Ragged Rose. Dilly Court

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      Cora’s eyes widened. ‘What are you saying, Tinker? Is this one of your jokes?’

      ‘I been with the Fancellos since they plucked me from the poorhouse, miss. I seen the way they encouraged little Clementia to smoke and drink. It means she don’t eat much and she don’t grow proper – like us kids from the backstreets. Why do you think me legs is bowed and me arms don’t straighten out proper? Most of us kids suffered from rickets.’

      Rose laid her hand on his bony arm. ‘It’s a terrible affliction, Tinker. I’m ashamed to think I didn’t notice your infirmities before, and I’m equally shocked to learn the truth about little Clemmie.’

      ‘Never mind her,’ Cora said urgently. ‘There’ll be a riot out there if we don’t put in an appearance. Besides which, I saw a really handsome young man seated at one of the tables. I’d swear that he had eyes for me and me alone.’

      ‘Best do it, miss.’ Tinker peered out through a gap in the curtains. ‘The signora is coming this way. She’s got that look about her like when she starts throwing things. I’m off.’ He turned and raced off towards the stairs that led up to the Fancellos’ private apartment.

      Rose went to meet Signora Fancello, who did not look amused. ‘Your husband has asked us to do another performance this evening,’ she said boldly. ‘We have agreed but we must be out of the saloon before ten o’clock.’

      Graziella Fancello’s winged eyebrows drew together in an ominous frown. ‘You are in no position to make demands on us, Miss Sunshine. We pay you to perform, and perform you will, even if we ask you to sing and dance at midnight.’

      ‘But, signora, our mama is unwell and we have to look after her. She will be worried if we’re out late. The streets of Islington are dangerous enough in daytime, let alone late at night, and we are two young women on our own.’

      Graziella’s red lips hardened into a thin line. ‘I’ll think about it. Now go out there and socialise with the clients.’ She headed towards the stairs with a determined set of her chin.

      ‘Well done, Cora,’ Rose whispered, smiling. ‘You know how to handle the wretched woman.’

      ‘I suppose she’s gone upstairs to give poor Clemmie a piece of her mind.’ Cora adjusted her costume, pulling the bodice up in an attempt at a semblance of modesty. ‘We’d best go out and circulate. Who knows, I might catch the eye of a rich man and he’ll sweep me off my feet, and marry me?’

      ‘I’d settle for being spotted by the manager of the Pavilion Theatre or the Grecian. We could earn twice as much, and we wouldn’t have to pander to gentlemen with roving eyes and wandering hands.’ Rose braced her shoulders. ‘But we must leave here by ten, or Aunt Polly will have locked the doors.’

      Cora pulled back the curtain and stepped down from the stage to a rousing cheer from the clientele: mostly well-dressed men of means who had come slumming. She headed for the blue-eyed gentleman she’d spotted earlier, who leaped to his feet with a courteous bow. Rose followed more slowly, walking between the tables, acknowledging the flattering comments, and ignoring suggestive remarks that would have made a courtesan blush. There were familiar faces amongst the audience, some whom she knew it was best to humour and then move on. Just as Fancello erupted onto the stage to introduce his bambina cara, Clementia, Rose came to a halt at a table occupied by a distinguished-looking gentleman of military bearing. He was older than the usual punter, and he had a kind, fatherly look about him.

      ‘You are on your own, sir,’ she said, smiling. ‘May I join you?’

      He half rose from his chair, motioning her to take a seat. ‘That would be delightful, but you must excuse me if I don’t stand. I have a gammy leg – an old war wound, you understand.’

      She sat down opposite him. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Were you in the Crimea?’

      Just as he was about to reply, Clementia began to sing in a sweet clear soprano that momentarily stilled and silenced the audience. Rose sat back, watching the small creature perform. Poor Clemmie was never allowed out unaccompanied, Rose knew that for a fact. Tommy liked to gossip, and his favourite subject was little Clemmie, who was virtually a prisoner of love; doted on and fiercely protected by adoring parents. Rose was unsure whether this was entirely out of parental devotion, or whether Clemmie’s ma and pa had an eye to nurturing a valuable talent. Whatever the reason, the young girl had no life outside the walls of the smoky saloon.

      Rose turned to the military gentleman with an encouraging smile. ‘You were about to tell me of your exploits, sir.’

      ‘Colonel Mountfitchet at your service,’ he said gallantly.

      Rose felt herself blushing. ‘I’m Rose Sunshine. How do you do, Colonel?’

      ‘My friends call me Fitch.’

      ‘I – I couldn’t.’ Rose had a vision of her father’s shocked face were he to hear her being disrespectful to a much older gentleman, let alone a war hero. ‘That wouldn’t be proper, sir.’

      ‘I take it that Sunshine is not your real name, and I respect your right to anonymity.’ He leaned towards her. ‘What are you doing here, Rose? You’re not the sort of girl who normally frequents places such as this.’

      ‘My sister and I are here to entertain, sir. We don’t fraternise with the customers, if that’s what you are inferring.’

      ‘Certainly not, my dear, and it’s none of my business.’

      Rose eyed him warily. This was not the usual way that conversations with patrons ran. There might be a little mild flirtation, but that was as far as it went. She had learned to slant her questions so that the gentlemen talked about their favourite topics, namely themselves, but the colonel was different. He seemed genuinely interested in her, and that was alarming.

      He cleared his throat. ‘You must forgive me, Rose. It’s a long time since I was in the company of a beautiful young lady. I beg you to forgive an old soldier for his ill manners.’

      ‘No, sir. I won’t allow that,’ Rose said hastily. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. ‘My sister and I work of necessity, Colonel. We have our reasons, but I would ask you not to enquire further.’

      He nodded and his pale grey eyes twinkled. ‘You have my word, Rose. Now will you allow me to buy you a drink? The signora has returned and she is looking this way. I imagine she expects to boost sales by sending the Sunshine Sisters behind enemy lines.’

      Rose stifled a giggle. ‘I would hardly call you the enemy, Colonel, but I must warn you that she serves us lemonade and charges for champagne.’

      ‘I would expect nothing else from a businesswoman like the signora.’ He clicked his fingers to attract a waiter. ‘Champagne for the young lady,’ he said grandly. ‘And a whisky for me.’

      A somewhat half-hearted round of applause heralded the end of Clemmie’s performance, and Rose was quick to note the frown on the signora’s face. Poor Clemmie would come in for some fierce criticism when her mother joined her upstairs. The colonel was clapping enthusiastically, but Rose had a feeling that he was acting from chivalry rather than appreciation of Clemmie’s pitch-perfect, but emotionless, render-ing of ‘Come into the Garden, Maud’. She nodded to the waiter, who placed a СКАЧАТЬ