She started to giggle again, saying, ‘D’you know what happened next?’
Laughing her head off, Sally suggested, ‘She fell across the table in a dead faint.’
‘No, she didn’t. She was on one of those swing chairs and she swung round to the bookcase that was close behind her and she started sorting some books out, picking them up one after the other; and then finally she brought out a thin one and turned back and put it on the table, and I knew quite well she hadn’t been looking for a book. You know people do funny things when they’re trying to stop themselves laughing? Her face was straight now but her eyes were bright. Then she said, “And your schoolmaster friend advised you to put your cards on the table, as you said, and take six months’ tuition before coming to this school?”
‘“Yes,” I answered. “He told me that I shouldn’t say anything to my dad about it but should come to you and you would put it across to him as if it was your idea, ’cos he’d listen to you where he wouldn’t listen to me, about spending six months in learning not to swear and to talk properly, because he would say that’s what he was sending me to this school for.”
‘And now, listen, Mr C, to what she said next. It was just this. “You know, I think your schoolmaster friend is a very clever and far-seeing gentleman. His suggestion was right and I think I know the very person who could take control of your situation.” And she now rang a bell, and when the lady with the stupefied face appeared, she said, “Miss Nesbit, please ask Jean to prepare coffee for two, and take Rosie into my sitting room.” Then, looking at me and lifting her hand, she indicated I should follow the now gaping Miss Nesbit. Well; not only did I follow her, I walked beside her down this long corridor, and I looked at her and her mouth was wide open and, you know, being me still…well, don’t laugh, I’d laid my cards on the table, hadn’t I?—I wasn’t yet educated, I was still me, Rosie, so I looked at her’—she began to laugh—‘it was awful of me I suppose, but I couldn’t help it. “Well,” I said, “I should close my mouth if I were you, there’s lots of flies still about, wasps especially. They hibernate at this time of the year, you know.”
‘She stopped dead in her tracks and her mouth seemed to get wider before she snapped it closed, and then she said, “You are an insulting creature.”
‘“Well,” I answered her, “I’m bound to be, aren’t I? ’Cos, you know, I’m from another planet. You’ve never seen anything like me in this school before, have you?” And she answered, “No, I haven’t; and I trust that I never shall.”
‘And now I did follow her, because she strolled away towards a door, opened it wide, stepped aside, and when I’d passed her she banged it closed behind me, almost taking my heels off me. But that voice inside me, you know, which tells me off, said, “You go too far at times.”’
There was a short silence now on the line, during which Fred and Sally exchanged glances that were partly sad. Then Rosie broke in again, ‘I was all wobbly inside, really frightened somehow. My brave face had slipped and I thought, what if she goes to the Headmistress and tells her I insulted her. Well, it was done. I had done it again. I hoped I hadn’t made a mess of things. Oh, yes, I was saying to myself, “You can be too clever, Rosie Stevenson,” when the Headmistress came in—by the way, her name is Miss Clarke—and I had the sense to stand up. She said, “Sit down. Sit down.” Her voice was very nice, quite friendly, so I couldn’t tell if the woman had spoken about me or not. “How do you like your coffee, black or white?” she said.
‘For a minute I was stumped, and then I stammered, “I’ve never had much choice, I take it as it comes; but I think I would like it white.”
‘“I do too,” she said. “Nowadays, people take it black with just a knob of cream on the top, but I think that’s just a fashion for the restaurants. Now”—she had poured out the coffee and handed me a cup, and it rattled in the saucer, I can tell you, when I took it. She didn’t let on, but said, “I have spoken to Miss Barrington. She’s the lady I have in mind who might be able to help you. She used to work here. Well, she worked here for twenty years up till two years ago, when her health gave out. She takes on a pupil now and again in order to keep her hand in, because she’s a fine linguist. If she wishes to take on another pupil, I shall put it over to your father, as you did with me today. Well”—and now, Mr C, she laughed—“at least I should say, I shall put your friendly schoolmaster’s idea over to him, but as if I had thought the whole matter up myself.” Wasn’t that nice of her?’
Fred said, ‘Indeed it was. She must be a very nice lady altogether.’
‘You know what she asked me next? Well it was, had I any idea what I wanted to be, and all I could say was’—now she gave a little laugh as she added—‘and I said it in one word, and that was “educated”. And she laughed at this and said, “Well, when you’re educated, have you any idea what you’d like to be?” and I said, “No, ma’am, except I think I’ll know then, when I can speak English properly and perhaps a language. I’ll know then what I’ll want to be.”’
There was a pause on the line and a noise coming from somewhere as Rosie yelled, ‘All right! All right! I’m coming,’ and then in a lower voice, ‘It’s Dad. He’s just come in; I’ll have to go. I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow. If not, the day after. It’s funny, but all I want to do is to talk to you both and tell you what’s happening to me, ’cos you know you were the cause of it. Yes, you were. Bye-bye.’
‘There’s one thing I’m glad about,’ Sally said to her husband as they turned from the phone. ‘She’s already recognised the still small voice.’
‘You’re right there, dear. I wonder what this Miss Barrington will be like. She’ll have to be a woman of deep understanding and patience to alter our Rosie.’
They didn’t hear anything further from Rosie for two days, and it was Saturday again, just one week from the day they had arrived home so weary, so tired, so cold after their holiday on the river. But Saturday didn’t go without its surprises. Fred had just come in from school at half-past twelve—the grammar school worked on a Saturday morning—and he had just finished saying, ‘Any news in the post?’ and Sally had answered, ‘No,’ when there came a ring at the bell. When she opened the door there was a van outside on which was printed in large letters ‘J. W. Fawcett, Hosier’, and underneath ‘Let us sock it to you’. The man on the steps was holding out a large parcel to her and smiling as he said, ‘Special delivery, ma’am. With the compliments of J. W. Fawcett.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you,’ taking the large box into her arms. ‘Is there anything to pay?’
‘No, nothing whatever. Nothing whatever.’ And on this, still smiling, he turned about and walked back to his van and drove off. She turned to Fred, who had come into the hall, and said, ‘Not only special delivery but pleasantly delivered. Did you ever see such a bright face?’
‘What is it?’
‘How do I know? He says it’s special delivery, and there it is: it has our name and address on correctly. Look what’s written on the side.’
He now took it from her and held it at arm’s length, and she began to laugh as she read the beautifully scrolled words in black and gold written along one side of the parcel, SOCK IT TO THEM IN EVERY CORNER OF THE WORLD, and said, ‘It’s got something like that written on the van.’ They looked at each other and Fred, laughing now, said, ‘Sock it to them in every corner of the world. Who on earth is this from?’
As he was attempting to tear the coloured ribbon from the box, his wife said, ‘Look, don’t tear it, please! Let’s cut it: we must keep that cover, whoever it’s from. Get the scissors.’
He was back in the dining room within seconds. As they cut away the paper a large cardboard box was revealed, out of which they took several packages. The first they opened was addressed to Sally, and as she held them up she couldn’t believe her eyes: it was six pairs of silk stockings, real silk stockings. The next one was the biggest parcel and it was addressed to Fred. He spent no time in opening it
to reveal a pair of football socks with his actual school colours knitted around the top in two bands, also a pair of brown woollen gloves. They too had the school colours ringing the wristbands. Then there was a round box, like a miniature hat box, and in it was a woollen pull-on hat like those that skiers often wear, The last parcel was quite bulky. ‘It was addressed to ‘Mr Bill’ and, on opening it, there was a most lovely dog’s coat, green wool with brown leather strappings underneath and a card which said, ‘With love from Sue to Bill’.
‘The Mancunians!’
And now Fred repeated, ‘Yes, the Mancunians. Would you ever believe it? He must have a hosiery business. But how kind, and how—’
He stopped for words and Sally put in, ‘Yes, how different from how we saw them and how we felt about them. This is because you saved the dog.’
‘Yes, and on top of this we mustn’t forget their thoughtfulness in getting me a doctor, otherwise I might still be in hospital. I know that, because my back was in a dreadful state.’
‘Well I never!’
Again simultaneously they sat down on two of the dining-room chairs, and Fred said, ‘And his sense of humour, “Sock it to them in every corner of the world”. What an advert. You can’t imagine him thinking up anything like that, can you?’
‘I’ll have to phone him straight away,’ Sally said. ‘It’s going to be embarrassing, all of these things, and such quality. Anyway,’ she rose again, saying quickly now, ‘let’s take them into the drawing room; it’s warmer there, and we can discuss what I have to say…and, of course, what you have to say.’
‘Oh, no! No! No discussion about what we’re going to say, that’s the wrong thing: just say what’s in our hearts and minds at that moment. I thought you’d be the one to say that.’
‘Yes, you always expect me to say things for you, but I’m not going to do that this time. I’ll say what I think, then I’ll hand the phone over to you. You’re the hero in this business anyway.’
‘Hero be damned!’
They gathered up the things from the table, went into the drawing room and placed them at the end of the couch; and when Sally went to sit down he said, ‘No, don’t sit down; go and do it now.’
‘All right, I’ll do it now if you’ll come with me because, don’t forget, in all this business you were the smarty, coming out with your Latin quips as we sailed out into the blue.’
Sally dialled the number that was stamped on the end of the box, and they looked at each other as they waited while the bell rang at the other end of the line.
When a voice said, ‘Yes; this is Fawcett here,’ she turned her head quickly and looked into the mouth of the phone as if she were seeing him, and said, ‘What am I going to say to you, Mr Fawcett?’
‘Oh. Hello! It arrived, then? Mrs Carpenter, is it?’
‘Yes, it’s Mrs Carpenter here, Mr Fawcett. And what a surprise! And how we have laughed: who on earth thought up that wonderful slogan?’
‘Not me, I can tell you.’
Sally knew by his tone that he was laughing, but she couldn’t imagine the man they knew laughing: her mental picture showed him still very straight-faced and he was saying, ‘It was my son, when he was about seven years old. He came in from school one day full of himself: they had been playing football and his side had won, and he exclaimed loudly, “We socked it to ’em, Daddy, and as the master said, we sent them all home in parcels to their mummies.” I had to laugh because we’re an old-established firm and we had never gone in for any blatant advertising, but that term just struck me: didn’t we make socks, among other things, and didn’t we parcel them up and send them to our clients in different parts of the country? And so I put it to my father: we were in an age of competition and we should go with the times. He wasn’t for it then, but I put a notice in the shop window, saying, “Why not let us sock it to your friends or family in any part of the country? Fawcett range from babies’ bootees to anything you fancy in wool, silk or synthetics.”’
There was a pause, and Fred put in, ‘What happened next, Mr Fawcett? Did your father get angry?’
‘No. No, Mr Carpenter; he just stood back and waited, and believe it or not, those words doubled our trade within a year. They seemed to attract a younger kind of client. We now have eight vans, each with its cheery driver. My wife considers it vulgar. But trade is trade.’
‘I think it’s marvellous,’ Sally said. ‘And that parcel, well, we thought, was unique. But you…you are so kind. We have done nothing to deserve all these beautiful things.’
‘You saved Sue. If that dog had drowned, Mrs Carpenter, my wife would’ve been devastated. She simply adores that animal. We all love Sue; but to my wife she is something special, because she was given to her by her father the day before he died in a riding accident. That’s just on ten years ago.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. We are both sorry,’ said Fred.
‘There’s one thing I can assure you of, Mr Carpenter, that she will always be in your debt. There’s hardly a day passes but she mentions how brave you were, because we heard later that your back was still in a very poor condition and if you had slipped over the side you would never have been able to make it in that swift-flowing river. I shudder now when I think about it. How is your back?’
‘Much better, thanks. And now it’s my turn to say thank you because if you hadn’t been kind enough to go to Peter, I mean Dr Wheeler, I should at this moment, I am sure, still be in hospital.’
‘Oh, what I did was nothing, nothing.’
‘What you did, Mr Fawcett,’ Sally put in, ‘wasn’t nothing: it was a great kindness, and I’m so sorry we got off to such a bad start; and I must apologise for my husband’s bad manners and his big head in quoting Horace’s Odes.’
At this point Fred said, ‘And I got my answer, didn’t I? You see, it was our first trip on the river.’
‘Oh,’ replied Mr Fawcett, ‘you weren’t alone in that; it was our first too. But I’m afraid it’s going to be our last. You see, I…well, my son and I like the water and we were for buying a boat, but my wife wasn’t. However, we begged her just to try a week on the Broads. We had heard such good reports of the place. But they never mention Breydon Water, do they?’
‘No,’ Sally put in, on a laugh, ‘they don’t. And how I hate that stretch. In fact, I don’t like rivers at all, it’s my husband here who’s mad on them.’
‘Oh,’ said Mr Fawcett now, ‘my wife will be so pleased to hear that because it has decided us that it’ll be no use us getting a boat because she will never come on it. I’ve never seen her so happy and pleased for years as she was when we returned home on that Saturday night. She’ll be so glad to learn she’s not the only one in the world who hates rivers. However, I’ve promised to get a better car and a nice travelling caravan. Yet it’s amazing how she doesn’t seem to mind when she’s on a liner. I think it’s because she can sit down in the saloon and not see that there’s water outside the window. By the way, you’re not all that distance from London, are you?’
‘About a two-hour journey.’
‘Well, we come up at least once a year to see a play or something like that. Wouldn’t it be fine if we could all meet up one weekend? I know she would love that, and so would Walter. Oh, yes, he would love that.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ Fred said, glancing at his wife. ‘Perhaps it could be arranged towards Christmas some time; there are some very good shows on then.’
‘Yes. Yes. We must talk again,’ said Mr Fawcett. ‘By the way, my name is James; my wife is Jessie and my boy is called Walter.’
Sally laughed here, and said, ‘Well, we’re Sally and Fred and, of course, Bill.’
Mr Fawcett laughed. ‘Oh, no! We mustn’t forget Bill. Jessie couldn’t get over the fact that Sue fell in love with him.’
‘Nor could we, because, you see, he hates dogs. When he was a puppy he was badly mauled by a labrador; but he loves people, adores people. And then he goes and falls for your Sue.’
�
�She isn’t very friendly, and that she should have fallen for Bill…well, we couldn’t get over it.
‘Anyway, we must talk again. I’m so glad the parcel arrived, but more so that I have been able to talk to you both. It makes me feel that that holiday was not in vain because we ourselves seemed to see far too much of that awful family on the holiday cruiser. Dear, dear! What people! Anyway, goodbye for now; and I hope we’ll all be meeting shortly.’
‘Goodbye,’ Fred said. ‘Goodbye. And thank you again for those lovely presents.’
The phone was put down and the Carpenters looked at each other. Sally said quietly, ‘“That awful family”. Our poor Rosie! What would they think of her? Dear, dear, dear. What a mixture!’
They went back into the drawing room, sat down and looked at all the goodies that had been in the box, and Fred said, ‘I can understand quite well how he felt about that lot. Except for Rosie and her father, I would have felt the same. What about you?’
Sally did not answer at first, but thought, Yes, it was pure snobbery thinking about them the way we did, but they were a dreadful lot, and so she said, ‘Yes. Yes, I would have thought as he did, except for Rosie. But if either of them had heard Rosie at her best…’ She raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘Dear Lord, the reaction! If they ever do meet her, let’s hope by that time the tutor has rid her of the bloody buggers, and so on.’
Later that evening, when they were both working in the study, Fred at his textbooks, Sally on her stock sheets, the phone rang once again. She said, ‘If I didn’t think that was Rosie, I wouldn’t get up to answer it, because it’s never stopped going all day.’
When she got to the phone a voice said, ‘Hello there!’ and she replied, ‘Is that you, Rosie?’
Fred, who had flown from the study, shouted into the mouthpiece, ‘Who else does she think it is?’
Rosie of the River Page 10
