The Christmas Rose Page 5

  ‘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, a
nd 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.