Ragged Rose
The heartwarming new novel from Dilly Court, the Sunday Times Top Ten bestselling author of The Beggar Maid.With the fate of her family in her hands, Rose has to make a terrible choice. Be thrown onto the streets without a penny to her name, or watch her loved ones fall into ruin . . .Rose is keeping a dreadful secret, and too scared to ask her strict father for help, it’s down to her to keep her brother from the hangman’s noose – whatever it takes. Her innocent sister Cora is on a different road to ruin, bewitched by a handsome cad whose intentions are anything but gallant.When Rose’s father discovers that his children have disgraced his name he turns them onto the street. Penniless, homeless and with the noose tightening, Rose must rescue her brother and keep her sister from the streets, even if it means putting herself in the most terrible danger . . .
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Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
The News Building
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2016
Copyright © Dilly Court 2016
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016
Cover photographs © Gordon Crabb (woman); City of London (background scene)
Dilly Court asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008137359
Ebook Edition © February 2016 ISBN: 9780008137366
Version: 2017-05-09
For my great-niece, Evie Marian Jane Atchison.
Cupid’s Court, Barbican, London 1875
‘Do hurry up, Cora. We’re on in a minute.’ Rose edged past her sister, bending almost double to avoid knocking the sequin-encrusted gowns off the pegs in their tiny dressing room, which in reality was little more than a cupboard.
Cora patted a stray curl in place, making a moue as she studied her reflection in the fly-spotted mirror. The atmosphere was thick with the smell of burning lamp oil and greasepaint, with wafts of cigar smoke seeping under the door, and the ever-present odour of stale beer and spirits permeated every inch of the saloon. She stood up, smoothing the tight-fitting bodice of the daringly low-cut gown with a satisfied smile. ‘I’m ready.’
Rose opened the door in answer to an urgent knock.
‘On stage, girls.’ Tommy Tinker, the boy who undertook all the odd jobs that no one else wanted to do, stuck his head into the room, eyeing the girls with a cheeky grin. ‘Very nice too, if I might be so bold.’
‘Little boys should be seen and not heard,’ Cora said with a haughty toss of her head as she squeezed past him.
‘Show a bit of respect for your elders, young Tinker.’ Rose paused in the doorway, fixing him with a stony stare until he blushed and dropped his gaze.
‘Sorry, Miss Sunshine,’ he muttered, making way for her by flattening himself against the whitewashed wall of what had once been a coal cellar. This small space now served as general store, as well as dressing rooms for the acts who performed in Fancello’s Saloon.
‘It’s Miss Perkins,’ Rose said mildly. ‘Sunshine is our stage name, Tinker.’
He frowned. ‘Best hurry, miss. The patrons are getting restless.’
Rose bundled up her full skirt as she negotiated the steep, narrow staircase, taking care to keep the satin from brushing against the damp walls. With Cora following close behind she arrived in the wings just in time to hear Fancello’s introduction.
‘Ladies and gentlemen.’ He raised his voice in order to make himself heard above the general hubbub in the bar room. ‘I am proud to present for your delectation … the delicious and delightful Sunshine Sisters.’ He clapped enthusiastically and his brother, Alphonso, downed the last of his pint and thundered out the intro on the piano.
Ignoring the continuous chatter, the occasional bursts of raucous laughter, and with the odd salacious remark tossed in for good measure by someone the worse for drink, Rose and Cora performed ‘Pretty Little Polly Perkins of Paddington Green’with appropriate actions, and then launched into their dance routine. This had the effect of largely silencing the rowdy element of their audience, as the men craned their necks in order to get a better view of ladies’ legs, and the occasional glimpse of a garter.
Rose and Cora left the small stage to a tumult of applause, and were called back for an encore, but Fancello intervened.
‘You have had sunshine brought into your lives, gentlemen. The young ladies must not be allowed to exhaust themselves, but they will perform again later in the evening.’ He joined the sisters in the wings. ‘Well done,’ he said, twirling his waxed moustache, a nervous habit that Rose had noted several times in the past. ‘We mustn’t spoil them – always leave the punters longing for more.’
