The Christmas Rose: The most heart-warming novel of 2018, from the Sunday Times bestseller. Dilly Court

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