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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.
But Scully’s attitude changed the moment they left the office and he dropped his self-assured swagger, becoming almost deferential in the way he behaved. Rose discovered that he was the eldest of seven children and his meagre wages went to his widowed mother, who worked as a charwoman in an attempt to keep a roof over their heads. Rose was sympathetic and Scully grew shy and blushed to the roots of his mousy hair, and he was clearly smitten. It might have been amusing to be the object of puppy love, but Rose was wary of hurting his feelings and she managed to bring Max into the conversation early on, describing him as her fiancé, even though their engagement was unofficial.
Later, having scoured the second-hand shop for clothing that was not too worn or dirty, Rose felt smart and warm in a grey flannel coat and a woollen hat, which was only a bit shabby with just a couple of moth holes. She stopped at the coffee stall and bought two cheese rolls with the last of the money that Eugene had given her. She could tell by the way Scully was eyeing the food that he was very hungry and his stick-thin limbs told a tale in themselves. She handed him one of the rolls.
‘I’m not hungry, Scully. Do me a favour and eat this before the guvnor sees it.’
Scully licked his lips. ‘It’s yours, miss. I couldn’t.’
‘No, really. The guvnor told me to get two, and I can only eat one, so you’ll be helping me out. Eat it now and he’ll never know the difference.’
‘If you’re sure.’ Scully snatched the roll from her hand and bit off a huge chunk. His pale blue eyes watered as he chewed and gulped the food down.
Rose turned away and walked on slowly, giving him time to eat and digest before they reached the office.
‘Where’s yours?’ Eugene demanded when she placed the food in front of him.
‘You were right,’ Rose said airily. ‘I was so hungry I ate it on the way back. Ta, Guvnor, and thank you for the outfit. I’m warm and dry, so now I can sit down and have a go at that machine in the corner.’
Eugene pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘I’ve got to go out now, and I’ll probably have luncheon in the pub, so I won’t need the roll. You have it, or feed it to the birds if you don’t want it.’ He took his overcoat and hat from the clothes stand. ‘Write up an account of the affray in Eastcheap. Let’s see if you can master the typewriter and write a good article. I might slip it into tomorrow’s edition if you do well.’
‘Right you are, Guvnor.’ Rose waited for a minute or two after he left the office and when he did not return she snatched up the roll and bit into it, demolishing it in a speed that matched Scully’s. The food gave her the spurt of energy she needed to sit down and take on the new machine. This, she realised, was a test of her ability to master a new skill and her way with words. Her job depended upon both and she sat for a moment, admiring the floral decoration on the front of the machine. Then, controlling her shaking fingers with difficulty, she took a sheet of paper, slotted it behind the platen and wound it into position. She took a deep breath and began, using two fingers, to type out her account of what she had witnessed the previous day.
Chapter Five (#u40ff26be-dccf-51e8-9218-248f909f4da2)
It was not as easy as Rose had first thought, and it would have taken her less time to write the article by hand, but she persevered. Eventually, after wasting several sheets of paper, she managed to turn out a piece with only a couple of mistakes. It was slow going, but she was beginning to learn the layout of the keys, and she was studying the result when Scully put his head round the door.
‘I’m sorry, Miss Munday, but Nicholls wants to see you.’
Rose stared at him in surprise. ‘I’m busy doing the work that the guvnor set me.’
‘You don’t want to get on the wrong side of Old Nick.’
‘What does he want?’
‘I dunno, miss. But you’d best find out.’ Scully lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘He’ll make your life a misery if you don’t do as he says.’
Rose placed the sheet of paper on the desk and stood up. ‘All right. I’m coming.’ She followed him into the main office and marched up to Nicholls’ desk.
‘You wanted to speak to me.’
‘You can stop playing with that new machine and do something useful.’ He jerked his head in the direction of a pile of documents. ‘Those need filing in that cabinet over there, but first I want you to run these proofs down to the print room.’
Rose faced him angrily. ‘I wasn’t taken on to work as a filing clerk or to run errands. I take my orders from the guvnor.’
‘You’re a novice, and a woman at that. If you don’t like it here you know what to do.’ Nicholls pushed the pile of papers towards her. ‘Now get on with it or I’ll have a talk with Mr Radley, and you’ll find out who’s boss round here.’
Rose glanced round at the other clerks, who immediately bent their heads and pretended they were too busy to take any notice. She met Nicholls’ hostile gaze with a straight look.
‘As it happens I’ve finished the task that the guvnor set me, so I’ll do what you ask, but we’ll see what he says when he returns.’
‘I suppose you’ll flaunt your titties and flutter your eyelashes like all females do when they want to get their own way. Well, it won’t wash with me, miss. If you want to work here you’ll have to do as I say.’
Rose tossed her head. It was not worth arguing with someone like Nicholls, but she had a feeling that the other men in the office were not on her side. In fact, her only friend was Scully, who was hopping from one foot to the other in an attempt to catch Nicholls’ eye.
‘I got nothing to do, Mr Nicholls,’ he said, blushing. ‘I could take the proofs down to the print room.’
‘Did I speak to you, Scully?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then shut up and fetch me a cup of tea, a dash of milk and two sugars.’ Nicholls waved Scully away as if he were an irritating insect.
Rose felt sorry for the boy, but she knew that any attempt to stand up for him would only make matters worse. She took the proofs from Nicholls and made her way to the print room, where the men seemed to share Nicholls’ opinion of women in the workplace. No one spoke to her, and it was becoming obvious that surviving in a man’s world was not going to be easy. It would be so simple to quit in the face of such opposition, but she needed the money and she was determined to stay and prove them all wrong.
Eugene returned from his luncheon appointment in the middle of the afternoon and he was in a good mood, if slightly tipsy. His overcoat was pearled with raindrops and he created a minor storm as he shook it before hanging it on a peg.
‘Did you enjoy your meal, Guvnor?’ Rose asked, trying not to chuckle as he aimed his hat in the direction of the stand and missed.
‘Very pleasant, thanks, Munday.’ Ignoring the fact that his expensive topper was lying on the floor, Eugene went to sit behind his desk. ‘How did you get on with the typewriting machine?’
Rose placed the sheets of paper in front of him. ‘It will take a lot of practice, but I think it looks good.’ She waited anxiously, crossing her fingers, while Eugene scanned her work.
He looked up at last. ‘Not a bad attempt. In fact it’s very promising.’
‘Thank you, Guvnor.’
Eugene eyed her speculatively. ‘We might make a reporter of you yet, Munday. As to the typing, it could be better. I want you to work at it every day.’
‘Mr Nicholls thinks I’m here to run errands, Guvnor. I’m not complaining,’ Rose added hastily. ‘It’s just that I need to know exactly what my duties are.’
Eugene leaned back in his chair. ‘You’re paid to do as I tell you, Munday. You take your orders from me.’
‘That’s what I thought, but I think it might be best if you tell him so.’
‘When I want advice on running the paper I’ll ask you, Munday.’ Eugene took a notebook from his drawer and tossed it to her. ‘Type that up for me – I want to get it to the print room before five o’clock.’
‘Yes, Guv.’ Rose picked up Eugene’s hat and placed it on the stand before she took her seat.
‘Scully.’ Eugene raised his voice to a shout. ‘Get me a cup of coffee from the stall before the chap packs up.’
‘You could have tea and save him from going out in the cold,’ Rose said crossly.
‘Less of the cheek, Munday. It’s started to rain and I could have sent you instead of Scully.’ Eugene rose to his feet and marched into the main office. ‘Nicholls, I want a word with you.’
Rose worked hard all afternoon. She ventured into the outer office to get a fresh supply of paper and was met with silence and stony stares, especially from Nicholls, who glowered at her beneath lowered brows. She knew it was only Eugene’s presence that saved her from a verbal assault, but she did her best to ignore Nicholls and the other two clerks, who had obviously taken his side. She collected the paper and returned to the safety of her desk, earning praise from Eugene for finishing the document quickly and with the minimum of errors.
‘Take it to the print room,’ he said, nodding. ‘They’ll sort out the mistakes. That’s their job.’ He glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf. ‘It’s nearly six. Time you weren’t here.’
‘But you’re still 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 of making trouble for Eugene. He might, for all she knew, be following a story, although from the little she knew of him she suspected that he might have had a late night, with all that entailed, and be sleeping off the excesses of the previous evening.
‘Oh, very well. What a nuisance.’ Radley fingered some papers on Eugene’s desk, losing interest almost immediately. ‘Tell him I need to see him urgently, Miss er …’
‘Munday,’ Rose said, but she was talking to thin air as Radley had already left the office. She shrugged and returned to the task of deciphering Eugene’s scrawl, correcting his spelling as she went. By midday she had placed the finished article on his desk and was moderately pleased with her efforts. Her stomach was rumbling and she was about to eat her ham roll when Eugene breezed into the office, tossing his hat on the coat stand and missing yet again. Rose got up automatically and rescued the topper, placing it safely on the highest peg.
Unabashed, Eugene took off his greatcoat and draped it over a chair. ‘Is everything all right, Munday?’
She gave him a searching look. His dark hair was curling wildly round his head and there were bruise-like smudges beneath his eyes. The woody, citrus scent of bay rum could not quite conceal the smell of garlic, wine and cigar smoke that hung about him like a fine mist.
‘Mr Radley has been looking for you.’
‘What did you say to him?’
