‘This, Mr Frederick Carpenter,’ came the reply, ‘I would inform you, is Miss Rosina Stevenson, calling to enquire after Mr Bill Carpenter.’
‘Whatever’s the matter with you?’ cried Sally. ‘What’s all this about?’ and it was Rosie’s normal voice that now came at her, saying, ‘You’d never believe it if you saw me. Guess how I’m dressed. Go on! Have a guess.’
Fred answered quickly, ‘In see-through tights.’
‘Oh, Mr C! Mr C! How could you suggest such a thing. But I’ll get into them any time you like.’
‘Shut up, you two! Don’t be silly. How are you dressed?’ Sally asked now.
‘Well, listen. Imagine me in a warm brown-coloured two-piece corded suit, skirt, pink silk shirt blouse, and below, wearing cavalry-coloured stockings with shoes to match, inch heels and slip-ons into the bargain. But that’s not all, a brown suede bag with matching gloves. So what d’you think of that?’
‘No wonder the mirror cracked when you looked into it,’ put in Fred.
‘Be quiet, Fred,’ Sally said reproachfully. ‘You’ve been shopping, Rosie? Who took you?’
‘Miss Barrington; and from now on you’re going to hear a lot about Miss Barrington, let me tell you.’
‘Well, get on with it. What happened at the meeting?’
‘Oh, that! Well, I’ll try to cut it short. You know we had to meet Miss Clarke on the Monday afternoon and she told Dad of her, I repeat her, great idea of having me tutored in order that I should come up to the level of those young ladies who wished to enter her school. She didn’t exactly put it like that but she made it plain to him, and he said, “Tutored for six months!” and to this she answered, “Yes, Mr Stevenson, and perhaps longer. It all depends; and it’s your choice. What d’you think, Rosie?”
‘She was appealing to me, and I said, “I think you’re right, Miss Clarke. I would like that better than starting in the big school straight away. It would be a sort of breaking-in period.” And Miss Clarke went on to tell my dad about Miss Barrington. And he asked her where all this would take place. And she said, “Well, it would be up to you: she can either visit your house each day, or your daughter could visit hers, you live quite near each other as it happens. I myself think it would be better if Rosie were tutored at home. Have you a room that could be turned into a study?”
‘Dad was smiling now and he repeated, “A room that could be turned into a study? There’s a great big nursery on the second floor. That’s where I spent my first years. It would be the very place for a schoolroom.”
‘“Well, in that case,” said Miss Clarke, “perhaps you would like to meet her tomorrow and discuss the matter. Shall I arrange for her to come to your home?”
‘“You can do that, by all means,” he said. “And tomorrow afternoon will suit me fine.”
‘By that time, Mrs C, you can imagine I was bursting inside. I was wanting to break in with one of my…well, what you would call pieces of my repertoire. That would be the name for them, wouldn’t it, Mr C?’
‘Yes, Rosie,’ Fred laughed; ‘that’s the name for them, your repertoire.’
‘Well, to cut another long story short, Gran said it would be wonderful to have somebody upstairs again. Anyway, come the next day, there we were waiting for Miss Barrington; and when the front door was opened for her and she stood in the hall and we looked at each other, a funny thing happened. You know how it is, Mrs C, sometimes: you know when a thing is right or wrong, something inside tells you. And this tall woman, ’cos she was tall—she is tall—she’s all of five foot nine or ten, well, we looked at each other, as I said, and something happened between us. I didn’t know then what she thought about this individual who was staring at her, but I know now she felt the same as I do. And it’s wonderful. Life’s wonderful. Oh, you’ve got no idea.’
‘No, we haven’t any idea,’ put in Fred, ‘unless you’re going to tell us about it. You’re wasting phone time, do you know that? Your granny must be swimming in money to pay for these phone calls.’
‘Aye, she is; and so is me dad, and he doesn’t mind. So what d’you think about that, Mr C?’
‘No matter what Mr C thinks about it,’ Sally put in, ‘get on with it, Rosie. Tell us what happened next.’
‘Well, everybody was introduced to everybody else. Then Dad and Miss Barrington and me went upstairs. In the nursery she stood looking round, and then, nodding her head, she said, “This will do splendidly. But it’s a very cold room; you’ll need central heating up here.”
‘Me dad stared at her. “Well, we always had fires on,” he said.
‘“That might have been so in your day, Mr Stevenson”—she smiled at him—“but today I don’t think any member of any staff will relish carrying buckets of coal up here and cinders down.”
‘“Aye,” me dad nodded at her; “I see what you mean.” And then she said, “I notice you have central heating downstairs; it would be quite a small job to extend it up here, because it’s here your daughter and I will be from nine until twelve and from two until four each day. And one cannot take in much learning if one’s teeth are chattering.” We exchanged smiles; then looking about her again, she said, “We’ll need a decent table and two chairs with padded backs. Perhaps you have another attic with odd pieces of furniture in it which might provide what we need.”
‘“There are no odd pieces of furniture in the attics up here, Miss Barrington,” said me dad now. “But you’ve only to say what you want and you may have it.”
‘“Oh, that’s nice to know, Mr Stevenson. Yes, indeed it is. Well, now that we are together, the three necessary people concerned in this affair, I think we should clarify exactly what is to be done.” She looked from my father to me, then back to my father. “Your daughter will not, of course, need any uniform until she is ready for school, but I do think that part of her education should be given over to what she needs by way of ordinary clothes.” This, Mrs C,’ added Rosie now, ‘made me open my eyes, as I hadn’t imagined clothes having any part in my education; it was my mind I was worried about, not the things I was wearing. But Miss Barrington apparently didn’t see it like this and so she put it plainly to Dad: “I think during the refining period,” she said, “she should be given some idea of what is necessary in the way of dress for…well, different occasions.”
‘Dad stared at her. “Is she expected to go to balls?” he asked.
‘Miss Barrington now laughed outright and said, “Not through me, Mr Stevenson, not through me; but I know one or two shops that would dress her nicely and give her discreet advice on what to wear, say, for outdoors or going to the theatre or for travelling or whatever she might be wanting to do in the future. It might cost money…”
‘Again Dad put in here, “Well, I’ve already told you, whatever you need, up here, or for her in any way, you have a free hand.”
‘At this, Miss Barrington put her head back and laughed. And then, looking at Dad, she said, “Oh, you know, Mr Stevenson, there is nothing I like more than spending other people’s money and buying things for which I know I shall not be expected to pay.”
‘Dad stared at her slightly open-mouthed as she went on, more calmly now and quietly, “But don’t worry, as the weather gets colder, I shan’t be pushing in a mink coat for myself.”
‘Now Dad actually laughed. I’ve never seen him for a long time so happy-looking and open-faced.’
There was a pause, and Fred said, ‘Well, go on, tell us what he said to her.’
‘Well, he said, “You know, Miss Barrington, I think I might draw the line at the mink coat. A good winter one, yes, or possibly something else might take your fancy, but not a mink coat.”’
They were laughing now, but Rosie’s voice had no laughter in it as she said, ‘Believe me, Mr and Mrs C, I stood there dumbstruck. I couldn’t have been more surprised. This was the woman who was going to teach me English or French or German or whatever and make me ready to be a lady, and there was me dad backchatting her, and they were
both enjoying themselves. I could see they were. Then she turned to my father and said, “Would you mind leaving me with your daughter for a time, Mr Stevenson? We shall have a lot to discuss, and we want to get down to business as soon as possible, don’t we?”
‘And at this he nodded and said, “Yes. Yes, Miss Barrington; you’re right. And I’ve got to get back to work too.”
‘When we were alone we stood looking at each other, and she said, “I must warn you, Rosie, that your path for the next few months is not going to be easy. You will be bored to death with repetition; you will get so sick of reading.”
‘“Oh, no, I won’t!” I put in here. “I love reading. And I have a good memory. I can remember a full page of anything I’ve just read, and I can nearly give you word for word of a conversation.” And she said, “Oh, can you? Well, that will help, but it will not minimise the work that lies before you. You still have to be ground in the crucible of English grammar.”
‘Aye, that’s the words she used, I remember them: crucible of English grammar. “You have a very steep mountain to climb,” she said, “because you haven’t been born to it, but have come upon it at this age, and you will probably say to yourself, if I’ve been over this once I’ve been over it fifty times. But I can promise you one thing. Once you have climbed to the top of your mental mountain, you will see a horizon lit by the beauty of the English language, developed from the Anglo-Saxon and aided and abetted by Latin and French, and you will be amazed.”
‘Anyway, she held out her hand and took one of mine between her own two, and she patted it, saying, “I’m throwing you in at the deep end, but one day you’ll thank me. And when our six months is up you mightn’t want it to end there, you might wish it to go on for a year or more, and if that were the case, I should be delighted. And I know Miss Clarke would be too, because we both know you are a girl of intelligence beyond your age and background. I speak plainly to you now because I know you understand.”
‘And at this I looked up into her face. I knew my eyes were shining and that I was near to tears as I said, “Yes, Miss Barrington, I understand what you are saying.”’
The Carpenters were standing very close together now and Fred took his wife’s hand, for she was actually crying; and he, she could see, was full of emotion, as he said quietly over the phone, ‘Rosie, you’re a most unusual girl. Everything that teacher said is true. You have intelligence, high intelligence, yes, seemingly above your age, but not necessarily, I would say, above your background; and some day you will be somebody. Yes, you will be somebody.’
‘Oh, Mr C. If only I had your shoulder here it would be wringing wet. Well, I must really go now, but before I do, a lot of other things have happened since Tuesday. I have learned a lot about Miss Barrington from Miss Collins, who is about the same age as Miss Barrington, and although she has never known her personally she knew about her. She was seventeen and engaged to a captain during the First World War, and just before the end of it he came home. He was just slightly wounded and everybody really thought the war was over, all but the signing, so they were married. Two days later he was sent back to France, and it must’ve been just hours before the last shot was fired that he was killed, shot by a sniper, he and three of his men. In 1919 she had a baby that came before its time and it died, and she nearly died too. She had a sort of breakdown. After she recovered she went to university, and later became a teacher. She lived with her parents until they died, but now she lives in a small flat quite near here. And what I have gathered during the last three days, in spite of her knowledge and her travelling abroad each year and so on, is that she is a lonely woman. Gran guessed this too, and so arrangements have been made that she has lunch with us and tea after she finishes at four. We have known her for such a short time but she seems to have fallen into our ways, I mean Gran’s ways, not mine’—she laughed here—‘and she feels at home. I know she does.
‘Oh, Mr and Mrs C, I wish you were nearer and I could come and talk to you. There’s so much I want to say, and as yet I can’t say it to anybody but you two. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to talk to anybody like I do to you, because you saw me in the raw. Oh, there are lots of things Miss Barrington has said to me. It is somehow like listening to you, Mr C, you know.
‘Gran’s just yelled up if I don’t get off this phone she’ll come and brain me and tell you she’s gonna send you the bill; and she says when are you coming down to see her ’cos she wants to know what you look like? I’ll have to say bye-bye now, dears; but, oh, if you could only see me you’d both go cock-eyed at the sight. Bye-bye, dears. Bye-bye.’
‘Bye-bye, my love,’ Sally said softly.
‘Bye-bye, Rosie of the River,’ Fred shouted.
‘What did you say?’
‘I said “Rosie of the River” because that’s how we’ll always think of you. Bye-bye, love.’
They didn’t go back into the study but went into the kitchen, and when Sally stood quiet, with her hands lying flat on the table, he placed his arm around her shoulder, saying, ‘What is it?’
‘Oh, Fred, I’ve wished so often that we had had children to fill up this great cold house, and I can’t help thinking that when I had those two miscarriages after we were first married one of them might have grown up to be like Rosie. It would have been the most wonderful thing that could have happened. In fact, now it seems an answer to a prayer that she’s come into our lives just at this moment.’
‘You’re right there. She says we’ve done a lot for her, to help her get started on a new life. I don’t suppose she’s even thought that she might have done just as much for us in quite a different way.’
Chapter Six
They heard nothing further from Rosie for a week, when a postcard from her set them thinking. It read:
So very busy, loves, upstairs and down. Gran has had a bad cold. James Watson would like to see you. Got in touch. Called here. Be phoning you. So much to say. Why don’t you live near? Love to the three of you.
Rosie
When Fred came in from school, Sally passed the card to him and said, ‘What do you make of that? James Watson would like to see us. Why didn’t he phone?’
‘I don’t recall giving him our number,’ said Fred.
‘Well, he’s been to see Rosie; she could have.’
‘Well, we must wait and see, mustn’t we?’ said the schoolmaster. Then he added, ‘How was work today?’
‘Could be worse. I like the new winter stock I ordered. Some of it came in today, and it made me feel that we’re beginning to throw off all the shortages and austerity we’ve had since the war. I think sales are picking up too.’
‘Good.’ He put his arm round her, kissed her, then said, ‘Don’t lose interest here, will you? Don’t forget there isn’t only dry rot and woodworm to be seen to, there are seventeen leaks in that roof now; and the guttering on the far side is giving way. And what is more, we want to think about a trip abroad; or, like Mr Fawcett, we could think about buying a new boat.’
She gave him a gentle push. ‘Before we come to the trip abroad or buying a new boat, I want some new clothes, I haven’t had any for ages. If this new stock attracts more customers, I want—I’ve got to be at least as well dressed as they are.’
‘There’s always Mr Fawcett’s silk stockings.’
‘Huh! Those, as you know, are for special occasions, such as when the size of my orders is so big that I’m invited up to London to meet the manufacturers and attend all the major dress shows.’
Isn’t it strange how things said in jest often take place in real life later on?
They hadn’t long to wait to know what Rosie’s postcard was all about, because that evening James Watson telephoned.
‘Hello there,’ he said. ‘This is James Watson here.’
‘And not before time,’ Sally said; ‘it’s a fortnight since we waved goodbye.’
‘Mrs C, I’ve been in jail for the past two weeks—well, I might as well have been—but on Frid
ay coming, as never was, I’m being let out of the college until the Monday, and as usual I’m staying at the Rectory in London. Now, I know it’s a two-hour or more journey from your country mansion up to the East End of London, but if you can join us next Saturday, I will meet you at the station and take you to the Rectory and present you to my papa and mama. Then you can hear what has happened in the last two weeks, or three, let’s say…not to me, but to our friend, Pontoon Mouth. Remember him?’
Fred, who by now was standing by his wife’s side, said, ‘I’m here too, James. How are you?’
‘Fine. Fine. Oh, it’ll be good to see you both again. Anyway, as I said, you’d like to know what happened to Pontoon Mouth, wouldn’t you?’
‘We would. We would.’
‘Well, I can tell you both, you’re in for a surprise. That, though, I’ll leave to my father because he was the executor of it all. I think he could have run the resistance in France during the war, the things he gets up to. Anyway, how are you really, both of you?’
‘Oh, we’re fine,’ said Fred.
‘And your back?’
‘Oh, that’s at its normal best. I can now fell a tree, and saw it up so that we don’t freeze to death in this mausoleum of ours. By the way, you saw Rosie. How is she?’
‘Oh, our Rosie. Well, she has fallen on her feet. You’ll never believe it when you see her. Well, she’s changed outwardly, her dress and her hairstyle and whatnot; but inwardly though, I fear, she is much the same. But she’s living a different life. You must go and see her. The granny’s got a lovely house, and it seems full of nice people. And this Miss Barrington is a gem. How she came across her I’ll never really know, except I gather that you, Fred, had a hand in it. Our Rosie is going places; I’m sure of that. But listen, can you come on Saturday?’
They looked at each other and Fred nodded. ‘Well, it just happens that I do have next Saturday off. You see, normally we work on a Saturday morning, and only half a day on Wednesday. Yes; yes, of course we’ll be there; we’ll get the nine o’clock train from here. But there’ll be three of us, as you know.’
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