Rose Rivers

by Jacqueline Wilson

  I felt as if I were under a spell too, though I didn’t have a web to spin. Whenever there was a knock at the door I ran down to see if Paris had come back from his holiday. I told myself not to be ridiculous, and next time the doorbell rang and Edie’s boots tapped across the hall tiles to the front door I stayed where I was. I heard Papa’s deep voice.

  Algie heard him too. He came flying down the banisters and landed with a thud. Clarrie thumped down the stairs after him, with Sebastian scurrying behind. Papa often comes home with a bag of sweets in his pocket so they always greet him eagerly.

  I leaned forward to peer down into the hall, nearly falling off the window seat, and realized that Papa had brought a little girl home with him. I couldn’t see her properly, but she looked like a street child, though she was wearing clean, neat clothes. Did he want to sketch her for Miss Smith’s book?

  I could hear Algie showing off, Clarrie giggling, Sebastian murmuring shyly. Alphonse was yapping in the drawing room, sensing a stranger, but Mama failed to put in an appearance. Upstairs, Beth was silent, while Phoebe babbled at Nurse. I stayed on the window seat, feeling too wretched to greet Papa and his small guest.

  A few minutes later he came up the stairs, looking rather flushed. ‘Hello, Rose darling,’ he said, coat swinging, scarf dangling. ‘Are you drawing?’

  ‘Reading Tennyson,’ I said.

  ‘Good for you! But I hope you’ve not abandoned your drawing just because Paris isn’t around at the moment.’

  ‘You really don’t know where he is?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue, my dear. Your mama is most put out. But I dare say he’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Do you really think so, Papa?’

  ‘Of course. He wouldn’t leave the portrait unfinished. And he hasn’t been paid!’

  ‘Do you think that’s the only reason he comes here – just to make some money?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, a chap’s got to eat, darling. I’ve sometimes spent weeks painting the most terrible bores simply for a pocketful of chink.’

  ‘So he thinks we’re terrible bores?’ I asked, my voice wobbling.

  ‘No, of course not! He says he loves coming here. I’m sure he enjoys painting your mama. She’s still a very beautiful woman. I don’t think my portraits have ever done her justice. And he finds you children fun.’

  ‘So he thinks I’m “fun”,’ I murmured, wondering how one small word could be so humiliating.

  ‘Yes! And talented and lively and gifted,’ said Papa, tweaking my nose.

  Did Paris really call me talented and lively and gifted? Maybe Papa was just saying that to make me feel better. But perhaps he really did say it.

  ‘Oh dear, I didn’t hurt your nose, did I? It’s gone very pink. In fact, your whole face is pink, my love. Are you blushing?’

  ‘Of course not! You’re actually rather flushed yourself, Papa.’

  ‘That’s because I’ve been having an adventure!’

  ‘An adventure?’

  ‘A real one, involving hiding behind doors and a sudden dash for freedom, pursued by a wicked witch of a stepmother! I’ve rescued a child from Miss Smith’s Home for Destitute Girls!’ said Papa.

  ‘You’ve rescued her? But I thought that was what Miss Smith did. Aren’t you going to take the child back?’ I asked.

  ‘I can’t, because the mad woman is pursuing her. The child had to make a run for it. I couldn’t let her roam the streets by herself – she’s only a scrap of a thing. She’s that dear little child I met at the doll-maker’s. Such a fetching girl, with a mass of black hair and a tiny pinched face that’s already seen too much sorrow in her short life. I had to bring her back here, didn’t I?’ Papa’s voice wavered.

  ‘Yes, of course, Papa,’ I said. I thought he’d behaved admirably, and felt a sudden rush of love for him. It was wonderful to have such a gallant, impulsive father – but I couldn’t help wondering what on earth Mama was going to say.

  I glanced up in the direction of the drawing room.

  ‘I think your mama is resting, Rose. I didn’t want to disturb her. I thought I’d introduce her to my little waif later, when she is feeling refreshed,’ said Papa.

  ‘Oh, Papa!’ He was bold enough to rescue a child from the streets and yet too cowardly to tell his wife what he’d done.

  ‘What will you do if Mama says this child has to go back where she came from?’ I asked.

  ‘She won’t do any such thing. I’m sure she’ll be delighted,’ said Papa, clearly trying to convince himself. ‘The child will be a delightful addition to the household. I’m going to employ her as a little nurserymaid.’

  ‘Oh, Papa, you’re going to get rid of Nurse Budd!’ I said excitedly.

  ‘No, no, I couldn’t possibly expect one small girl to handle Beth all by herself.’

  ‘Surely you’re not going to send Nurse away?’ I asked, shocked. ‘I know she’s getting old and struggles a bit, but what would she do without us?’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of sending Nurse away! Nurse is part of our family, and always will be,’ said Papa firmly. ‘No, I’ve employed the child to help Nurse, as she gets so tired nowadays. She will be very grateful.’

  I stared at him. He didn’t seem to understand the womenfolk in his household at all.

  ‘I’m sure it will all work out splendidly,’ he went on. ‘Anyway, I must go and apply myself to my drawing. Fighting dragon stepmothers and rescuing tiny damsels in distress has been very time-consuming. I need to get on with some work!’ He blew me a kiss and then scuttled on up the stairs.

  I was keen to meet this poor little destitute child. She was still down in the hall with Algie and Clarrie and Sebastian. They were dancing around her, fascinated, and she was telling them that she had magic powers.

  I looked at her curiously. She really was little, the same size as Sebastian, but you could tell by her pale, careworn face that she was older. She had an incredible tangle of dark hair, and she was wearing an institutional blue frock that was much too big for her, and strange soft felt boots, but she looked very pleasing all the same.

  ‘Are you saying you’re a witch?’ I asked.

  ‘I could be,’ she said, chin up. ‘And you could be Beth and have a doll called Marigold.’

  I laughed. ‘You’re not a very clever witch then. I’m not Beth. She’s in the nursery, tucked up on the chaise longue because she’s not very well. I’m Rose and I’m too old for dolls. Who on earth are you?’ I asked her.

  ‘I’m Clover,’ she said. She was looking at my book, trying to read the words upside down. I saw her lips moving, spelling out The Lady of Shalott.

  ‘Do you like poetry?’ I asked.

  ‘Maids don’t read poetry!’ said Algie rudely. He grabbed my book and wrinkled his nose at all the verses. He doesn’t read poetry either. ‘Papa says she’s our new nurserymaid. We don’t want one, do we?’

  ‘Algie!’ said Sebastian. ‘You’ll hurt her feelings.’

  ‘I do like poetry,’ said Clover indignantly. She took my Tennyson from Algie and held it carefully, fingering the fine leather binding. It was clear that she liked books and knew how to handle them. She had spirit, and argued fiercely, just like one of us.

  ‘Can you do magic tricks if you’re a witch?’ Clarrie asked. ‘Can you magic more sweets?’

  ‘Nurse isn’t going to want her either,’ Algie said.

  ‘Oh, bother Nurse,’ I said.

  Clover swallowed hard. ‘I’d better go and introduce myself to her,’ she said.

  She was going to get a frosty reception, I thought. I felt sorry for her. It must be so bewildering to fetch up in this house, dealing with difficult children and hostile staff. She still had Mama to contend with. Papa had abandoned her. I decided I was going to take care of her now.

  ‘In a minute,’ I said. ‘Come to my room first. I’ll show you my books. Come on, Clover. Not the rest of you though. You’ve all got sticky hands. Go and wash!’

  As I took Clover’s hand, I fel
t her trembling. She was obviously frightened, though she was doing her best to hold her own. I took her to my room, shutting the door firmly behind us so that we could have some peace from the little ones.

  ‘Oh!’ she said, peering around at everything. She swallowed again and walked on tiptoe over the rug, touching the books on the shelves with one finger. She ran the back of her hand across the silk of my bedspread, touched the toes of my old dolls and stuffed animals on the windowsill, and then stopped when she caught sight of herself in the looking glass. She put her hands to her mouth, startled.

  ‘I – I’m sorry … Rose. Miss Rose. I shouldn’t be here,’ she said.

  ‘Of course you should. I invited you in! Don’t look so worried. Do you like my room?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ she said. ‘It’s so clean and pretty and full of so many beautiful things. So it’s all yours? The others don’t sleep in the bed with you?’

  ‘I should think not!’ I said, imagining the awfulness of sharing a bed with Algie.

  She flushed. ‘Sorry, miss,’ she said.

  ‘Please, please, please don’t call me Miss. Well, not when we’re by ourselves. So was your room very different at your home?’

  ‘The rooms at Miss Smith’s home are all neat and clean, but nowhere near as nice as this,’ said Clover. ‘And back in Cripps Alley, where I come from, they’re very different.’

  ‘Tell me,’ I said, sitting down on the edge of my bed. I patted the space beside me. ‘Come and sit down beside me, Clover.’

  She sat down, but she pressed her lips together and wrapped her arms tight around herself. They were painfully thin, her wrists as fragile as birds’ legs, but her hands looked strong, rough and red with hard work.

  ‘You’ve obviously had a very hard life,’ I said softly.

  I meant to sound sympathetic but she gave me a sharp glance. I realized I sounded patronizing. ‘I’m sorry. That sounded awful. I just wish I knew what it’s like to be you,’ I said earnestly.

  Clover shrugged her skinny shoulders.

  ‘It seems so unfair that I have such an easy life, and yet you and Jack Boots and little Mary-Jane have to slave for me and my family when you’re children just like me,’ I told her.

  ‘Little Mary-Jane?’ asked Clover.

  ‘She’s really young, but she’s already been sent into service by her horrible mother. I believe you’ve got a horrible mother too,’ I said.

  Clover clenched her fists. ‘I had a wonderful, dear, sweet, kind mother,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sorry! I didn’t realize. I thought she was the reason Papa rescued you.’

  ‘I was running away from my stepmother, Mildred. My real mother died when I was very small but I remember all about her. I loved her more than anyone, apart from Megs,’ said Clover.

  ‘Megs?’

  ‘Megs was my sister. She died too,’ said Clover, and a tear suddenly rolled down her cheek.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said wretchedly. ‘I didn’t mean to make you cry.’

  ‘I’m not crying,’ she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘You want to know what it was like at my home? We were all crammed into two bedrooms. All us children squashed up together in one of them. My father and Mildred had the other. Mildred hated me and I hated her. Then Megs got the fever and – and she died, so Mildred kept me shut in a cupboard and didn’t even want me to go to the funeral, but when I got out, my friend Mr Dolly – he makes the most beautiful dolls—’

  ‘I know. Beth’s Marigold,’ I whispered, reluctant to interrupt her now she was in full flow.

  ‘He made me my funeral outfit, and then I ran away and some rough lads stole my money, but a lovely lady who dances at the Gaiety Theatre looked after me,’ said Clover. She said it proudly. I was impressed to find that she knew a dancing girl, but knew that Mama would have been horrified.

  ‘And then you went to the Home for Destitute Girls? Was it very severe? Did they beat you?’ I asked.

  ‘No! Miss Smith is very kind. I was happy there. I liked looking after the little ones. But then Mildred came to get me and she’d beat me soon as look at me, but your pa rescued me. I begged him to let me be your nurserymaid,’ said Clover.

  ‘Well. Not mine exactly. I’m rather too old to be confined to the nursery,’ I said. ‘But I expect you’ll be looking after Algie and Clarrie, poor you. Sebastian is easy enough, so long as you’re not afraid of mice. And baby Phoebe’s a dear little thing,’ I said reassuringly.

  ‘A baby! I’m good with babies,’ said Clover.

  There was a sudden high-pitched cry from along the corridor.

  ‘That’s not a baby!’

  ‘No, that’s my sister Beth. She often cries – she’s poorly, you see,’ I started, but Clover was already running out of the door and along the corridor.

  She followed the sounds of Beth’s cries until she got to the right door and then hurtled in without knocking. I rushed after her.

  ‘For pity’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you not to come barging in here, Miss Rose!’ Nurse Budd started – and then she broke off, startled to see that the intruder wasn’t me at all. She was out of breath from wrestling with Beth. ‘Who in God’s name are you?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m Clover Moon, and I think you should let go of that poor child immediately!’ said Clover.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Nurse Budd. She saw me standing in the doorway. ‘Miss Rose, run for Mr Hodgson. There’s a lunatic child broken into the house and she’s very likely dangerous!’

  ‘No, no, Nurse Budd, this is Clover, our new nurserymaid,’ I said.

  ‘A child like that! Don’t be ridiculous!’ she scoffed.

  ‘I’m here to help,’ said Clover. ‘I can see you need help too. You’re frightening that poor girl into a fit. Can’t you see that she hates being held like that? You’re practically throttling her! It’s downright cruel.’

  ‘How dare you address me in such a way! As if I’d ever be cruel to my dear little patient. But Miss Beth can be very fierce, bless her. She’s just bitten me – look!’ Nurse Budd held out her arm to show us the tooth marks on her wrist.

  ‘I’m sure she didn’t mean to, Nurse Budd,’ I said.

  ‘That’s right, poor pet. But I have to tell you that, in the hospital where I was trained, if any sick child bit persistently, we had the surgeon come along to extract their teeth.’

  ‘Teeth!’ Beth cried, terrified.

  ‘Sometimes it’s the only way,’ said Nurse Budd. ‘Will you stop struggling, Miss Beth!’

  ‘Just let her go!’ I cried.

  ‘Well, if you say so, Miss Rose, as you always know best, don’t you?’ said Nurse Budd.

  She let go of Beth so suddenly that she tumbled to the floor, crying even louder.

  ‘Oh, Beth! Poor Beth!’ I said, kneeling down beside her, trying to put my arms around her.

  Beth carried on screaming, her whole face contorted. Her eyes were wild, her nose was running, her hair was tangled, her hands were flapping – I couldn’t help feeling a little scared of her.

  ‘Beth! Please don’t cry so,’ I said imploringly.

  ‘Don’t try to hold her, Miss Rose, it will just upset her,’ said Clover.

  ‘Don’t start giving orders here, missy!’ said Nurse Budd. ‘I am in charge of Miss Beth. When Mrs Rivers employed me, she made it clear that I’m the only person able to look after Miss Beth because I’m a professionally trained nurse and I won’t let any child get the better of me.’

  ‘When Mr Rivers employed me, he made it quite clear that I am the new nurserymaid and I am to help you because you’re getting old and can’t cope with the children,’ said Clover. ‘Trained nurse! That’s a likely story.’

  ‘Don’t you talk to me like that!’ said Nurse Budd, and slapped her across the face.

  I gasped, but Clover didn’t flinch.

  ‘You don’t frighten me. I dare say you slap this poor girl too. But I’m going to keep my eye on you. I know your
sort. You’re just like my stepmother. No, you’re worse,’ said Clover.

  ‘Oh, bravo!’ I said, astonished by her courage.

  But it didn’t get her anywhere. Nurse Budd was much bigger and stronger. She took hold of Clover by her skinny arm and literally dragged her out of the room.

  ‘Stop it! You’re hurting her!’ I cried.

  I tried to prise Nurse Budd’s hands away, but she was too strong for me too.

  ‘You’d better mind your own business, Miss Rose! What are you doing, consorting with this little guttersnipe? What will your mama say, I wonder? Well, let’s find out!’ she said.

  She pulled Clover along, with me following. Beth was so shocked she stopped screaming and huddled in a corner. Edie was nipping up the stairs, adjusting her cap as she went. She stared up at the three of us, her hands still raised comically in the air.

  ‘My Lord, what’s going on, Miss Rose?’ she asked.

  ‘Miss Rose and this grubby little child have invented some cock-and-bull story that she’s been sent to help me with Miss Beth,’ said Nurse Budd. ‘Tell Mr Hodgson to send for a constable. She needs to be locked up! Doubtless she’s come from a den of thieves and will rob us all!’

  ‘Don’t, Edie! Papa really did bring Clover here!’ I said, panicking.

  ‘Now now, Miss Rose, you’ll be in trouble for telling such a silly fib,’ said Nurse Budd.

  Edie straightened her cap, arranging two little curls to peep out at the front. She smiled. She has no time for Nurse Budd either.

  ‘I think you’re the one who’s going to be in trouble, Nurse Budd,’ she said. ‘Miss Rose is telling God’s honest truth. The master did take it into his head to bring the child into the house. I should know, because I let them in. I don’t know whether she’s to help you or old Nurse, but the master says she’s to be a nurserymaid.’