Rosie of the River

by Catherine Cookson

‘And,’ cried James now, ‘the truth is you were terrified to leave your wife to two philandering sailor fellows.’

  ‘You’re quite right,’ answered Fred, somewhat sheepishly, ‘absolutely right.’

  ‘Oh, Lord!’ exclaimed Peter. ‘Look at the time. We must be off. And it’s such a pity. Look, Rosie. Keep in touch, will you? Send us a card, and tell us what’s happening to you.’ From his wallet he withdrew two printed cards. The top one he handed to Rosie, saying, ‘That’s my father’s address, because if I were to get a card signed “Rosie” my wife would not believe it was from a fifteen-year-old, short-haired little vixen.’

  ‘I’m not just fifteen; I’ll be sixteen shortly.’

  ‘Well, that would make it worse, a sixteen-year-old little vixen, and the nicest one James and I have ever met.’

  ‘I second that, and third it,’ put in James. ‘And send me a card, too, Rosie. But not to the theological college, send it to my father. There’s a fellow who would love to meet you. I haven’t a card on me, but can you remember: The Reverend Philip Watson, The Vicarage, Burdet Road, London—East. Everybody knows the Rev P—or Sandy as his friends know him. Can you remember that?’

  ‘Yes, of course. That’s one thing I do have, a marvellous memory for dates and things,’ said Rosie.

  There was a shaking of hands; then when both men stooped and kissed Rosie on the cheek, her face could have matched the colour of her cousin’s red coiffure.

  Within a few minutes Sally and Fred were standing in the stern waving goodbye to their new friends. The last words were from James, calling, ‘Until we meet again!’

  Rosie was now standing on the bank; she bent forward to pat Bill’s head where he was standing, his front paws on the gunwale, and she said quietly, ‘They’re two lovely fellows, aren’t they? And to think one’s a doctor, and the other a parson. I’ll never forget them.’

  She straightened up as two men approached them from the big boat. The older one said to Rosie, ‘We’re just going looking to see if there’s anywhere near we can have a drink, lass. We won’t be long,’ and Rosie said, ‘Dad, these are Mr and Mrs Carpenter.’

  The man leaned towards Sally and said, ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs Carpenter,’ and stretching his hand to Fred, he said, ‘And you, sir, very pleased indeed. I hope you’re staying for a time.’

  ‘I wish we were,’ said Fred, ‘but we have to be off about four o’clock: we must cross Breydon, for our time is up on Saturday morning.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a pity,’ the man said. ‘But likely you’ll be able to keep in touch with my lass.’ He jerked his head towards Rosie. ‘She’d like that.’

  It was Sally who answered quickly, ‘Oh, we mean to, we mean to. It’s all been arranged.’

  She noticed that the man looked slightly surprised, but very pleased, and his smile widened. He turned and, patting his daughter on the shoulder, said, ‘Don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right, you’ll see.’

  Sally had noticed that the other man, who was younger, had not waited; it was as though he was making it clear to them he had nothing to do with whatever was happening.

  ‘May I pop back and see you before you leave?’ said Rosie quietly.

  ‘We should be very sorry if you didn’t,’ said Fred.

  ‘OK, then, I’ll be back.’ And with this she walked smartly away to the other boat…

  Fred said, ‘Her father seems a decent sort; it’s a pity the same can’t be said about her mother.’

  Sally made lunch, and during it they talked about Rosie and her two new friends. Suddenly, just as Sally was saying, ‘I think I should walk along to Dogfish One and thank them for their thoughtfulness that saved you a hospital trip,’ there was the sound of raised voices from the far end of the bank. She got up, went out into the cockpit, leaned over the side, and there, along the bank, was the man from Dogfish One and the younger man from the big boat they had seen earlier, who was yelling, ‘Aye, I can read and there’s more bloody rubbish on this river than those few tins I’ve tossed there, and I’m lookin’ at it now. And who the hell d’you think you are anyway with your tuppence-halfpenny little craft? And don’t come your high and mighty tone with me, mister, else I’ll soon put you in your place, and that’ll be on your back. And another thing when I’m on. You tell that weak-kneed son of yours to keep his disdainful look off my womenfolk or else he’ll be needing a set of false front teeth before he reaches port.’

  There was silence as if his opponent was now getting his oar in. Then the man’s voice came again and now, on a mock laugh, ‘Report, hell! Do that, mister. Do that; then I’ll get a laugh, for you’ll find out who you’re reportin’.’

  On this he returned to his boat and Sally could make out nothing further from the clamour of voices that greeted him.

  She went back into the cabin and repeated to Fred all she had heard, ending, ‘That’s put the finishing touches to my visit, I wouldn’t dare go along there now and visit them.’

  Fred laughed. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘there’ll be plenty of time tomorrow morning before we leave Oulton; and I can do the talking then.’

  Strangely, though, no sound whatever came from their neighbours during the next few hours; and finally Sally said, ‘Look at the clock. I’m going to get something to eat. If Rosie doesn’t come by soon, then we’ll have to go.’

  But as if Rosie herself had heard her speaking, there was a tap on the cabin door.

  ‘Come on in, dear. We were just talking about you,’ Sally called.

  When Rosie reached the bottom of the steps she did not speak, and they looked at her in amazement.

  Her face looked bloated; there was a bump on her forehead, and her eyes were streaming with tears.

  ‘Oh, my dear!’ cried Sally. ‘What is it? Sit down. Sit down. What’s happened to your head and your face? Fred,’ she turned to him, ‘pour out some tea…And put a drop of brandy in it.’

  Lying back against the bulkhead, Rosie muttered, ‘It’s all right. It’s all right. My dad’s sent me to tell you, anyway.’

  Sally handed her the cup of tea, and she gulped at it; then drained the cup dry; after which she sighed; then looking from the one to the other of her hosts, she said, ‘It was like this. After she got Dad out of the way she hauled me into my cabin, which is like a cubbyhole up in the bows, and, locking the door, she said, “Now you can cool your heels. That’ll teach you to go visiting.”

  ‘I sat in my bunk, and I didn’t mind because I had a book to read. I often buy a book just for its cover. This one was on a second-hand stall in Yarmouth market. It had a lovely leather back. I suppose it’s a daft way to pick books, but I like the feel of them. This one, I saw, must have been an old one for it had a narrow red ribbon intended as a book marker. I had no idea what it was about, only that it was in English and had been translated from a French writer.’ She was now addressing herself wholly to Fred. ‘Well, I sat there, with my feet on the bunk, and started to read. At first, it was quite ordinary, all about some family, until it pointed out that the woman had been unhappily married for years; her husband had treated her really very roughly. Well, I skipped pages and got the gist of it. She was walking the dog along this path where they were on holiday, and she comes across this young fellow. Of course, being French, he would have to be a painter. I skipped some more, until I came to the part where they are very much in love and in bed together.

  ‘It was here that my mouth fell open, my eyes bulged, and my hair seemed to stand on end, for the scene dotted all the Is and crossed the Ts of things that I never imagined could happen. It made the woman in the book feel “ecstasy”, which was printed in capitals and so stood out. I thought, that’s what it must be like for some people, and, fancy, her fifteen years older than him.

  ‘It was at that moment when my eyes were glued to the page that the door flew open…and there was Ma; and the book had had such an effect on me that, for a second, I didn’t seem to take her in before it was grabbed from my hands an
d she said, “You and your trash!” and then started to read the page. Her mouth dropped open and she cried at me, “Ecstasy! You dirty little bugger, you! Filthy, you are. Filthy!” I was now on my feet, and I faced her, and I cried at her, “You’ve had four of us, and I bet we didn’t come by ecstasy. You haven’t got it in you. You’re just a big bladder of lard with a loud gob.” It was at this she attacked me. She took me by the shoulders and banged my head against the woodwork until I went dizzy. Then she was punching me in the face, when me dad and Phil dragged her out.’

  ‘I must have blotted out for a few seconds, because I next remember my dad holding me and stroking my face, saying, “Don’t worry, lass. She’ll never lay hands on you again. Today she’s put the finishing touches to herself and all her crew. Now listen: Phil will stay with you. I’m going to speak to her. There’ll be no yelling, but I’ll bring her along to this end where you’ll be able to hear every word.”’

  Up till now, Rosie had been gabbling her news; but she suddenly stopped and, putting a hand across her eyes, she whimpered, ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You people don’t want to hear all this.’

  Sally’s voice was calm as she said, ‘We do. We do, Rosie. Now come on, get it off your chest: finish what more there is to say. Just take your time.’

  ‘May I have a drink of water, Mrs C?’

  After sipping at the water, she looked at Bill, who had sidled along the seat and laid his head on her knee. And when he looked up at her, she stroked his face, saying brokenly, ‘I do believe he’s sorry for me.’

  The other two said nothing; they just sat and waited. Then, still stroking Bill’s head, she started to talk again, but slowly: ‘I heard me dad speaking now; he was saying, “This is the end, Flo; and I’m not going to do any shouting, I’m just telling you quietly what I’m going to do. I’m taking the boat in today and finishing the cruise…Now, now! Keep your mouth closed for a moment,” he said, “you haven’t heard half of it yet. When we get in, I’m taking Rosie with me and we’re going into a hotel for the night; and tomorrow morning we are making straight for my mother’s. So from this, Flo, you’ll get it that I’m leaving you. I should have done it seven years ago when I left your bed for the last time.

  ‘“Rosie, Lucy and the lad were little then; so I stuck it out. However, what I’m doing now is only a week premature, because I was going to tell you when we got back that we were finished; in fact, I made arrangements on the Friday at the factory. It was after Belle Pollock met me at the station and told me you had sacked her for daring to come to work, as you said, ‘dressed up in finery’. In fact, she was going to a wedding party straight from work, and because she had to travel some way she had come to work in her best dress. Of course, she had her pinny on, but it wasn’t big enough to cover her dress. Well, I took her back with me to the factory, and I got them all together, the whole sixty-five of them, machinists and managers, and I told them of changes that were to be made: that they could come to work in whatever clothes they liked, so long as they weren’t outrageous; that they wouldn’t again ever take orders from my wife, for she wouldn’t be coming back to the factory. I might as well tell you that I had already told Jackson that if you put your nose in the door, he had my permission to remove you forcibly…You needn’t grind your teeth, Flo, or get your hands ready for punching because, although so far I have never laid a hand on you, I can promise you this, I would take some pleasure in doing so now; and you wouldn’t see out of those two mean eyes of yours for days.”’

  Again Rosie paused; and the tears were now running slowly down her face. ‘Eeh! I couldn’t believe my ears, because that was me dad talking in a way I never imagined he could. He was saying, “The house is in my name only. Now you may stay in it until you might want to marry again; but once you have a fancy man in, you, dear Flo, will have to find other quarters. Anyway, I might want to sell it up.

  ‘“Now, I’ll leave you an allowance, which’ll be sufficient, but that’s all, just sufficient to keep you, and the boy and young Lucy at school. One thing, you won’t keep Phil for very long; he wants to come along with me even now; but I shall leave him in charge, sort of. But I assure you that the allowance you’re going to get won’t keep you and your family and nieces and nephews in food and funds. So you’ll likely be seeing much less of them than you’ve been used to.

  ‘“One final piece of information for you, Flo: I’m moving the factory down to the south within the next few months, in order to be near my mother.”

  ‘Now I heard Mum speak for the first time. It was a scream: “And your fancy woman!” and Dad answered her, quite quickly. “Yes, and to be near my fancy woman, Flo; but also in order to see that my Rosie gets an education.”

  ‘“God!” It was Mum screaming again. “Your Rosie educated? The only education she’s fit for will be to turn her out as a whore.”

  ‘I couldn’t believe what my dad said next: “Well, if she does, Flo, there’s one thing sure. She’ll make a better job at it than you ever did, or could.”

  ‘Now Mum did scream, and Dad shouted, “Now I warned you. Alec! You’d better come and get your aunt away. You’ve been all ears, so you’ll have heard all about it. And likely you’ll have to tie her down for the next few days.” And with this, Dad came back to me. His chest was heaving as though he had been running, and Phil said to him, “Sit down, Dad. Sit down.”

  ‘“No, lad. No. There’ll be no sitting down for me until I get off this boat, Rosie with me.”

  ‘He now pulled me to my feet, saying, “Go along, lass, and say goodbye to your friends. You can tell them all that’s happened, and seeing, as you say, the fellow’s a teacher and she is a nice woman, they’ll understand. Anyway, don’t come back on board until you see me. Then you must stick close by me during the rest of the time we’re here. If she gets her hands on you, she’ll murder you. I know that.”’

  She stopped talking now, and Fred and Sally just sat staring at her, as though they had nothing to say. Yet Sally had never felt so sorry for anyone in her life as she did for that young girl; and she knew Fred was feeling the same.

  Spontaneously they leaped from their seats: Sally pushed Bill onto the floor, and they sat, one on each side of her, and held her hands, and Fred said, ‘Don’t worry, my dear. It’s a wonderful thing your father’s doing for you.’

  What Sally did then was to put her arms around the girl and hug her. Her arms around Sally’s neck, Rosie cried openly; then, pulling herself away, she dried her eyes and, looking at Fred, she said, ‘About education, Mr Carpenter; it’s going to be tough because somehow, whatever school I go to I can’t help being myself. You see, from what I read, I’ve got a lot of words in my head; and I know where I should use them; but when I get angry or really mad or someone slights me, it’s swear words that come out.’

  ‘Oh, Rosie, Rosie. My back’s still bad; don’t make me laugh, please. But if you want my advice about your education, let me say this to you. Before your father attempts to get you into some posh school, I would advise that you put yourself in the hands of a tutor for six months or so. He or she will prepare you for the kind of education I think you need and will file down the rough edges like your language. You understand what I mean?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I do, Mr C. Yes, I do, because I know I would make a fool of myself if I went to one of those posh places straight away. The job will be getting Dad to see it.’

  ‘Well, I can tell you, Rosie, that one day you will laugh and look back on this swearing period as a huge joke, because we’re going to keep in touch, aren’t we, Sally?’

  ‘Of course. Of course. Look: I’ll give you our phone number and address. And as soon as you get settled into your grandma’s, give us a ring. We’ll be home by Saturday night…Another thing, your father is moving your factory south; and we live not far from London, at Hastings. You must come for the weekend whenever you feel like it. Now, you will, won’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes; yes. And it’s wonderful of you to want me.’


  ‘It’ll be wonderful to have you,’ said Fred.

  ‘And your father,’ his wife put in, ‘and your granny; we have plenty of room to spare.’

  A voice from above said quietly, ‘Dad’s waiting, Rosie,’ at which she sprang up, saying, ‘I’ll be away, then. And you’re getting off yourselves.’ She flung her arms round Sally’s neck again, saying now, ‘Oh, I’m so glad I’ve met you; you’ve been so nice to me, better than anyone I’ve ever known.’

  She put her hand out to Fred, adding, ‘And I want to be educated, Mr Carpenter. I really do.’

  ‘And you will, Rosie. Never you fear, you will.’

  They followed her into the cockpit and watched her run along with her brother to where her father was waiting for her on the river bank.

  Chapter Four

  It was early evening on Friday when Sally watched her husband mooring Dogfish Three by ropes through the rings in the stone wall that lay outside the boatyard. Luckily, she hadn’t to get out to bring in the rond anchors, which chore she had been doing since the event on Breydon Water at the beginning of the holiday—Fred’s back was still bad. Now, he had allowed about two foot of ropeway for mooring.

  The first thing she said was not ‘Thank God I’m almost on dry land,’ although that’s what she was thinking; but stooping to Bill, she said, ‘Come on, dear; I know you’re bursting; you’ve been such a good boy,’ and, together, they jumped ashore, and he took her at a rush to the nearest scrub.

  Ten minutes later, they returned to Dogfish Three, now bobbing happily up and down just a foot from the wall. No more muddy banks or nervously traversing a wooden gangway to reach a path; no more dreaming of sinking or drowning; they were almost home.

  They had arrived rather late for berthing, yet there were still more boats coming in, and they didn’t know if Rosie’s boat was one of them.

  Fred, once again the Captain, had suddenly become very quiet. Sally said to him, ‘You’re tired, aren’t you? We’re past talking any more tonight about the wonderful people we’ve met during these last few days. Look, darling, you put your feet up and I’ll make us something light, then get to bed. We’ll continue our talking tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.’