Rose decided to take Miss Friendly with her, Daisy having suddenly and vehemently refused to go.

Daisy said she didn’t want to run into old acquaintances. It wasn’t because she had become too grand, it was because they’d make a mockery of her while demanding money at the same time.

So Rose set off the following morning, Matthew having arranged her visit with the vicar.

The lady running the soup kitchen was a Mrs Harrison, whom Rose remembered from her suffragette meetings. She was a thickset middle-class woman with a no-nonsense air.

She supplied Rose and Miss Friendly with long aprons to protect their clothes and told them to supply their own next time.

Rose had not been prepared for the rank smell of so many diseased and unwashed bodies. But she smiled and ladled soup into bowls while Miss Friendly handed out chunks of bread. Her beauty was appreciated by the poor. She smiled at each and said a few words of comfort. One old Cockney was particularly grateful. ‘The Good Lord sent you, missus,’ he said. ‘I saw the light in prison, I did. Chaplain says God would take care of me. You is an instrument of the Lord.’

He moved on. Rose’s feet began to ache. ‘How long do we have to stay here?’ she whispered to Miss Friendly.

‘Another hour,’ murmured Miss Friendly. ‘So many hungry people.’

At last it was over. Rose felt a glow of achievement as she was driven off. She had promised to return on the following day.

Her scalp became increasingly itchy as the day wore on. She rang for her lady’s maid. ‘Turner, would you see if I have a rash on my scalp?’

Turner took the bone pins and pads out of Rose’s elaborate hair-style and brushed out her long hair.

‘My lady, you have lice!’

‘Lice!’

‘Head lice. I will fetch a tooth comb and disinfectant.’

Rose spent an agonizing hour bent over a sheet of white paper while Turner combed out the lice with a toothcomb soaked in disinfectant. Then her hair was washed several times.

Rose remembered that Mrs Harrison’s hair had been bound up in a tight turban. She could only be glad that she was free of social engagements that evening. What if all the lice had not been discovered and some fell on the captain!

When she went to sleep that night, she dreamt she was floating down the river in the rowing-boat with Dolly. ‘You’ve missed something. It’s right under your nose,’ said Dolly. Rose awoke with a start. Someone had said something or done something recently that was important. She racked her brain, but could not think what it was.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A man cannot be too careful in the choice of
his enemies.

Oscar Wilde

Harry visited Kerridge the next day. ‘Did you ever interview Lord Berrow?’ he asked.

‘Yes, but got nothing but the usual bluster out of him.’

‘He is a nasty, brutal man. Maybe he knew Dolly was going to run away. I really feel you should interview him again. I’ll come with you. He’ll still be at his town house.’