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

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 pub was 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