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

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.’