Rose Rivers Read online

  I know that Beth can read, but she is not generally allowed books because she tore pages out of a valuable collection of Tennyson’s poems with Pre-Raphaelite illustrations. She’s not allowed to write either, ever since she threw a bottle of ink and ruined the old Persian rug.

  It must be so boring to be Beth. No wonder she is attached to her dolls. I’m so pleased that she likes her new doll so much.

  Pamela must have seen my face soften. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, sounding genuine. ‘I didn’t realize. I’ve never seen your sister Beth. I’ve just heard silly rumours, that’s all. I think she must be your favourite sister …’

  ‘Yes, she is very dear to me,’ I said.

  I wondered if I dared take Pamela to meet Beth. I have to admit that Beth has been much calmer since Nurse Budd joined the household. However, she still finds it disturbing to meet new people. I decided not to risk it.

  ‘Do you have a favourite brother?’ Pamela asked.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ I said, looking her straight in the eye. ‘My brother Rupert. I dare say you know he is away at school at the moment.’

  She went a little pink, but stared back at me serenely. ‘Yes, at Kilbourne. It’s a very good school. My papa went there.’

  ‘Mine did too,’ I said.

  ‘Rupert sounds as if he’s settling in well, doesn’t he?’

  I swallowed. ‘Yes, he does.’

  ‘Did he tell you about the trick they played on Jenkins Minor?’ Pamela asked. ‘Those boys!’

  ‘What trick?’ I asked, in agony.

  ‘Didn’t he tell you about it? It was in his first letter to me.’

  First letter. So there have been at least two. Maybe more.

  ‘You don’t mind that Rupert writes to me too, do you?’ Pamela asked.

  ‘Of course not,’ I muttered. ‘Though I didn’t realize you were such good friends.’

  Pamela smiled. ‘Well, we only became close this summer. We met by chance in the High Street. Rupert was taking a stroll while Mama and my sisters and I were shopping in the arcade, so we invited him to have an ice cream at the little Italian parlour. Then we met up at the Serpentine – and of course there was that trip Rupert and I took on the Kensington omnibus. It was such a hoot, though I didn’t dare tell Mama! Did Rupert mention it?’

  ‘I believe he said something about it,’ I bluffed. I was stunned. Rupert had been seeing Pamela all summer, and he’d never said a word to me about it.

  I’d been puzzled when he sometimes went off for a stroll by himself. He had seemed a little moody and distant, but I thought he was probably just worrying about going to school.

  It was difficult to hide my hurt from Pamela, especially when she put her arm round me again.

  ‘Dear Rose,’ she said. ‘I do hope we can become good friends too.’

  I’m never, ever going to be any kind of friends with Pamela Feynsham-Jones. Rupert is still my brother, but he’s no longer my best friend. He has betrayed me. I will never get over it.

  I HAVE CHANGED my mind. I couldn’t give two pins about Rupert and his pash on Pamela Feynsham-Jones.

  I have a pash myself.

  Mr Walker came calling last Thursday! I was on the window seat, reading, when I heard the front doorbell jangle. I assumed it would be someone calling on Mama. I tucked up my feet and huddled behind the velvet curtain, not wanting to be seen. I feared it might be the Feynsham-Joneses.

  Edie went flouncing to the door, her freshly starched white apron crackling. ‘Yes, sir?’ she said, sounding a little surprised.

  I heard someone announcing themselves. I wasn’t sure who it could be. Edie didn’t sound as if she knew him. She ushered him into the hall, but no further.

  ‘Please wait here a moment, sir. I’ll see if the mistress is at home,’ she said.

  ‘Very well – though it’s actually your master I’ve come to see,’ he replied.

  I thought I recognized that voice. I slid off the window seat and peered down the stairwell. Yes, it was Paris Walker! He saw me peeping and waved up at me.

  ‘Hello!’ he said.

  ‘I’m Rose,’ I said shyly. ‘We met before at the hotel.’

  ‘Of course we did. You’re Miss Rose Rivers, the artist. Are you at home, Miss Rivers? I have come calling on you specially.’ He swept me a very grand bow.

  ‘How delightful,’ I said, joining in the game by curtsying.

  ‘And I dare say I’d better have a word or two with your dear father while I’m at it. Is he in his studio?’

  ‘I expect so,’ I said.

  ‘Then shall I simply scoot upstairs without bothering your maid any further?’ he said. ‘You’ll show me the way, won’t you, Miss Rivers?’

  ‘Of course I will,’ I said. ‘This way.’

  But he’d only climbed three steps when Edie came scurrying back.

  ‘Sir! Come back! What are you doing?’ she demanded.

  ‘I said Mr Walker could come upstairs, Edie,’ I said.

  ‘Have you taken leave of your senses, Miss Rose?’ she said. ‘Please come down this minute, sir, or I’ll be forced to call Mr Hodgson. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave. Mrs Rivers is not at home today – and we don’t recognize your name as an acquaintance.’

  ‘Oh my Lord,’ said Mr Walker, shrugging his shoulders and pulling a face at me. ‘I’d better go then, Miss Rivers.’

  ‘No! Please stay! This is all a stupid mistake. How could you treat our guest like this, Edie!’

  Though perhaps it wasn’t entirely Edie’s fault. Mr Walker’s hair was in a tangle, he had smears of blue paint all over his ancient cord jacket, and his trousers were frayed at the hem. If you hadn’t known he was an artist, you might have thought him a vagabond or beggar. Heaven knows how Edie described him to Mama. She took no notice of my protests and stood there with her chin up, making flicking gestures to indicate that Mr Walker should make himself scarce immediately.

  I didn’t waste time arguing with her. I didn’t rush to Mama in the drawing room – I knew she wouldn’t listen. I had to summon Papa. I didn’t have time to clatter all the way up to his studio. I opened my mouth and yelled at the top of my voice, ‘Papa! Come immediately! Mr Paris Walker is being turned out of our house!’

  Well, that caused pandemonium! Edie actually shook me. Nurse came running, Phoebe on her hip, petticoats trailing. Beth heard my shout and wailed. Sebastian and Algie and Clarrie all started shouting. Mama came to the door of the drawing room, quivering with rage. But, wonderfully, Papa came flying down the stairs two at a time, a delighted smile on his face.

  ‘My goodness, Rose, what a clarion call! All my children seem to have excellent lungs! Paris, my dear chap, how splendid to see you. Edie, run and tell Cook to prepare tea for us, with at least two types of cake, possibly three. Jeannie, my sweet, allow me to introduce my marvellous erstwhile protégé and now dear friend Mr Paris Walker, artist extraordinaire.’

  Dearest Papa sorted everything out, though Mama looked appalled at the idea of Mr Walker joining us for tea. I got invited too! Sebastian and Algie and Clarrie had to have bread and butter and plain sponge up in the nursery under Nurse’s supervision. Beth had hers with Nurse Budd hovering over her like a hawk. I got to sit in the drawing room and eat cucumber sandwiches, iced sponge layered with jam and cream, and apple puffs. I ate enthusiastically, though I dabbed my lips after every bite just in case there was a crumb there. Mama kept frowning at me because it’s not ladylike to have a voracious appetite.

  When I reached for a second apple puff she murmured, ‘I think you’ve had more than enough, Rose, dear.’

  I wasn’t to be deterred. Apple puffs are my absolute favourite. We never get them at teatime. Cook must have made them for dinner, when you rarely get a chance of second helpings. Before Mama could stop me I’d taken a great bite out of the second puff. I thought I might have gone too far, but she simply sighed. She didn’t lecture me – she was in too good a mood.

  It was truly amazing. For the first five