the Captain’s House in Wapping. I lived there for a while when I was a child.’
Festus nodded gravely. ‘Do you know how to get there, should your friend be delayed by the fog?’
‘Max gave me instructions, so you really need not worry. But I am grateful for your concern, really I am.’ Rose stood her ground, despite the Parkers’ continued questioning. She knew that their concern for her was genuine, but she trusted Max. She had given up everything to be with him, and she was certain that he would not let her down.
After a tearful farewell the Parkers melted into the crowd and were immediately lost from sight. The peasouper seemed to be getting thicker with each passing minute and still there was no sign of Max. Rose picked up her luggage, edged her way towards a pile of wooden crates and perched on one, preparing to wait even if it took all night. Max had promised – he would come.
The crowds thinned and soon Rose was the only passenger left, but the busy life of the docks went on around her and she sat there, largely unnoticed. At one point a fussy man wearing a bowler hat demanded to know her business, and when she explained that she was waiting for someone he advised her to move on. She did not argue, but she ignored his advice, and an hour or so later a man wearing workman’s clothing approached her with a mug of tea in his hand.
‘Here, love. You look as if you could do with this.’
Rose took it and drank thirstily. The hot, sweet tea burned her tongue but she could feel its warmth seeping down to her empty stomach, and she realised that she had not eaten since breakfast. ‘Thank you, sir.’ She handed back the empty cup.
‘Sir, is it? I don’t often get treated with such politeness. Anyway, I got daughters of me own at home, and I wouldn’t want to see them sitting there all day, waiting for someone what is obviously not going to come.’
His words brought her abruptly to her senses. She had lost all track of time but it was getting dark and the fog was thicker than ever. She struggled to her feet. ‘Ta for the tea. Perhaps I’d better go.’
‘That’s right, love. You go home. Whoever it was that should have met you ain’t worth nuppence, leaving a young lady like yourself on your own.’ He lowered his voice. ‘There are some strange types to be found in a place like this.’
‘Can you direct me to the station, please?’ Rose tried to sound casual, but she realised suddenly that she was chilled to the bone and she was shivering violently.
The workman frowned, pushing his cap to the back of his head. ‘I’ve finished me shift, love. You’d best come with me. I’ll see you safe to Canning Town station, but you’re on your own from there.’
‘Thank you. You’re very kind.’
‘I’d hope someone would do the same if any of my girls was in need of help. Follow me.’ He loped off, leaving Rose to carry her heavy bag, but she was more than grateful. It was obvious that something momentous must have occurred to prevent Max from meeting her, and she would have to find her own way to the Captain’s House. Sadie always spoke fondly of the old house on the wharf that was now owned by Max’s older sister, Caroline, who had married well. Rose trudged after her protector, glad of his presence as she received whistles and indecent proposals from some of the men who were loitering around the dock gates.
At the ticket office her new friend turned to her. ‘Got your money ready, miss?’
Rose had her purse in her hand, but it felt very light and she knew that the money in it would not take her very far. She took out her last silver sixpence. ‘How far will this get me?’
The man in the ticket office seized the coin. ‘Fenchurch Street, miss.’
‘That’s where I’m going,’ Rose said firmly. She had no idea where Fenchurch Street was in relation to Wapping, but she had a dim memory of hearing the name and it seemed familiar. Anything was better than being stuck out here in the cold and dark.
‘I’ll leave you to it, then. Good night, miss.’
She turned to thank the man but he had vanished into the fog. ‘I didn’t even know his name,’ she said out loud.
The railway clerk handed her a ticket. ‘What did you say, miss?’
‘Nothing. Thank you.’
‘Platform one, miss.’
‘Thank you.’ She made her way to platform one, walking as fast as her cramped and tired limbs would allow. At least it would be warm on the train and she could sit down in comfort, for a little while. But where was Max? Why hadn’t he been there when she needed him?
She had only been able to afford a third-class ticket, and when the train arrived it was overcrowded, with standing room only, and the passengers were crammed in shoulder to shoulder. After nearly two months at sea, breathing in the fresh salt-laden air, Rose felt that she was suffocating, and the smell of sweaty bodies and unwashed clothing was almost too much to bear. When the train eventually pulled into Fenchurch Street station she was forcibly ejected as her fellow travellers pushed and shoved in their efforts to leave the compartment.
Standing on the platform, a small island in the midst of a swirling sea of people, Rose had never felt so alone in her whole life. She grabbed the first woman who was about to rush past her.
‘Excuse me, please. Can you tell me how to get to Wapping?’
The pale-faced woman, whose brown eyes were blank with fatigue, pulled her arm free with an angry twist of her thin lips. ‘You should have got off the train at Leman Street.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ Rose said humbly. ‘Where do I go from here?’
The woman pointed vaguely. ‘Head that way until you get to the Minories and then walk down Little Tower Hill and turn into Upper East Smithfield. You’ll have to ask directions when you get there, but keep going towards the river and you’ll get to Wapping High Street. Be careful who you speak to, girl. There’s some odd sorts round there.’ She wrapped her shawl around her head and dived into the crowd without giving Rose a chance to thank her.
There was nothing for it but to start walking. Rose tried to remember the woman’s hurried instructions, but the fog was even thicker here than it had been in the Royal Victoria Dock, and she had to keep stopping to ask the way. Sometimes her enquiries were met with a helpful answer, but more often than not people ignored her and walked past.
It soon became obvious that she was lost – the landmarks were obliterated by the fog and her breathing became more laboured with each step she took. She had lost all sense of time, but it felt like the middle of the night. The occasional cab lurched past her, but the horses moved at a plodding pace, and it was not until they were almost upon her that it was possible to gauge how close they were, making it necessary for her to leap out of the way. Rose’s nerves were shredded and she was exhausted and very hungry. Desperation was making her reckless, and, as she felt her way from wall to wall, she was suddenly aware of a shaft of light and the sound of raucous voices. The smell of ale and spirits wafted out of the pub in a cloud of tobacco smoke. Rose was about to go inside when someone grabbed her by the arm.
‘I’d steer clear of that place if I was you, dearie.’
Rose struggled but she was hampered by her heavy carpet bag and the woman had a grip of steel. ‘What’s it to you?’ she said crossly.
‘Up from the country are you?’
Rose dumped her baggage on the pavement. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m a friend, love. But you’re not from round here, are you? You wouldn’t want to go in there if you was up to snuff.’
Rose sighed. ‘I was born in London, but my pa took me to Australia when I was a nipper.’
The woman leaned forward to peer into Rose’s face. ‘I’m Cora Smith, and if you’ve got any sense in that noddle of yours you’ll take my advice and move on from here. What’s your name?’
‘I’m Rose Munday and I’m trying to get to the Captain’s House on the wharf at Wapping.’
Cora threw back her head and laughed. ‘There’s lots of wharfs at Wapping, love. D’you know which one?’
‘No, but it wasn’t far from the dock police station. I remember that.’
‘Well, that’s a start. Come on then. Seems to me this is my night to be a good citizen, for a change.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘My, my, you are a persistent little thing. What did they teach you in Australia, Rose Munday? Didn’t they have women like me, with painted lips and rouged cheeks, what earns their living by any way they can – mostly flat on their backs or—’
‘Yes, I understand,’ Rose said hastily. ‘I grew up in a mining town so I know how it goes.’
‘Tell you what, Rose. I was going to point you in the right direction, but I don’t want your dead body floating downriver on me conscience. I know this part of London like the back of me hand and I’ll see you safely home. Is someone waiting for you?’
‘I hope so,’ Rose said fervently. ‘Max was going to meet me – he gave me his word.’
‘Men and their promises.’ Cora tossed her head. ‘Come on, this peasouper ain’t going to clear before morning. Let’s get going.’
They seemed to have been walking for hours. Rose could feel blisters at the point of bursting on her heels, and she was just beginning to think she would drop from exhaustion when Cora came to a sudden halt. ‘Watch where you go.’
Slowly and painfully Rose followed Cora down a steep flight of steps, and she was in familiar territory at last. Despite the sulphurous stench of the fog mixed with the smoke from thousands of chimneys, the smell of the river mud took her back to her childhood. In her mind’s eye she could see the run-down boatyard where her father had struggled to make a living. It had been her home and she had forgotten the hardships, remembering only the hot summer days when she had paddled in the shallows and picked wildflowers on the river-bank.
‘This must be it,’ she whispered. ‘The Captain’s House can’t be far now and Max will be there waiting for me.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it, love.’ Cora reached out to clutch Rose’s hand. ‘Keep close to me. There’ll be coils of rope, chains and all sorts waiting to trip you up and fling you into the river.’ She paused. ‘Can you hear it? The water is lapping the wharf and that means it’s high tide.’
‘Yes, I remember now.’
‘Good. Then you know that if you fall in you won’t stand a chance. No one will see you and they won’t hear your cries for help. The current will suck you under and you’ll be a goner.’
‘Why are you doing this for me, Cora? Why would you want to help someone you’ve never met before?’
‘You ask too many questions. Come on. I’m dying for a smoke and a drink, and the sooner I deliver you, the sooner I can find a nice warm pub.’
‘All right. I’m coming.’ Rose tried not to drag her feet as she followed Cora, who seemed to have limitless energy. Then, just as Rose was about to give up, she was aware of a different smell and one that was very familiar. It was a mixture of burning sugar, roasting coffee beans and spices emanating from the warehouses surrounding the docks.
‘This is it,’ she said excitedly. ‘We must be very near. I remember how it smelled when the wind was in a certain direction.’
‘There ain’t no wind, duck. It’s your imagination.’
‘You’re wrong. I know this is the place.’ Rose dropped her bag and, holding her arms outstretched, she walked slowly, feeling the way until she came to the wooden steps. She ran her fingers over the rail and there it was. ‘This is the house,’ she cried triumphantly. ‘Max carved his initials on this piece of wood the day before we left for Australia.’
‘Then there’s only one thing to do.’ Cora pushed past her and marched up the steps to hammer on the door. ‘I want to meet this young man of yours and give him a piece of my mind for leaving a kid like you to find her way home in the middle of a London particular.’ She took a step backwards as the door opened and a pale shaft of light pierced the fog.
‘What d’yer want?’
Rose hesitated. It was not Max’s voice and a shiver ran down her spine. ‘I’ve come to see Max Manning,’ she said nervously.
‘Who?’
‘You heard her, mister,’ Cora said angrily. ‘Have you got cloth ears or something?’
‘Less of your lip.’ The man held the lantern close to Cora’s face. ‘Ho, touting for business, are you? You’d best come in then.’ He reached out a skinny but muscular arm and yanked Cora over the threshold before she had a chance to argue.
Rose dropped her carpet bag and ran to Cora’s aid. ‘Leave her alone. We just want to see Max.’
‘There ain’t no one of that name here, girl.’ The man shoved Cora so hard that she stumbled and fell in a heap with a flurry of red flannel petticoats, exposing legs clad in black stockings.
‘What have you done with Max?’ Rose demanded, standing her ground. ‘Where is he?’
‘What’s going on, Sid?’ A second man staggered out of what Rose remembered to be the front parlour. ‘What’s all the din?’
‘We got company, Wilf. Two ladies of the night to warm our beds. It must be our lucky day.’ Sid slammed the front door and leaned against it, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Nice of you to come calling, ladies. I think I’ll take the younger one. You can have the old tart, Wilf. Let’s get to it before the others come to.’
‘No,’ Rose cried. ‘There’s been a mistake. We’re looking for someone.’
Cora scrambled to her feet. ‘Move aside, cully.’ Before he had a chance to argue she had a knife to his throat. ‘I don’t go out at night without my chiv, so get away from the door.’
Terrified, Rose held her breath. She had seen plenty of brawls in the streets of Bendigo, but she had never encountered danger at such close quarters.
‘Get out, Rose,’ Cora hissed. She twisted the knife so that it nicked the flabby skin at the base of Sid’s scrawny throat, and she gave him a hearty shove that sent him cannoning into Wilf. The pair of them fell to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. ‘Run for it, Rose,’ Cora screamed. ‘Run.’

Chapter Two (#u40ff26be-dccf-51e8-9218-248f909f4da2)
Rose wrenched the door open, but in her hurry to escape she misjudged her footing and tumbled down the steps, landing on the carpet bag, which served to break her fall. Unhurt, she scrambled to her feet and Cora leaped to the ground, grabbed Rose by the hand and headed off into the fog. She did not stop until they reached the relative safety of the High Street.
‘That was a close one,’ Cora said breathlessly. ‘I knew I should have walked on when I spotted you outside the pub. This is what I get for doing a good deed.’
‘I’m sorry, Cora.’
‘It’s not your fault, young ’un. Coming here at night in the middle of a peasouper weren’t the best idea I ever had.’ Cora brushed a strand of unnaturally brassy hair from her forehead. ‘What am I going to do with you now? Do you know anyone in London?’
Rose bent double, holding her side in an attempt to relieve a painful stitch. ‘There’s Max’s sister.’
‘Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place? Where does she live?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘That ain’t no help. What’s her name? Maybe I knows her.’
‘She’s called Caroline and she married Phineas Colville. He owns—’
‘He owns the biggest shipping company in England. Well, I’m blowed. Who’d have thought it?’ Cora put her head on one side, narrowing her eyes. ‘You’re not making this up, are you? It ain’t funny.’
‘No. On my honour, it’s true.’
‘On your honour.’ Cora hooted with laughter. ‘Where’d you learn to talk stuff like that?’ She held up her hand. ‘No, don’t tell me. I ain’t sure if you’re genuine or the best little liar I ever met, but I ain’t hanging around here a minute longer than necessary.’ She walked off, heading back the way they had come.
Rose grabbed her bag and hobbled after her. ‘I’m sure that Mrs Colville will vouch for me, Cora. I just need to find out where she lives.’
Cora paused, glancing over her shoulder. ‘Maybe she’ll offer a reward. I mean, a girl has to earn a living. I could have been working instead of traipsing round the docks with you.’
‘I really am sorry.’
‘Of course you are.’ Cora stopped and turned to give Rose a searching look. ‘What am I going to do with you, Rosie? I can’t abandon you, even though common sense tells me that I should.’
‘Maybe I could spend the night at your lodgings?’ Rose suggested tentatively. ‘I haven’t got much money, but I think I have enough to pay my way – for one night, anyway.’
‘Oh, all right. I suppose I ain’t got no choice. You’d best come with me.’
Rose could hardly put one foot in front of the other by the time they reached the run-down building where Cora lived. Rose was completely disorientated and she could not have said where they were, except that she was glad to stumble into the relative warmth of the building when Cora ushered her inside.
‘It ain’t much, but this is where I doss down,’ Cora said firmly. ‘My room is upstairs.’ She mounted the narrow staircase, trailing her hand casually on the banister rail, which was blackened from years of grease and dirt. The flickering yellow gaslight popped and fizzed, adding its own pungent odour to the general fug, but Rose was too tired to be critical. It felt good to be safe from the outside world, even if some of the stair treads were rotten and several of the banister supports were broken or missing.
She had barely reached the first landing when a door opened and a man lurched out, ramming his cap on his head as he pushed past her and thundered down the stairs. A young woman poked her head out, grinning when she spotted Cora.
‘Had a good night, duck?’
Cora jerked her head in Rose’s direction. ‘Got a visitor, watch what you say, Flossie.’
‘Ooh, hark at her, girls.’ Flossie took a drag on her cigarette.
‘Shut up, you silly tart,’ Cora said affably. ‘Poor kid’s just got off the boat from the back of beyond and been let down by her bloke.’
‘We’ve all been there, luv.’ Flossie exhaled a plume of smoke at the grimy ceiling. ‘Did you see Regan hanging around downstairs?’
Cora shook her head. ‘No sign of him. I should take a break if I was you, girl. There’s not much doing out there tonight – it’s a real peasouper.’
Flossie’s throaty laugh echoed off the walls. ‘Good advice. I could use some beauty sleep.’ She stubbed her cigarette out on the doorpost, eyeing Rose curiously. ‘What’s your name, luv?’
‘It’s Rose Munday, miss.’
‘Nice to meet you, Rose. And it’s even nicer to have someone in the house what has good manners. Charmed, I’m sure. My name’s Flossie Boxer, and you can call me Flossie.’
‘Don’t listen to her yakking on and on.’ Cora opened a door further along the narrow passage. ‘Come on, Rose. This is where I hang out.’ She ushered Rose into a small room that contained a brass bed, a chest of drawers and a washstand. A single chair, draped with woollen stockings and a pair of stays, was placed in front of a fire that had burned down to nothing, and an overfull ashtray spilled cigarette butts onto the hearth. Cora tossed her feathered hat onto the bed, followed by her shawl, and she sat down to unlace her boots. ‘You can stay here tonight, but you’ll have to take the chair or sleep on the floor.’
‘Thank you.’ Rose glanced at the Windsor chair, which would not have been out of place in Sadie’s kitchen. ‘I’m so tired I could sleep almost anywhere.’
Cora gave her another searching look. ‘You’re whiter than the sheet on my bed. When did you last eat?’
‘Breakfast,’ Rose said, closing her eyes in an attempt to stop the room from spinning out of control. ‘I didn’t eat much because I was so excited at the thought of seeing Max again. It’s almost two years since we last met.’
‘That’s a long time to be apart. Are you sure he hasn’t changed his mind?’
‘I’ve known Max since I was a child. He wouldn’t behave like that and he wrote beautiful letters.’
Cora tossed one boot on the floor and began to unlace the other. ‘You’ve got more faith in men than I have, kid. In my experience they’re rats, all of ’em.’
Rose moved the grubby stays from the chair and sat down as another wave of dizziness threatened to overcome her. ‘I thought he’d be at the Captain’s House.’
‘Well, he weren’t, and you’ll have to get used to the idea that he’s changed his mind.’ Cora picked up a pillow and threw it to Rose. ‘Here, get your head down, love. You’ll have to wait for morning to get some grub. I don’t keep food in me room because of rats – the four-legged kind.’ Cora chuckled and turned on to her side with a creaking of bed springs. ‘There’s a spare blanket under me bed,’ she added sleepily. ‘Night-night.’
Rose slid off the chair, lifted the trailing edge of the coverlet to look under the bed, and found herself staring into the beady eyes of a huge spider. She retreated hastily and curled up as best she could on the chair, resting her head on the pillow. Cramped, stiff and cold, she thought longingly of her old room in the school house, and the tantalising aroma of baking that floated up from the kitchen where Sadie was undoubted queen. She and her husband, Laurence, ran the school that Max’s stepfather had built for the local children. Rose was in awe of Raven Dorincourt, but both Max and Jimmy thought the world of him. Even so, she preferred gentle, unworldly Laurence, who believed strongly that girls ought to be as well educated as boys, and she had benefited from his teaching.
As she struggled with the cold and damp of an English winter and the discomfort of trying to sleep in an upright chair, Rose was beginning to doubt the wisdom of her actions. Had she been carried away on a romantic dream, fuelled by ardent love letters from Max? More to the point, what would she do now that she was on her own in London? The questions kept coming but there were no answers. Eventually, she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.
‘Wake up.’
Someone was shaking her and Rose opened her eyes to such an unfamiliar scene that she thought she was dreaming.
‘You was dead to the world,’ Cora said cheerfully. ‘Put your boots on, Rose. We’re going out to get some breakfast.’
Rose stretched her cramped limbs, wincing with pain as the feeling came back to her hands and feet in the form of pins and needles. ‘Where are we going?’
‘There’s a coffee stall on Tower Hill.’ Cora sat on the edge of her bed and pulled on her boots. ‘How are you off for readies?’
‘I’ve got some money,’ Rose said warily. ‘But it won’t last very long. I was counting on Max meeting me at the docks.’
‘You said your Max was related to the Colvilles. Is that true?’
‘His elder sister married into the family. I was at her wedding.’
‘So she knows you.’ Cora tied the second bootlace into a neat bow and stood up, reaching for her hat. ‘Then after we’ve had breakfast I think we should pay a call on this lady. The Colvilles are rolling in money.’
‘I don’t want to go begging,’ Rose protested. ‘I’m sure Max has a good reason for not coming to meet me. Anyway, I told you, Cora. I don’t know where Caroline lives.’
‘But I do.’ Cora thrust a hatpin into the feathery creation on her head. ‘Don’t argue, kid. Food first and then we’re going to Finsbury Circus. I know that’s where we’ll find them because one of their footmen was a client of mine, if you get my meaning?’ She winked and opened the door. ‘Come on, don’t loiter. I’m dying for a cup of coffee.’
Having eaten a ham roll and drunk a mug of hot, sweet coffee, Rose was beginning to feel more optimistic. The fog had lifted, leaving a sooty smell lingering in the air, and it was bitterly cold, but at least they could see where they were going and Cora set off at a brisk pace with Rose hurrying after her. The blisters on her heels had burst and were painful, but she was feeling more positive and the thought of receiving news of Max, or even finding him at home with his sister, made the walk to Finsbury Circus seem less arduous. But it was a nerve-racking experience as they had to dodge in and out of the traffic and push their way through crowds of pedestrians. Rose was uncomfortably aware of the withering looks that Cora received from respectable matrons, who had their maidservants in tow, and the knowing grins from the costermongers and road sweepers. Whistles, cat calls and scornful glances accompanied them, but Cora herself did not seem to notice and she marched onwards, head held high, and the black and red ostrich feathers on her hat fluttered in the breeze. She swung her hips and twirled her reticule as if performing on stage, to the obvious delight of small urchins, who mimicked her shamelessly. In daylight the colour of Cora’s hair was even more remarkable – almost white at the tips, darkening through every colour of yellow to bronze at the roots – but beneath all the paint and rouge Cora’s good nature shone out like a beacon, and Rose was well aware that she owed her new friend a huge debt of gratitude. What might have befallen her last evening without Cora’s timely intervention was anyone’s guess.
‘We’re here,’ Cora announced, coming to a sudden halt.
Rose just managed to avoid colliding with her as she stopped, staring up at the grand façade of what was undoubtedly a mansion. Sadie had often mentioned the old days, before Mr Manning’s premature death, when the family lived in Finsbury Circus, and she might have been describing this very house.
‘What do we do now?’ Rose whispered.
Cora marched up the steps and knocked on the door. ‘I ain’t going to the tradesmen’s entrance. The blooming servants are worse than their masters when it comes to looking down on people.’ She moved a step closer as the door was opened by a liveried footman.
‘Go away,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘This is a respectable household.’ He was about to shut them out when Cora put her foot over the threshold.
‘I dunno what makes you think I ain’t respectable,’ she said boldly, ‘but I’m as good as you, Jem Wilkins, and I don’t think your superior would take very kindly to one of his men frequenting a—’
Wilkins opened the door a fraction wider. ‘Shut up, Cora. Don’t let the world know my business.’
‘Then let us in. This young lady is a friend of Max Manning. She wants to see him.’
Wilkins rolled his eyes. ‘She can’t be much of a friend if she doesn’t know that Captain Manning’s regiment sailed for Alexandria nearly two months ago.’
‘No,’ Rose said faintly. ‘I don’t believe it. Max wouldn’t do that to me. He would have let me know.’
Cora turned on her in a fury. ‘You was miles out at sea, you silly cow. Why didn’t you think of that? You never said he was a soldier.’
‘Let me shut the door, Cora,’ Wilkins said urgently. ‘Go away and take her with you.’
‘No.’ Rose found her voice. ‘If Captain Manning is away I need to see Mrs Colville. She’ll remember me.’
Wilkins folded his arms across his chest. ‘Well, that’s going to be a bit difficult, miss. Because Mr and Mrs Colville are away from home.’
‘Stop smirking, you smug devil,’ Cora snapped. ‘I can still peach on you to the butler or the housekeeper. Either will do.’
‘The master and mistress left on a business trip to Australia six weeks ago,’ Wilkins said stiffly. ‘Now go away, please. I can’t tell you anything else.’
‘Just a minute,’ Rose cried anxiously. ‘Do you know how long Captain Manning will be away?’
Wilkins gave her a pitying look. ‘According to the newspapers the war in Egypt is over, but I doubt if the generals themselves know when the troops will be sent home. Sorry, miss, but there it is.’ He gave Cora a push that almost overbalanced her and slammed the door.
Rose sank down on the top step. ‘I can’t believe this is happening to me,’ she murmured, shaking her head.
‘A pretty pickle you got yourself into, kid.’ Cora stared down at her, frowning. ‘Sitting there, feeling sorry for yourself, ain’t going to help either.’
‘I need to think,’ Rose said slowly. ‘I’m sure that Max would have made arrangements for me to be provided for until he returns.’
‘If he comes back at all.’ Cora threw up her hands. ‘Don’t look at me like that, young ’un. He went to fight in a war. If the bullets don’t get him he might have fallen sick from them foreign diseases. You got to face facts, love.’
‘Then I’ll travel to Egypt so that I can be near him.’
‘Oh, really! You said you got no money, and it’s a long way to walk.’
Rose stood up, bracing her shoulders. ‘I’ll get work and I’ll find a way.’
‘Well, I can’t leave you here, but I got to earn a living, too. You’d best come home with me.’ Cora gave her a calculating look. ‘Regan would take you on. He’s always looking for fresh faces and young bodies, especially virgins.’
Rose felt the colour flood her cheeks and she turned away. ‘I’m not that sort …’ She broke off, too embarrassed to finish the sentence. Cora had been kind to her, and how she supported herself was nobody’s business but her own.
‘It’s all right, love. I’m used to having my profession thrown in my face. It bounces off like rain on a pigeon’s feathers.’ Cora hitched her shawl around her shoulders as she negotiated the steps. ‘Come on if you’re coming. You can stay with me for another night or two, but you got to make yourself scarce when my gents come to call. D’you understand?’
Rose followed more slowly. ‘Thank you, Cora. I won’t impose on you any longer than necessary. I’ll look for work of some sort and a place to live.’
‘You ain’t going home then?’
‘I was happy in Bendigo, and Sadie and Laurence were kind to me, but they aren’t family. I have no ties there now.’ Rose fell into step beside Cora.
‘What about Max’s mother? Don’t she approve of you or something?’
‘She said we were too young to marry, and her husband agreed with her. They said that Max should establish himself in his career before thinking of marriage.’
‘Maybe you should write and tell her that he’s let you down. She might send you money.’
Horrified, Rose almost lost her footing on the uneven pavement. ‘I wouldn’t think of asking for charity.’
‘Suit yourself, but your young man got you into this mess, so it’s up to him or his family to get you out of it.’
Tears stung Rose’s eyes but she was determined not to cry. ‘I have only myself to blame, Cora. It’s up to me to find a solution.’
Cora shot her a sideways glance. ‘You’re obviously well educated, Rose. But without references you won’t find it easy to get work.’
‘I can cook simple things, and I can look after small children. I can scrub floors and wash dishes.’
‘Put us two together and we’d make someone a perfect wife,’ Cora said, chuckling. ‘Walk faster, Rose. I got work to do, even if you haven’t.’
Regan was hanging around outside the house in Black Raven Court, and Rose took an instant dislike to him. Despite his thickset physique and aggressive expression, his scarred face and broken nose suggested that he had come off worst in a good many fights. His unsavoury appearance, and the stench of his unwashed body made Rose shrink away from him, but his beady eyes lit up with interest the moment he spotted her.
‘You can forget it, Regan,’ Cora said firmly. ‘She’s not for sale.’
‘Pity. I could find plenty of work for someone like her.’ Regan smiled at Rose, putting her forcibly in mind of the Big Bad Wolf in the fairy tale, except that the teeth he displayed were broken and hideously decayed.
Cora turned to Rose with a warning frown. ‘You’d best go about your business, Rosie. I’ll see you tonight, but knock three times on the door or you won’t get an answer.’ She turned away, proffering her arm to Regan. ‘What pleasures have you got for me today, cully?’
Rose shivered as a chill east wind rushed up from the river. The sky was heavy with cast-iron clouds that threatened rain. She wrapped her shawl more tightly around her body and started walking, although she had no idea of where she might be going, but it was too cold to stand still. Her bright dreams for the future were fading fast, and she had very little money. She closed her eyes, praying silently for inspiration, and then she remembered what Adele had said just before they parted. Acting on impulse, she hailed a passing cab.
‘Elder Street, cabby.’ Rose climbed inside and closed the half-doors with fingers that were numbed by the cold. Sadie had warned her to pack more warm clothes, but she had travelled as light as possible, hoping to purchase a more suitable wardrobe in London. She wished now that she had paid more attention to Sadie, and had not allowed herself to be carried away by rash promises from Max. She took her purse from her reticule and counted the coins. There would be precious little left after paying the cab fare, but she had no idea where Elder Street was situated in relation to the Tower, and the pain in her feet was crippling. Perhaps Adele could find some kind of work for her that would pay enough to keep body and soul together until Max returned home. One thing was certain, there was no way she could raise enough money to buy a passage home, but she was not prepared to give up her dream, not yet anyway. She would wait for Max and they would marry and live happily ever after, just like the princes and princesses in the story books.
Adele rushed into the front parlour holding out her hands in welcome. ‘It’s good to see you, Rose. I’ve been thinking about you and your young man.’ She turned to the maidservant who had let Rose in and was now hovering in the doorway. ‘Bring us tea and cake, please, Bridget.’
The girl, who could have been no more than thirteen, acknowledged the instruction with a vague nod of her head and backed away very slowly.
Adele closed the door on her. ‘She’s still learning,’ she said by way of explanation. ‘But what brings you here today, Rose? Is everything all right?’
‘Not exactly.’ Rose clasped and unclasped her hands, suddenly nervous. It was one thing to be told that Max had been called upon to fight for his country, but quite another to put it into words.
‘To tell you the truth, Adele, I am in a very difficult situation.’

Chapter Three (#u40ff26be-dccf-51e8-9218-248f909f4da2)
Despite interruptions from Bridget when she brought in the tea tray, and another when she returned with a plate of small cakes, and yet again when she came back with the plates that she had forgotten in the first place, Rose managed to explain the circumstances that had brought her to Spitalfields.
Adele sipped her tea, frowning thoughtfully. ‘I am so sorry, Rose. You were looking forward so much to seeing Max again. It must have been a bitter disappointment.’
Rose nodded, swallowing hard to prevent herself from bursting into tears.
‘You were lucky to have been befriended by such a good woman,’ Adele added earnestly. ‘I’ve never believed in judging others harshly, and Cora seems to be very kind-hearted.’
‘She is, and I don’t know what I would have done had she not taken me under her wing, but I can’t expect her to look after me. I need to be able to support myself.’
‘Surely your family in Bendigo would make the necessary arrangements for your passage home?’
‘I’m sure they would, but I’ve come this far, Mrs Parker. I want to be here when Max returns from war.’
‘I don’t think you’ve thought it through, Rose, but I can see that you’ve made up your mind.’ Adele replaced her cup on its saucer. ‘Maybe Festus would have some useful suggestions.’ She eyed Rose thoughtfully. ‘You are well-spoken and ladylike. I suppose you could try for a position as lady’s maid or companion.’
‘I haven’t any references, and I wouldn’t know where to start if someone wanted me to put up their hair or wash their fine lace, but I’m not afraid of hard work.’
‘Wait here, Rose. I’ll go and speak to Festus – he’s attending to his correspondence in his study.’ Adele jumped to her feet and left the room without giving Rose a chance to argue.
She reached out to take another slice of cake, but, tempting as it was, she decided that it would be greedy, and she folded her hands in her lap waiting for Adele to return. The room was quite small and the heavy velvet curtains seemed to absorb what little light filtered through the small windowpanes, but a fire burned merrily in the grate and the air was filled with the aroma of tea and chocolate cake, furniture polish and just a hint of old books.
She stood up and went to examine the leather-bound books on a shelf in one of the chimney recesses, but they were all academic works on philosophy and religion, nothing that would remotely interest her, despite her love for reading. A stuffed green parrot seemed to be glaring at her from the inside of a glass dome, and she wondered why anyone would want such a keepsake. Its eyes appeared to follow her and she moved on to study a photograph of a much younger Festus and Adele in their wedding finery, but at the sound of approaching footsteps she returned to her chair and sat down, folding her hands primly in her lap once more.
Adele entered the room followed by Festus, who gazed at her soulfully. ‘I understand you are in a sorry predicament, Rose,’ he said in sepulchral tones. ‘Rash actions often end in disaster.’
‘It’s not exactly a disaster, my dear.’ Adele laid her hand on his sleeve. ‘As I just told you, Rose has come to ask our advice.’
Festus went to stand with his back to the fire. ‘You are a well-educated young lady, Rose.’
‘I think so, sir.’
‘Living on your own in a big city is not to be recommended.’ Festus stroked his chin, something he did when he was thinking deeply, which was a habit that Rose had noticed during their time at sea. ‘If you want my honest opinion,’ he said at length, ‘I think you ought to go home and wait there for your young man.’
Rose knew that this was good advice and probably the most logical thing to do, but somehow logic and common sense seemed to have flown out of the window, and a stubborn streak that she had not known she possessed had taken hold of her.
‘Thank you both, but it isn’t as easy as that. As I explained to your wife, I haven’t enough money to pay for a passage home.’
Adele glanced anxiously at her husband. ‘We would lend it to you if it were possible.’
‘Which I’m afraid it is not,’ Festus added quickly. ‘Our means are limited, Rose. But your young man is related to the owners of the largest shipping line in the country, isn’t that so?’
‘It is, but Mr and Mrs Colville are away on a business trip. There is no one in London who could help me, and, if I’m honest, I don’t want to return home, not yet anyway. What I need is a job so that I can support myself until Max returns from Egypt.’
‘Young ladies do not go out to work.’ Adele’s eyes widened and she pursed her lips. ‘What would your sainted papa say if he knew?’
‘My pa was a practical man, Mrs Parker. He worked hard for his living and he would expect me to do the same.’
Adele raised a hanky to her eyes. ‘Oh dear, this is very distressing. I wish we could help.’
‘You must get away from that place of ill repute,’ Festus said firmly. ‘We would offer you sanctuary here, but this house is quite small and it belongs to my mother. We have to respect her wants and needs.’
Rose jumped to her feet. ‘Thank you, but all I wanted was some advice as to what sort of work I might do. I didn’t mean to put you in a difficult position. I think it best if I go now.’
‘Festus, we can’t allow Rose to leave without at least trying to help her.’ Adele clutched her husband’s arm, gazing up at him with imploring eyes.
‘My dear, we’ve been out of the country for five years. I expect things have changed significantly since we left.’
‘I really should leave now,’ Rose said hastily. ‘It’s a long walk back to Black Raven Court and I left my things there.’
‘Oh dear.’ Adele’s eyes filled with tears and she pulled a crumpled handkerchief from her sleeve. ‘Don’t let her go like this, Festus. There must be something we can do to help poor Rose.’
‘I was planning to visit the office of the London Leader today. It’s owned by a friend of mine, and he might be in a position to give you advice. They used to run a Situations Vacant column, unless things have changed greatly.’ Festus fixed Rose with a meaningful stare. ‘Will you come with me?’
Rose nodded emphatically. ‘Yes, gladly.’
Adele clapped her hands. ‘Splendid. Do have some more cake before you go, Rose. I made it myself.’
‘There’s no time for that.’ Festus opened the door. ‘Come along, Rose, best foot forward. We’ll see if Cosmo has anything helpful to say.’
The cab dropped them off outside the London Leader offices in Fleet Street and Rose alighted to the pavement while Festus paid the cabby. This was a part of the city that Rose barely knew, but immediately it felt like the beating heart of London. The traffic was so dense that it hardly seemed to be moving and the coachmen, cabbies, draymen and carters shouted and bellowed at each other, flicking their whips in seemingly useless displays of bad temper and impatience. The pavements were equally crowded, and people pushed and jostled as if reaching their destinations was a matter of life and death. Festus hurried Rose into the building, stopping at the desk where a harassed-looking man was dealing with an irate person who was complaining bitterly about the size and positioning of his advertisement. Eventually the bald, bespectacled clerk held up his hand.
‘If you will give me a moment, sir, I’ll see if I can find someone to deal with your query.’
‘Query? It ain’t a query, my good man. I want my money back. I paid in good faith for—’
Festus cleared his throat noisily. ‘If you will excuse me for interrupting, might I suggest that you allow this man to do his job, sir?’
The irate advertiser turned on Festus with an angry snarl. ‘And who are you, mate? Did I ask you to interfere?’
Rose had had enough of this senseless arguing and she stepped forward. ‘I suggest you sit down, mister. We’ve all got business here and you’re not helping anyone, least of all yourself.’
The man stared at her, shocked into silence.
‘Precisely,’ Festus said firmly. ‘And I wish to see Mr Cosmo Radley.’
‘I’m sorry to say that Mr Radley senior passed away four years ago, and his son, Mr Arthur Radley, took over the editorship.’
‘That’s all very fine.’ The angry man spoke up again. ‘I want to see Mr Radley and put my complaint in person.’
‘Even if he’s in the office I can’t guarantee that he’ll see you, sir. Mr Radley is a very busy man.’ The clerk edged out from behind the desk and scuttled across the tiled floor.
‘I’m not leaving until I’ve had words with him,’ the man said huffily. ‘I’ve got a genuine case.’
Rose had to curb the sudden desire to laugh. There was a childishness about him that made him look like an overgrown schoolboy, but he was still grumbling when one of the office doors opened and a tall man emerged into the foyer. At first sight, with his dark hair and neatly trimmed beard and moustache, he reminded Rose of a pirate or a dashing musketeer, and there was certainly a hint of a swagger in the way he strolled over to the desk.
‘May I be of any assistance?’
‘This man is being attended to,’ Festus said quickly. ‘I came to see Mr Cosmo Radley, but I’ve been told he’s no longer with us.’
‘Yes, sadly that is the case, but I’m his nephew, Eugene Sheldon. How may I be of service?’
‘Festus Parker, and this is Miss Rose Munday. Might we talk in private?’
Eugene’s gaze rested on Rose for the briefest of moments and she noticed that his eyes were the colour of amber rimmed with jet. ‘Of course,’ he said smiling. ‘Come this way.’
Rose followed them into a small office where a large desk dominated the room. Piles of newspapers were scattered in seemingly random heaps on the floor, and the walls were lined with shelves crammed with files.
Festus claimed the most comfortable chair. ‘Your uncle was a close friend of mine, but I never saw Arthur as being suitable to run the newspaper. He was always a rather dull boy.’
Rose held her breath, waiting to see if Eugene had taken umbrage at this tactless remark, but if he thought that Festus was being a little too frank, his genial expression did not falter. He pulled up a chair for Rose before taking his seat behind the desk. ‘I was only twenty and still at university when Uncle Cosmo died. Arthur had been subeditor for years and it was only right that he should step into his father’s shoes. I joined the staff when I left Cambridge.’
‘People can change, I suppose.’ Festus sighed heavily. ‘I’m sorry that I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to my old friend.’
‘I understand, of course, but you are here now so how may I be of assistance?’
Festus steepled his fingers, eyeing Eugene thoughtfully. ‘I came, as I said, with the intention of renewing my acquaintance with Cosmo, and I brought Miss Munday with me because she finds herself in a difficult situation.’
Eugene turned his attention to Rose. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
She felt her cheeks redden. ‘I need a job, Mr Sheldon. It’s as simple as that. I arrived in London recently to find my situation had changed, leaving me stranded with very little money and in desperate need of finding cheap lodgings.’
‘Might I ask how a young lady like yourself came to be in such a plight?’
‘You’re not going to write about me in your paper, are you?’
Eugene’s lips twitched. ‘I promise that this is strictly between ourselves.’
Rose met his amused gaze with a frown. Her situation might seem funny to someone who led a comfortable existence, but it was no laughing matter. ‘My fiancé, Max Manning, sent for me,’ she said coldly. ‘However, when I arrived in England I discovered that his regiment has been sent to Egypt.’
‘Dashed bad luck, but surely he has family here in London?’
Festus leaned forward. ‘Suffice to say that we’ve been through all this, and Miss Munday is in a bit of a pickle. We met on the boat travelling back from Australia and we only landed yesterday, so you can see that Rose hasn’t had time to look around. You, however, must run a Situations Vacant column.’
‘And you were hoping that my uncle might put the lady in touch with a prospective employer. Capital idea, but too late, I’m afraid.’
‘Do you treat everything as a joke, Mr Sheldon?’ Rose asked angrily. ‘I lost my pa a year ago and I don’t find it as hilarious as you do.’
Eugene’s smile faded and he shook his head. ‘Of course not. Some of us disguise our feelings with humour, finding it the only way to deal with the difficulties that beset us. I am really sorry about your father and the predicament in which you find yourself.’
‘So can you help?’ Festus demanded. ‘I really can’t spare much more time on this. Rose needs to find lodgings and she has to have work so that she can pay for her bed and board.’
‘Have you considered returning home, Miss Munday?’ Eugene chose to ignore Festus, focusing his attention on Rose. ‘The war in Egypt might be at an end, but the unrest could go on for years.’
‘I don’t care,’ Rose said stoutly. ‘I’ll wait here for Max to return regardless. I’ll wash clothes or work in a kitchen. I’ll do anything legal to earn my own living.’
‘Rose has received a good education.’ Festus glanced at the grandfather clock standing in the corner. ‘Oh dear, I had no idea it was so late. I have other business to attend to this morning. You may remain here, Rose, or you can accompany me, but I will be going about my own affairs.’
She realised that this was his way of saying that she was on her own, and yet she could not blame him. The Parkers were shipboard acquaintances, nothing more, and it would be unreasonable to expect them to go out of their way for a relative stranger. She managed a weak smile. ‘Thank you for everything, Mr Parker. I’ll be quite all right.’
He stood up abruptly. ‘Well, if you’re sure, I’d better be on my way.’
Eugene was already on his feet, as if anticipating Festus’ sudden departure, and he went to open the door. ‘Goodbye, sir. It’s always a pleasure to meet my late uncle’s friends.’ They shook hands and Festus nodded to Rose as he left the office.
Eugene closed the door. ‘Well then, Miss Munday. It seems as though you’ve been left in the lurch, yet again. Does this mean you have nowhere to sleep tonight?’
‘It would have been so, but I met a lady who helped me last evening. She didn’t have to go out of her way to assist a stranger, but she allowed me to share her lodgings and bought me breakfast. There are some generous people, if you’re lucky enough to meet them.’
‘Will you be able to stay with this person until you find work and a place of your own?’
‘I expect so.’ Rose raised herself from the chair. She was still stiff after spending an uncomfortable night in Cora’s room, although she was not going to admit that to Eugene, who, despite his claim to be sympathetic, still appeared to find her situation amusing.
‘If you would like to give me your address I’ll contact you should anything come up.’
‘The house is in Black Raven Court – I didn’t notice the number – but I think most people there know Cora Smith.’
He frowned. ‘I know the name from somewhere. It will come back to me. As to Black Raven Court – it’s not the most salubrious neighbourhood, especially for a young lady like yourself.’
‘I’m hardly a lady, sir. I spent my first nine years living in a hut in my father’s boatyard in Chelsea, and then we went to Australia and I grew up in a mining town. I think I know how to look after myself. Anyway, I’m sorry to have wasted your time. It really wasn’t my idea to come here.’ Rose walked to the door and reached out to clasp the handle, but Eugene moved swiftly and laid his hand on hers.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, and of course I’ll do anything I can to help. It’s time for luncheon, by my reckoning, and I’d be honoured if you would join me for a meal at the Cheshire Cheese where they do excellent chops and steaks.’
Rose was going to refuse, but her stomach rumbled – it was a long time since breakfast and the slice of cake at the Parkers’ had been very small. It would be foolish to turn down the offer of a free meal, and the cab fare to Elder Street had depleted her dwindling supply of cash yet further.
‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly. ‘That would be nice.’
Outside the cold air hit her like a slap in the face. She had left Bendigo on a warm spring day and, even though she had known that it would be late autumn when she arrived in London, she had not been prepared for such a stark contrast. The clothes she had packed were not really suitable for a spell of wet and chilly weather, but Max had promised to buy her a whole new wardrobe, one befitting the wife of an army officer. She had imagined elegant gowns and smart riding outfits, although at this moment she would have given anything for a waxed drover’s coat and a pair of woollen gloves.
‘It’s not far,’ Eugene said cheerfully.
‘I should have brought some warmer clothes with me. But I left in rather a hurry.’
‘You’re a very plucky young woman.’ He shot a sideways glance at her. ‘I look forward to hearing about your travels, and the man who inspired you to come halfway round the world on your own.’
Rose’s teeth were chattering and she needed all her breath simply to keep up with him. She nodded and managed a smile, but it was the thought of a hot meal that kept her placing one foot in front of the other, and fortunately it was not far to Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese. The pubwas situated in Wine Office Court, a narrow alleyway off Fleet Street, and the interior, as Eugene had said, was warm and welcoming, with whitewashed walls, beamed ceilings and a roaring log fire. The enticing aroma of roast meat mingled with the fragrance of wine and the sturdy smell of ale and tobacco smoke. But the main thing as far as Rose was concerned was the warmth, and the flickering firelight was both comforting and homely.
The waiters greeted Eugene like an old friend, and they were shown to a secluded table behind a pillar. ‘I can recommend the steaks they do here.’ Eugene waited until Rose was settled before taking a seat. ‘Or perhaps you would prefer chops or pie – everything is well cooked and tasty.’ He turned to the waiter. ‘A bottle of claret, if you please, and I’ll have my usual. What about you, Rose? I may call you Rose, mayn’t I?’
She nodded. ‘I’ll have what you’re having.’
‘A good choice.’ Eugene dismissed the waiter with a wave of his hand and a friendly smile. ‘You’ll feel better when you’ve eaten.’ He sat back in his seat as another waiter hurried over to pour the wine. ‘Now tell me about yourself, Rose. I’ve never met a young lady adventurer before.’
Rose eyed him suspiciously, but the twinkle in his eyes was irresistible and she began to relax. Sipping the warming red wine she found herself telling him everything from the time when she had first met Max at her father’s boatyard on the Thames, through her childhood to the moment when her relationship with Max had changed for ever. Then, of course, there was the pressing matter of the Captain’s House and the men who were living there with, or without, Mrs Colville’s permission.
‘So, you think these people are squatters,’ Eugene said slowly. ‘There must be someone at Colville Shipping who handles the family’s private affairs. It shouldn’t be too difficult to track him down, and persuade him to evict the trespassers. You would certainly be better off living there than in one of Regan’s brothels.’
‘You know him?’ Rose could hardly believe her ears.
‘He’s notorious,’ Eugene said calmly. ‘The authorities close him down and take him into custody, but somehow he gets away with a fine and he just starts up again at a different address. There are plenty of men like Regan in London.’
‘Oh!’ Rose was at a loss for words, but by this time the food had arrived and she ate hungrily, earning praise from Eugene, who said that he liked to see a girl enjoying a good meal, instead of young ladies who picked at their food like birds. He questioned her further but managed to do so without seeming to interrogate, and she found it surprisingly easy to tell him how she had come to be in such a difficult situation.
‘But,’ she said, replacing her knife and fork on the plate, ‘I want to prove myself and not just to impress Max. I realise now that I want to be someone in my own right. I didn’t choose to go to Australia; it was decided for me. I didn’t ask to be raised by Sadie and her husband, that just happened, and I didn’t expect to fall in love with Max. It was always Jimmy, his younger brother, who is now in the navy, who was my special friend while we were growing up.’
Eugene drained the last of his wine. ‘And you haven’t seen Max for two years?’
She eyed him warily. ‘I know that sounds a very long time, but we’ve corresponded regularly. He writes the most beautiful letters.’
‘Hmm,’ Eugene said slowly. ‘A soldier and a poet.’
‘Now you’re laughing at me again. You seem to find my situation very comical.’
‘No, indeed I do not. In fact, I regard it as extremely serious.’ He nodded to the waiter, who appeared suddenly to clear the table. ‘Now, more importantly, Rose. Would you like to sample the treacle pudding? I can recommend it.’
‘Oh, yes, please. Sadie used to make lovely suet puddings with either jam or treacle.’ Rose hesitated. ‘I will, but only if you will, too. I don’t want to be a glutton.’
‘Excellent. That will be two treacle puddings, please, waiter. And a jug of custard, too.’
The pudding was so delicious that Rose could have licked the plate, and at one time she might have done so, but not, of course, if Sadie had been looking. Sadie was very particular about table manners, although Laurence was much more relaxed about such things. However much the temptation, Rose was not going to let herself down in front of Eugene, but she was glad that he seemed to enjoy his food as much as she did. She sat back in her chair, replete and feeling much more optimistic. However, Eugene seemed to have forgotten why she had come to see him in the first place and had been amusing her with descriptions of his life as a subeditor and sometime reporter. But all too soon it was time to think about leaving the cosy interior of the pub and to venture out once again into the cold unknown. Rose plucked up the courage to interrupt before Eugene embarked on another risqué tale.
‘You’ve been very kind,’ she said earnestly. ‘But I have to get back to reality. Do you think you could help me to find paid work? I have to earn my living, and, as I told you, I’ve very little money left and nowhere to go other than Cora’s room in Black Raven Court.’
‘Yes, of course. I was enjoying your company so much that I almost forgot.’ Eugene eyed her thoughtfully. ‘You’ve never worked in an office, have you, Rose?’
‘Not really. Unless you count helping to sort Laurence’s papers and keeping accounts. I did help with all that, especially when Sadie was too busy to do the books.’
‘Do you know what a typewriter is?’
Rose shook her head. ‘No, I’ve never heard of such a thing.’
‘It’s fairly new in this country, although gaining popularity in America. It’s the modern way of writing letters and documents. I purchased such a machine on a recent visit to New York, but I haven’t found anyone who is willing to learn to use it, as our clerks prefer writing documents by hand.’
‘Are you offering me a job, sir?’
He leaned back, giving her a calculating look. ‘Would you consider working for me? It would mean learning how to use the typewriter, keeping files and doing general office work.’
‘And you’d pay me?’
He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Of course I would. It wouldn’t be a fortune, but it would be enough to live on.’
‘I’m in no position to refuse – not that I would, anyway. It sounds really interesting. When do I start?’
‘Tomorrow morning at half-past eight. I like to get in early, although, of course, the printers are working most of the night to get the paper out first thing in the morning, and sometimes you might be required to work late, if there’s a particular rush on.’
‘I wouldn’t mind that at all.’ Rose stood up, swaying slightly as the effects of the wine made the floor seem even more uneven than it was. ‘I’ll start looking for a room somewhere nearer.’
Eugene was already standing and he proffered his arm. ‘A breath of fresh air will blow away the cobwebs. I think you’d best come back to the office with me and I’ll show you round. Then I’ll get one of the boys to see you to Black Raven Court.’
The fresh air had a sobering effect and by the time they reached the offices of the London Leader Rose was back to her old self, or very nearly. She decided that drinking wine in the middle of the day was not a good idea, and it had left her with a slight headache, but she was buoyed up by the fact that she had found employment.
She was not quite so confident, however, when faced with the brand-new Sholes and Glidden typewriter, and she was uncomfortably aware that her presence in the office was provoking furtive glances from the rest of the staff. Eugene did not seem to notice anything untoward and he sat her in front of the strange machine, inserted a sheet of paper and struck a few keys.
‘There,’ he said triumphantly. ‘That’s not so difficult, is it? I saw women in New York who could use both hands, as if they were playing the piano, but they were actually typing documents.’ He picked up a file and pulled out a typewritten letter. ‘This is how it should look. What do you think? Could you work this machine?’
‘I don’t see why not.’ Rose perched on a chair and studied the keyboard. Tentatively at first, but with growing confidence, she tapped out a series of words.
‘You’ll soon get used to it,’ Eugene said confidently. ‘What do you think, Rose?’

Chapter Four (#u40ff26be-dccf-51e8-9218-248f909f4da2)
The mere fact that an important man like Eugene Sheldon was asking for her opinion and treating her as an equal sent a warm, fuzzy glow rushing through her veins, which had nothing to do with the glass or two of wine she had drunk with her meal. Suddenly, from feeling like a displaced person, an alien in her own homeland, Rose felt wanted and needed.
‘I think it’s a marvellous invention,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘I’ve spent hours and hours writing letters for Laurence to sign, but if I’d had a typewriting machine I’m sure it would have saved time and a lot of effort.’
‘It’s good that you’re open to change, Rose.’ Eugene turned away as one of the clerks rushed over to him waving a piece of paper.
‘Guvnor, this has just come in – an affray in Eastcheap. It could be the gangs are tearing each other apart yet again, but there’s no one here to send.’
‘I’ll go. I enjoy a good scrap.’ Eugene grabbed his hat. ‘Come on, Miss Munday. You can see what we do first-hand, and it’s not too far from Black Raven Court. I’ll see you safely home as soon as I’ve got a story.’
A bubble of excitement swelled in Rose’s chest and she leaped to her feet, grabbed her shawl and reticule and hurried after Eugene. Standing on the edge of the pavement, he hailed a passing cab.
‘Eastcheap, cabby.’ Eugene leaped into the vehicle. ‘You’ll have to move faster than that, Munday, if you want to get to the scene of a news story in the shortest possible time.’ He reached out to grab her hand and heaved her unceremoniously onto the seat beside him as the cab lurched forward. ‘Sorry, Munday,’ he said with a rueful smile. ‘Manners fly out of the window when the matter is urgent.’
‘I understand,’ Rose said breathlessly. ‘Do you think I could train as a reporter?’
‘First things first, Munday.’
Rose clutched the seat as the cabby urged the horse to a trot and they careered along at an alarming rate, veering this way and that through the busy traffic. Rose was certain that at any moment they would overturn or be thrown from the cab, but Eugene remained calm, as if this mad ride was an everyday occurrence.
‘It’s all right, Munday,’ he said calmly. ‘The cabby knows what he’s doing. This chap has taken me on many an assignment. I always tip him handsomely, which is probably why he’s always lurking in Fleet Street.’
‘I’m not scared.’ Rose turned her head to study his profile. ‘Why are you using my surname? You called me Rose in the pub – why the sudden change?’
‘Ah, but that was pleasure, Rose. If you’re going to venture into the male domain of newspapers, you’ll have to be treated like a man. When we’re working you’ll be referred to as Munday.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Rose stared straight ahead. ‘I am grateful to you …’ she hesitated. ‘What do I call you?’
‘When we’re working you call me Guvnor.’
‘Yes, Guvnor.’
‘That’s right – you’re learning. But when we get to Eastcheap, keep out of the way. Don’t expect me to look after you. You’re just a bystander.’
‘I understand.’
‘Good. Then we’ll get along well. I think it must have been pretty rough in the goldfields, but I doubt if you’ll have experienced anything like the violence of some of the street gangs that still exist in the East End. Although what we’re heading for is probably just a brawl between rival costermongers, which won’t make the front page.’
‘I’m not scared,’ Rose repeated stoutly and, to her surprise, she realised that she was more excited than anxious.
The cab slowed down and the trap door in the roof opened suddenly.
‘We’re here, guv.’
Eugene handed the driver some coins without bothering to ask the fare, and made ready to spring out as the cab drew to a halt. Rose was left to alight on her own and she found herself at the back of a jeering, bellowing crowd. Eugene had disappeared and she experienced a moment of panic, but she was also curious and, forgetting his instructions to stay back, she pushed her way through the bodies until she had a view of the fray.
As Eugene had suspected, the fight was between a group of burly costermongers who were throwing punches, kicking, shouting and swearing. It was a mêlée of fists, feet and bleeding noses, and her heart missed a beat or two as she saw Eugene wade in, accompanied by two police constables armed with truncheons. The sound of running feet preceded the arrival of their colleagues, and the ear-splitting sound of their whistles momentarily silenced the onlookers.
Rose craned her neck in order to get a better view and saw Eugene pulling two men apart and holding them at arm’s length, even though they struggled to break free. She had put him down as a bit of a dandy at first sight, but the man she saw now was a completely different person. And, as if joining in a brawl was not bad enough, Eugene was grinning broadly as if he were enjoying the fracas.
Suddenly it was over, and the police had taken control of the street. The antagonists were bundled into a Black Maria and driven away, and there was a general scramble as children and adults alike fell on the fruit and vegetables that were strewn over the cobblestones. Rose waited until Eugene had finished speaking to the police sergeant who had brought the reinforcements, then she hurried to his side.
‘Are you hurt?’
As he met her anxious gaze she could tell by the fire in his eyes and his triumphant smile that he had enjoyed the altercation.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘Your nose is bleeding, and I think you’ll have a black eye by morning.’
‘Have you got a handkerchief, Munday? I seem to have forgotten mine.’
She took a small cotton hanky from her reticule. Sadie had embroidered it with her initials and rosebuds, but within seconds it was covered in blood. ‘Maybe you should sit down, Guvnor,’ she said hastily.
He clamped the hanky to his nose. ‘I’m not a little girl, Munday. It’s just a spot or two of blood and it’ll stop soon. Come on, let’s get you back to your friend in Black Raven Court before another scrap starts.’ He nodded towards an irate costermonger, who was berating a gang of young boys for helping themselves to the apples that had fallen to the ground.
‘You can put your arm around my shoulders if you feel faint,’ Rose insisted. ‘You’re very pale.’
‘Good grief, are you my mother now, Munday?’ he said laughing. ‘I want to see you safe and then I’ve got a story to write up.’
Rose fell into step beside him and she realised with a sense of fulfilment that she was beginning to recognise landmarks as they made their way along Great Tower Street. They were closer to Black Raven Court than she had supposed, but when Eugene saw the house he was obviously unimpressed.
‘This is worse than I remembered,’ he said angrily. ‘This isn’t the sort of place for a young woman like you, Munday.’
Rose knocked on the door. ‘I was lucky to be brought here. I could have spent the night sitting on a crate in the station yard.’
‘This won’t do. There must be a way to get in touch with your fellow’s relations. They’re responsible for you in his absence.’
‘I’ll be fine, Guvnor. It would have been so much easier if those men hadn’t taken over the Captain’s House.’
‘You mentioned that place over luncheon,’ Eugene said, frowning thoughtfully. ‘You might not be able to make enquiries, but I can. Leave it to me, and—’ He broke off as the door opened.
‘Oh, it’s you.’ Flossie drew her wrap up to her neck, although Rose was uncomfortably aware that Eugene must have seen her state of undress. ‘Who’s this with you, Rosie? Have you brought your fancy man home with you?’
‘No! I have not,’ Rose protested angrily. ‘Shame on you, Flossie.’
‘A very natural mistake,’ Eugene said, bowing. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Miss er …’
‘Flossie Boxer, sir.’
Rose glared at Eugene. ‘Thank you for seeing me home, Guvnor. Hadn’t you best get back to the office?’
‘I’ll see you at half-past eight in the morning, Munday. Don’t be late.’ Eugene walked away, waving the bloodied hanky like a flag.
Flossie leaned out of the door. ‘Where’d you find a chap like that? I’d do him favours for nothing.’
Torn between laughter and annoyance, Rose shook her finger at Flossie. ‘He’s my guvnor. I’ve got a job and I can pay my way, or I will be able to when I get my wages.’
‘Some people have all the luck.’ Flossie glowered at a passing youth who whistled at her and offered a penny for her services. She retreated into the house. ‘You’d best come in, although what Cora will say when she sees you is another matter. She needs her room for business, and Regan will want his piece of you if you choose to stay here. None of us gets a free ride, so to speak.’
‘I haven’t much choice at the moment.’ Rose made for the stairs. ‘Is Cora in?’
‘Dunno, love. I ain’t seen her today. She might be in the pub, touting for business, but she don’t lock her door. We’re an honest lot in here.’ Flossie followed Rose up the stairs, her stays creaking like the masts on a tea clipper at every tortuous step. ‘I’ll be in my room if you need me, duck.’
‘Thanks, Flossie.’ Rose tried the door to Cora’s room, and, finding it unlocked, she went inside to wait for her friend’s return. She sat on the unmade bed for a few minutes, gazing round at the disarray, and suddenly, unable to bear the mess any longer, she leaped off the bed and began to tidy things away. She ventured down to the basement where Cora had told her there was a communal kitchen, although, judging by the thick layer of grease and dust, not many took advantage of the facilities. There was a stone sink in a small scullery and a pump out in the yard close to the privy. Rose filled a bucket with water, but there was no means of heating it as the ancient range was covered in rust and it did not look as if a fire had been lit for some time. Rose hefted the bucket upstairs, together with an empty flour sack she had found in the larder.
Back in Cora’s room, she set about a cleaning project that took all her energy and ingenuity. She swept the grate and put the cinders into the sack together with the contents of the overflowing ashtray and the paper wrappings of past meals, which were green with mould. It took a couple of trips down to the back yard to dispose of the rubbish, and she scraped together enough coal and kindling to get a fire going. With the kettle on a trivet, and the room beginning to look almost homely, Rose was folding the last of Cora’s discarded clothing when the door opened and Cora herself breezed into the room. She was followed by a burly person wearing soiled workman’s clothes and muddy boots.
‘Blimey! What’s going on here?’ Cora demanded, gazing round in horror. ‘What d’you think you’re doing, miss?’
Rose smiled proudly. ‘I’m just trying to repay your kindness, Cora.’
‘I thought you was on your own,’ the man growled. ‘I ain’t into twosomes.’
‘Wash your mouth out, you great oaf,’ Cora snapped. ‘As for you, girl, make yourself scarce and leave my things alone. I don’t want no one poking about in my room.’
‘I’m sorry, Cora. I was trying to do you a favour.’
‘Get out and find yourself somewhere else to kip. A girl has to earn her living.’
‘I thought I was helping.’
‘Out, now.’ Cora advanced on her, hands fisted.
Rose snatched up her things and backed towards the open door. ‘All right. I said I’m sorry.’
Cora bent down and picked up the carpet bag and tossed it out onto the landing. The door slammed in Rose’s face and she found herself once again with nowhere to go. Perhaps Cora would change her mind later, but Rose could not afford to take that chance. It was getting dark outside and rain had started to fall during her last trip to the back yard.
‘I warned you.’ Flossie popped her head round her door, appearing suddenly like the cuckoo in a Swiss clock that Rose had possessed when she was a child. ‘Where will you go now?’
‘I don’t know,’ Rose said slowly. ‘I haven’t had time to think.’
‘Regan is hanging around downstairs.’ Flossie opened the door wider, glancing up and down the corridor as if afraid that he might suddenly appear. ‘He’s got his eye on you, girl. Steer clear of him, that’s what I say.’
‘How do you stand it here, Flossie?’ Rose asked urgently. ‘What brought you to a place like this?’
Flossie folded her arms beneath her ample bosom. ‘I suppose you want to know how I became a fallen woman. Well, love, for your information, I was born on the pavement outside the London Hospital. My ma couldn’t walk no further and she collapsed – I popped out kicking and screaming and she croaked.’
‘Oh, dear! She died giving birth to you?’
‘No, girl. She died from a mixture of jigger gin and laudanum. It was lucky that one of the nurses found me and took me into the hospital. They saved my life and dumped me in the orphanage. I consider meself to have risen above the pavement, and I don’t touch alcohol nor drugs, but I do love chocolate. That’s my biggest sin.’
‘I shouldn’t have judged you. I’m sorry, Flossie.’
‘You got a lot to learn.’ Flossie glanced at the carpet bag. ‘You can’t go looking for a place to stay in the dark – not round here, anyway.’
‘I haven’t got much choice.’
Flossie emerged from her room, tying a sash round her waist in an attempt to secure her loose robe. ‘Don’t tell Regan I said so, but there’s a boxroom on the next floor. Regan uses it to store things because it’s too small to take a double bed, if you get my meaning, so it’s no use for any of his girls.’
‘I just need a roof over my head for tonight. I start work early in the morning.’
‘You can buy me a bar or two of Fry’s Chocolate Cream when you get paid,’ Flossie said, grinning. ‘Follow me but don’t make a noise. We don’t want any of the nosy bitches in the other rooms to know what’s going on – some of ’em are all right, but one or two would snitch on their grannies if they thought they’d gain anything by it.’ Flossie’s bare feet padded on the wooden treads as she negotiated the steep stairs to the second floor. She tiptoed along a narrow passage and at the far end she opened the door to a small room with a tiny window set high in the wall. ‘You’ll be all right here tonight, but don’t make a noise,’ she said in a stage whisper.
‘Thanks, Flossie.’ Rose peered into the gloom. ‘I don’t suppose you could let me have a candle and some matches, could you?’
‘I can probably find you a stub or two, but you’ll have to come and get them, and don’t forget me chocolate.’ Flossie headed back the way they had come, leaving Rose to stow her bags away before going downstairs to collect the candles.
Two hours later, aided by the flickering light from the two candle stubs, Rose had managed to pile up the various packing cases and boxes, and to her relief she had discovered an ancient campaign bed. She had also found some moth-eaten blankets and a stained pillow, which she did not inspect too closely. She unpacked the plain linsey-woolsey skirt and white cotton blouse she had worn when helping Laurence in the schoolroom, and shook out the creases before laying them carefully over one of the crates in the corner of the room. She must look smart and business-like when she presented at work, even if she knew very little about the new typing machine. She was both nervous and excited at the prospect of being employed in a busy newspaper office, and, once she had solved the problem of somewhere to live, she would settle down and wait for Max to return from war. He had warned her that a soldier’s wife must expect an unsettled existence, and she was prepared to follow the drum, if necessary. After all, she had travelled this far to be with the man she loved and, if it had not gone too well at the start, she now had the chance to make something of herself. Rose lay down, fully clothed. She could hear scrabbling and scratching sounds coming from behind the skirting boards, but she was too exhausted to care and she closed her eyes.
‘You’re late, Munday.’ Eugene glanced up from the pile of proofs on his desk. His expression was not encouraging.
‘Yes, Guvnor. I’m sorry,’ Rose said breathlessly. ‘It took longer than I thought to walk here.’
‘You should have taken a cab.’ Eugene gave her a searching look. ‘You’re shivering. Haven’t you got anything warmer to wear?’
‘I’m all right, thank you. It’s wet and cold outside.’
‘You didn’t answer my question, Munday? Haven’t you got a warm jacket or a cape or even a pair of warm gloves? How do you propose to type with fingers that are clawed like that?’
‘I’ll soon warm up.’
‘Have you had breakfast?’
Rose shook her head. ‘It’s a bit difficult where I am at present.’
‘Did you have supper last evening?’
‘I’m sorry, Guvnor, but that’s my business.’
‘Not if it affects the way you work, Munday.’ Eugene sat back in his chair. ‘Does Regan know you’re lodging there?’
‘Have you met him?’
‘I don’t have to – the chap is notorious. Anyway, don’t evade the question. Have you eaten since I took you to luncheon yesterday?’
‘No, Guvnor, but—’
Eugene jumped to his feet and went to open the office door. ‘Scully, two teas. Chop chop.’ He returned to his seat. ‘Now, Munday, let’s get this straight. You are on probation here, and I’m going to treat you just the same as I would anyone working for this paper. You need to get yourself some suitable clothing, and if there’s a problem with your accommodation, we’ll try to sort it out.’
‘Yes, Guvnor. Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me, Munday. I’ll expect you to work damned hard for your wages, and you can’t do that if you catch lung fever or if you’re weak from hunger.’
‘It’s difficult,’ Rose murmured, looking down at her clasped hands.
‘Surely the girls in Black Raven Court have to eat. There must be a kitchen of sorts.’
She raised her head to give him a withering look. ‘You obviously haven’t seen how these women live. The place is disgusting and I’ve seen pigs kept in better conditions.’
A wry grin twisted his lips. ‘That’s better. Meek and downtrodden doesn’t suit you, Munday.’ He pulled open a drawer and took out a cash box. ‘I want you to buy yourself some more suitable clothing.’
‘I can’t do that.’
He tossed the coins onto the desk. ‘Give me one good reason why not.’
‘You’re not responsible for my wellbeing. I can look after myself.’
‘This is strictly business. Call it a loan, if it makes you feel better, but the weather is set to get worse. You’re no damn good to me if you’re sick, so when you’ve had your tea I’ll get the office boy to take you to the nearest second-hand clothes shop. And buy yourself a cup of soup or a cheese roll from the stall on the corner of Chancery Lane, and you can get me one while you’re about it. I didn’t have time for breakfast either.’
Rose tossed her head. ‘Sadie would say that’s the pot calling the kettle black.’
‘She sounds like a sensible woman, but a bit of a bore. Anyway, I enjoyed a good supper last evening in the company of a very attractive young lady, so there’s no comparison.’ Eugene beckoned to the office boy, who was hovering in the doorway, clutching two mugs of steaming tea. ‘Thanks, Scully.’ He waited while the spotty-faced youth placed them carefully on two mats. ‘When Miss Munday has finished her drink I want you to take her to the nearest dolly shop, and you can wait and bring her back. We don’t want her to get lost.’
Rose reached for the tea and took a sip, glowering at Eugene over the rim of the mug. Maybe this was a mistake after all. She had been more or less free to do as she pleased at home in Bendigo, and she was not sure whether she could stand being ordered about by anyone, let alone a man she barely knew. The warmth and sweetness of the tea was already having an effect, but her fingers and toes were tingling painfully as the feeling returned to her extremities. She did not want to accept charity from Eugene, but she had underestimated the severity of a British winter, and she was in desperate need of warm clothing. However, when she received her first week’s pay she would start repaying the debt. If Pa had taught her anything, it was never to owe money to anyone. She glanced at Scully, who was waiting for her to finish her tea and he winked at her, but she turned her head away. She was used to cocky boys.
But Scully’s attitude changed the moment they left the office and he dropped his self-assured swagger, becoming almost deferential in the way he behaved. Rose discovered that he was the eldest of seven children and his meagre wages went to his widowed mother, who worked as a charwoman in an attempt to keep a roof over their heads. Rose was sympathetic and Scully grew shy and blushed to the roots of his mousy hair, and he was clearly smitten. It might have been amusing to be the object of puppy love, but Rose was wary of hurting his feelings and she managed to bring Max into the conversation early on, describing him as her fiancé, even though their engagement was unofficial.
Later, having scoured the second-hand shop for clothing that was not too worn or dirty, Rose felt smart and warm in a grey flannel coat and a woollen hat, which was only a bit shabby with just a couple of moth holes. She stopped at the coffee stall and bought two cheese rolls with the last of the money that Eugene had given her. She could tell by the way Scully was eyeing the food that he was very hungry and his stick-thin limbs told a tale in themselves. She handed him one of the rolls.
‘I’m not hungry, Scully. Do me a favour and eat this before the guvnor sees it.’
Scully licked his lips. ‘It’s yours, miss. I couldn’t.’
‘No, really. The guvnor told me to get two, and I can only eat one, so you’ll be helping me out. Eat it now and he’ll never know the difference.’
‘If you’re sure.’ Scully snatched the roll from her hand and bit off a huge chunk. His pale blue eyes watered as he chewed and gulped the food down.
Rose turned away and walked on slowly, giving him time to eat and digest before they reached the office.
‘Where’s yours?’ Eugene demanded when she placed the food in front of him.
‘You were right,’ Rose said airily. ‘I was so hungry I ate it on the way back. Ta, Guvnor, and thank you for the outfit. I’m warm and dry, so now I can sit down and have a go at that machine in the corner.’
Eugene pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘I’ve got to go out now, and I’ll probably have luncheon in the pub, so I won’t need the roll. You have it, or feed it to the birds if you don’t want it.’ He took his overcoat and hat from the clothes stand. ‘Write up an account of the affray in Eastcheap. Let’s see if you can master the typewriter and write a good article. I might slip it into tomorrow’s edition if you do well.’
‘Right you are, Guvnor.’ Rose waited for a minute or two after he left the office and when he did not return she snatched up the roll and bit into it, demolishing it in a speed that matched Scully’s. The food gave her the spurt of energy she needed to sit down and take on the new machine. This, she realised, was a test of her ability to master a new skill and her way with words. Her job depended upon both and she sat for a moment, admiring the floral decoration on the front of the machine. Then, controlling her shaking fingers with difficulty, she took a sheet of paper, slotted it behind the platen and wound it into position. She took a deep breath and began, using two fingers, to type out her account of what she had witnessed the previous day.

Chapter Five (#u40ff26be-dccf-51e8-9218-248f909f4da2)
It was not as easy as Rose had first thought, and it would have taken her less time to write the article by hand, but she persevered. Eventually, after wasting several sheets of paper, she managed to turn out a piece with only a couple of mistakes. It was slow going, but she was beginning to learn the layout of the keys, and she was studying the result when Scully put his head round the door.
‘I’m sorry, Miss Munday, but Nicholls wants to see you.’
Rose stared at him in surprise. ‘I’m busy doing the work that the guvnor set me.’
‘You don’t want to get on the wrong side of Old Nick.’
‘What does he want?’
‘I dunno, miss. But you’d best find out.’ Scully lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘He’ll make your life a misery if you don’t do as he says.’
Rose placed the sheet of paper on the desk and stood up. ‘All right. I’m coming.’ She followed him into the main office and marched up to Nicholls’ desk.
‘You wanted to speak to me.’
‘You can stop playing with that new machine and do something useful.’ He jerked his head in the direction of a pile of documents. ‘Those need filing in that cabinet over there, but first I want you to run these proofs down to the print room.’
Rose faced him angrily. ‘I wasn’t taken on to work as a filing clerk or to run errands. I take my orders from the guvnor.’
‘You’re a novice, and a woman at that. If you don’t like it here you know what to do.’ Nicholls pushed the pile of papers towards her. ‘Now get on with it or I’ll have a talk with Mr Radley, and you’ll find out who’s boss round here.’
Rose glanced round at the other clerks, who immediately bent their heads and pretended they were too busy to take any notice. She met Nicholls’ hostile gaze with a straight look.
‘As it happens I’ve finished the task that the guvnor set me, so I’ll do what you ask, but we’ll see what he says when he returns.’
‘I suppose you’ll flaunt your titties and flutter your eyelashes like all females do when they want to get their own way. Well, it won’t wash with me, miss. If you want to work here you’ll have to do as I say.’
Rose tossed her head. It was not worth arguing with someone like Nicholls, but she had a feeling that the other men in the office were not on her side. In fact, her only friend was Scully, who was hopping from one foot to the other in an attempt to catch Nicholls’ eye.
‘I got nothing to do, Mr Nicholls,’ he said, blushing. ‘I could take the proofs down to the print room.’
‘Did I speak to you, Scully?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then shut up and fetch me a cup of tea, a dash of milk and two sugars.’ Nicholls waved Scully away as if he were an irritating insect.
Rose felt sorry for the boy, but she knew that any attempt to stand up for him would only make matters worse. She took the proofs from Nicholls and made her way to the print room, where the men seemed to share Nicholls’ opinion of women in the workplace. No one spoke to her, and it was becoming obvious that surviving in a man’s world was not going to be easy. It would be so simple to quit in the face of such opposition, but she needed the money and she was determined to stay and prove them all wrong.
Eugene returned from his luncheon appointment in the middle of the afternoon and he was in a good mood, if slightly tipsy. His overcoat was pearled with raindrops and he created a minor storm as he shook it before hanging it on a peg.
‘Did you enjoy your meal, Guvnor?’ Rose asked, trying not to chuckle as he aimed his hat in the direction of the stand and missed.
‘Very pleasant, thanks, Munday.’ Ignoring the fact that his expensive topper was lying on the floor, Eugene went to sit behind his desk. ‘How did you get on with the typewriting machine?’
Rose placed the sheets of paper in front of him. ‘It will take a lot of practice, but I think it looks good.’ She waited anxiously, crossing her fingers, while Eugene scanned her work.
He looked up at last. ‘Not a bad attempt. In fact it’s very promising.’
‘Thank you, Guvnor.’
Eugene eyed her speculatively. ‘We might make a reporter of you yet, Munday. As to the typing, it could be better. I want you to work at it every day.’
‘Mr Nicholls thinks I’m here to run errands, Guvnor. I’m not complaining,’ Rose added hastily. ‘It’s just that I need to know exactly what my duties are.’
Eugene leaned back in his chair. ‘You’re paid to do as I tell you, Munday. You take your orders from me.’
‘That’s what I thought, but I think it might be best if you tell him so.’
‘When I want advice on running the paper I’ll ask you, Munday.’ Eugene took a notebook from his drawer and tossed it to her. ‘Type that up for me – I want to get it to the print room before five o’clock.’
‘Yes, Guv.’ Rose picked up Eugene’s hat and placed it on the stand before she took her seat.
‘Scully.’ Eugene raised his voice to a shout. ‘Get me a cup of coffee from the stall before the chap packs up.’
‘You could have tea and save him from going out in the cold,’ Rose said crossly.
‘Less of the cheek, Munday. It’s started to rain and I could have sent you instead of Scully.’ Eugene rose to his feet and marched into the main office. ‘Nicholls, I want a word with you.’
Rose worked hard all afternoon. She ventured into the outer office to get a fresh supply of paper and was met with silence and stony stares, especially from Nicholls, who glowered at her beneath lowered brows. She knew it was only Eugene’s presence that saved her from a verbal assault, but she did her best to ignore Nicholls and the other two clerks, who had obviously taken his side. She collected the paper and returned to the safety of her desk, earning praise from Eugene for finishing the document quickly and with the minimum of errors.
‘Take it to the print room,’ he said, nodding. ‘They’ll sort out the mistakes. That’s their job.’ He glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf. ‘It’s nearly six. Time you weren’t here.’
‘But you’re still working.’
‘I keep on until I’m finished, but you’re just an office junior, so you get to go home.’
‘Thank you, Guvnor.’
‘And don’t be late tomorrow morning.’
She unhooked her coat and laid it over her arm. ‘I’ll be on time,’ she said, smiling. ‘Good night, Guvnor.’ She plucked her hat from the stand and was just about to leave the main office when Nicholls jumped out at her from behind the door.
‘Just because you’ve got the boss wrapped around your little finger, don’t think you can get away with anything, girlie. I’ve got my eye on you and the first wrong step you make you’ll be out on your pretty little ear. D’you understand?’
Rose faced up to him. After everything she had suffered in the past twenty-four hours she was not going to allow a man like Nicholls to bully her.
‘I’m here to do a job of work,’ she said angrily. ‘Keep your distance and I’ll keep mine.’
‘Or what? I’m your superior.’
‘No, Nicholls, you’re wrong there.’ Eugene emerged from his office. ‘I’m the boss and you take orders from me. I heard what you said to Miss Munday and you’ll treat her with the respect due to any colleague, or I’ll want to know the reason why.’
Nicholls turned away, saying nothing, but Rose knew that she had made an enemy and she would have to be very careful. She left the office and was about to let herself out in the street when she realised that Eugene had followed her.
‘Just a moment, Munday.’
‘Yes, Guvnor?’
‘You’ll be paid at the end of the week, but I could let you have an advance if you need it.’
Her first instinct was to refuse, but she had been wondering how she might eke out what little money she had until she was paid, and the only food she had eaten that day was Eugene’s cheese roll.
‘Thank you. It would help.’
Eugene took a handful of coins from his pocket and dropped them into her outstretched palm. ‘Make sure you eat properly. An employee fainting from lack of nourishment is no use to me.’
‘Yes, Guvnor. Thank you. Good night.’
‘And you need to find somewhere to live nearer the office.’ He followed her to the door and opened it. ‘Are you still sharing with Cora?’
‘No, Guvnor. I’m camping in the boxroom.’
‘You’ll be in trouble if Regan finds out,’ Eugene said, frowning. ‘He’s often up before the magistrates and so is Cora. You ought to get away from there as soon as possible.’
‘I will, of course. I’d best be on my way.’ She left the building and stepped into a large puddle.
‘Wait a minute, Munday.’ Eugene followed her into the street. ‘Take a cab.’ He pressed a couple more silver coins into her hand.
‘That’s not necessary,’ Rose protested.
‘Don’t argue. I’m your boss.’ Eugene waved down a hansom cab. ‘Black Raven Court, cabby.’
The decision having been taken out of her hands, Rose climbed into the vehicle. She was grateful to Eugene for his thoughtfulness, but he seemed to think that he owned her, and that was both frustrating and irritating, even if it was partly true. She did depend upon him and his newspaper for her living, at least for the present. She sighed and leaned back in an attempt to avoid the rain that was slapping her cheeks. First of all she had faced a peasouper and now she was in the middle of a rainstorm. It seemed as though London was trying to tell her something, and the city was not making her feel welcome.
Rose clutched the hot potato she had purchased from the stall on Tower Hill, stopping for a moment to lick the melted butter from her fingers. The mug of coffee she had drunk standing on the wet pavement had helped to warm her, giving her the energy to walk the last few yards to the house. She slipped inside and was able to get to her room without being seen. Sounds of activity from behind closed doors left little to the imagination, and the inclement weather did not seem to have affected the business of the house, or perhaps Regan had been drumming up trade in the local pubs. At least she was safe for another night, and she looked forward to a quiet evening, although huddled on the canvas bed with a single blanket was not exactly the height of luxury. She sat down and savoured each mouthful of the baked potato, trying not to compare it to the hearty meals that Sadie had cooked each evening. When she was in Bendigo she had been homesick for London, and now the situation was reversed. If the return fare had not been so exorbitant she might seriously have considered going home to wait for Max, but if she did that she would have to face the displeasure of both families. Better to wait in London, and she had to admit that Eugene was right – her first priority must be to find somewhere to live. The last stub of candle guttered and went out, leaving her in a dark room with just the reflected glow from the streetlights on the cracked windowpanes. Still fully dressed and with her overcoat laid on top of the blanket, she curled up and closed her eyes, but it was not easy to drift off to sleep when her feet felt like blocks of ice. If she caught pneumonia in this draughty room she might lie here for weeks before anyone found her body. It was not a happy thought, but it made her even more determined to find proper lodgings, preferably a room with a fireplace and a decent bed. The potato lay heavily in her stomach, but she was still hungry and she thought longingly of the meal she had shared with Eugene. The delicious taste of the pudding and the creaminess of the custard were a distant memory that tormented her, and when she did fall asleep she dreamed she was enjoying the well-cooked food all over again.
The man at the coffee stall was beginning to recognise her, and he was there next morning looking as cheerful as ever. Rose stopped for a mug of sweet coffee before walking to work and she bought a ham roll, which she tucked into her reticule to eat later. The money that Eugene had advanced on her wages would not stretch to three meals a day, so the coffee would have to carry her through until midday, if she could last out that long.
‘I’ll see you tonight then, duck,’ the stallholder called after her as she walked away. ‘I’ll save you a meat pie – if I gets any today, that is.’
She acknowledged him with a nod and a wave as she set off on her way to work. She had made a point of leaving early and by the time she reached the office in Fleet Street she was glowing with heat, and extremely hungry. The advantage of being early was that Nicholls had not yet arrived and the two other clerks ignored her, which was preferable to barbed remarks and scornful glances. Eugene was not in his office, but Rose still had the notes he had given her to type and she set to work with a will, picking out the letters one by one using her index fingers.
Eugene was still absent when the editor walked into the office later that morning. Rose stood up, not knowing quite how she was supposed to greet him. She had seen Mr Radley in the distance, but they had never been formally introduced, and she wondered if he knew of her existence. If he had not done so before, he did now, and he was staring at her with a perplexed look on his doughy features. Short, thin and balding, Arthur Radley was a middle-aged man with a permanently worried look and a bizarre taste in clothes. His purple velvet waistcoat did not go well with his florid complexion, and his pinstripe suit and ruffled shirt would have been more appropriate for evening wear. Such outlandish garb on a small insignificant man was the stuff of pantomimes. Rose tried to look serious, but inwardly she was laughing.
‘Miss er …’
‘Munday, sir. I’m Rose Munday.’
‘Yes, Eugene did mention that he’d taken someone on to work that infernal machine.’ He gazed at the typewriter as if expecting it to burst into flames. ‘We’ve managed perfectly well without one.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Where is Mr Sheldon? I want to speak to him.’
‘I believe he went out early on a story, sir.’ Rose had no intention of making trouble for Eugene. He might, for all she knew, be following a story, although from the little she knew of him she suspected that he might have had a late night, with all that entailed, and be sleeping off the excesses of the previous evening.
‘Oh, very well. What a nuisance.’ Radley fingered some papers on Eugene’s desk, losing interest almost immediately. ‘Tell him I need to see him urgently, Miss er …’
‘Munday,’ Rose said, but she was talking to thin air as Radley had already left the office. She shrugged and returned to the task of deciphering Eugene’s scrawl, correcting his spelling as she went. By midday she had placed the finished article on his desk and was moderately pleased with her efforts. Her stomach was rumbling and she was about to eat her ham roll when Eugene breezed into the office, tossing his hat on the coat stand and missing yet again. Rose got up automatically and rescued the topper, placing it safely on the highest peg.
Unabashed, Eugene took off his greatcoat and draped it over a chair. ‘Is everything all right, Munday?’
She gave him a searching look. His dark hair was curling wildly round his head and there were bruise-like smudges beneath his eyes. The woody, citrus scent of bay rum could not quite conceal the smell of garlic, wine and cigar smoke that hung about him like a fine mist.
‘Mr Radley has been looking for you.’
‘What did you say to him?’
‘I said I thought you were chasing up a story.’
A slow smile lit Eugene’s eyes with golden glints. ‘Well done, Munday. I was in fact asleep until less than half an hour ago. A bit of a late night. I think I had a good time, but I can’t remember much about the last part of it.’
Rose stifled a chuckle. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, Guvnor.’
‘Oh, I am. Deeply.’ Eugene sank down in the chair behind his desk. ‘Send Scully to fetch me some coffee, please, Munday. My head is pounding.’
‘The editor wants to see you urgently.’
‘I can’t do anything until I’ve had a mug of strong black coffee. No sugar. Cousin Arthur will have to wait.’
Rose gave him a pitying look and went to find Scully, who dutifully braved the rain to fetch the coffee. He returned having filled a jug with the steaming brew.
‘It’ll take more than one mug to sober the guvnor up,’ he said, grinning. ‘We go through this regularly. You’ll get used to it.’
Rose said nothing, but she filled a mug, and took it to Eugene, who was sitting back in his chair with his eyes closed.
‘Here you are,’ she said coldly. ‘There’s more if you want it.’
Eugene opened his eyes. ‘Don’t look so disapproving, Rose. It’s not a crime to enjoy oneself.’
‘I never said it was, but I’ve seen men take to drink and it doesn’t end well.’
‘Heaven help me, your missionary friends haven’t encouraged you to join the Temperance Movement, have they?’
‘I’ve never heard of it,’ Rose said truthfully. ‘Men in the goldfields often drink to excess, but it’s a hard life out there.’
‘My dear Munday, I enjoyed an evening out with friends, a good meal and fine wine. You can hardly equate that with the hard-drinking mining community in the State of Victoria.’
Rose could see this conversation going nowhere and she hastily changed the subject. ‘I’ve typed out the article you wrote. If there’s anything you want to change, just say so and I’ll retype it.’
Eugene drained the last dregs of coffee and handed the mug to her. ‘Excellent coffee. A refill, please, while I take a look at your latest effort.’
Rose did as he asked and waited patiently while Eugene pored over the article. He reached for the coffee and drank deeply.
‘Excellent. Not many errors and a masterly piece of reporting, even if I say so myself. My talent is being wasted writing such paltry items of news. I need something I can really get my teeth into.’
‘Like a war?’ Rose said, smiling. She meant it as a joke but Eugene seemed to take it seriously.
‘By Jove, yes. I’ve been trying to persuade Arthur to send me to Egypt to cover the war, but it seems to be over. Although I gather the situation is still tense.’
‘Best finish your coffee, Guvnor.’ Rose took the sheet of paper from him. ‘Shall I run this down to the print room?’
‘Give it to Scully. I’ve got an assignment for you, Munday.’
Rose could hardly believe her ears. ‘Really? You’re sending me out to do a report?’
‘Yes and no. I’m taking you to the Savoy Theatre this evening to see Patience, the latest opera by Gilbert and Sullivan. Do you like opera?’
‘I love music,’ Rose said slowly. ‘But I thought you said I was going on an assignment.’
‘You will be. I can hardly send you to the theatre on your own, now can I? I’ll take you, but you will be the critic.’
‘I can’t.’ The reality of what he had said brought her back to earth with a jolt. ‘I haven’t got anything to wear. I don’t know about London, but people at home dress up to go to the theatre. You’ll have to take someone else – I’m sure you have lots of lady friends.’
‘I’m not disputing that, Munday, but their talents lie elsewhere – you, on the other hand, show promise and I am giving you the chance to prove yourself.’
‘It still leaves me with the same problem,’ Rose said impatiently. ‘I only brought the minimum of luggage because Max promised me a whole new wardrobe. Maybe I was naïve, but there it is.’
‘I think I have the perfect solution. My sister, Cecilia, has dozens of elegant gowns, far too many, in my opinion. She’ll lend you something suitable.’ He stood up and reached for his coat. ‘Get your outdoor things on, Munday. We’re taking a cab to Tavistock Square.’
‘Is this where you live?’ Rose stepped out of the cab, looking up at the grand façade of the four-storey house with wrought-iron balconies on the first floor and tall windows interspersed with Ionic columns.
‘It’s my parents’ house,’ Eugene said, sprinting up the steps to the front door. He rapped on the knocker. ‘Cissie should be at home, although knowing my sister she’s probably still in bed.’
‘At this time of day?’
‘Cecilia loves parties that go on into the small hours.’ Eugene stepped over the threshold. ‘Come in, Rose. Don’t stand there dithering.’
She eyed the footman warily as she entered the house, but he was staring stonily into the distance and he closed the door after her. Eugene shrugged off his coat and gave his hat and gloves to the servant who was standing to attention, arms outstretched like a human coatrack.
‘Giddings will take your things,’ Eugene said impatiently. ‘Come on, Munday, we haven’t got all day.’
Rose took off her coat and handed it to Giddings. It might be her imagination but she sensed his disapproval, and she suspected that the servants would view her second-hand garments with contempt. But Eugene was striding across the black and white marble-tiled floor, heading for the graceful sweep of the staircase. She was inexplicably nervous and she shivered, despite the warmth from a fire blazing at one end of the entrance hall. Until now Eugene had been her boss and mentor, but this was his home and she realised that he came from a family where money seemed to be no object. As she mounted the stairs she had visions of being scrutinised by his wealthy parents, and if the footman looked askance at the girl from Bendigo, what would Mr and Mrs Sheldon think of her?
Eugene opened one of the double doors at the top of the staircase. ‘Ah, you’re up and dressed, Cissie. That makes a change.’ He beckoned to Rose. ‘Come and meet my sister.’
Rose entered a room that was even grander than the Dorincourts’ mansion in Bendigo. The crimson and gold upholstery of the ornately carved mahogany sofas and chairs glowed like hot coals in the cold light that filtered through the tall windows. The cream background of the vast carpet was adorned with an abundance of pink roses and white daisies, wreathed in green leaves. The warmth in the Sheldons’ drawing room was such that it might have been a summer’s day, and the effect was heightened by a roaring coal fire and the light from two gasoliers with glass shades shaped like waterlilies.
‘Of course I’m up. I’m not a lazybones like you.’ A young woman rose from the sofa nearest the fire. ‘Who is this, Eugene?’
‘Rose, ignore my sister’s bad manners.’ Eugene gave Rose a gentle push. ‘I want you to meet my sister, Cecilia.’
Remembering what Sadie had drummed into her, Rose bobbed a curtsey. ‘How do you do?’
‘Cissie, this is my protégée, Rose Munday. She is learning to use the typewriting machine I purchased in America and I’m giving her a chance to prove that she has it in her to become a reporter.’
Cecilia looked Rose up and down. ‘How do you do, Miss Munday? I must say, I’m impressed. I don’t suppose you realise how honoured you are.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Rose glanced at Eugene, who shrugged and went to stand with his back to the fire.
‘My brother is a typical man, Miss Munday. He thinks that we have nothing on our minds other than fashion and marriage, in that order.’
‘That’s not fair, Cissie. I never said that.’ Eugene gave Rose an apologetic smile. ‘Well, I might have thought that way once, but times have changed. I met several lady journalists in New York and I admired them greatly.’
‘So what makes Miss Munday a suitable candidate?’ Cecilia demanded. ‘I want to know.’
‘Maybe she’ll tell you her story one day, but that’s up to her. For now all I want is for you to lend her something suitable to wear to the opera this evening.’
Cecilia turned to Rose with a curious look. ‘What’s this all about, Miss Munday? Because if you think that my brother is a good catch I can assure you that he’s the last person I would recommend as a prospective husband.’

Chapter Six (#u40ff26be-dccf-51e8-9218-248f909f4da2)
‘You couldn’t be more wrong,’ Rose said angrily. ‘Such a thought never occurred to me.’
‘Yes, that’s a bit strong, even for you, Cissie.’ Eugene strolled over to a side table and selected a cut-glass decanter. ‘Would either of you like a drink?’
Rose shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’
‘It looks to me as though you had enough last evening.’ Cecilia shook her finger at him. ‘You’re turning into a rake, Gene. What would Papa say?’
‘Father was in Cairo last time I heard from him, so he’s not here to judge me.’
‘Your father is in Egypt?’ Rose was suddenly alert. ‘Is he in the army?’
Cecilia raised a delicate eyebrow. ‘Heavens, no! Papa is in the diplomatic service, and the last letter I had from Mama said that the consulate had been relocated to Alexandria.’
‘That’s the last place I’d want to visit at the moment.’ Eugene poured himself a generous tot of brandy and swallowed it in one gulp. ‘Anyway, that’s beside the point, Cissie. Are you going to help Munday, or not?’
Cecilia shot him a scornful look. ‘How patronising you are, Gene. The poor girl has a name. Either address her as Miss Munday or Rose, but don’t treat her as if she were on the cricket pitch at your old school.’
Rose looked from one to the other. She felt like a tennis ball, being batted to and fro between the brother and sister, each trying to score points off the other. ‘Really, it doesn’t matter,’ she said hastily. ‘You can find someone else to go to see Patience, Guvnor. I don’t want to cause a fuss.’
‘There, Cissie. Now see what you’ve done.’ Eugene refilled his glass and took a sip. ‘You’ve embarrassed Munday.’
‘The only embarrassing person in this room is you, Gene.’ Cecilia turned her to Rose with a conciliatory smile. ‘I’m sorry, Rose. We’re being very ill-mannered, and of course I’ll lend you a gown.’ She glanced at her brother. ‘On one condition, Gene.’
He drained his drink and placed the glass back on the tray. ‘Go on. How much is this going to cost me?’
‘Another ticket to the opera. I’m dying to see Patience, and Rose needs a chaperone.’
‘Munday is a working woman,’ Eugene protested. ‘The stuffy rules of etiquette don’t apply.’
‘They do in the real world,’ Cecilia said firmly. ‘You live in the make-believe land of those who purport to tell us the truth, when half of the things you print have no bearing on reality whatsoever.’
‘That’s a bit harsh Cissie.’
Cecilia placed her arm around Rose’s shoulders. ‘Take no notice of him. We’ll go to my room and find you something to wear tonight, and I’ll choose my gown so that we don’t clash.’
‘My sister is a harpy,’ Eugene said, throwing up his hands. ‘Don’t listen to her if she says things about me, Rose.’
‘Shut up, Gene.’ Cecilia held her hand out to Rose. ‘Come with me. We’ll do very well without my brother’s assistance.’ She glided from the room and Rose hurried after her.
Cecilia’s bedroom was spacious and elegantly furnished with a peach and gold colour scheme that created a feeling of everlasting sunshine. Cecilia ushered Rose into a dressing room lined with cupboards. The doors were faced with mirrors, creating a kaleidoscope effect, and Rose could see several versions of herself. She had to stifle a childish urge to pull faces, but Cecilia was in deadly earnest and she opened the first cupboard to reveal shelves packed with neatly folded garments. Another was crammed with ornate gowns hanging from brass hooks. Yet another revealed sets of drawers; some of them filled with lace-trimmed undergarments, while others were overflowing with gloves, scarves and stockings. There were open shelves filled with hats of every description, trimmed with flowers and feathers in rainbow hues. Rose was both dazzled and impressed, but also slightly bewildered.
‘As you can see, I love clothes,’ Cecilia said happily. ‘My maid takes care of everything, but you may have your pick, providing I approve.’
Rose had never seen such a collection of garments belonging to one person – in fact, she had never been in a shop that was more comprehensively stocked. ‘Are you sure about this? I mean, you were pushed into it by your brother.’
‘Gene might try but he could never force me to do anything against my will. You have to treat him like your boss, but he’s just my brother. I’ll leave you to choose, try on anything you take a fancy to and come out and show me.’ Cecilia left Rose alone in the dressing room surrounded by finery that took her breath away. She was beginning to realise that the fashion in London differed from what was considered haute couture in Bendigo, and she began her search for something that was suitable, but not too elaborate.
When she finally emerged wearing a pale-blue silk gown, with a modest neckline and a small bustle, Cecilia shook her head.
‘That’s an afternoon dress, Rose. You need something a little more dashing for the opera, and I think I know exactly which one would suit your glorious copper hair and milky complexion.’ Cecilia jumped to her feet and returned to the dressing room, reappearing moments later with a shimmering armful of gold silk brocade trimmed with delicate tulle roses. ‘Try this one on.’
It was a command rather than an invitation and Rose retreated into the privacy of the dressing room and changed into Cecilia’s choice.
‘Oh, splendid.’ Cecilia clapped her hands when Rose re-emerged. ‘Take a look in the mirror and you’ll see that I was right.’
Rose stepped in front of the cheval mirror, staring in astonishment at her own reflection, although to her eyes it was a stranger who gazed back at her. Cecilia came up behind her and dragged Rose’s unruly curls away from her face, piling them on top of her head so that they fell in a cascade, framing her face and elongating her neck.
‘What a transformation. I can’t wait to see Gene’s face when he sees you dressed up to the nines. That might make him treat you more like a colleague rather than an office boy.’
Rose moved away, allowing her hair to fall back into place. ‘I am very junior at the newspaper, Miss Sheldon. The other employees don’t want to work with a female, and your brother has given me a chance to prove myself. I don’t mind if he calls me Munday. In fact I think it’s a good thing.’
‘Well, well, so you have some spirit after all, Rose. I was beginning to think that you were a doormat, but I can see that I was mistaken.’
‘Don’t think I’m ungrateful, but I can’t wear this,’ Rose said desperately. ‘This gown must have cost a fortune and I’d feel terrible if it got marked or I caught my heel in the hem.’
Cecilia stood back, frowning. ‘You and I are the same size and height. I wonder if my shoes would fit you, because you can’t wear those ugly boots tonight. They don’t go with that gown.’
‘You aren’t listening to me, Miss Sheldon. You’re just like your brother.’
‘I am not at all like Eugene, and don’t call me Miss Sheldon. I’m Cissie to my family and friends, and I want you to be my friend, Rose. I like you and I admire you for standing up to the beastly men in Gene’s office, and I see in you a kindred spirit. We’ll have no arguments about the gown. It doesn’t suit me anyway. In fact I don’t know why I bought it. Gold is your colour, not mine.’
‘You do have lovely dark hair and a beautiful complexion,’ Rose said, nodding. ‘You’re right to wear bright colours – they suit you.’
‘Yes, I know they do, and tonight I’ll wear my crimson shot silk. We’ll turn every head in the Savoy Theatre. I doubt if anyone will be looking at the stage when we’re there.’
Rose was not so sure, but she found herself trying on shoes that were a surprisingly good fit, although ultimately it was Cecilia who made the final choice. Then, having listened intently to Rose’s account of her reasons for leaving home, Cecilia insisted on turning out a quantity of garments, including daywear, underwear and nightwear, all of which she insisted she had not worn for ages, and had no intention of wearing again. She threw in several pairs of shoes and boots, a velvet bonnet and a warm mantle, which she said was last year’s fashion and fit only for the missionary barrel at the local church. She became so enthusiastic that Rose had to put a stop to her burst of generosity, gently but firmly.
‘Oh, very well,’ Cecilia said sulkily. ‘But I rarely do anything for anyone else, and you’ve probably saved my eternal soul from hellfire.’
‘I think you have a lot of living ahead of you, Cissie,’ Rose said, laughing. ‘I don’t think hellfire is waiting for you just yet.’
‘You can laugh, Rose. But I’m serious. I was spoiled by my parents and shamelessly overindulged. Just look around you.’ Cecilia encompassed the room with a wave of her hands. ‘Of course, Papa doesn’t earn a great deal working for the Foreign Office, but Mama inherited a fortune when my grandfather died a few years ago.’
‘You’re very fortunate,’ Rose said smiling. ‘And very kind. I don’t know what I would have done without your brother’s help, and now you’re doing something splendid for someone you’ve only known for an hour or so.’
‘Yes, that does make me sound much nicer than I really am.’ Cecilia picked up a silver-backed brush and began to rearrange Rose’s hair. ‘You shouldn’t wear your hair scraped back into a bun, my dear. That style went out years ago. You’re lucky to have natural curls. I have to sleep with rags in my hair every night because my hair is as straight as rainwater.’
‘You’re very elegant, Cissie. I don’t think you need to worry about your looks.’
‘I don’t really. I know I’m beautiful, everyone says so, but sometimes I feel quite plain and dull. Maybe I should think of going out in the world and earning my own living.’ Cecilia pressed Rose down on a stool in front of a burr-walnut dressing table. ‘I’m going to try a much more flattering style, and you can tell me more about yourself.’
‘I thought I’d told you everything.’
‘You told me about your life in that far-off place, but you must know some people in London, apart from the ones you’ve met recently. I don’t think missionaries or prostitutes are going to help you establish yourself in society.’
‘I was hoping that Max’s sister would help me, but she and her husband are away on a business trip to Australia.’
‘They’re in trade?’ Cecilia’s tone was anything but enthusiastic.
‘The Colville Shipping Company is one of the largest in Britain,’ Rose said stoutly. ‘At least that’s what I was led to believe.’ She could see Cecilia’s reaction in the mirror, and it was obvious that there were degrees of what branch of trade might be considered acceptable.
‘That does make a difference,’ Cecilia said grudgingly. ‘The Colville family are well known for their philanthropic work. In fact I met Caroline Colville and her half-sister, Maria, at a charity function about a year ago. Maria is a few years my senior, but she and I got along so well that we’ve become friends.’
‘Maria Colville?’
‘That’s her maiden name, she married a seafarer and she’s Mrs Barnaby now.’
‘She’s Max’s half-sister.’ Rose twisted round on the stool, facing Cecilia with a tremulous smile. ‘I was only nine years old when I attended her wedding, but I remember it well. Do you know where she lives?’
‘Yes, I do. I visit her quite often and we help to raise money for seamen’s charities. Maria’s husband is away at sea for months on end, sometimes a year or more, and I think she gets lonely with just a housekeeper and her children’s nanny for company.’
‘She might be able to help me,’ Rose said excitedly. ‘Max was going to arrange everything, so he must have told Caroline about us. Maybe she left a message for me with her sister.’
‘There’s only one way to find out. As it happens I’d arranged to have luncheon with Maria next Tuesday. I’ll make Eugene give you time off so that you can join us.’
‘Maybe it would be better if I asked him nicely.’
‘You’ll have to learn how to handle the male of the species, Rose. Especially those akin to my brother, who is as stubborn as the proverbial mule and can be very contrary. I’ll tell him of our arrangement and heaven help him if he refuses to allow you to accompany me.’
Rose turned to the mirror and her reflection gazed back at her with doubtful eyes. She did not share Cecilia’s confidence in her ability to manipulate Eugene. ‘I don’t want to cause trouble between you and your brother,’ she said.
‘Believe me, I’m used to dealing with Gene, and I’m not stupid, Rose. I’ll wait until this evening when he is in a sunny mood and then I’ll ask him.’ Cecilia smiled and nodded. ‘You have to have a strategy when dealing with men like Gene, as you will discover if you’re going to work together with any degree of success.’
Eugene was seated by the fire, reading a copy of The Times when they finally joined him. He folded the newspaper and rose to his feet. ‘At last. I was beginning to think I’d have to send a search party for you two.’
‘Very funny,’ Cecilia said, smiling sweetly. ‘We were just sorting out some of my things for Rose and we lost track of time.’
‘Did you find her a gown for this evening? We need to cut a dash. I don’t want to be outdone by the chaps from the other dailies.’
‘So we’re there for decorative purposes, are we, Gene?’ Cecilia was smiling, but there was an edge to her voice.
‘I’m there to work,’ Rose said quickly. ‘Aren’t I, Guvnor?’
‘Of course you are. Don’t take any notice of my sister. She can be a virago when she wants to be. You are going to write the article, Munday, and we’d best be getting back to the office, or poor Arthur will be having forty fits.’
‘What about tonight, Gene?’ Cecilia demanded. ‘Will you bring Rose here to change?’
He frowned. ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead.’
‘I can’t very well get ready in the office,’ Rose said thoughtfully.
‘I’ll bring her home with me.’ Eugene made for the door. ‘Come on, Munday. We’ll grab a bite to eat on the way to the office.’
‘Why not stay a while and have luncheon with me?’ Cecilia followed them onto the landing. ‘Another hour or so won’t make any difference.’
‘Sorry, Cissie. We have a deadline to meet,’ Eugene called over his shoulder. ‘Hurry up, Munday. There’s work to be done.’
Cecilia was dressed in her finery, waiting for them in a considerable state of agitation when they returned to Tavistock Square that evening. Eugene had been working on a last-minute addition for the morning paper, and there had been several hold-ups during the cab journey when a sudden downpour had caused chaos. An argument between a carter and a hackney cab driver had held up traffic for what seemed like forever, until a police constable strolled up and threatened to arrest both of them. Then a barrel had fallen off a brewer’s dray and had hit the cobblestones with such force that it split, spewing out a fountain of ale. People appeared from nowhere, attempting to catch as much of the amber liquid as they could in mugs, jugs and even bowler hats, while others simply opened their mouths to gulp down the free beer.
It had not been a dull cab ride, but now they were late and Cecilia was fuming. She rushed Rose upstairs and with the help of her maid managed to get her into the tightly fitting gown, coiffed and ready in less than an hour.
‘Wait a moment,’ Cecilia cried as Rose was about to escape. ‘You look splendid but you need some jewellery.’
‘I’m a very junior reporter,’ Rose protested. ‘Who’s going to look at me?’
‘Never say anything like that in my hearing. You have to make the best of yourself whatever the circumstances, Rose Munday.’ Cecilia caught her by the hand and dragged her back into the room. ‘Lindon, fetch my jewel case.’
The harassed maid stopped picking up hairpins that were scattered on the floor and hurried into the dressing room, reappearing seconds later with a rosewood box inlaid with mother-of-pearl. She set it down on the table and stood back while Cecilia rifled through the contents.
‘Sit down, Rose. Let’s see if pearls look best, or maybe a simple velvet choker.’
Rose had learned that to argue with either of the Sheldon siblings was a waste of time and she sat down as obediently as a schoolgirl. She could hear Eugene calling to them from the top of the stairs, but she allowed Cecilia to select several necklaces, settling in the end for a gold chain with a pearl and peridot pendant and matching earrings.
‘There, that’s absolutely splendid. The peridots are virtually the same colour as your eyes.’ Cecilia stood back to admire her handiwork. ‘What do you think, Lindon?’
‘Very nice, Miss Cecilia. Just right for a young lady who isn’t out yet.’
Rose looked from one to the other. ‘That sounds as if I’ve been in prison.’
Lindon raised her eyebrows and Cecilia stifled a giggle.
‘Don’t you know anything about the London Season?’ Cecilia threw up her hands.
‘Maybe you should explain later – the guvnor is growing impatient.’
‘Stop calling him that silly name. He’s Eugene or Mr Sheldon, and for tonight I suggest you use his first name, or it will make a mockery of the whole evening.’ Cecilia turned to Lindon. ‘Fetch our wraps, please. We’ll miss the first act if we don’t hurry.’
Cecilia had been right – heads turned to stare at the two elegant young women who accompanied Eugene Sheldon. Rose was embarrassed to be the centre of attention, but Cecilia was apparently accustomed to creating a grand entrance, and Eugene looked positively dashing in his black tailcoat, bronze silk waistcoat and pristine white shirt. Rose was acutely aware of the admiring glances he received from the ladies present, but Eugene himself seemed oblivious to the sensation he was causing. He stopped every now and then to exchange pleasantries with the men who were standing in small groups, chatting and laughing as if they had known each other all their lives.
‘They’re gentlemen of the press,’ Cecilia said in a whisper as they took their seats. ‘You’d think they were bosom friends, but they would cut each other’s throats if it meant they could be the first to make the headlines.’
Rose was prevented from questioning her further as the orchestra began tuning up and the lights dimmed. Eugene made his way down the aisle and sat down beside her.
‘You’ve created quite a stir, Munday. You polish up like new in that gown.’
‘Hush,’ Cecilia said sternly. ‘The opera is about to start.’
Eugene pulled a face. ‘Wake me up at the interval, Munday. I’m relying on you to get the gist of the story, because I can’t stand this sort of thing.’ He closed his eyes and bowed his head.
Rose glanced anxiously at Cecilia, but her attention was fixed on the stage as the curtain was raised and the overture commenced. As the story unfolded and the music swelled, filling the pale yellow and golden auditorium with mellifluous sound, Rose found herself entranced and enthralled. She barely noticed the gentle snores emanating from Eugene with the rise and fall of his chest, and it was only at the interval that she realised people around them were pointing and laughing. She dug him hard in the ribs.
‘Wake up, Guvnor,’ she hissed. ‘Everyone’s looking at you.’
Cecilia leaned over Rose to prod her brother. ‘Gene, you’re making a fool of yourself and a spectacle of us.’
Eugene opened his eyes. ‘Is it over?’
Cecilia smacked him with her fan. ‘You philistine.’
‘It’s the interval,’ Rose whispered. ‘You were snoring, Guvnor.’
‘I was just resting my eyes.’ Eugene rose to his feet. ‘I’m going to the bar for a tot of whisky. Would you ladies like to join me?’
Cecilia sat bolt upright. ‘No, you’ve embarrassed me enough this evening.’
‘What about you, Munday? You might hear a bit of gossip you could use.’
Rose glanced at Cecilia’s disapproving profile. She was bound to offend one or the other, but if she wanted to be taken seriously as a reporter she knew what she had to do. She stood up, placing the programme on her seat. ‘Yes, all right, Guvnor.’ She was close behind him as he joined the stream of people making their way up the aisle.
‘You might like to start the article with a few words about the splendid electric lighting,’ Eugene said in a low voice as they edged their way towards the bar.
‘It is amazing. Do you think it will catch on?’
‘Almost certainly, and I’ll install electricity at Greenfields, my property in the country, as soon as it becomes possible.’ Eugene placed a protective arm around Rose’s shoulders as they reached the crush at the entrance to the bar.
Rose glanced inside at the sea of male bodies and she refused to move. ‘I think I’d better wait out here. It doesn’t look as though women are welcome in the bar.’
‘Nonsense, you’re with me, Munday. You’re a newspaper man now and you’ll find yourself in places where other females wouldn’t dare to tread.’ He propelled her through the throng of men clamouring for drinks.
Rose tried to look unconcerned, but she felt the colour flooding her cheeks and the remarks she overheard were not flattering.
Eugene ordered a glass of champagne and a whisky and soda, ignoring the disapproving looks from the barman.
‘There you are, Munday.’ He pressed the champagne glass into her hand and raised his drink in a toast. ‘Here’s to your future success.’
‘You shouldn’t bring a lady into a place like this.’ A distinguished-looking man with silver hair and a waxed moustache turned his head to glare at Eugene. ‘We have to draw the line somewhere, Sheldon.’
‘This young woman is a fledgling reporter on my newspaper,’ Eugene said loudly. ‘If anyone has anything to say, then say it to my face.’
A sudden hush seemed to suck the air from the crowded bar.
Rose could feel the undercurrent of resentment swelling like the incoming tide and she raised her glass. ‘I drink to your health, gentlemen. I might be the first female newsperson to enter a predominantly male domain, but I won’t be the last.’ She downed a mouthful of champagne, placed the glass on the counter and marched out of the bar, but when she reached the foyer her courage ebbed and her knees threatened to give way beneath her.
‘Well said, Munday.’ Eugene had followed her and he gave her a brief hug. ‘Maybe I should have patted you on the back as if you were a chap, but you’re a sight for sore eyes. No wonder the fellows were confused.’
‘I shouldn’t have spoken out like that. I’m sorry, Guvnor.’
‘Nonsense, you’ve just written your own headline. Wait there, I’ll fetch my sister and we’ll take a cab to the office. This story will be on the front page in the morning, I can see it now.’ He paused, smiling ruefully. ‘Sorry, Munday, I was forgetting – this is your story. You can call it what you like. Think about it while I get Cissie and retrieve our coats from the cloakroom. You and the redoubtable Millicent Fawcett have a lot in common, but this is your big moment.’
Rose waited anxiously, trying hard to look unconcerned, but she knew she was attracting attention for all the wrong reasons, and she tried to ignore the salacious remarks she received from one man who had obviously drunk far more than was good for him. It was a relief when Eugene appeared, followed by a sulky-looking Cecilia.
‘This is ridiculous, Gene,’ Cecilia snapped. ‘Walking out in the interval is stupid and very bad manners.’
‘Nonsense. This is Munday’s chance to get her piece in the Monday morning paper. The other chaps will do the same thing. Wait there, I’ll get a cab.’ He hurried out into the street.
‘You shouldn’t encourage him,’ Cecilia said, sighing heavily. ‘Gene always manages to create a stir wherever we go.’
‘Then perhaps you should be used to it by now.’ Rose was in no mood to take the blame for something that was beyond her control.
Having taken Cecilia back to Tavistock Square, Eugene and Rose returned to the office where, despite the fact that it was late evening, Rose worked on her review of the opera for Monday’s edition. When both she and Eugene were satisfied with the result, it was left for the typesetters to put into print, and Eugene saw her safely back to Black Raven Court.
‘We must address this problem urgently, Rose,’ he said as he handed her from the cab. ‘I don’t like leaving you here.’
‘I’ll be all right, Guvnor. I’ve got Cora and Flossie looking out for me.’ Rose hoped she sounded more positive than she was feeling as she stepped inside and closed the door.
Having slept for most of Sunday, Rose was up early on Monday morning. She dressed hastily and rushed out to buy a copy of the London Leader from a stall outside Fenchurch Street station. To see her words in print for the very first time would be a thrill, and she could scarcely wait to get back to her room. In her excitement it was even possible to ignore the pangs of hunger that gripped her stomach and the chill of a late autumn morning. With her shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders she trudged back to Black Raven Court. She did not notice Regan until it was too late.

Chapter Seven (#ulink_75828c56-fee2-5482-8aaf-bfafd67a6a80)
Rose came to a sudden halt at the sight of the man who ruled the lives of the women in his house, and was about to turn and run when he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her inside.
‘Cora is a poor liar,’ he said, pressing Rose up against the damp wall. ‘She told me you’d gone, but Nat Regan is nobody’s fool.’
‘I won’t be here much longer. I can pay rent.’
Regan curled his lip. ‘Only girls who work for me are allowed to live here, sweetheart. I got plenty of clients who would pay good money for your favours.’ He glanced at the newspaper she was clutching to her chest. ‘And you can read, too. I ain’t sure that’s a good thing.’
‘Let me go.’ Rose glared at him, too angry now to feel fear. ‘I’m leaving today.’
He pinned her to the wall with surprising strength for a small man. ‘That’s up to me. This is my place and what I says goes.’
‘I’ve got a job, Regan,’ she said boldly. ‘I’m a reporter on this newspaper, and if you don’t get out of my way you’ll find yourself headline news in the next edition.’ It was a vain boast, but it had the desired effect and Regan released her, taking a step backwards.
‘You’re lying, you little bitch.’
Rose leafed through the newspaper, searching desperately for the article that bore her name. She found it, even though it was tucked away beneath a list of other social events. The print was small, but her name was there and she waved it under his nose. ‘There’s the proof in black and white. And if you don’t let me go I’ll be late for the office.’
Regan stared at her in disbelief, his mouth working silently. Rose seized the moment and slipped past him. She raced down the steps and kept running until she was out of breath and had to stop and take shelter in a doorway. One thing was for certain: remaining in Black Raven Court was not an option. Thanks to her bragging, Regan knew her name and where she was working. She had made a tactical error, but the main thing now was to get to the office on time.
Nicholls was already at his desk and he looked up, his expression hardening when he spotted Rose. ‘You’re late again, Munday.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Nicholls. I was unexpectedly delayed.’
‘No matter what Mr Sheldon says, I’m the head clerk, and, if you’re late again or you don’t do as I tell you, I’ll report you to Mr Radley.’
‘Yes, Mr Nicholls.’ Rose decided that arguing with Nicholls was a waste of time and she forced herself to answer meekly.
‘Get to work, Munday,’ Nicholls snapped. ‘Your days are numbered, so make the most of your five minutes of glory.’
Rose could hear the two more junior clerks sniggering, but she ignored them as she marched into Eugene’s office, resisting the temptation to slam the door. They were determined to make her life as difficult as possible, but Eugene had given her a chance to prove herself and she had no intention of letting him down. That aside, her most pressing problem was where she would sleep that night, and how she would retrieve her things from the boxroom in Black Raven Court. It was fortunate that the clothes given to her by Cecilia were still in Tavistock Square, waiting until she had found more permanent accommodation.
Rose sat down in front of the typewriter, running her fingers over the keys. The night before last she had felt proud and elated when Eugene allowed her to write her piece about the theatre, and seeing her name in print for the first time was undoubtedly a thrill, but working in a man’s world was going to be an uphill struggle. She took a sheet of paper and inserted it in the machine. There was work that Eugene had left for her and it must be done; even so, she was finding it hard to concentrate, and she was still sitting there when he breezed into the office half an hour later.
‘What’s the matter with you, Munday?’ he demanded. ‘I thought you would be beaming all over your face this morning.’
‘I’ve got a bit of a problem, Guvnor.’
Eugene made to throw his hat onto the stand, but seemed to think better of it and placed it on a chair together with his overcoat and scarf. ‘Anything I can help with?’
‘I have to find somewhere else to stay.’
‘I could have told you that living in a house of ill repute was not the best address for a budding reporter. However, joking aside, I agree with you wholeheartedly.’
‘I bumped into Regan again and he’s being difficult.’
Eugene took his seat behind his desk. ‘I imagine that’s putting it mildly. I suppose he wants you to join his happy band of workers.’
‘That’s it exactly, and I daren’t go back to collect my things in case he sees me. Besides which, I’ve nowhere to go.’
He turned his head to give her a long look. ‘Then you must stay with us in Tavistock Square, and I’ll try to find out if those men have the legal right to be in the Captain’s House.’
‘Thank you, Guvnor. But your sister might object to having me as a guest, even for a short time.’
‘Cissie? Why would she? My sister isn’t a bad sort when you get to know her, Munday. Her main problem is ennui. Cissie is an intelligent woman and she hasn’t got enough to occupy her mind. She doesn’t particularly enjoy balls and soirées, and, in my opinion, she needs a cause to fight for. You might find you have a lot in common.’
‘Maybe,’ Rose said doubtfully. ‘She’s been very kind to me, but I don’t want to foist myself on her.’
‘I don’t think Cissie will have any objections to you staying with us until you find something more suitable. You seemed to get on quite well at the theatre.’
‘She did invite me to join her when she has luncheon with Maria Barnaby. Maria is half-sister to Max Manning, my fiancé.’
‘There you are then. Maria might be able to give you some information, so stop worrying and type out that article I gave you yesterday. You’re still an office junior, Munday, so get back to work.’ Eugene tempered his words with a smile. ‘And don’t worry about your possessions. I’ll come with you when we finish work this evening. I’d enjoy sorting Regan out.’
Rose shot him a sideways glance. ‘You’d take him on?’
‘I can handle myself in a fight. You’d be surprised.’
It was dark when they arrived in Black Raven Court and Rose was nervous. It was not only feral cats that lurked in doorways and down dark alleys. There was danger in the back streets even in daytime, but when the shadows deepened after dusk it was a brave person who walked there alone. Rose had learned this much already, and she kept watch while Eugene marched up to the front door. He turned to her and beckoned.
‘It’s not locked – the girls are obviously expecting to do a good trade tonight. Come on.’
Rose hesitated on the bottom step. ‘Maybe it would be best if you keep watch outside. I’m used to creeping up the stairs.’
‘All right. Go ahead, but be quick.’
Rose entered the house on tiptoe. The nauseating smell of unwashed bodies, damp rot, cheap perfume and tobacco smoke hit her with almost physical force. The familiar sounds of laughter and creaking bed springs were punctuated by raised voices and the occasional scream. Rose broke into a run, taking the stairs two at a time, but in her haste she trod on the step that everyone tried to avoid and the loud creak brought Cora to her door.
‘Blooming hell, Rose. You gave me a fright – I thought it was Regan come to collect the rent.’ Cora took a drag on a cheroot and then stamped it out under the heel of her boot.
‘I’m sorry,’ Rose whispered. ‘I’ve come to collect my bag. I’m moving out.’
‘Good for you, nipper. I wish I could do the same.’
‘What keeps you here? Haven’t you got any family who would take you in?’
Cora gave her a pitying look. ‘You might have good people waiting for you, but some of us ain’t so lucky. My pa is in the clink and Ma only wants to see me if I give her money for gin. Go on, kid. Grab your things and make a run for it before his nibs turns up. Flossie says he’s got his eye on you, so don’t hang about.’
‘I will, and thanks, Cora. I’ll miss you and Flossie, will you tell her that for me?’
Cora nodded emphatically. ‘Good luck, kid.’ She retreated into her room, and closed the door.
Rose hurried up the second flight of stairs and collected her things, but as she made her way downstairs she heard a door open and Regan’s loud voice berating one of the girls. It was dark on the landing, but peering through the banisters she could see him standing in a shaft of light. He was shaking his fist and using foul language that would have made the toughest gold prospector blush. Rose shrank into the shadows, hoping that he would visit another of the rooms on the ground floor, and she sighed with relief when she heard the sound of his booted feet stamping towards the back of the house. She hurtled down the remaining stairs and out into the cold night, almost falling into Eugene’s arms as he waited for her.
‘You’d think the devil was after you,’ he said, relieving her of the heavy valise. ‘Come on Rose, let’s go home.’
Cecilia was not over-effusive, but she made Rose welcome and sent a maid to light a fire in one of the many bedrooms. Giddings relieved Rose of her outer garments and she could feel his silent disapproval, but she smiled and nodded graciously, taking Cecilia as her model for ladylike behaviour as she handed him her valise. If this was how a lady was expected to behave she could do it with ease, even if she had to resist the temptation to tell the footman that she might be poor, but she was just as good as him, and she did not judge people by outward appearances.
‘I’ve got some correspondence to deal with. I’ll be in the study.’ Eugene hurried off without giving his sister a chance to object.
‘Come with me, Rose,’ Cecilia said calmly. ‘We’ll wait for Gene in the drawing room.’ She led the way up the gracefully curving sweep of the staircase to the crimson and gold drawing room, where she motioned Rose to take a seat.

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