Dilly Court - The Christmas Rose

‘This is it,’ she said excitedly. ‘We must be very near. I remember how it smelled when the wind was in a certain direction.’

‘There ain’t no wind, duck. It’s your imagination.’

‘You’re wrong. I know this is the place.’ Rose dropped her bag and, holding her arms outstretched, she walked slowly, feeling the way until she came to the wooden steps. She ran her fingers over the rail and there it was. ‘This is the house,’ she cried triumphantly. ‘Max carved his initials on this piece of wood the day before we left for Australia.’

‘Then there’s only one thing to do.’ Cora pushed past her and marched up the steps to hammer on the door. ‘I want to meet this young man of yours and give him a piece of my mind for leaving a kid like you to find her way home in the middle of a London particular.’ She took a step backwards as the door opened and a pale shaft of light pierced the fog.

‘What d’yer want?’

Rose hesitated. It was not Max’s voice and a shiver ran down her spine. ‘I’ve come to see Max Manning,’ she said nervously.

‘Who?’

‘You heard her, mister,’ Cora said angrily. ‘Have you got cloth ears or something?’

‘Less of your lip.’ The man held the lantern close to Cora’s face. ‘Ho, touting for business, are you? You’d best come in then.’ He reached out a skinny but muscular arm and yanked Cora over the threshold before she had a chance to argue.

Rose dropped her carpet bag and ran to Cora’s aid. ‘Leave her alone. We just want to see Max.’

‘There ain’t no one of that name here, girl.’ The man shoved Cora so hard that she stumbled and fell in a heap with a flurry of red flannel petticoats, exposing legs clad in black stockings.

‘What have you done with Max?’ Rose demanded, standing her ground. ‘Where is he?’

‘What’s going on, Sid?’ A second man staggered out of what Rose remembered to be the front parlour. ‘What’s all the din?’

‘We got company, Wilf. Two ladies of the night to warm our beds. It must be our lucky day.’ Sid slammed the front door and leaned against it, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Nice of you to come calling, ladies. I think I’ll take the younger one. You can have the old tart, Wilf. Let’s get to it before the others come to.’

‘No,’ Rose cried. ‘There’s been a mistake. We’re looking for someone.’

Cora scrambled to her feet. ‘Move aside, cully.’ Before he had a chance to argue she had a knife to his throat. ‘I don’t go out at night without my chiv, so get away from the door.’

Terrified, Rose held her breath. She had seen plenty of brawls in the streets of Bendigo, but she had never encountered danger at such close quarters.

‘Get out, Rose,’ Cora hissed. She twisted the knife so that it nicked the flabby skin at the base of Sid’s scrawny throat, and she gave him a hearty shove that sent him cannoning into Wilf. The pair of them fell to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. ‘Run for it, Rose,’ Cora screamed. ‘Run.’

Rose wrenched the door open, but in her hurry to escape she misjudged her footing and tumbled down the steps, landing on the carpet bag, which served to break her fall. Unhurt, she scrambled to her feet and Cora leaped to the ground, grabbed Rose by the hand and headed off into the fog. She did not stop until they reached the relative safety of the High Street.

‘That was a close one,’ Cora said breathlessly. ‘I knew I should have walked on when I spotted you outside the pub. This is what I get for doing a good deed.’

‘I’m sorry, Cora.’

‘It’s not your fault, young ’un. Coming here at night in the middle of a peasouper weren’t the best idea I ever had.’ Cora brushed a strand of unnaturally brassy hair from her forehead. ‘What am I going to do with you now? Do you know anyone in London?’

Rose bent double, holding her side in an attempt to relieve a painful stitch. ‘There’s Max’s sister.’

‘Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place? Where does she live?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘That ain’t no help. What’s her name? Maybe I knows her.’

‘She’s called Caroline and she married Phineas Colville. He owns—’

‘He owns the biggest shipping company in England. Well, I’m blowed. Who’d have thought it?’ Cora put her head on one side, narrowing her eyes. ‘You’re not making this up, are you? It ain’t funny.’

‘No. On my honour, it’s true.’

‘On your honour.’ Cora hooted with laughter. ‘Where’d you learn to talk stuff like that?’ She held up her hand. ‘No, don’t tell me. I ain’t sure if you’re genuine or the best little liar I ever met, but I ain’t hanging around here a minute longer than necessary.’ She walked off, heading back the way they had come.

Rose grabbed her bag and hobbled after her. ‘I’m sure that Mrs Colville will vouch for me, Cora. I just need to find out where she lives.’

Cora paused, glancing over her shoulder. ‘Maybe she’ll offer a reward. I mean, a girl has to earn a living. I could have been working instead of traipsing round the docks with you.’

‘I really am sorry.’

‘Of course you are.’ Cora stopped and turned to give Rose a searching look. ‘What am I going to do with you, Rosie? I can’t abandon you, even though common sense tells me that I should.’

‘Maybe I could spend the night at your lodgings?’ Rose suggested tentatively. ‘I haven’t got much money, but I think I have enough to pay my way – for one night, anyway.’

‘Oh, all right. I suppose I ain’t got no choice. You’d best come with me.’

Rose could hardly put one foot in front of the other by the time they reached the run-down building where Cora lived. Rose was completely disorientated and she could not have said where they were, except that she was glad to stumble into the relative warmth of the building when Cora ushered her inside.

‘It ain’t much, but this is where I doss down,’ Cora said firmly. ‘My room is upstairs.’ She mounted the narrow staircase, trailing her hand casually on the banister rail, which was blackened from years of grease and dirt. The flickering yellow gaslight popped and fizzed, adding its own pungent odour to the general fug, but Rose was too tired to be critical. It felt good to be safe from the outside world, even if some of the stair treads were rotten and several of the banister supports were broken or missing.

She had barely reached the first landing when a door opened and a man lurched out, ramming his cap on his head as he pushed past her and thundered down the stairs. A young woman poked her head out, grinning when she spotted Cora.

‘Had a good night, duck?’

Cora jerked her head in Rose’s direction. ‘Got a visitor, watch what you say, Flossie.’

‘Ooh, hark at her, girls.’ Flossie took a drag on her cigarette.

‘Shut up, you silly tart,’ Cora said affably. ‘Poor kid’s just got off the boat from the back of beyond and been let down by her bloke.’

‘We’ve all been there, luv.’ Flossie exhaled a plume of smoke at the grimy ceiling. ‘Did you see Regan hanging around downstairs?’