Rose Rivers Read online

  ‘Why don’t you sit on a chair, Beth? You’d be much more comfortable,’ I said. ‘Does Nurse Budd make you sit on the floor? Is it a punishment?’

  Beth didn’t reply, and Nurse Budd gave a false tinkly laugh.

  ‘The very idea, Miss Rose! I’d prefer Miss Beth to sit up nicely in her chair too, but she likes that corner. It’s her own little place.’

  ‘Own little place,’ Beth murmured to Marigold.

  ‘You’re like little Jack Horner in the nursery rhyme, Beth,’ I said, sitting down beside her.

  I chanted my way through it, and all the other nursery rhymes I could think of. She used to like to join in. I knew she was word perfect, but she didn’t even repeat the last word of each line. She simply held onto Marigold and rocked to and fro.

  I tried rocking too. It was surprisingly difficult to keep up, and it hurt my behind. I started to feel giddy, the room seeming to whirl around me. I wondered if that was why Beth rocked. She wanted to be in her own world, not ours.

  ‘Don’t mock the poor child, Miss Rose,’ said Nurse Budd.

  ‘I’m not mocking her! I’m trying to understand her,’ I retorted.

  ‘Understand!’ she said, sniffing. ‘She simply needs the right handling and a regular routine.’

  ‘I suppose she is quieter than she used to be,’ I said to Clover.

  ‘I don’t think children should be quiet,’ she replied. ‘I wish I was allowed to look after Beth. Still, Nurse lets me care for Phoebe now. She’s such a sweet baby. I do hope your mama has another baby soon.’

  ‘I don’t think Mama would care for that! And surely you don’t want to spend the rest of your life looking after babies!’ I said. ‘Papa showed me your drawing, Clover. It’s so good! Papa thinks you’ve got real talent. Perhaps you could be an artist one day. Don’t look like that, some women are. You’d be free to paint all day and keep company with other artists. You could even go to Paris if you wanted. Mr Walker says it’s a wonderful city.’

  ‘I don’t care what Mr Walker says. I don’t like him very much.’

  ‘You don’t really know him.’

  ‘I know the type,’ said Clover, sniffing.

  I felt irritated, but I kept my temper. ‘Anyway, in Paris you could stroll along the River Seine and drink wine at bars and stay up all night,’ I said.

  ‘I can stroll along the River Thames, but I would never drink wine because I’ve seen too many drunks in my life. I certainly wouldn’t want to stay up all night – I like my sleep,’ said Clover, being deliberately contrary.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, you don’t have to be so literal,’ I protested. ‘Don’t you have any ambition?’

  ‘I could have all the ambition in the world, but where would it get a girl like me, Miss Rose?’ she said.

  We were dangerously close to quarrelling again so I kept quiet. Of course she’s right. It’s much harder for a girl from a poor background to achieve anything in life. It’s much harder for any girl. Perhaps that’s why Mama won’t let me go to school. She wants to keep me in my place.

  I must be way behind Rupert now. Perhaps I could get him to tell me what he’s learned when he comes home for the Christmas holidays. We could pore over his textbooks together. I loved this idea!

  But when Rupert came home at last, he was appalled.

  ‘Give a chap a break, Rose!’ he said as we sat together on the window seat. ‘It’s rotten enough having to concentrate on all that stuff when I’m at school. I’m so sick of Latin and Greek and mathematics! That’s the last thing I want to think about now it’s the holidays.’

  ‘Well, what do you want to think about?’ I said. ‘Your dear friend Pamela, I suppose!’

  He went red.

  ‘You’re blushing!’

  ‘No I’m not. It’s just so hot and stuffy here at home. It’s freezing at school. We don’t have any heating in the classrooms, and the dorms are so cold you have to crack the ice in your water jug in the mornings. Look, I have chilblains!’ He waved his fingers at me.

  ‘Poor little rich boy,’ I said, mocking him. ‘That’s not a chilblain, that’s just a wart, and you’ve always had it. You’re blushing because of Pamela – and no wonder! You tell such lies about her. Imagine how she’d feel if she found out.’

  ‘I don’t talk about her any more.’

  ‘Don’t lie, Rupe. I can always tell when you’re lying.’

  ‘No you can’t, because I’m telling you God’s honest truth,’ he said. ‘Let’s change the subject because it’s becoming boring. Who’s the new little servant girl, the one with the amazing hair exploding out of her cap?’

  ‘She’s called Clover Moon,’ I said.

  ‘Where on earth did she spring from?’

  ‘Papa found her.’

  ‘What, she’s one of his little street children? I bet Mama had something to say about that!’ said Rupert.

  ‘She wasn’t pleased at first, you know what she’s like, but Clover’s wonderful with the children. Even Algie does as he’s told.’

  ‘Good Lord!’ said Rupert. ‘Maybe she’s bewitched him. She’s got the most astonishing green eyes, have you noticed?’

  ‘Of course I’ve noticed. She’s my friend,’ I said.

  ‘Your friend?’ said Rupert, raising his eyebrows.

  ‘Yes. She’s the dearest, kindest, most talented girl, even though she comes from some awful slum and has led a terrible life. Don’t you dare mock, Rupe,’ I said fiercely.

  ‘I’m not mocking. As a matter of fact I’ve got a friend who’s a servant too, this chap Jack.’

  ‘Jack Boots?’

  ‘No, not our Jack! This is someone at school, one of the gardener’s boys. Kilbourne has massive grounds, and I like to wander around them. I came across this chap cutting back the brambles and we got chatting. He’s good fun. His father’s a boxer, one of those fairground chaps. Jack’s teaching me to box too.’ Rupert clenched his fist and punched me lightly. ‘Apparently women box at the fairs too. There’s an interesting job for you, Rose! And a way of letting out all your aggression.’

  ‘Oh, very funny,’ I said. I was intrigued by this new friendship, though I knew that Rupert had never been a snob. ‘Are your friends learning to box too?’

  ‘I don’t hang around with those chaps any more, actually. They’ve started to get on my nerves.’

  ‘That’s a shame. Mama’s desperate for you to invite some of your school chums to tea over Christmas.’

  ‘Is she? Well, I’ll invite Jack, that’ll show her,’ said Rupert. ‘He’s actually a capital chap, Rose. I wish I could invite him.’

  ‘I wish you could too. But, seriously, Mama’s really keen to meet your school friends, the ones you write about in your letters.’

  ‘I write any old tosh in those letters. As a matter of fact I don’t have any particular friends at the moment.’ Rupert yawned and stretched as if the whole subject bored him, and then started talking about his eccentric mathematics teacher. I was interested, and longed to ask Rupert more about the subject, because I only knew the most basic arithmetic, but I was worried by his hasty change of subject.

  ‘What do you mean, you haven’t got any particular friends?’ I asked.

  Rupert always had friends. Everyone vied to befriend him. He was the most popular boy wherever he went.

  He shrugged.

  ‘You mean you’re friends with everyone?’

  ‘No, the exact opposite. I’m friends with no one. Or, to be precise, no one is friends with me.’

  ‘What about Hardy and Martin?’

  Rupert shrugged. ‘They can’t stand me. They all despise me now. Don’t look so devastated! I have my new pal Jack if I want company.’ He was trying to pretend he didn’t care, but I saw that he was near tears.

  I reached out and took his hand. He gripped mine back tightly. I tried to think of the right thing to say – but then Algie and Clarrie came clattering down the stairs to spend their token time with Mama in the drawing room.