Rose Rivers

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘That’s nonsense!’ said Nurse Budd, flushing crimson.

  ‘I agree with you on that one. She’s had no training for service and it’s clear she’s come from the streets, even though they’ve scrubbed her up a bit,’ said Edie, wrinkling her nose at Clover.

  ‘How dare you talk about her like that!’ I said. ‘Shame on you both, when Papa has welcomed her into our house.’

  ‘I’m not so sure she’s welcome, Miss Rose. Lord knows what your mama’s going to say about it,’ said Edie, frowning at Clover.

  Mama had plenty to say when we all trooped into the drawing room.

  Nurse Budd was threatening to leave at once if she wasn’t able to take sole care of Beth, as arranged.

  ‘Please believe me, Nurse Budd, I know nothing of this! I promise that we will stick to our arrangement. You must stay. We couldn’t do without you now! I will talk to my husband. This has to be a dreadful mistake,’ said Mama.

  Nurse Budd gave me a dark look and went back upstairs.

  Papa was still skulking in his studio, but Mama sent Mr Hodgson himself to fetch him.

  ‘I can’t believe you could behave so irresponsibly, Edward!’ she said when he came in. She gave Clover a withering look. ‘This girl’s far too young and inexperienced to be a nurserymaid. She’s not at all the right sort of girl in any case. We don’t know anything about her background. I’m sure she hasn’t got any references.’

  ‘Now, Jeannie, let’s calm down,’ said Papa. ‘I’m sorry to spring Clover on you at such short notice – well, no notice at all – but I really had no alternative. I’m sure she’ll work hard for us, and she has a marvellous knack with children. She’ll be a boon to dear old Nurse. Let’s see what she thinks.’

  Nurse was summoned, and arrived with the baby on her hip. Phoebe was wailing irritably, her cheeks bright red.

  ‘Oh dear, hark at little Phoebe,’ said Papa quickly. ‘Poor Nurse, it looks as if she’s getting to be quite a handful.’

  ‘I can manage her, sir,’ she said quickly.

  ‘Yes, but it must be a struggle with Sebastian and Clarrie – not to mention that young demon Algie!’ Papa continued.

  Nurse’s cheeks were almost as red as Phoebe’s. ‘I can still do my job, sir,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, I know, and splendidly too, but I think it’s time you had a little help. So here’s your very own nurserymaid to give you a hand,’ said Papa, putting his hand on Clover’s shoulder. ‘Miss Clover Moon.’

  Nurse was so shocked she very nearly dropped Phoebe.

  ‘I don’t need help, sir – and certainly not from a child straight off the streets. It’s madness! I’ve known you since the day you were born. You’ve been so soft-hearted you’ve lumbered yourself with this girl, and now you’re trying to palm her off on me. Shame on you, sir!’ she said, trying to hush the baby. Phoebe only cried harder.

  Papa squirmed as if Nurse were sending him to bed without any supper, but he went on, ‘Clover will prove a veritable asset in the nursery, you mark my words.’ He patted Clover on the shoulder. She was standing tensely, her green eyes darting from one to the other. I ached for her.

  ‘I know Clover will be very capable,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Rose,’ Mama snapped. ‘As if your opinion counts! Nurse, why is the baby crying so? She’s very red in the face. She hasn’t got a fever, has she?’

  ‘Beg pardon, madam, but she’s just teething. It’s hurting her. I’ve tried rubbing jelly on her gums but it only soothes her for so long,’ said Nurse, jiggling Phoebe up and down.

  ‘Teething jelly’s useless,’ said Clover. ‘She just needs distracting. Give her here.’

  She reached out and took poor wailing Phoebe in her arms before Nurse realized what was happening.

  ‘Oh dear, is it those toothy-pegs?’ said Clover, shaking her head at Phoebe. ‘Those cheeks look very red and hot. Let’s cool them down, shall we?’ She blew very gently into the baby’s face. Phoebe stopped mid-cry, looking surprised. ‘Yes, it’s nice, isn’t it. Again? And in those hot little ears too?’ She blew, and Phoebe wriggled and smiled.

  ‘There now!’ said Papa. ‘Didn’t I say she had a way with children? Bravo, Clover! Look, little Phoebe’s chuckling now!’

  ‘Give the baby back to Nurse this instant, Clover Moon, or whatever your name is,’ Mama commanded. ‘I don’t trust you for one moment.’

  ‘Clover’s in our employ now, Jeannie, whether you like it or not,’ said Papa, quietly but firmly. ‘I’d like you all to remember that I am the head of this household.’

  I was sure Mama was going to argue, but she pressed her lips together and nodded. She was holding Alphonse very tightly, and he started yapping furiously, as if he were expressing Mama’s feelings for her.

  ‘Follow me, then, girl,’ Nurse mumbled to Clover, sniffing her disapproval.

  Clover did as she was told, still holding Phoebe. She looked demure, but when she passed me she gave me a tiny wink.

  She kept Phoebe quiet and amused, had a long conversation about the breeding habits of mice with Sebastian, complimented Clarrie’s dolls, and played a new card game, Snap, with Algie, letting him win every time.

  When I came back from a very frosty dinner, with Mama and Papa saying scarcely a word to each other, Clover had given the children their supper and got them all into bed. Nurse sat sulking by the fire, warming her sore bunions and muttering to herself.

  Clover kissed each child goodnight. She tried to see Beth too, but Nurse Budd was guarding her fiercely.

  ‘Goodnight, Beth! Sleep tight. And make sure the bugs don’t bite!’ Clover called through the door.

  ‘Don’t bite, don’t bite,’ Beth called back, calmer now.

  Nurse kept Clover up doing the darning till late. I heard her pattering along the corridor in her soft felt shoes.

  I lay awake, wondering how she was feeling, having to cope with this strange new life and all these people who were set against her. Would she fall asleep as soon as she put her head on her pillow, or was she lying awake too, feeling lost and lonely?

  I wondered where she was sleeping. There was no room in the night nursery, unless she shared Nurse’s bed, and I was sure they’d both hate that. Nurse Budd certainly wouldn’t let her in with her. Perhaps she had to share a room in the attic with Edie and Maggie. I didn’t think they would be very kind to her.

  The house was silent. When I heard midnight strike, I decided to go looking for Clover. The house seemed intensely dark, even with my candle. I climbed the stairs to the attics, shivering, though I kept reminding myself that there was nothing to be frightened of. I wasn’t a governess like Jane Eyre, confronting a mad woman. I was the daughter of the house, concerned about the welfare of one of our servants.

  I peeped into Edie and Maggie’s room. They were both fast asleep, Edie with her hair in curling papers, Maggie flat on her back and snoring. I peered under the bed, but there was no sign of Clover.

  Then, back on the narrow landing, I heard a muffled sound, soft and regular. Someone was crying. I crept along until I found the right door, and then knocked timidly. The crying stopped abruptly.

  ‘Clover?’ I whispered. ‘Clover, it’s me, Rose. Can I come in?’

  She murmured something, so I opened the door and slipped into her bedroom. But it wasn’t a bedroom at all. It wasn’t even a proper room, but a cupboard – a junk room stuffed with a three-legged armchair, a lopsided table, a battered nursery screen, and any number of trunks and suitcases. I couldn’t see them properly in the dark, but they made large, oppressive shapes in the tiny space. I stumbled over a bucket on the floor to catch drips from the roof.

  Clover hadn’t even been given a proper bed. She was curled up under a blanket on a mattress on the floor.

  ‘Oh, Clover, are you crying?’ I asked foolishly.

  ‘No,’ she said, but her voice was thick and snuffly, and when I bent down and touched her face I felt the tears on her cheeks.

  ‘Y
ou poor thing,’ I said, and I squatted on the mattress beside her and pulled her into my arms.

  She clung to me and I rocked her gently. I’d rarely held any of my brothers or sisters. Rupert and I had been very close, but if I tried to cuddle up to him he always laughed and called me a softie. Even when she was little Beth hated being touched. Sebastian would sit on my lap when he was tiny, but declared he was a big boy now. Clarrie was far too fidgety, and I’d never wanted to go anywhere near Algie. I’d have loved to hold Phoebe, but Nurse was sure I’d drop her.

  It felt so good to hold Clover, especially when she relaxed against me and stopped trying to smother her sobs.

  ‘That’s it, you have a good cry,’ I said. ‘No wonder you’re sad. Everyone’s been so horrid to you and you’ve been so brave.’

  ‘No, it isn’t that. I’m crying because I miss my brothers and sisters, especially little Bert, though he doesn’t really need me any more. And most of all I miss my sister Megs, but she’s dead now, and I try to imagine her as an angel, but I want her here so that I can look after her,’ Clover sobbed.

  ‘Of course you do,’ I said. ‘I feel so ashamed that they’ve stuck you in this horrible poky room. Listen, why don’t you come down to my room? My bed’s very soft, with heaps of room for the two of us.’

  Clover sat up and sniffed. ‘I can’t sleep in your bed, Miss Rose! What would they say if they found out?’

  ‘I don’t care what anyone says. And don’t call me Miss Rose, it’s horrible. When we’re alone together, promise you’ll always call me Rose, like a proper friend.’

  ‘All right. But I still can’t come to your room. You know the other servants would tell on me, and your mama would be horrified,’ said Clover, wiping her face with her sleeve. ‘They’d send me away.’

  ‘Then I’ll creep up here every night and we’ll curl up together. They can’t send me away, though I often wish they would!’

  I wriggled down onto the mattress and pulled Clover close beside me. The mattress was very lumpy and didn’t smell quite clean, and the blanket was very thin. Clover’s hair was long and wild and got in my face. I can’t say it was comfortable – and yet within minutes we were both fast asleep.

  I HAVE A true friend at last – but we have to lead a double life. When we’re with other people in the house, family or servants, we stick to the rules. I might nod at Clover, but mostly I pretend to ignore her. Clover isn’t allowed to ignore me back. Nurse insists she bobs a little curtsy and murmurs, ‘Good morning, Miss Rose,’ or ‘Good afternoon’ or ‘Good evening’. I’m not a nursery child any more, but if Nurse notices that my hair needs brushing or my dress is crumpled or I’ve kicked off my boots and exposed a hole in my stocking, she gives Clover a little nudge.

  ‘Find Miss Rose’s hairbrush for her, Clover! You need to get that dress ironed for Miss Rose, it’s all over creases! Ask Miss Rose to change her stockings and get that hole darned right away!’ she commands crossly, shaking her head at Clover as if it’s somehow her fault.

  Nurse is forever criticizing her, though any fool can see that Clover’s made a huge difference in the nursery. She gets the children up, and washes and dresses and feeds them in double-quick time, and then she plays with them. She makes up the sort of games that Rupert and I used to play. Sebastian and Algie and Clarrie stop being small children in a stuffy nursery: they’re pirates sailing out to sea, or princes and princesses in a palace, or polar bears and penguins in Arctic realms.

  ‘Such nonsense!’ Nurse sniffs, rocking Phoebe.

  She won’t let Clover near the baby, but when she dozes after lunch Clover sits Phoebe on her lap, takes off her woolly booties and plays This Little Piggy with her toes. Phoebe chuckles and claps her fat little hands in delight. She adores Clover. All the children do, even Algie. He follows her around and does whatever she asks.

  She never sighs or shakes her head at him the way we do. She says, ‘Perhaps you can help Miss Clarrie button her shoes, Master Algie, as you’ve got such nimble fingers. I think you might read the story today, Master Algie, because you read with such expression. Can you help Master Sebastian hunt for Montmorency, Master Algie, as your eyes are much sharper than mine?’

  It works! Algie does as Clover suggests, and she always lavishes praise on him. It should have made him unbearably conceited, but he simply nods and says, ‘Happy to oblige,’ as if he’s her little servant.

  Clover has to be careful not to get on the wrong side of Nurse Budd, who complained to Mama, saying that she was insolent and impertinent and not to be trusted. Mama daren’t go directly against Papa’s wishes: she cannot actually dismiss Clover, but she says she must mind her manners or she will be sent to the kitchen as a second scullery maid.

  ‘I have to bite my tongue whenever I’m near Nurse Budd,’ Clover told me one night, when we were curled up together.

  ‘I’d sooner you bit Nurse Budd instead,’ I said, and we both giggled. ‘I can’t bear her, Clover!’

  ‘I hate her too,’ she said. ‘I hate her second only to Mildred, my stepmother. She pretends to be so fond of Beth, but I don’t think she likes her at all.’

  ‘I’ve said as much to Mama and Papa, but they won’t listen to me,’ I said. ‘They don’t want to listen. They’re embarrassed by Beth. Mama wants to hide her away and pretend she doesn’t exist. Papa makes a fuss of her, but then forgets all about her.’

  ‘He took the greatest care when buying her doll,’ said Clover. ‘Oh, I do miss Mr Dolly. He was so kind and gentle to me, and he taught me so much. He was more of a father to me than my pa ever was.’

  Clover told me stories about her pa and her hateful stepmother and all the children she looked after. I tried to imagine what it would be like to care for half the children in my street as well as all my siblings. I find it tiresome enough playing with Sebastian and Algie and Clarrie for more than a few minutes. Perhaps I take after Papa.

  I wished I took after him artistically. I don’t think I have any true talent. It meant so much to me when Paris praised my comic drawings, but I’m sure he was simply trying to be kind.

  I still didn’t know why he’d stopped coming to paint Mama’s portrait. I missed him dreadfully, but he wasn’t quite real any more. It was as if I’d made him up. I wasn’t sure now that I actually loved him. Perhaps it was all a fancy in my head because I was so lonely without Rupert. I’m not lonely any more because I have Clover for a friend.

  I crept upstairs nearly every night, though I couldn’t risk it if I heard Beth crying. If Nurse Budd caught me she’d tell Mama, and then there would be terrible trouble. I’d be confined to my room for a week on a bread-and-milk diet. That’s how they punished Algie last year when he experimented with matches and set fire to the Persian hearthrug.

  I could put up with any silly punishment – but Clover would be sent away. She couldn’t go home because her stepmother would hurt her – I’d seen the long red scar on her forehead. She couldn’t go to her doll-maker friend or return to the Home for Destitute Girls because Mildred would find her there. She couldn’t get another position as a nurserymaid because she didn’t have any references. She would have to beg on the streets.

  I worried that I was being selfish, but she was always so pleased to see me.

  ‘I’ve been so used to cuddling up with Megs and baby Bert and all the other children. It feels lonely up here all by myself,’ she said. ‘I can’t get to sleep when I’m alone, no matter how tired I am. Don’t laugh, but I’m afraid someone is waiting to get me behind all this furniture.’

  ‘I’ll never laugh at you, Clover,’ I said, my heart turning over. She has to be so grown up during the day, and yet she’s still only little herself. ‘I don’t know how you cope with the children the way you do, especially Algie!’

  ‘I love Algie – he’s got such spirit, and he makes me laugh. I love all the children. Clarrie’s a dear, with all her funny notions, and Sebastian’s such a kind boy. Phoebe’s a darling. I’d bounce her on my knee all
day if I had my way. I haven’t got to know Beth properly because Nurse Budd is always guarding her, but she seems a very interesting girl. She reminds me of one of the little ones at Miss Smith’s home. I wish I could talk to her more.’

  ‘You make us all sound like such model children,’ I said.

  ‘Well, you are.’

  ‘Even me? I’m untidy and unladylike and I get in such a strop at times.’

  ‘And I like you the most.’

  ‘You’ll prefer my twin brother, Rupert, when he comes home at Christmas. Everyone likes him best. He can be very charming when he wants. I used to worship him,’ I said, sighing.

  ‘But not any more?’

  ‘He’s changed so.’ I hesitated. It seemed disloyal to say anything bad about Rupert. ‘I don’t always approve of him,’ I added, and then blushed in the darkness because I sounded so prim.

  ‘That’s boys for you,’ said Clover. ‘My brothers can be real pickles – like a lot of the lads down our alley. But not my friend Jimmy Wheels. He’s the best.’

  ‘Jimmy Wheels? That’s a strange name.’

  ‘Well, it’s not really his name. Folk all call him that because his legs don’t work so he lies on a little wagon and wheels himself along.’

  ‘Oh my goodness, the poor boy.’

  ‘He’s very speedy. He’s got a lovely mother who was very kind to me.’ Clover paused. ‘My own mother was lovely too. She died when I was little but I still remember her.’

  ‘My mother isn’t lovely, is she?’ I said, not caring if I sounded disloyal now.

  Clover fidgeted. ‘Well …’ she said.

  ‘You don’t have to be tactful. She’s horrible to you. And to me, even though I’m her daughter.’

  ‘She doesn’t hit you,’ said Clover. ‘And perhaps she fusses because she cares about you. She wants you to grow up to be a fine lady.’

  ‘You can’t seriously think that,’ I said. ‘And who wants to be a fine lady anyway?’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind,’ said Clover. She didn’t say it sharply, but I blushed again.

  ‘I’m sorry – that was such a stupid thing to say,’ I apologized.