of London like the back of me hand and I’ll see you safely home. Is someone waiting for you?’
‘I hope so,’ Rose said fervently. ‘Max was going to meet me – he gave me his word.’
‘Men and their promises.’ Cora tossed her head. ‘Come on, this peasouper ain’t going to clear before morning. Let’s get going.’
They seemed to have been walking for hours. Rose could feel blisters at the point of bursting on her heels, and she was just beginning to think she would drop from exhaustion when Cora came to a sudden halt. ‘Watch where you go.’
Slowly and painfully Rose followed Cora down a steep flight of steps, and she was in familiar territory at last. Despite the sulphurous stench of the fog mixed with the smoke from thousands of chimneys, the smell of the river mud took her back to her childhood. In her mind’s eye she could see the run-down boatyard where her father had struggled to make a living. It had been her home and she had forgotten the hardships, remembering only the hot summer days when she had paddled in the shallows and picked wildflowers on the river-bank.
‘This must be it,’ she whispered. ‘The Captain’s House can’t be far now and Max will be there waiting for me.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it, love.’ Cora reached out to clutch Rose’s hand. ‘Keep close to me. There’ll be coils of rope, chains and all sorts waiting to trip you up and fling you into the river.’ She paused. ‘Can you hear it? The water is lapping the wharf and that means it’s high tide.’
‘Yes, I remember now.’
‘Good. Then you know that if you fall in you won’t stand a chance. No one will see you and they won’t hear your cries for help. The current will suck you under and you’ll be a goner.’
‘Why are you doing this for me, Cora? Why would you want to help someone you’ve never met before?’
‘You ask too many questions. Come on. I’m dying for a smoke and a drink, and the sooner I deliver you, the sooner I can find a nice warm pub.’
‘All right. I’m coming.’ Rose tried not to drag her feet as she followed Cora, who seemed to have limitless energy. Then, just as Rose was about to give up, she was aware of a different smell and one that was very familiar. It was a mixture of burning sugar, roasting coffee beans and spices emanating from the warehouses surrounding the docks.
‘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?’
