Rose Rivers

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘Edie told me what happened. How could you upset Beth in such a manner? You’ve ruined that beautiful French doll with your carelessness!’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t intend to upset Beth. We were having a lovely time until I started to play with her doll. I wanted to amuse her but it just went wrong. I’m terribly sad about Marianne – she was my doll too, and I used to love her enormously. Perhaps we can put a bandage round her eyes, and then she can be like Mr Watts’s painting, the one he calls Hope,’ I said. Papa had taken me to see it and I had secretly thought it rather dreary, but pretended to admire it all the same. ‘Please don’t get so upset, Mama.’ I was trying to be reassuring, but everything I said only seemed to infuriate her.

  ‘Don’t speak to me in that patronizing manner, Rose! I wish you’d learn your lesson and keep away from Beth – you always upset her. It was particularly embarrassing this afternoon, with Lady Robson visiting. I was hoping she’d invite you to tea with her granddaughter. You really must start making some proper friends, Rose. We were getting along splendidly until Beth started that terrible shrieking. I didn’t know where to look. “What is that banshee wailing?” she said. Those were her exact words. And now I’m sure Lady Robson will tell all her society friends about the incident, and they will think me a terrible mother for having such an uncontrollable child,’ Mama said, mopping her forehead.

  ‘Well, what do we care about an old nanny goat like Lady Robson!’ I said without thinking.

  I got sent to bed, though I was too old for childish punishments and it was only halfway through the afternoon. I decided I didn’t care in the slightest. I read for a long time, until my head started aching too, and then I studied Papa’s book on the great masterpieces of art. Masterpieces. Why are there no Mistresspieces?

  I wasn’t even allowed to go down for dinner. Nurse brought me a bowl of bread and milk instead – nursery punishment food. She tutted at me too.

  ‘Poor Beth!’ she said. ‘She was in such a state! I was worried she’d start fitting. I’m not sure she’s out of the woods yet.’

  I lay worrying until, at long last, it was dark and Papa came in to say goodnight.

  ‘I didn’t mean to upset Beth, Papa,’ I said miserably.

  ‘I know you didn’t, my pet,’ he said.

  ‘She will be all right, won’t she, Papa?’

  ‘Of course she will, silly girl.’

  ‘Mama was so hurtful. She said I always upset her.’

  ‘Your mama isn’t very well at the moment.’

  ‘You always stand up for her, Papa.’

  ‘That’s my job. I am an English gentleman,’ said Papa, standing up straight and thumping himself on the chest. ‘I stand up for my wife and children.’ He clicked his heels together.

  ‘Oh, Papa. You’re always joking,’ I said.

  He held my chin very gently. ‘Perhaps you should try to joke too, Rose. You take life so seriously. I wish you were a little happier.’

  ‘I am happy sometimes! I’m just missing Rupert so.’

  ‘I think we all are.’

  ‘Beth’s missing him too. Oh, Papa, promise she’s not going to start fitting.’

  ‘Of course she won’t.’

  ‘She’s so sad about poor Marianne. We’d better keep her in that cupboard now she looks so upsetting.’

  ‘I’m going to take her to a doll’s hospital tomorrow,’ said Papa.

  ‘Is there truly such a thing, or is that another joke?’ I asked.

  ‘There is, truly, and I have a hunch they’ll be able to help Marianne make a full recovery. If she has to stay in hospital for a long time, I might see if I can find another pretty doll to keep Beth company in the meantime.’

  ‘You spoil Beth, Papa. In fact you spoil us all.’ I looked at him. I couldn’t see properly by candlelight, but he seemed particularly tired and careworn. I thought of all the tales of Papa’s youth. ‘Do you ever wish you were still single, free to paint as long as you like without a care in the world?’

  Papa smiled wistfully. ‘And what should I do with you and all your siblings? Put you in the cupboard with Marianne? Go to sleep now, dear.’

  ‘I think I’ll go and kiss Beth goodnight and tell her I’m sorry,’ I said.

  Papa hesitated. ‘Better not. You don’t want to wake her up if Nurse has got her to sleep at last.’

  ‘I suppose not,’ I said. I tried to settle, but I kept thinking about Beth. Long after Papa and Mama had gone up to bed I crept out of my room and tiptoed along the corridor to the night nursery, where Nurse was snoring, and Sebastian and Algie and Clarrie were tucked into their little brass cots. At the end was the bed occupied by Beth.

  I hovered over her, peering at her in the dark. Her head was deeply buried in her pillow, her hair in a long plait coiled like a snake about her shoulders. I held my breath because she was such a light sleeper. I listened to her breathing. It was soft and regular, such a great relief.

  I reached out and very lightly patted Beth’s shoulder. It was the only time I could actually touch her. She stirred and I bit my lip, but she didn’t wake.

  ‘Sleep well,’ I whispered. Beth murmured something indistinctly, as if she were wishing me the same.

  BETH HAS A new nurse. She comes on Lady Robson’s recommendation.

  ‘My daughter-in-law had a little trouble with my third grandchild, Marmaduke. He was so strong-willed I thought we’d never break his spirit. But I took it upon myself to hire this magnificent trained nurse and, in a matter of weeks, we saw such a difference in the little boy. He became so tranquil, so obedient. I highly recommend Nurse Budd, Mrs Rivers. She will make all the difference to your troubled daughter, I promise you. She comes with the very best references,’ she told Mama.

  ‘A simple recommendation from you is all the reference she needs, Lady Robson,’ said Mama sycophantically.

  She was given Nurse Budd’s particulars, who came straight away. I don’t like her one jot. I feel so guilty because it’s all my fault for upsetting Beth when Lady Robson was here. Nurse Budd is as narrow and rigid as a drainpipe, though she pretends to be a soft, simple creature who loves all children. She refers to her charge as ‘my dear little Beth’. I don’t think Beth is fooled. Neither is Nurse.

  ‘I don’t care for that Nurse Budd, for all she’s got a special nursing certificate. I don’t like this talk of “training”. I won’t let her beat my Beth. I won’t stand for any child in my nursery being whipped.’

  As far as we can tell, Nurse Budd has never raised a finger against Beth. She doesn’t raise her voice either. But Beth’s behaviour has started to improve. I don’t know how she’s done it. Nurse Budd insists on having special quarters for her and her charge, so now they share the big green guest room. Nurse Budd says they need privacy to work on Beth’s training.

  I hate not being able to see Beth whenever I want. Nurse Budd scolded me when I burst into their new room without knocking.

  ‘Now now, Miss Rose. I don’t want you disturbing my Miss Beth,’ she said in a silly, syrupy voice. ‘She’s having a little lie-in. Off you pop now.’

  I refused to pop. I was worried about Beth. She scarcely stirred when I talked to her. Her eyelids fluttered and she murmured something, but she wasn’t properly awake.

  ‘I think you tired her out yesterday, Nurse Budd,’ I said accusingly.

  ‘Sleep is nature’s remedy, Miss Rose. Miss Beth needs to rest as much as possible. Half her trouble is simply that she’s overtired. Now run along and stop trying to teach me my job. I am a trained nurse, you know.’ She nodded at the certificate she’d pinned up on the wall.

  I didn’t know what to do. I went to consult Nurse.

  ‘There you are, Miss Rose! Dear goodness, you haven’t even brushed your hair yet. Miss Rayner’s in the schoolroom already. Hurry up now. And look at those muddy boots! You didn’t put them out for young Jack to clean.’

  ‘Who cares about my stupid boots! Nurse, Beth’s still asleep and Nurse Budd doesn’t wa
nt to wake her up. Don’t you think she should?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ve always taken pride in having my lambs up and washed and dressed by eight,’ said Nurse. ‘But that stuck-up Madam Budd clearly has other ideas. Can’t be bothered, most like. And there she is telling me Lady Robson’s daughters have much better-run nurseries.’

  ‘Come with me to wake Beth up please, Nurse,’ I said.

  ‘Well, I’ll try,’ she said. ‘But Nurse Budd won’t thank me for interfering.’

  We went together, Nurse carrying baby Phoebe on her hip.

  ‘Oh my goodness, more visitors!’ said Nurse Budd, frowning. ‘Keep quiet now! I don’t want my little patient to wake up before she’s ready. She needs her beauty sleep.’

  ‘Let me have a look at my Beth,’ said Nurse, refusing to be intimidated. She tried to shake Beth awake. Beth moaned sleepily.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, don’t wake her like that!’ said Nurse Budd.

  ‘She looks very flushed,’ said Nurse. She put out her hand and touched Beth’s forehead. ‘She could be feverish.’

  Phoebe started whimpering, wanting her milk.

  ‘Nonsense. She’s simply warm from being tucked up in bed,’ said Nurse Budd. ‘I’d attend to your own charge if I were you. Miss Beth is no longer your responsibility. You couldn’t handle her, could you?’

  Beth moaned and drew up her knees as if sensing their hostility in her sleep.

  ‘Please don’t squabble – you’re upsetting Beth,’ I said.

  That made them both pick on me instead, suggesting I should mind my own business. I was sent off to the schoolroom with a flea in my ear.

  Miss Rayner’s morning lessons seemed more tedious than ever. She asked me to write a story called ‘Tales of a Bunny Rabbit’ and then to work my way through two pages of long division.

  ‘A bunny rabbit?’ I said. ‘I’m thirteen years old, Miss Rayner! And I mastered long division when I was eight.’

  She blinked at me nervously, but she didn’t tell me off for my outburst. ‘You’re right, Rose,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, dear. I’ll set you some more appropriate work.’

  She suggested an essay on ‘A Young Lady’s Duties’ and then asked me to add up invented pages of ‘Housekeeping Accounts’. Both tasks were extremely boring. Perhaps the tale of the bunny rabbit would have been preferable.

  I’m afraid I didn’t take my new work very seriously. I suggested that, with such tiresome duties, all the young ladies should cast aside their frocks and pinafores forthwith, clothe themselves in sturdy breeches, tie up their treasures in a red spotted handkerchief and stride off to seek their fortunes instead. I scored through poor Miss Rayner’s copperplate accounts of two and three quarter yards of blue ribbon priced at five pence a yard and a dozen and a half yellow roses at a ha’pence a bloom, and suggested that fancy ribbon was superfluous, and buttercups were prettier than roses and could be picked in any meadow for nothing at all.

  Miss Rayner sighed. ‘You’re not being very cooperative this morning, dear,’ she said reproachfully.

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be horrid to you, Miss Rayner. It’s just that I’m so wretched now that Rupert’s at school and I’m not. I feel so left behind. I’m going to be stuck at home like this for ever and ever,’ I said. I had a lump in my throat and was on the brink of tears.

  ‘I do understand how you feel, Rose,’ said Miss Rayner. She glanced at the little ones, who were now working on a bunny-rabbit frieze for the nursery wall. Sebastian’s mouse was sitting on his shoulder, daintily nibbling on a chunk of cheese filched from Cook in the kitchen. Seeing that they were all occupied, Miss Rayner sank onto the sofa and patted the cushion next to her.

  I sat beside her, though it was a very uncomfortable sofa, demoted from the drawing room. It sagged rather because Algie bounced up and down on it so often.

  Miss Rayner patted my hand. ‘There now, Rose. Of course you’re missing Rupert. We all are, he’s such a dear boy. But you mustn’t think that your life is over! My goodness, it’s just beginning! When you’re a year or two older, your mama and papa will find a tutor to teach you a foreign language and give you proper singing and piano lessons so that you become even more accomplished. Before you know it you’ll be seventeen and presented at Court and then, my word, won’t you have a wonderful time going to balls in pretty gowns and meeting dashing young gentlemen.’ Her eyes shone at the thought in a wholly generous manner.

  I wondered if Miss Rayner had ever longed for balls and young gentlemen herself. Of course, that would never have been possible. Miss Rayner had been poor, with elderly parents, and when they both died she’d had to scrape a living as a governess. I wouldn’t want to swap places with her. How terrible having to cope with Algie every day! Clarrie can be difficult too, and Sebastian is challenging in his own demure way. And of course I’m a trial nowadays, moping about the house and rebelling in my half-hearted fashion.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Rayner,’ I said. ‘I know I must seem very selfish and spoiled.’

  ‘Not at all, dear,’ she insisted sweetly. ‘You’re understandably lonely just now. The little ones are so much younger than you, and poor Beth isn’t really able to be a companion to you, even though you’re closer in age.’

  ‘I worry so about Beth, Miss Rayner,’ I confided.

  ‘I do too, ever so,’ she said. ‘I feel so inadequate, not being able to teach her any more. But I simply couldn’t control the poor girl. Thank goodness she’s having proper expert care now.’

  ‘I don’t consider Nurse Budd very proper at all, and I don’t think she’s an expert either,’ I said. ‘Anyone would think she was Florence Nightingale herself.’ I’d read about Miss Nightingale’s splendid work during the Crimean War. There was a woman who didn’t droop at home and fill her empty life with fancy frocks and balls! ‘Miss Rayner, do you think I have the makings of a pioneering nurse? Or maybe even a doctor?’

  ‘Oh goodness, dear, I’m not sure your mama would approve of that idea!’

  ‘Papa might agree – though he wants me to be an artist. However, I’m not sure I have the talent or the inclination. I don’t think I’d enjoy being stuck in a studio doing portraits all day long, though it would be wonderful to paint like Lady Butler.’

  ‘And who is that, dear? One of your mama’s friends?’

  ‘No, no, she’s a true artist. Papa took me to see her magnificent painting in the Royal Academy. It was an incredibly large picture of soldiers on horses. It looked as if the horses were going to gallop right out of the painting and trample us! Lady Butler specializes in military battles. I’d love to do that. It would be so exciting!’ I cried.

  ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea,’ said Miss Rayner. ‘It doesn’t sound suitable subject matter for a lady artist.’

  I took no notice of her. She’s a dear, but she’s not very well-informed, especially when it comes to art. I spent the rest of the morning attempting to draw a soldier on a horse. It was a waste of time. I can’t draw convincing soldiers. I give them moustaches and broad shoulders, but they still look very girly. And I’m hopeless at horses. They have such strange legs for a start. It must be so confusing having four. How do they stop them cantering in different directions? I’m pretty sure the back legs have knees that go the wrong way, but I’m not sure how. Papa is right. I do need to sketch from real life.

  So I asked Nurse if we could go to Hyde Park after the children had had their afternoon nap. ‘I want to go to Rotten Row and watch the people riding their horses. The children would love it and I could sketch,’ I explained.

  ‘You must be joking, Miss Rose. That’s much too far, especially for Miss Clarrie. I dare say Master Sebastian would find it a challenge too – that child has no stamina at all. And I’m the poor soul who would have to push Miss Phoebe all that way in the perambulator, and my bunions are playing up today,’ said Nurse.

  ‘I could push the perambulator – I don’t mind a bit. In fact, you don’t even need to come
, Nursie darling. I’ll take charge of the children and you can put your feet up and have a nice rest. The walk will do Sebastian good – it might put some colour in his cheeks. If Clarrie tires, I can sit her on the end of the pram and give her a lift too. And we both know that Algie never, ever tires. He really needs more exercise, he’s getting very chubby,’ I said, trying my hardest to persuade her.

  But Nurse insisted we had to go on our usual walk along the streets, through the rose gardens, round the pond and back again. I’ve been on that same walk thousands of times. I could find my way blindfold.

  So Nurse set off with the little ones and I stayed at home, hunched up on the window seat by the stairwell, sketchbook on my lap, pencils in my pocket. Papa was out, Mama was in her drawing room, Nurse Budd was upstairs with Beth. The servants were down in the basement. The house seemed very silent, the only sound the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall.

  I listened to it, trying to time my breaths to the ticks. It seemed to be speaking to me. Set off! Run fast! Go now!

  So I did! I didn’t even stop to put on a coat or hat. I simply clutched my sketchbook to my chest, walked across the patterned carpet of the hall, turned the handle of the front door and went out. I patted the heads of our stone lions for luck, first one, then the other. Then I set off.

  I’d been out by myself before. Occasionally Papa sends me to post a letter in the scarlet pillar box at the end of the road. I lead such a restricted life that even that tiny trip is an adventure. Trekking to Hyde Park unaccompanied seemed like a trip up the Amazon.

  At first I walked very fast, but when I turned the corner I started running. I held my arms out as if I were flying, intoxicated with this new freedom. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to escape the dark confines of the house. Why ever hadn’t I done this before? I could slip out by myself any afternoon!