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.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Rose stared straight ahead. ‘I am grateful to you …’ she hesitated. ‘What do I call you?’
‘When we’re working you call me Guvnor.’
‘Yes, Guvnor.’
‘That’s right – you’re learning. But when we get to Eastcheap, keep out of the way. Don’t expect me to look after you. You’re just a bystander.’
‘I understand.’
‘Good. Then we’ll get along well. I think it must have been pretty rough in the goldfields, but I doubt if you’ll have experienced anything like the violence of some of the street gangs that still exist in the East End. Although what we’re heading for is probably just a brawl between rival costermongers, which won’t make the front page.’
‘I’m not scared,’ Rose repeated stoutly and, to her surprise, she realised that she was more excited than anxious.
The cab slowed down and the trap door in the roof opened suddenly.
‘We’re here, guv.’
Eugene handed the driver some coins without bothering to ask the fare, and made ready to spring out as the cab drew to a halt. Rose was left to alight on her own and she found herself at the back of a jeering, bellowing crowd. Eugene had disappeared and she experienced a moment of panic, but she was also curious and, forgetting his instructions to stay back, she pushed her way through the bodies until she had a view of the fray.
As Eugene had suspected, the fight was between a group of burly costermongers who were throwing punches, kicking, shouting and swearing. It was a mêlée of fists, feet and bleeding noses, and her heart missed a beat or two as she saw Eugene wade in, accompanied by two police constables armed with truncheons. The sound of running feet preceded the arrival of their colleagues, and the ear-splitting sound of their whistles momentarily silenced the onlookers.
Rose craned her neck in order to get a better view and saw Eugene pulling two men apart and holding them at arm’s length, even though they struggled to break free. She had put him down as a bit of a dandy at first sight, but the man she saw now was a completely different person. And, as if joining in a brawl was not bad enough, Eugene was grinning broadly as if he were enjoying the fracas.
Suddenly it was over, and the police had taken control of the street. The antagonists were bundled into a Black Maria and driven away, and there was a general scramble as children and adults alike fell on the fruit and vegetables that were strewn over the cobblestones. Rose waited until Eugene had finished speaking to the police sergeant who had brought the reinforcements, then she hurried to his side.
‘Are you hurt?’
As he met her anxious gaze she could tell by the fire in his eyes and his triumphant smile that he had enjoyed the altercation.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘Your nose is bleeding, and I think you’ll have a black eye by morning.’
‘Have you got a handkerchief, Munday? I seem to have forgotten mine.’
She
