Rose Rivers Read online

  They didn’t manage this either. Mary-Jane waved her arms limply, and Jack ran very slowly, as if through treacle. Then they both stopped in exaggerated poses, as if playing Statues.

  ‘Oh goodness, children, this isn’t working,’ I said despairingly.

  ‘We aren’t children, miss,’ said Jack, offended.

  ‘We’re ser-vants,’ said Mary-Jane, enunciating slowly to try to make me understand.

  ‘But you’re children too! That’s what’s so queer about it. Don’t you mind working for us?’ I asked. ‘Wouldn’t you like a different sort of life?’

  They gave each other a quick glance and then looked back at me warily.

  ‘You’re not going to dismiss us, are you, miss? Because I ain’t got nowhere else to go, and Mr Hodgson says I’m a good lad and I buff up the boots so’s I can see my face in them,’ Jack insisted.

  ‘Well, Cook sometimes calls me a bad girl and I knows I’m a bit careless, but I’m learning, honest I am, and I’ve got a home to go to but I can’t go back because Ma says I’ve got to earn my own living, and she’ll wallop me if I get dismissed,’ said Mary-Jane, starting to cry.

  ‘Oh, please don’t get so upset! Of course you’re not being dismissed! I promise you I just want to draw you, and maybe get to know you a bit better. To be a kind friend to you,’ I said earnestly. ‘Look, I tell you what. If you’ll let me sketch you for half an hour, I’ll pay you. Like wages. Would that make it easier for you?’

  ‘Pay us how much, miss?’ Jack asked.

  I calculated. I wasn’t very good at saving pocket money, but I reckoned my piggy-bank pennies might add up to half a crown.

  ‘How about a shilling each?’ I suggested. I was worried that it wasn’t enough, but Jack and Mary-Jane looked dumbstruck at the thought of such riches.

  ‘Right, miss. It’s a deal. You can draw us any way you want. Stand up, Mary-Jane, and close your mouth – you look gormless,’ said Jack.

  ‘Don’t you lord it over me, Jack Boots. I bin here longer than you,’ said Mary-Jane, giving him a push.

  At last they’d started behaving like real children, squabbling like Algie and Clarrie. They still weren’t posing properly, but I managed to do a rough outline. As I drew, I asked them questions, trying to find out more about them. They were more confiding now because they’d started to trust me. Or maybe they were spurred on by the thought of the shilling.

  I was taken aback by what they’d said. I’d had no idea what their life was like. I’d vaguely understood that they came from poor backgrounds but hadn’t imagined any of the grim details. Jack didn’t know who his family were or even his exact age.

  ‘They said my ma came knocking at the workhouse when she was expecting me, see. And then she had me but she was frail and she died. So I was brought up in the workhouse nursery,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, Jack, how sad!’ I said. ‘You must miss your mother so much.’

  He gave me a sideways look. ‘Well, I didn’t know her, did I?’

  ‘And what about your father? Did he come and visit you?’

  ‘Ain’t got a father, not that I know of. There’s just me,’ said Jack.

  ‘So who looked after you in the workhouse?’ I asked.

  ‘No one much. We had to fend for ourselves,’ he said. ‘If you didn’t gobble your grub the second it was put in front of you, some other pig stole it. If you didn’t sidle out the way of the matrons quick, they strapped you just for the fun of it.’

  ‘And did they get really angry if you asked for more gruel?’ I asked. I’d read Oliver Twist and wept.

  ‘You’d have to be a fool to ask for more. It was always burned and tasted blimming horrible,’ said Jack.

  ‘Ssh, you shouldn’t say that word in front of Miss,’ said Mary-Jane primly.

  ‘So what about you, Mary-Jane? You grew up with a proper family, didn’t you?’

  She told me a few bare facts about them. They didn’t sound proper at all.

  ‘There’s eleven of us – well, nine now, because Johnnie got trampled by a horse and Maisie ran off and Ma says she’s gone to the bad,’ Mary-Jane said. ‘Maisie used to help look after the little ones, but now it’s our Jen’s job. I haven’t got a proper job at home, so when Ma heard from her pal who’s Cook’s sister that she was wanting a kitchen maid to train up, Ma said I had to go for it.’

  My head was reeling as I compared their lives with mine. I was often sorry for myself and felt my life was unfair. How would I have coped with Jack’s life or Mary-Jane’s?

  ‘I can see you’ve both had a very hard start. But it’s better for you now, isn’t it? I mean, you have good food to eat and you’re well cared for,’ I said. My voice reminded me of someone. Oh dear Lord, it was Mama.

  ‘You’re both happy here, aren’t you?’ I added pleadingly.

  I wanted them to reassure me that they were very happy, that this was a good home and Mama and Papa were kind employers, but they were looking at me dumbly.

  ‘Happy, miss?’ Jack said at last.

  ‘Don’t rightly know what to say, miss,’ said Mary-Jane.

  I tried to pretend that they simply couldn’t express themselves properly, but I knew this was nonsense. I wanted to think that they liked being servants. But of course they weren’t happy working all day long with no love and no play. Try as I might, I could never be their friend because I was the daughter of the house and they were the servants, and it didn’t matter a hoot to anyone that we were all children.

  PAPA CAME HOME late, when we were halfway through dinner. Now that I’ve turned thirteen I am allowed to join the grown-ups, but it’s not much fun without Rupert. Mama complains and Papa pacifies and I spoon my soup, and Mr Hodgson and Edie wait on us and say nothing.

  I’d sooner be back in the hurly-burly of the nursery, with Sebastian hiding morsels of food in his pocket for Montmorency, and Algie encouraging his toy soldier to climb the Everest of his mashed potato, and Clarrie hiding crusts under her plate. And of course Phoebe has joined us now, which is a delight, though it’s not advisable to sit too near her, as rusks and bottles are hurled without warning.

  I asked Mama whether I could have my meals in the nursery again so that I could help Nurse with Phoebe. It sounded a sensible and sisterly suggestion, but Mama wouldn’t hear of it.

  ‘You’re not a nurserymaid, Rose! It’s time you learned how to be a young lady,’ she said.

  So I have to change for dinner, which is an awful bore. Mama thinks it’s time to have a couple of grown-up dresses made for me. They will have tight waists, and that will mean a dreaded corset.

  ‘I can’t wear such an awful garment. I wouldn’t even be able to lace it up,’ I protested.

  ‘I will ask Edie to help you,’ said Mama.

  I hated that idea. I can’t bear the idea of her seeing me in my chemise and drawers. She is always so superior. She makes me feel less guilty about having servants because she acts in such a condescending manner and is never remotely servile, even with Mama.

  Mama and I bickered over my clothes while we sipped Brown Windsor soup, and when we were served our cutlets Mama started talking about riding lessons. She said she was going to call on Mrs Feynsham-Jones to discuss the matter, though I begged her not to.

  As soon as Papa appeared in the dining room, hastily thrusting his arms into his velvet jacket, I appealed to him.

  ‘There you are at last, Papa! Mama is desperate for me to go riding with those terrible Feynsham-Jones girls and I can’t bear the idea,’ I cried.

  ‘Rose! Let your father sit down and eat before you start plaguing him. Though why you are so late I cannot understand, Edward. It’s not very considerate, either to me or to the servants,’ Mama whined.

  ‘I am sorry, my dear. I’ve been rushing around all over London. My dear novelist friend Sarah Smith told me about a special hospital, so I bundled Marianne up in a shawl and carried her all the way there. I spent the rest of the afternoon on a shopping quest, but it took longer than I�