Rose on Wheels

by Lucia Masciullo

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Martha said. Rose could see her twisting her napkin on her lap so tightly that Rose thought it might tear.

  ‘But what about the Ballantynes’ ball on Saturday evening?’ Mother said. ‘You could wear your new pink silk dress, with the French lace collar.’

  ‘I don’t feel…’ Martha’s voice trailed off, and she gave a little sigh. ‘Yes, Mother.’

  When lunch was over, Aunt Alice left for a suffragette meeting and Mother and Martha went out. ‘You may walk in the garden, Rose,’ Mother said before she left. ‘But be sure to put on your hat and take a parasol. Remember we agreed that you would wear suitable clothing.’ Rose sighed. At least she was spared the horrible corset.

  Rose peered through a window – the sun wasn’t out and the sky was grey, but she said, ‘Yes, Mother.’

  When they were gone, Rose put on her boots and went into the garden, without a hat or parasol. She sat for a while on her favourite bench, and was reading The Jungle Book when she remembered the boy in the stable. I’ll go and see if he’s as interesting as he looks, she thought.

  John had gone to drive the carriage for Mother and Martha, and everything was quiet at the bottom of the garden. Rose patted the neck of Ruby, their second horse, and thought about climbing on her back. She would love to learn to ride! But without someone to help, it was risky.

  She went into the carriage house next door and sat up in the buggy, pretending to be the driver. It must be such fun to be a cab driver, going all over Melbourne, clip-clopping up and down every cobbled street. But not so much fun in the burning summer heat, or the cold, biting rain in the winter. She’d seen drivers hunched down in thick oilskins, the rain dripping off their hats – no, that wouldn’t be nice at all.

  ‘Buggy won’t go far with no horse!’ a reedy voice piped up behind her.

  Rose jumped and turned quickly. It was the boy. ‘I know that,’ she said. ‘I was pretending.’

  He scoffed. ‘Pretending what? How to be the queen?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Rose’s face burned. She’d been hoping to make a new friend, but now he’d think she was just a stupid girl. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘I work here. I’m new – been here two weeks now.’ The boy came alongside the buggy. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  She shrugged. ‘I saw you from my window. I was just curious.’

  ‘Me dad says curiosity killed the cat.’ The boy grinned and Rose liked his cheeky face. She was surprised to see how white his teeth were. Usually servants’ teeth were brown or an ugly shade of green. She climbed down from the buggy and faced him, sticking out her hand.

  ‘I’m Rose.’

  ‘I know.’ He shook her hand. ‘I’m Thomas Wellington Austin. But you can call me Tommy.’

  ‘You’ve got an awfully big name.’

  Tommy nodded, his white-blonde mass of hair flopping down over his eyes. ‘Me mam says I’ll grow into it. Can’t see it meself. I eat like a horse and never seem to get any taller.’

  ‘Do you only work in the stables?’

  ‘Mostly, and then I help out in the garden. I grow things real good.’ Tommy cocked his head. ‘John won’t be back with the carriage for ages yet, but I need to finish me jobs.’

  ‘What do you have to do?’

  ‘Polish yer auntie’s bicycle and oil the chain.’ Tommy eyed Rose up and down. ‘Can you ride it? Most girls can’t.’

  Rose’s chin went up. ‘No, but that’s only because Aunt Alice hasn’t shown me yet. I’m sure she will, any day now.’ She wished she’d remembered to ask Aunt Alice earlier.

  ‘It’s not that hard.’ He squinted at Rose again. ‘I could teach yer. Ifyer want to, that is.’

  ‘Really? I’d love to try,’ she said, and was rewarded with Tommy’s wide grin again.

  ‘Corker! We can take it behind the stable, where there’s some flat ground.’

  Rose followed excitedly as Tommy wheeled the bicycle out of the stable and around the back. ‘Ready?’

  Her heart bumped around in her chest and she swallowed hard. Now that she actually had to get on the bicycle, it didn’t seem so easy. The machine was terribly big and heavy. Glad of her sensible navy serge dress that wouldn’t show the dirt, she gathered her skirt and swung her leg over the bicycle, but then she couldn’t reach the seat.

  ‘Stand on the pedals,’ Tommy said. ‘It won’t fall over while I’m holding it.’

  Rose did as he said and hoisted herself up onto the seat, feeling like she was perched high above the grass, her hands gripping the handlebars.

  ‘Now, I’m gonna keep holding it while you push on the pedals and get it going,’ Tommy ordered. ‘When you’re riding fair enough, I’ll let go. Got the idea?’

  ‘Um … yes.’ Rose’s knuckles were turning white and she could hardly breathe, but she pushed with her feet and felt the bicycle roll forward. ‘Oh!’

  ‘Keep pedalling!’ Tommy trotted alongside, still holding one handlebar and the seat.

  Rose’s breath whooshed out, her heart hammering, as the trees and bushes started to fly past. She kept pressing on the pedals, and then suddenly Tommy let go. For one horrible, terrifying moment, the bicycle wobbled wildly, and she forced the front wheel to straighten with all her strength. Then everything righted itself, her feet found a rhythm and the breeze whistled past her ears.

  Holy smoke, she was riding!

  THERE was just enough lawn left to give Rose time to find the brake levers on the handlebars. Phew! she thought. It’d be no fun landing in the vegetable garden.

  Tommy raced up to grab the bicycle just as Rose came to a stop. ‘How did you like that, then?’

  ‘Wonderful!’ Rose said, laughing.

  ‘I thought you were going to come a cropper there for a minute.’

  ‘I could’ve ended up in the garden,’ Rose said. ‘Mother would have had a fit.’

  Tommy grinned. ‘I’ve seen her get her dander up. I wouldn’t want to be on the rough end of that.’

  Tommy helped her get back on the bicycle and ride back past the stable, and this time the wobbling was not quite as bad. Just as she was about to try a third time, the family carriage swept around the corner, with John driving. At the sight of Rose on the bicycle, he pulled up with a long, ‘Whooooaaaaaa.’

  Rose couldn’t bear to look. If Mother was still in the carriage, the scolding would start any second. Mother said ladies did not belong on bicycles! But she’d already gone inside.

  John said, ‘What are you up to, Miss Rose? Tommy – you’ll get yourself in a heap of trouble, boy.’

  ‘It wasn’t his fault,’ Rose said. ‘I wanted to ride it, just for a little while.’

  ‘She didn’t fall off or nothin’,’ Tommy said.

  Rose tried to get off the bicycle on her own, but her dress caught in the chain and she fell, right on top of Tommy, the bicycle luckily tipping the other way. The two of them sprawled on the ground, and Rose banged her arm and head. Tears smarted in her eyes, and her head started to throb, but she was determined not to cry or complain. John jumped down from the carriage and helped her up.

  ‘Miss Rose, are you hurt?’

  Rose brushed at her dress but it was smeared with dirt. ‘I’m fine, John, but I have to go and change my dress quickly before Mother sees me.’

  Dismay filled his face, as if he could already imagine her mother’s reaction. ‘Yes, yes, you should do that.’ He almost pushed her towards the back door in his hurry to get rid of her.

  Rose stepped inside the house and listened. Where was Mother? Most likely in the drawing room, but she might have gone upstairs to take off her hat and gloves, or change her clothes. Rose knew where the servants’ staircase was – down a corridor near the door to the kitchen – but she’d never used it before. Now was the time! She felt her way along the wall in the gloomy passageway until her fingers touched the frame and then the small handle. She pulled the door open and there was the staircase, narrow and steep, not li
ke the grand curvy stairs that she ran up and down every day. Once inside, she pulled the door shut and tiptoed up, stopping every so often to listen. She didn’t want Sally rushing down and falling on her. One spill was enough for today.

  At the top, she listened again and then opened the door an inch or two. Just in time, she spotted Mother’s bedroom door opening not ten feet away. Rose shut the staircase door quietly and footsteps clomped past her and down the main stairs. That was close!

  She checked again, but this time the way was clear. She hopped out of the stairwell, closed the door and ran as fast as she could to her room, locking the door behind her. Thank goodness there was no Miss Parson now to come and see what she was up to.

  She took off her dress, fumbling with the buttons, and found a clean one in her wardrobe. What to do with the dirty dress? If she took it down to Sally, Mother might get suspicious. Instead, she thrust the dress in the bottom of her wardrobe – she’d tell Sally later where it was and ask her to please clean it.

  Rose’s head hurt a little, but what an amazing day – she’d ridden a bicycle! Maybe she could ride a horse next? But horse riding was another thing Mother thought was not proper for ladies. And she’d made a friend – sort of. Imagine going to school and having friends you played with every day – now that would be wonderful.

  Rose heard the front door open and close – Aunt Alice must be home. Rose was sure her aunt wouldn’t mind her borrowing the bicycle, but maybe she should ask, just in case.

  As she reached the bottom of the main staircase, she heard raised voices and stopped at the drawing-room door. Eavesdropping was becoming a bad habit, but she couldn’t help it – it was the only way she found out anything!

  ‘I don’t see that my meetings are very different from yours,’ Aunt Alice was saying.

  ‘Of course they are!’ Mother said. ‘My committee does work for charity. You are meeting just to create trouble.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Aunt Alice said. ‘We want equality for women, to be able to vote. Vida Goldstein doesn’t deliberately cause trouble for the sake of it.’

  Rose had heard Aunt Alice talk about Miss Goldstein before. She gave lots of speeches about women getting the vote and having a say.

  ‘Why on earth would you want to vote? Politics should be left to the men.’ Mother sounded scornful. ‘This is all too silly for words.’

  Aunt Alice heaved an enormous sigh, then said, ‘What about Rose? Are you going to allow me to be her governess or not?’

  Rose held her breath.

  ‘It’s not necessary, thank you. I have already advertised for a replacement for Miss Parson.’

  Oh no! Rose slumped against the wall, and slid down to the floor. It wasn’t fair. Aunt Alice would be a wonderful governess – why did Mother dislike her so much?

  ‘Very well,’ Aunt Alice said. ‘I know when I’m not wanted.’

  Footsteps came towards the door, but Rose couldn’t be bothered moving. She curled over and hugged her knees, wishing the floor would open up and drop her into a deep, black hole.

  The door opened, and a foot kicked Rose‘s leg. There was a muffled ‘Oh’, then the door shut with a bang and hands scooped under Rose’s arms and lifted her up.

  ‘Come on, my dear, we can’t have you discovered here.’

  Rose allowed Aunt Alice to coax her upstairs, but really she wanted to stay and shout at Mother for being so awful. In her aunt’s bedroom, Rose pulled away and went to the window, staring blankly. She kept her back to Aunt Alice, refusing to speak.

  ‘I imagine you heard at least some of that conversation,’ Aunt Alice said. She came up close and laid her hands on Rose’s shoulders. ‘I’m sorry.’ She turned Rose around and gave her a hug.

  ‘It’s not fair!’ Rose burst out. ‘The next governess will probably be worse, and I have no one to play with, and I am bored to death!’

  ‘Oh Rose, I know how lonely you are. I really think you should be attending school, though that doesn’t seem likely right now.’

  ‘But Mother says I’m not old enough for school,’ Rose said.

  ‘Of course you are. Just because Martha didn’t go until she was fourteen doesn’t mean you can’t go now. It’s just that your mother thinks a governess is better.’ Aunt Alice shook her head. ‘And look what happened with Miss Parson.’

  Guilt stabbed at Rose again. ‘I still feel sorry for her.’

  ‘If it makes you feel any better, your father paid her the rest of her yearly stipend, which she didn’t really deserve.’

  ‘So her family won’t starve?’

  ‘Not for quite a while.’

  Rose squeezed her aunt’s hand. ‘What will you do now?’

  ‘Since I joined Vida’s organisation, she has been very keen to send me to meet the women in Adelaide.’ Aunt Alice stood up and began pacing around the room. ‘They have had the vote since 1894, Rose, did you know that? Victoria is so far behind!’

  ‘Why is it so important?’ Rose asked. ‘What does voting actually mean?’

  ‘The men who run Victoria are all elected by men – that means a man decides he wants to be in the parliament, so he puts his name on a list and all the other men choose who they want. Men make all the decisions about roads and hospitals and schools.’ Aunt Alice flung her arms wide. ‘It’s not equal! Half of the people who live here are women and the men are deciding everything for us!’

  Rose wasn’t sure she understood. ‘Why do only men put their names on that list?’

  ‘Women aren’t allowed to yet.’ Aunt Alice knelt in front of Rose, her face glowing. ‘Do you know, when the laws are changed, Vida plans to try and be the first woman elected to parliament?’

  ‘Oh.’ Rose tried to think of who was in parliament now. Sir George Turner was the Premier – she’d seen him in the city once, coming out of a bank. Father had pointed him out and said, ‘He’s a clever man. Supports Federation, too.’ Rose’s father got very excited about Federation.

  ‘Rose, if we can get the laws changed, it would mean that one day you could vote, and maybe you could stand for parliament!’ Aunt Alice looked like she was expecting Rose to leap up and cheer, but Rose couldn’t quite see why her aunt was so excited.

  ‘I suppose that would be good,’ she said slowly.

  Aunt Alice stood up and began pacing again. ‘This is why you need a better education, you see. I know you’re a clever girl, but no one has ever taught you about these things, and they are important.’

  Rose sighed. She couldn’t see what was so important about voting, but maybe that was because she wasn’t allowed to anyway. Maybe if she knew more about it, she’d understand. But if she were honest, she’d rather learn about history or insects or how mountains and rivers were formed. Or be out in the garden, playing cricket.

  She’d meant to tell Aunt Alice about the bicycle riding, but now didn’t seem the right time. Aunt Alice had begun sorting through her clothes and books, as if she was already planning to pack her trunk. Well, Edward would be home from school soon. I’ll ask him if he’ll play a game with me, she thought. That is, if he isn’t in a foul mood. Each day he seemed more glum than before. Rose slipped off the bed. ‘I’m going to see if Edward is about,’ she said.

  ‘All right,’ Aunt Alice said. ‘I’ll see you at dinner.’

  Rose collected the cricket bat and ball from Edward’s room and ran downstairs to check the time on the large oak grandfather clock. It was just about to strike three, so Rose waited. The big bong noise the clock made was even better when she put her arms around it and let the reverberations thump into her. Bong! Bong! Bong!

  Rose went to sit in her secret place and read while she waited for Edward. Right down at the end of the garden, there was a weeping willow tree and an old bench. The tree had grown so much that the bench was almost hidden. Behind the tree, she kept a tin box of her special keepsakes, things that Miss Parson or Mother might’ve taken from her if they’d found them. The box was hidden under some pieces of woo
d and leaves, and it was getting a little rusty. Maybe she needed a better hiding place.

  Perched on the bench, she opened the box and spread her things out beside her. Two tin soldiers with bright red jackets, the cricket ball Edward had given her for her birthday, an Indian arrowhead that Uncle Charles had got from a real Indian, and four postcards that Aunt Alice had sent the family last year and Rose had retrieved from the wastepaper basket. The tin was big enough to hold Treasure Island, too, but it looked a bit damp and the pages were bending.

  ‘What are you up to?’ a loud voice said.

  Rose jumped. It was Edward, pushing aside the willow fronds. ‘Nothing.’ She tried to scoop her things back into the box but Edward was too quick for her.

  He grabbed the soldiers. ‘What are you doing with these?’

  ‘They’re mine. Give them back!’ Rose reached out but Edward snatched them away.

  ‘You’re a girl. These dont belong to you. Who did you steal them from?’ he said nastily.

  ‘They are so mine! I found them in an old chest in the schoolroom.’ Rose didn’t like the expression on Edward’s face. It was cold and hard, and he stared down at her as if he wanted to hit her. She shivered. ‘Please give them back. Take your cricket ball instead.’

  ‘I want both. You’re not allowed to play with them anyway.’ He grabbed the toys, shoving the ball in one pocket and the soldiers in another. ‘What are those other things?’

  Rose banged the lid onto the box, terrified he’d take her other treasures, too. ‘Not telling. Go away.’ She clutched the box tightly, looking defiantly up at Edward. Then she stared harder. ‘What’s wrong with your eye?’

  He scowled. ‘Nothing. Mind your own business.’

  ‘You’ve got a black eye!’ Rose jumped up to look closer and Edward backed away.

  ‘Leave me alone!’ But his voice was shaky and she could see tears welling up.

  ‘Somebody hit you, didn’t they?’

  ‘No. I … I …’ A tear fell and Edward scrubbed at it with one hand. ‘It’s nothing. Just some boys at school.’