‘Still, Mr Dolly was delighted, because the baby doll was very expensive. Your papa proved to be an excellent customer. He bought a doll’s-house family for Clarrie and even insisted on a doll for little Phoebe. I helped him choose this time,’ said Clover. ‘It’s small enough for her to grasp, but not so small that she could swallow it. It’s wooden – very stoutly jointed and unpainted, because Phoebe will suck things so …’ Clover paused.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I’m just wondering if my own baby brother, Bert, remembers me at all. I carried him around everywhere. He used to suck my fingers,’ she said softly.
I wondered what it must feel like to lose contact with your family. I don’t think I’d mind as much as Clover. I shall try to make a bit of a fuss of her tomorrow. I have a special present for her.
When I was little, Miss Rayner encouraged me to make presents for Mama and Papa. I spent hours and hours knitting comforters and constructing cross-stitch purses, and they always received them with delight, even Mama – but as I grew older I realized that Mama never once used her purse or her blotter or her glove holder, and Papa wore his knitted items for only a day or two, and then managed to ‘lose’ them.
I can’t say I blamed them. My handicraft skills are frightful, in spite of Miss Rayner’s encouragement. I once gave the worst of my purses to her because I’d managed to misspell the greeting on the front. I knew Mama would scoff if I presented her with a purse saying Merry Chistmas. I’d run out of red thread too, so half the message was in green. It was probably the worst home-made Christmas present in the world, and yet Miss Rayner seemed thrilled with it. She still keeps it in her bag.
I wondered about getting up and making Miss Rayner a proper purse with a sentimental message sewn on the front – maybe Best Governess in the World, even though she isn’t. But I won’t be seeing her until after we come back from our trip to Dundee. I decided it could wait. Maybe I will make it on the long train journey. Or maybe I won’t. I’m often full of good intentions, but rarely act on them.
At least I’ve got Clover’s present ready. I’m going to give her my coloured pencils. They aren’t new, but I’ve sharpened them all and tied a ribbon round the box.
WE HAD THE usual early-morning Christmas Parade. Papa gets up first and comes to the nursery in his nightshirt and dressing gown. He is always respectably covered, but the very idea alarms Nurse. She gets up even earlier and puts on her corset underneath her nightgown and pins up her hair, and then climbs back into bed and pretends to be asleep. She rubs her eyes and acts surprised when Papa comes bouncing in, but she doesn’t fool anyone. She’s always changed and fed the current baby of the family too, so that it isn’t damp and screaming when Papa plucks it out of its cot.
This was Phoebe’s first time as the star of the ceremony. She behaved perfectly, chuckling happily as Papa lifted her up to give her a Christmas kiss. Then he took her to the next youngest, Clarrie, who was also feigning sleep, quivering with excitement under her eiderdown. He bent down and helped Phoebe to give her elder sister a Christmas kiss. I was watching slyly from the doorway, feeling surprisingly fond of them all, even when Algie baulked at kissing poor Sebastian and made a silly rude noise instead.
It was Sebastian’s task to wake Beth – but none of us knew how that would turn out. No one had warned Nurse Budd about our family tradition. She leaped out of bed, outraged, her nightcap lopsided, looking so comical that we couldn’t help sniggering.
‘Mr Rivers! What is the meaning of this!’ she demanded.
‘Merry Christmas, Nurse Budd. This is our special Christmas Parade. We have come to wake Beth with a kiss. I’m sorry we startled you,’ said Papa.
‘Oh my goodness, Mr Rivers! What a pity no one warned me. Still, Merry Christmas to you all. Could you wait a couple of minutes while I prepare Miss Beth? She finds it hard to manage surprises. I’m sure you understand,’ she said, and she shut the door in our faces.
Papa frowned but stood there meekly.
‘Take no notice, Papa! Let’s go straight in,’ I said.
‘I can’t, Rose! Perhaps Nurse Budd is performing some private ablution,’ he replied. ‘We’ll be patient for five minutes.’
When Nurse Budd opened the door, she was still in her nightgown, but she’d changed her nightcap for a nurse’s cap. Beth was awake, but still lying in bed, licking her lips. Perhaps she’d already been given her dose of Godfrey’s Cordial. Sebastian went up to her and blew her a kiss. Beth looked worried, but was distracted by Montmorency, who was peeping out of his nightshirt pocket. She started twitching her own nose in imitation.
At that point I flew back to my room so that she would find me in bed. Papa led her along the corridor, and she sidled through the door, looking down at the carpet. She wouldn’t come over and kiss me, but when all the other children made encouraging kissing noises, she copied them, smacking her lips together.
‘Happy Christmas, Rose,’ they chorused on Beth’s behalf.
Then I had to lead the way to Rupert’s room. He seemed genuinely asleep, and lay sprawled on his back, hair tousled, mouth open.
‘Oh, let’s drop a penny in his mouth as if he’s a slot machine!’ Algie chortled.
Rupert woke up and seized hold of him. He turned him upside down – not a pretty sight as he wore nothing beneath his nightgown. Then Rupert led the parade to our parents’ bedroom.
They don’t usually share this room any more. Papa uses the bed in his dressing room instead. He moved there when Mama had Phoebe, and he’s stayed there ever since. But now he climbed into the big bed beside Mama and we all piled in as well.
Mama must have got up earlier too, because she smelled of cologne, her hair was carefully brushed, falling past her shoulders like a young girl’s, and her nightgown was fresh and uncrumpled. She looked surprisingly pretty. She played along with the kissing game, sighing happily when Rupert kissed her cheek.
‘Happy Christmas, my dear boy,’ she said. ‘It’s so lovely to have you home again. My own family, all together!’ She kissed Papa and then each of us in turn. I clung to her for a few seconds, wishing she could always be like this, so soft and warm and playful.
‘The stockings, the stockings, the stockings!’ Algie clamoured, rushing over to the fireplace. Six woollen stockings hung there side by side, with one little sock for Phoebe. Previously they’d hung from our own bedposts, but last year Algie had run riot at two in the morning, opening not only his stocking but everyone else’s too.
Algie snatched them down now and distributed them. My stocking contained a little purse, a handkerchief, a plaster rabbit, a tin of toffees, an orange and a handful of nuts. The others had similar small trinkets. Phoebe’s sock contained a tiny blue stuffed monkey, a rusk, a soft hairbrush and a little silver bell.
Beth took a fancy to the bell. She snatched it and rang it again and again.
‘No, Beth, no!’ said Mama. ‘Perhaps we should send her back to Nurse Budd.’
‘Let her play with it if she wants,’ Papa said quickly. ‘I’m sure Phoebe doesn’t mind.’
Phoebe seemed content to suck the end of her hairbrush instead. Mama said the constant ringing was giving her a headache, but at least it kept Beth quiet until breakfast time.
After we’d eaten our bacon and eggs we had our main presents in the drawing room. The servants joined us too. Papa dressed up as Father Christmas, with a false beard – Algie kept trying to pull it off. He’d stored the big presents in the boot room, and led us all down there blindfold before revealing the exciting packages. There was a great to-do as they were all brought upstairs by Mr Hodgson and Jack Boots. I took advantage of the general fuss to wish Clover a happy Christmas and thrust the box of crayons at her.
‘Oh, Rose! Sorry, Miss Rose!’ she said, her green eyes filling with tears as she peeped inside the wrapping.
‘Run and hide them, quickly,’ I said.
Clover was back in time for the start of the family present-giving. As she pass
ed by, she very quickly squeezed my hand.
Nurse Budd was watching, and sniffed contemptuously.
‘Present time, present time, present time!’ Algie and Clarrie shouted.
‘Very well, my chickies. So what has Father Christmas brought for this fine family of children?’ said Papa. ‘Aha! A very small present for the eldest son!’
Rupert’s little package from Father Christmas was a gold signet ring set with a bloodstone. It was very fine and fitted him perfectly.
‘And Mother Christmas has a present for you, darling,’ said Mama, giving him another small box.
It was a gold pocket watch, almost identical to Grandpapa’s.
‘But he already has the watch your father gave him, Jeannie,’ said Papa, surprised.
‘Yes indeed, but I think it’s better if he saves that one for special occasions. This can be his everyday watch,’ said Mama smoothly.
Had Rupert confided in her too? Had she simply noticed he wasn’t wearing Grandpapa’s watch any more? Rupert gave Mama a special hug, and she smiled at him indulgently.
My own present was an exquisite Japanese watercolour of a persimmon tree.
‘What a strange little painting,’ said Mama. ‘Are you sure it’s finished, Edward? The tree is right on one side and most of the paper is blank.’
‘Father Christmas thought Rose would appreciate the painting as she admires Japanese art,’ said Papa.
‘Indeed I do, Papa,’ I said. ‘I shall hang it above my bed. Please thank Father Christmas for me.’
I had a present from Mother Christmas too, a set of three silver bangles. I thanked Mama graciously, but I didn’t like the way they jingled on my arm. I’d have preferred a pocket watch too.
Beth didn’t care for her big baby doll either. She seemed frightened of it, not sure whether it was real or not. She kept giving it little sidelong glances to see if she could catch it moving.
‘What a lucky girl you are, Miss Beth,’ said Nurse Budd. ‘Why don’t you give baby a cuddle?’
She held out the doll, but Beth kept her arms by her side, fists clenched.
‘Don’t be silly now, Miss Beth. Hold the lovely baby dolly your kind papa has bought you.’
‘It was Father Christmas’s present – but maybe he got it wrong,’ said Papa.
‘Wrong, wrong, wrong!’ Beth said, and started to cry.
‘Perhaps she’d like Marigold just for now. I’m sure she’ll love the baby doll when she gets used to it,’ said Clover. ‘Best not press it on her now, Mr Rivers.’
Mama gasped at Clover speaking her mind.
‘Hold your tongue, girl!’ Nurse Budd hissed.
‘No, no, Clover’s being very sensible,’ Papa insisted firmly. ‘Can you go and fetch it for her, dear?’
Mama winced at the word ‘dear’.
Nurse Budd winced too. ‘I’ll fetch it, sir,’ she said. ‘Of course we all want to make dear Miss Beth happy, but might I point out that it’s not always sensible to indulge her every whim. The precious child has to learn to behave. We don’t want her to grow up with the manners of a street urchin, do we?’ she added, with a horrible dig at Clover.
Beth cried even harder.
‘I think you’d better take Beth away for a while, Nurse Budd. See if you can distract her,’ said Mama.
‘Certainly, madam. Come with me, Miss Beth,’ said Nurse Budd. She held Beth by one hand, the wax baby dangling in the other. Its legs swung as she walked, as if it were kicking in protest. Beth struggled to get away too, but Nurse Budd held her fast.
‘Papa!’ I cried. ‘Please don’t let Beth be taken away, not on Christmas Day!’
Papa looked at Mama helplessly.
‘Nurse Budd knows best,’ she said firmly.
So Beth was dragged away screaming. For a couple of minutes the other children were subdued and anxious, but they were soon distracted by their presents from Father Christmas.
Beth was returned to the drawing room half an hour later, red-eyed and subdued. She kept her hand over her mouth. Perhaps she was trying to stop herself crying. She’d missed the rest of the present giving, but didn’t seem to care. She stood with her back to everyone, fascinated by the fairy at the top of the big Christmas tree, and wouldn’t be distracted even when Clarrie kindly offered to share her own present – a splendid doll’s house.
Sebastian played with the doll’s house instead, rearranging the furniture and making the little doll family wander about the rooms trying out the beds and sofas and chairs. His own present was a big set of the Reverend Wood’s nature books. I leafed through one and found it fascinating. I wondered if I could become a naturalist and discover a new breed of animal or an exotic plant. Unfortunately there’s not much chance of stumbling across anything out of the ordinary in Kensington.
Algie’s present was the most splendid of all, a dapple-grey rocking horse with a flowing white mane and tail and a scarlet saddle. It’s so huge it has to be stabled in the nursery, where it occupies half the room. It took Papa, Mr Hodgson and Jack Boots to haul it up there, and Nurse wasn’t pleased.
The servants got presents too. Mama took care of the women: Cook and the two nurses were given lengths of white linen to make into starched aprons and caps, and Edie and Maggie and Mary-Jane got black material for their dresses. They didn’t seem like proper Christmas presents at all, especially as they had to make them up themselves. I heard Edie whispering to Maggie, saying that she was going to take her material back to the draper’s to exchange it for some green silk she’d been eyeing for months. Mama ignored Clover, and gave her no present at all.
Papa was more generous with Mr Hodgson, giving him a gold sovereign. He gave Jack Boots a half-crown, and a knife with a special device for taking the stones out of horses’ hoofs, which delighted him.
‘You’re the tops, sir!’ he said hoarsely.
Papa had a present for the little servant girls too. Mary-Jane got a blue bead necklace – and Clover her own sketchbook and a large set of pastels. I was so happy for her, though it made my own present of half-used coloured pencils look insignificant.
‘Really, Edward, you seem to have more money than sense,’ said Mama, frowning at him.
But her own gift from Papa was the most lavish: a pair of sapphire drop earrings to match her brooch. Mama held them up to see how they would look.
‘They suit you, Jeannie,’ said Papa.
‘They’re magnificent! But they must have cost a fortune!’ she gasped.
‘We have a fortune, my dear,’ he replied.
It was actually Mama’s fortune, but she seemed delighted that Papa was spending it on her. She’d bought Papa a wallet – a fine one, made of silky soft leather, though it wasn’t in the sapphire earrings league.
‘I simply had to buy them when I saw them in the Bond Street jeweller’s window,’ Papa said.
‘They match my brooch beautifully,’ said Mama.
‘I bought them because they match your blue eyes.’
‘Oh, Edward.’
Mama was in such a jolly mood that she made a real effort to play with the children. She knelt in front of the doll’s house, making the little dolls talk in high, squeaky voices. She flicked through Sebastian’s nature books, though she squealed when she turned to the section on spiders and beetles. She even went up to the nursery and climbed onto Algie’s rocking horse. She rocked to and fro energetically, her skirts flying out.
‘See, Rose, this is the way to ride a horse!’ she cried, tossing her head, her new earrings shining.
‘Oh, Mama, get down from my new rocking horse! You’ll break him! You’re too old and fat!’ Algie cried.
Mama struggled off immediately, adjusting her skirts, her face very red.
‘That’s extremely rude, Master Algie,’ Nurse scolded. ‘How dare you say such a nasty thing to your mama.’
‘I didn’t say anything rude,’ Algie protested. ‘I only said she’s old and fat, and she is.’
‘You’ll go to bed wi
th a smacked bottom if you persist, Christmas or not,’ Nurse hissed. ‘Trust you to show me up! I’m ever so sorry, madam. I’ll wash his mouth out with soap.’
‘No, it’s of no consequence,’ Mama murmured. ‘The child meant no harm.’ She tried to smile bravely.
I felt so surprisingly sorry for her that I went and put my arm round her. ‘Algie thinks any grown woman is old and fat, even someone young and slim like Edie,’ I said.
This only made it worse. Mama pulled away and strode out of the room with a swish of her skirts.
Nurse gave Algie a shaking, and this made him feel so aggrieved that he played up and started showing off dreadfully. It was a relief when Mr Hodgson banged the gong in the hall to announce that Christmas lunch was about to be served.
It was a splendid lunch, with a turkey so huge that Maggie had to help Cook carry it in on its immense silver platter. Papa set about dividing it into portions, waving the carving knife in the air theatrically and stabbing at the carcass as if it were still alive. We had a side of ham too, and little sausages, and stuffing, and golden roast potatoes, and cabbage and carrots and parsnips, and then we had Christmas pudding flaming in brandy, and then we had mince pies and oranges, and then we had chocolate peppermints and Turkish Delight. The little ones drank lemonade. I had lemonade too, but most unfairly Rupert was allowed a glass of wine like Mama and Papa, and a cup of strong coffee at the end of the meal.
‘Why can’t I have wine and coffee?’ I complained. ‘I’m exactly the same age as Rupert.’
‘Rupert is more mature and grown up,’ said Mama. ‘Besides, it’s not seemly for such a young girl to drink wine.’
She drank several glasses herself, though I noticed she ate very little, just a slice of turkey and one potato, which seemed a terrible waste. Perhaps Algie’s remark was preying on her mind.
Beth barely ate anything either. Mama had risked allowing her to join us at the family table. Nurse Budd insisted she wear a great bib like a baby in case she spilled food on her best red velvet frock. Beth kept plucking at it, trying to undo the strings, but Nurse Budd had tied them in a tight knot. She whimpered when she was served her vegetables because the cabbage had touched her potatoes and the carrots and parsnips were heaped on any old how. She likes each item of food to be entirely separate on her plate, and then she eats them in turn.
Rose Rivers Page 23
