Dilly Court - The Christmas Rose

‘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 course, the printers are working most of the night to get the paper out first thing in the morning, and sometimes you might be required to work late, if there’s a particular rush on.’

‘I wouldn’t mind that at all.’ Rose stood up, swaying slightly as the effects of the wine made the floor seem even more uneven than it was. ‘I’ll start looking for a room somewhere nearer.’

Eugene was already standing and he proffered his arm. ‘A breath of fresh air will blow away the cobwebs. I think you’d best come back to the office with me and I’ll show you round. Then I’ll get one of the boys to see you to Black Raven Court.’

The fresh air had a sobering effect and by the time they reached the offices of the London Leader Rose was back to her old self, or very nearly. She decided that drinking wine in the middle of the day was not a good idea, and it had left her with a slight headache, but she was buoyed up by the fact that she had found employment.

She was not quite so confident, however, when faced with the brand-new Sholes and Glidden typewriter, and she was uncomfortably aware that her presence in the office was provoking furtive glances from the rest of the staff. Eugene did not seem to notice anything untoward and he sat her in front of the strange machine, inserted a sheet of paper and struck a few keys.

‘There,’ he said triumphantly. ‘That’s not so difficult, is it? I saw women in New York who could use both hands, as if they were playing the piano, but they were actually typing documents.’ He picked up a file and pulled out a typewritten letter. ‘This is how it should look. What do you think? Could you work this machine?’

‘I don’t see why not.’ Rose perched on a chair and studied the keyboard. Tentatively at first, but with growing confidence, she tapped out a series of words.

‘You’ll soon get used to it,’ Eugene said confidently. ‘What do you think, Rose?’

The mere fact that an important man like Eugene Sheldon was asking for her opinion and treating her as an equal sent a warm, fuzzy glow rushing through her veins, which had nothing to do with the glass or two of wine she had drunk with her meal. Suddenly, from feeling like a displaced person, an alien in her own homeland, Rose felt wanted and needed.

‘I think it’s a marvellous invention,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘I’ve spent hours and hours writing letters for Laurence to sign, but if I’d had a typewriting machine I’m sure it would have saved time and a lot of effort.’

‘It’s good that you’re open to change, Rose.’ Eugene turned away as one of the clerks rushed over to him waving a piece of paper.

‘Guvnor, this has just come in – an affray in Eastcheap. It could be the gangs are tearing each other apart yet again, but there’s no one here to send.’

‘I’ll go. I enjoy a good scrap.’ Eugene grabbed his hat. ‘Come on, Miss Munday. You can see what we do first-hand, and it’s not too far from Black Raven Court. I’ll see you safely home as soon as I’ve got a story.’

A bubble of excitement swelled in Rose’s chest and she leaped to her feet, grabbed her shawl and reticule and hurried after Eugene. Standing on the edge of the pavement, he hailed a passing cab.

‘Eastcheap, cabby.’ Eugene leaped into the vehicle. ‘You’ll have to move faster than that, Munday, if you want to get to the scene of a news story in the shortest possible time.’ He reached out to grab her hand and heaved her unceremoniously onto the seat beside him as the cab lurched forward. ‘Sorry, Munday,’ he said with a rueful smile. ‘Manners fly out of the window when the matter is urgent.’

‘I understand,’ Rose said breathlessly. ‘Do you think I could train as a reporter?’

‘First things first, Munday.’

Rose clutched the seat as the cabby urged the horse to a trot and they careered along at an alarming rate, veering this way and that through the busy traffic. Rose was certain that at any moment they would overturn or be thrown from the cab, but Eugene remained calm, as if this mad ride was an everyday occurrence.

‘It’s all right, Munday,’ he said calmly. ‘The cabby knows what he’s doing. This chap has taken me on many an assignment. I always tip him handsomely, which is probably why he’s always lurking in Fleet Street.’

‘I’m not scared.’ Rose turned her head to study his profile. ‘Why are you using my surname? You called me Rose in the pub – why the sudden change?’

‘Ah, but that was pleasure, Rose. If you’re going to venture into the male domain of newspapers, you’ll have to be treated like a man. When we’re working you’ll be referred to as Munday.’