Rose Rivers Read online

  ‘Are you scared of Nurse Budd, Rose?’

  ‘Not exactly. I’m wary of her.’

  ‘Do you think Beth is scared of her?’

  It was so difficult to work out what was going on in Beth’s head. She seemed scared of everybody.

  I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Anyway, I’m not scared of her, so let us introduce Beth to her new doll right this minute,’ said Papa.

  We went up the stairs to the second floor. There were whispers and giggles coming from the children’s night nursery, and the soft sound of Nurse soothing Phoebe. There was only silence coming from the green guest room.

  Papa had said he wasn’t the slightest bit afraid of Nurse Budd, but he hesitated outside the door and took a deep breath before he knocked. There was a long pause and then we heard footsteps. The door opened a crack.

  ‘What is it now?’ Nurse Budd hissed at me – and then saw Papa by my side. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize you were there. Is it urgent? I don’t really want Miss Beth disturbed.’

  ‘Is she asleep?’ Papa asked.

  ‘Resting, sir,’ Nurse Budd said firmly.

  We heard regular tapping noises behind her. Beth often rocked herself to and fro in bed, so that the headboard banged against the wall.

  ‘Beth?’ I called hopefully.

  ‘Ssh! Don’t agitate her, dear.’

  ‘Come, Nurse Budd, Beth enjoys seeing her sister. And we have a surprise for her,’ said Papa, indicating the doll.

  ‘I don’t think children like dear little Miss Beth cope well with surprises, sir,’ said Nurse Budd, but she let us in.

  Beth was in bed, rocking, wide awake. She looked pale in the dim lamplight, but her eyes were bright and she made soft humming noises that sounded welcoming.

  ‘Hello, my little humming bird,’ said Papa. ‘Rose and I have brought you a new friend. Do you like her? I was told at the doll-maker’s that her name is Marigold. Say how do you do.’ He held Marigold out towards Beth. The doll’s arms were outstretched, as if she were greeting her. Beth hunched up small, looking uncertain, but when Papa balanced Marigold at the end of her bed she propped herself up on one elbow to look at her.

  ‘How do you do?’ she whispered.

  ‘That’s right, my darling. How very polite of you,’ Papa said.

  I took Marigold and made her give Beth a little bob. ‘How do you do, Beth?’ I said, in a squeaky little doll voice. ‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance. May I come and live with you? I hear you’re missing Marianne.’

  ‘Marianne?’ said Beth.

  ‘I’ve taken poor Marianne to a special doll’s hospital. They’ve promised me they will make her as right as rain. Meanwhile you have Marigold to keep you company. I’m sure Marianne will get on splendidly with her when she comes home,’ said Papa.

  ‘Oh, sir, what a lovely dolly!’ said Nurse Budd.

  ‘What a lovely dolly,’ said Beth, and she took Marigold and hugged her hard.

  ‘Careful now. You don’t want to crush her pretty silk dress, do you, dear,’ said Nurse Budd.

  ‘She may crush it all she pleases,’ said Papa. ‘Marigold isn’t going to be one of those only-for-best dolls, and kept in a cupboard. Beth may play with her all she likes, and undress her and tangle her hair and let her paddle in the bathtub for all I care. She can sleep in Beth’s arms all night long and keep her company at all times. Is that clear?’ He said this pleasantly, but there was a firmness about his tone.

  ‘Yes, sir. Certainly, sir,’ said Nurse Budd.

  ‘Then we will leave you both in peace. Come along, Rose. Kiss your sister goodnight,’ said Papa.

  I bent over Beth and very lightly kissed her soft cheek. She smelled of warm little girl and laundered nightgown.

  ‘Night, Beth,’ I whispered.

  Beth held Marigold up so that I could kiss her too.

  ‘Goodnight, my darling,’ said Papa. ‘Goodnight, Nurse Budd.’

  ‘Goodnight, sir. Goodnight, Miss Rose,’ said Nurse Budd.

  When we were out on the landing, Papa gave me a big hug. ‘There now! Marigold has worked wonders,’ he said. ‘I think she’s made Beth happy, don’t you?’

  ‘Definitely, Papa.’

  ‘So how can I make you happy, Rose?’

  ‘Promise you’ll thwart Mama’s plans for me to go riding with the Feynsham-Joneses?’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ said Papa.

  PAPA’S BEST WASN’T good enough. Mama called on Mrs Feynsham-Jones. I expect she said I was gauche and friendless and asked if her daughters might take pity on me. I burned at the thought. I imagined the Feynsham-Jones girls protesting:

  ‘Oh, Mama, do we have to take Rose riding with us?’

  ‘She’s pathetic, Mama, so strange, with no idea how to make proper conversation.’

  ‘She won’t be any good at riding, Mama. Imagine, she’s never even been on a horse. We’ve all been riding since we were tots.’

  But it’s all fixed. I have a riding lesson at four on Saturday afternoon. Mr Hodgson was told to accompany me to the Feynsham-Joneses’ at half past three so that I could borrow a riding skirt.

  I felt sick with dread after lunch. I sat on the window seat trying to distract myself by sketching the stuffed peacock perched on the newel post at the bottom of the staircase. I was aware of howling upstairs. Perhaps Nurse Budd’s training wasn’t quite as effective as she boasted.

  Then Algie came charging down the stairs and snatched my sketchbook before I knew what was happening.

  ‘Silly old book! Silly old Rose. Silly old Nurse! Pooh to the lot of you!’ Algie yelled, and ran away before I could catch him.

  Nurse came puffing down the stairs in pursuit, wielding a hairbrush. ‘That little varmint!’ she panted. ‘Just wait till I catch him! You should see what he’s done to poor Miss Clarrie! She said she wished she looked like Snow White, with hair as black as ebony, so Algie tipped a tin of black treacle over her head! Can you imagine! It will take me all day to wash it out. Poor Clarrie is in floods of tears in the bath but Algie isn’t the slightest bit sorry. He just doubled up laughing. I’ll give him a laugh!’ She brandished the hairbrush.

  I’ve had several encounters with the bristle end in the past. No wonder Algie was running. He dived down the hall, along the passageway and through the green baize door to the servants’ quarters.

  Nurse slowed down, panting, clutching her side. ‘I’ve got such a stitch!’ she said.

  I knew she was reluctant to go barging into Cook’s territory. They’ve been working here since I was born and are officially great friends, but they are both hot-tempered women and have frequent fallings-out. Last week there was a very fierce argument after Nurse complained that the nursery blancmange was lumpy. They haven’t spoken since.

  ‘I’ll go and find him for you,’ I offered.

  Nurse nodded gratefully. We could hear Phoebe starting to wail, accompanying Clarrie’s dismal bellowing. Nurse trudged back up the main stairs. Mama happened to be coming down in her afternoon frock and frowned. Nurse tried to flatten herself against the wall.

  ‘Really, Nurse!’ Mama scolded. ‘Please use the servants’ stairs unless you are accompanying the children.’

  ‘Yes, madam,’ Nurse murmured. ‘I’m sorry, madam.’

  It was painful seeing Mama tick her off as if she were a chit of a girl instead of an old lady. I thought about trying to explain the circumstances to Mama, but I knew she wouldn’t listen. I sidled away because I knew that Nurse would hate to lose face in front of me.

  I went into the servants’ quarters. Jack was squatting on the floor, his hands in a pair of boots, idly marching them up and down the stone flags. He jumped when he saw me and did his best to squeeze himself into a dark corner.

  ‘Mr Hodgson says I don’t have to let you do that sketching thing again, not if I don’t want to,’ he said huskily.

  ‘Don’t you be cheeky, lad,’ said Mr Hodgson, giving him a cuff,