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

‘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.’