ROSIE, ON REACHING THE GOLDEN LION, WAS surprised to find her family sitting outside. The wicker hampers had been put in a shed behind the small stage, but they were surrounded by their personal luggage. A sense of gloom hung over them. Even Pa Pringle had a despondent air about him, but he stood up to give Rosie a hug. “There you are, beloved daughter mine! I was beginning to fear you were lost – lost in the cold and unfeeling wilderness that is Uncaster!”

Aunt Mags sniffed. “I’d call it plain unfriendly.”

Gertie and Vinnie nodded their agreement; Charlie made a face at his sister. “They don’t want us staying at The Golden Lion. We’ve got to find somewhere else, and it’s all because we’re not called the ‘Pringle Players’ any more.”

“Ridiculous!” Gertie folded her arms. “If we didn’t need the work, I’d have given that stupid landlord a piece of my mind.”

“So here we are.” Pa threw out his arms to embrace the cruel world. “Homeless upon a blasted heath. ‘Blow, winds, and crack—’ ”

“But we can stay here!” Rosie was struggling to pull Arabella’s card out of her pocket. “Look! I met a girl and she gave me this – and she said ‘theatricals preferred’!”

There was a stunned silence before Pa picked Rosie up and swung her round in triumph. “Behold our saviour!”

The Noble Hero studied the card with interest. “Fancy writing,” he said approvingly. “And a hall, too!”

Pa put Rosie down. “A hall? What kind of hall? Music? Church? Village? You get terrible draughts in a village hall… My rheumatics can’t cope.”

“Uncaster Hall,” Vinnie said. “Look!”

“That’ll be pricey,” Aunt Mags declared. “Bound to be. Can’t think why they’d want us.”

“But they do,” Rosie said. “And the girl I met – she wasn’t at all smart! She was nice and ordinary, and she had smuts all over her face.”

“Hmmm…” Pa considered. “Well … I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to go and have a look.”

Vinnie picked up a bag. “And we can’t sit here all night.”

And so it was agreed – the Steam Whistle Theatre Company picked up their belongings and set off. Stopping at the Post Office to ask the way, they were encouraged to see another card tucked in the window and Mr Tramways was happy to give them directions. “Straight down to the end of the street,” he told them. “Big rusty gates … seen better days. You can’t miss it.”

Pa Pringle bowed. “Thank you, dear Sir. And may I invite you to visit us at The Golden Lion? I can promise you an edifying evening with the works of the noble Bard!”

Mr Tramways scratched his whiskery chin. “Don’t know as I hold with the nobility,” he said. “That Honourable Henry – he was good for nothing but debts, that’s why his poor lady’s taking in lodgers. No… Count me out on that one.”

Seeing Pa struggle with this remark, Aunt Mags took his arm. “We’d best be on our way. Thank you for your help. Come along, Fred!”

It wasn’t long before the gates of Uncaster Hall came into view. Aunt Mags was heartened by their dilapidated state and revised her gloomy expectations of an extortionate rent. She was even more pleased to discover that the Hall was not the enormous building she had expected. “Not much more than a big house,” she said, and counted the windows. “Hmmm. Eight bedrooms at most, I’d say. Wouldn’t be much to talk about in London and that’s the truth.”

Charlie and Rosie ran ahead and hopped their way up and down the stone steps, before going back to bang on the knocker. Edie opened the door, and when she saw Rosie her face lit up. “Oh! It’s you! I’m ever so glad. Is this your family?”

Pa stepped forward, but Aunt Mags, feeling she had had quite enough of her brother playing the grand impresario, pushed her way in front. “Good evening, my dear. We’re looking for lodgings for three or four weeks … would that be possible, do you think?”

Edie’s smile was ecstatic. “Six of you? Oh YES! Come in, I’ll run and fetch my lady.” Then, remembering her own advice, she put on a serious expression. “Terms to be arranged, of course.” With another quick smile at Rosie, she ran off down the corridor to find Arabella.

“Ooooh! I can smell roast chicken!” Charlie was sniffing the air and rubbing his stomach. Rosie, who hadn’t thought about food since leaving London, suddenly realised how very hungry she was.

“Do we get food as well as beds?” she asked hopefully.

Aunt Mags shrugged. “Depends on the terms,” she said.

The Canary of Covent Garden was also hungry. “I say we ask for full board,” she said. “Works out easier in the long run. What do you think, Vinnie?”

Vinnie nodded. “Sounds sensible to me. Hey! Is that our landlady?” He patted his hair into place and gazed admiringly at Arabella as she came swooping towards them, followed by Edie.

Pa elbowed Aunt Mags aside, and made his most theatrical bow. “May I present myself and my humble company, Madam: the Steam Whistle Theatre Company. Honoured to be here, in your illustrious home.”

“Thank you.” Arabella dropped such a gracious curtsey that Rosie made a mental note to copy it at the first opportunity. “You’re very welcome.”

Behind her, Edie hissed, “Terms, Ma’am! Ask them what they’re thinking of paying!”

“Oh … yes. Of course.” Arabella blushed. Discussing money was something she had seldom had to do before; she gave Edie an agonized look. “Edie, dear – perhaps you could…”

Edie, recognizing Aunt Mags as the financial brains of the party, turned to her. “What was you thinking of paying, Miss? We’ve got three rooms ready, if the little ’uns don’t mind sharing. And would you be wanting full board, ’cos that’s extra – but we ain’t as grand as we look. It’ll be plain enough.”

Aunt Mags considered. There was a steely look in Edie’s eyes that she couldn’t help but admire, but she was used to bargaining and relished a good fight. “We couldn’t possibly pay more than a shilling a week,” she declared.

Arabella looked baffled: was this good? It didn’t sound very much. But Edie, who had anticipated a low offer, saw her opportunity. “A shilling, Miss? You mean a shilling a week per room? And you’ll be wanting three rooms? That’ll be three shillings a week, and another three for board. Six shillings a week, Miss, all in.”

Aunt Mags, who thought anything over four shillings a week for full board was daylight robbery, bristled – but before she could make a counter offer, she was undermined by Pa. He bowed again to Arabella before striking the bent and shaking pose of an ancient man. “ ‘If money go before, all ways do lie open.’ Polonius spoke well: wise, wise words indeed. Madam, we are indebted to you for your generosity.”

Aunt Mags was forced to contain her silent fury as Pa placed six silver shillings in Edie’s small and dirty hand; six shillings that Aunt Mags knew left them with nothing but a few half-pennies.

“Ta ever so,” Edie said, as she transferred the money to her pocket. “And now I’d best run, or the chicken’ll be burnt to a cinder!”

As she disappeared, Arabella smiled at Pa. “Do please follow me to the drawing room,” she said. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

Aunt Mags, still resenting the six shillings, coughed loudly. “I’d like to see the rooms first, if you don’t mind. I need to check them out, make sure they’re worth it.”

Arabella was unfazed by this rudeness. “Of course,” she said. “That was thoughtless of me!” And she led the way up the wide oak staircase. The Steam Whistle Theatre Company trailed after her, Aunt Mags looking suspiciously at the holes in the carpet. “Watch out for damp!” she hissed at Gertie. “These old places … bound to have a leaking roof!”

There were, however, no leaks. The bed hangings and furniture were old and well worn, but the rooms were spacious. Rosie was delighted to find a large four poster bed with heavy velvet drapes.

“It’s just like a little theatre! I love it!” she said. Even the thought of Aunt Mags snoring on the other side of the bolster wasn’t a depressant: she and Charlie, who had a truckle bed in the corner, unpacked their belongings with enthusiasm.

“I like it too,” Charlie agreed. “Are you ready? I’m starving!”

Hurrying downstairs, it took them a moment or two to locate the kitchen. Edie, after consultation with Arabella, had decided it would be easier all round if the grand dining room was abandoned and the kitchen became the centre of activities.

“We ain’t got too much coal left,” she explained, “and without a fire, that there dining room is as chilly as my grandma’s grave. The kitchen’s nice and cozy, though.”

Arabella, well aware that the coal merchant’s bill was sitting unpaid on the table in her room, was happy to agree. When Pa Pringle appeared, she asked if he would be kind enough to sit at the head of the table and wield the carving knife. Pa, delighted at this patrician role, agreed with enthusiasm.

“ ‘Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon.’ ” He gave gusty sigh. “How wonderful is William!”

“William?” Arabella looked puzzled and Aunt Mags, who had taken it upon herself to hand round the vegetables, shook her head.

“He means Shakespeare,” she explained. “I’m afraid you’ll hear a lot of that.”

Arabella smiled. “Oh, of course! How silly of me. I’m very fond of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, myself.”

Rosie kicked Charlie under the table. Puck was a role that he hated, but was forced to play; it was almost inevitable that Pa would ask him to recite for Arabella’s benefit.

Fortunately, Edie came staggering in with a huge dish of boiled potatoes and Charlie was spared. “I’m ever so sorry, folks,” she said. “I’ve done extra spuds, but there ain’t nothing more after this.” She looked at Arabella. “Did you tell them we’re pretty nearly bust, Ma’am?” She dumped the potatoes on the table with a crash. “Ain’t no use pretending otherwise.”

Aunt Mags looked pleased rather than disappointed. “We’re used to plain food.” And then, scenting the possibility of a late victory, she rose from her chair. “Supposing we help with the chores? Gertie’s a dab hand at bread and pastry, aren’t you, Gertie? Of course we’d expect a small reduction in the rent. Suppose we pay four shillings a week, all in?”

Edie’s snort was worthy of Aunt Mags herself. “Couldn’t do it for less than five and six, Miss.”

“Five, and that’s my last word.” Aunt Mags folded her arms.

For the first time Edie’s gaze wavered. “Oh, Miss … I’m so sorry, but we really needs the money as well as the help. There’s all the sheets and undies to wash, you see, as well as putting food on the table and saving a little bit for bills, and there’s only me to do it…” She pushed a wisp of hair away. “But if that’s your last offer…”

Aunt Mags, who had never yet let a landlady get the better of her, looked at Edie’s peaky little face for a long moment. Charlie and Rosie held their breath.

“We’ll pay the six shillings,” she said gruffly. “And we’ll help with the chores. And the washing.”

“Cor blimey!” Edie was glowing. “Thanks ever so much, Miss! I’ll remember this, swear to God and hope to die! You’re a good ’un, Miss, and no mistake. Anything I can ever do for you, just you ask – as the magpie said to the cheesemonger.”

It wasn’t often that anyone paid Aunt Mags a compliment. She gave Edie an embarrassed nod and cleared her throat. “Yes. Well. Thank you … ahem. Isn’t it time we sat down to eat this splendid meal? And when we’ve finished—” she turned to Charlie— “why don’t we send you and Rosie out to have a look round? See how busy The Golden Lion is in the evenings.”

Arabella had been listening to Edie bargaining with Aunt Mags with astonished admiration. She leant forward with a suggestion: “Why don’t you take Edie with you? She’s been working non-stop all day.”

Charlie and Rosie agreed with enthusiasm, but Edie hesitated. “There’s going to be an awful lot of dishes to clear and wash, Ma’am.”

Aunt Mags looked noble. “A woman’s work is never done! Gertie and I can see to the dishes, can’t we, Gertie?”

When Gertie nodded, Edie dropped her a curtsey. “Thank you, Miss! Thank you, Ma’am! Thanks EVER so much!”

Twenty minutes later the three children bounced down the steps of Uncaster Hall, delighted to be out in the evening air.