Rags to RICHES

Thrilled to be given a break, Rosie discovered that not everyone was happy for her

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Still no sign of Bella then?' asked Lawrence, raising an eyebrow.

It had been three days since Bella Lewis had issued her ultimatum – 'Either she goes or I do.' Bella wasn't even prepared to use Rosie's name, possibly because it might be construed as giving her billing.

Now Rosie's pretty, round face, surrounded by tresses of fiery red hair, looked decidedly glum as she replied to Lawrence. 'Nothing – and we've got a show tonight. Maybe I should leave and let Bella have her way. At least then my mother will start talking to me again.'

'Still not saying anything because you accepted the job at the music hall?' asked Lawrence sympathetically.

Rosie shook her head. 'Refusing to speak to me is quite a strain on her, actually. When she wants me to peel some spuds or help with the washing, she has to stare hard at whatever it is, and hope I'll understand. Ernie Clarke should put her on the stage as a mime act.'

Lawrence laughed. 'Oh, Rosie! With a voice like yours, and your comic outlook on life, you've got "star" written all over you.'

'I better go and wash then,' joked Rosie, feeling so much better for the chat.

They were meeting in the park, on the bench right in front of the magnificent bandstand – constructed of white wrought-iron twisted and shaped into lace-like curlicues. The fluted roof culminated in a stunning gilded pinnacle.

As it was a Saturday afternoon, a brass band was playing. Eye-catching in their charcoal and gold uniforms, they were also toe-tappingly tuneful in their rendition of popular military airs.

Rosie sneaked a sidelong glance at Lawrence. He was certainly handsome in his expensive olive velvet jacket and breeches. He refused to wear a top hat, but that meant she could admire his dark hair, which was parted neatly down the middle.