‘I can’t wear it, Mama. It doesn’t look decent,’ I said, going into her dressing room and tugging at the hem.
Mama was looking at her own reflection with complacency. She was wearing a new deep blue velvet travelling dress with a high white lace collar that hid her double chin. Edie was pinning her dashing new hat in place. It had tartan trimming and several grouse feathers secured at a jaunty angle.
‘Don’t be so silly, child,’ she said, not even turning round.
‘But I’m not a child. I don’t look right in the kilt any more,’ I said. ‘Look!’
Mama gave me a quick glance.
‘Hold still, madam, I’ve just got to the tricky bit,’ said Edie.
‘You look perfectly respectable, Rose. I think girls wearing the kilt look very fetching,’ said Mama.
‘You don’t wear one,’ I said.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a grown woman.’ Mama peered at her reflection.
Yes, grown outwards, I thought, looking at her bulging bosom and behind. I had to wear the wretched kilt with my cream Aran jumper, looking like a lanky eight-year-old. I walked hunched up to try to make my kilt look longer.
‘Why are you walking like that? Have you got stomach ache?’ asked Rupert.
He looked incredibly handsome in his new kilt. He had grown too, but was far too slim to wear Papa’s old one, so Mama had ordered him a kilt in the correct tartan. It was the perfect length. His legs looked very shapely, not matchsticks like mine.
‘You cut a fine figure in the tartan, Rupert darling,’ said Mama. ‘My, what a shame Pamela can’t see you in your outfit!’
Rupert laughed carelessly. He had got away with it. Apparently Hardy was very forward with Pamela at Lady Robson’s Christmas Eve party, and she objected furiously. He became cross too, and asked why she was so high-and-mighty with him when she was so free with Rupert Rivers. Pamela was horrified, and went straight to her mother. Mrs Feynsham-Jones descended on Hardy like the wrath of God and insisted he leave the party immediately, before her husband had him horsewhipped.
‘But Hardy will be furious with you when you go back to school, Rupe,’ I said anxiously.
‘I’m not sure he’ll even be at school,’ said Rupert. ‘Mrs Feynsham-Jones seems determined to write to the Head complaining about his behaviour. I do hope he gets expelled! Then I won’t have to try out my new boxing skills after all.’ He clenched his fists and made a few playful jabs in the air.
‘What about the other boys? You said they all joined forces against you.’
‘Hardy egged them on. Martin wasn’t quite so bad. I dare say he’ll want to be friends again, and the others will come round too. But what do I care if they don’t?’ said Rupert, swaggering. ‘They’re only silly schoolboys. They don’t mean anything to me.’
‘And Pamela?’
‘She’s got a pash on me, you know she has.’
‘But doesn’t that mean you’re stuck with her for ever? Imagine how furious Mrs Feynsham-Jones will be if you stop pursuing her daughter.’
‘I could do a lot worse than Pamela,’ said Rupert. ‘She’s got a sweet nature, she’s well connected, she thinks the world of me and, even if she’s not quite a beauty, she’s already got a startling figure.’
‘How can you talk about her in that cold-blooded manner?’ I said. ‘You clearly don’t love her at all.’
‘Love!’ said Rupert mockingly. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re still a little girl.’
He was so wrong. I knew all about love. I was struck dumb when Paris met us at King’s Cross station. It was a very chilly day but I went hot all over, and knew I was blushing.
‘My dear Paris, how lovely to see you!’ said Mama. ‘But you’re not entering into the spirit of our festive enterprise! Where is your kilt?’
He was wearing his usual crumpled trousers and scuffed boots, and the ancient greatcoat that had apparently cost sixpence from a market stall.
‘I’m afraid I don’t happen to have a kilt in my wardrobe, Mrs Rivers,’ he said.
‘You should have said! You’d cut such a fine figure in proper Scottish dress. Still, I dare say there will be kilts going spare at Pennycuik. That is the name of my family home. I think you will find it very pleasant. It is up on a hill, with sea views, and the air is bracing. We are miles away from those murky jute mills,’ Mama declared.
It was the profits from those murky jute mills that had purchased every grey stone and piece of slate that made up Pennycuik. The mills had paid for the Chinese wallpaper and the Venetian glass chandeliers and the Persian carpets and the William McTaggart paintings hanging on the walls and the new gas lighting illuminating every corner. They also paid the wages of all the indoor servants who looked after Grandmama and Grandpapa, attending to their every whim, and the outdoor staff who kept up the stable of horses and the well-sprung carriages and the rolling green lawns.
It seemed bizarre that so much wealth should come from a humble product used to back carpets, but when I thought of all the carpets in houses all over Britain it made more sense. Rich people’s houses. Poor people made their own rag rugs or made do with bare floorboards. If Paris lived in a garret, perhaps he didn’t have a carpet either.
He was embarrassed when Papa took care of his ticket to Dundee.
‘Nonsense, Paris. I always take a whole train carriage and there would have been a seat going spare anyway. My wife and I, the two nurses – three counting little Miss Moon, though she’s too tiny to take up a whole seat. Young Phoebe travels on Nurse’s lap. Then there’s Rupert, Rose, Beth, Sebastian, Algie and Clarrie. That makes eleven of the Rivers household. Still one seat left for you, Paris, old chap.’
‘For goodness’ sake, Edward, we can’t expect Mr Walker to be squashed up with all these noisy children,’ said Mama. ‘The three of us will travel in peace and comfort in first class.’
Papa seemed taken aback. ‘But that’s rather a waste of money, Jeannie, and I doubt there will be spare seats left now.’
‘Leave it to me,’ said Mama, swapping Alphonse from one arm to the other so that she could reach her purse.
‘Really, Mrs Rivers, I would love to travel with the children. I find them great fun,’ said Paris.
‘I think you’d regret that decision before we were even out of London,’ said Mama. ‘Now, no more arguing!’
Papa looked angry, but he could see that it was embarrassing to haggle over the matter in public. Mama marched off, taking Paris’s arm, while Papa followed behind.
‘There, now we can spread out properly,’ said Nurse happily, but we were all upset that Paris and Papa had been taken from us. I don’t think any of us minded doing without Mama.
At first the children enjoyed peering out of the windows and nibbling crystallized ginger to ward off travel sickness. When they got fidgety we tried playing I-Spy, and then I read aloud, but Algie kept kicking his heels and complaining that the story was boring.
In desperation Nurse unpacked the lunch hamper, though it had only just turned midday. Cook had made us a big veal-and-ham pie and a potato salad, with a fruit tart and the remains of the Christmas cake for dessert. The children got crumbs all over their clothes. Algie insisted on eating two huge slices of cake, and then lay back pale and damp and yawning, saying he thought he was going to be sick. Luckily he wasn’t, but it was a near thing.
Instead he had a nap. In fact nearly everyone had a nap. Nurse nodded over Phoebe, cradling her reverently like an ancient Madonna. Clarrie lolled against Algie, and Sebastian rested his head on Montmorency’s cage. He’d been severely warned about letting his mouse out on the journey, and had to make do with posting titbits through the bars.
Rupert swung his new gold watch to and fro until he fell asleep. Beth slept too, hunched up into a little ball. Nurse Budd had her eyes closed but was sitting bolt upright, and I couldn’t tell whether she was really asleep or not. Clover was awake and I longed to chat to her, but I couldn’t talk naturally
just in case Nurse Budd was listening. We tried mouthing messages until Clover’s eyes drooped and she fell asleep as well.
I wondered if Mama and Papa and Paris were dozing. I was sure Mama would have contrived to sit between the men. We saw the three of them whenever there was a stop at a station and we got out to stretch our legs or use the conveniences.
In the afternoon there was a fifteen-minute stop, so Papa bought us all an iced bun and a bottle of ginger beer at a stall, which was very jolly. Paris started a game of Follow My Leader along the platform to stretch the children’s legs. I dithered about joining in, not sure whether I was a child or not. Mama walked Alphonse up and down on a lead, encouraging him to relieve himself, while Nurse fussed over Phoebe, who was crying plaintively. Beth had woken up at last, but was flapping her arms like a wounded bird. Nurse Budd nagged at her. I’d hoped to snatch a few moments with Clover, but she had to dash after Algie, who had bolted along the train to chat to the engine driver.
It was pitch dark well before we neared Dundee. Everyone held hands when the train crossed the brand-new bridge.
‘Why is everyone holding hands?’ Clover asked, bewildered.
‘The old bridge collapsed into the river Tay with a train on it, and everyone drowned,’ I explained.
Her eyes opened wide, and she reached across and clutched my hand hard. There was a great whoop of relief when we made it safely across. Then we scurried to find hats and coats and possessions, and waited a long time on the freezing cold platform while Papa organized porters to take care of our luggage. Paris and Rupert found enough cabs to transport us all the couple of miles to Pennycuik.
‘Come in this one, Rose,’ Rupert called, but I wanted to be with Clover, so I squeezed in with her and the two nurses, and Phoebe and Beth. They were both wailing miserably because of the deathly cold wind and the unfamiliar, harsh accents of the porters and cabbies. Clover was shivering in her thin shawl and the wind was whipping her hair about her head, but I could see her green eyes shining in the eerie glow of the gas streetlights.
‘I’m in a foreign country!’ she said.
‘Don’t be silly, girl. Scotland’s part of Great Britain,’ said Nurse, wrapping yet another shawl around Phoebe.
‘It feels foreign and it smells foreign and they even talk foreign,’ said Clover.
She gasped when the cab jolted to the top of the bray and she could see the turrets of Pennycuik, the moonlight giving the grey stone a softened pearliness. ‘It’s a castle!’ she declared.
‘It’s just a freezing great house,’ said Nurse. ‘I’m always chilled to the bone, no matter how many blankets I have on my bed.’
‘It has turrets so it’s certainly like a castle! Can we go up into the turrets? Are the servants’ bedrooms actually in the turrets?’ Clover chattered excitedly.
‘You’re not to go anywhere near those turrets! You’ll encourage the children, and if Master Algie goes up there he’ll fall to his death, I just know he will,’ said Nurse.
‘There aren’t any proper rooms in the turrets. Just stone steps that go up and up until you get to the roof. Rupert and I explored last year,’ I said.
‘Hush, child! If I’d known that I’d have had the pair of you whipped! How dare you be so reckless,’ Nurse grumbled. ‘You know those turrets are strictly out of bounds.’
One black night Rupert had dared me to explore them and we’d crept up together. We had a candle, but I was shivering so much I managed to drop it and the flame went out. Rupert still insisted on climbing right to the top, feeling our way in the dark. The stone walls were cold and damp, and the steps beneath my bare feet were slippery. I clung to Rupert’s nightshirt and gabbled prayers inside my head.
It felt as if we were inching up and up for ever, but at last it grew a little lighter, and we reached the top at last. Our heads poked out like sweep’s brushes, and the wind made such a noise we had to shout to make ourselves heard.
Rupert had pulled himself up until he was leaning right out.
‘Come back, you fool! You’ll slip!’ I said.
‘No, you pull yourself up too. There’s a fantastic view!’ Rupert cried.
‘How can there be? It’s dark. Come back, Rupe,’ I begged.
He took no notice, and leaned out even further, resting on his hips. And then his hands slipped and he very nearly toppled right over. I screamed and caught hold of his legs, pulling with all my might. He managed to scramble back down to the step, landing in a heap.
‘For pity’s sake, Rose, you nearly had me over!’ he said, as if it were my fault.
‘Oh, Rupert, you almost fell!’ I gasped.
‘Nonsense,’ he said, but he was shaking, and I knew he’d been just as scared as me. ‘Perhaps we’ll leave it for tonight. I don’t want you getting upset, old girl. We’ll come back when it’s not so breezy, all right?’
It was always breezy at Pennycuik, the wind coming straight off the North Sea, fierce and wild and salty. We both knew we’d never dare go up there again.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere near those turrets,’ I said.
‘Turrets, turrets, turrets,’ Beth mumbled.
‘There now! You’ve set her off with your silly talk, Miss Rose,’ said Nurse Budd. ‘Stop that now, Miss Beth, dear. Turrets are bad, bad things.’
‘Bad, bad things,’ Beth repeated anxiously.
‘Don’t worry, Beth. You’re not going near any turrets,’ said Clover. ‘They’re just the top bits of the castle. See the castle down there? It’s like a castle in a book of fairy tales. Remember how much you liked the Christmas tree fairy?’
‘Fairy,’ said Beth. Her brow cleared. ‘Fairy!’
‘Such nonsense,’ Nurse Budd murmured. ‘Why encourage her with all this fancy? She’s fanciful enough as it is. Firm but fair discipline, that’s what she needs.’
‘How can you talk about disciplining a girl like Beth when she’s in her own little world and doesn’t understand when she’s being naughty?’ I said angrily.
‘Now now, Miss Rose,’ said Nurse, but she patted my knee to show that she understood.
‘Some people might think you’d have benefited from a little more discipline in your own upbringing, Miss Rose,’ said Nurse Budd. ‘Of course, I’d never suggest such a thing.’
‘No, it’s not your place to do so, Nurse Budd,’ I said.
She leaned towards me and murmured, ‘You wait, Miss Rose, you’ll get your comeuppance one day.’
I did my best to ignore her. Then we arrived at Pennycuik, and all the servants had lined up with lanterns in the freezing cold to meet us. Grandmama and Grandpapa were standing in the doorway. Grandmama wore her furs, a long coat down to her tiny boots, a fur hat on her head, and an extra fur stole wrapped round her shoulders. With her beady little eyes and long thin nose she looked like a furry creature herself, a small bear opening her arms to give us each a hug. Grandpapa didn’t even wear a greatcoat. He was holding a lantern aloft, wearing only his tweed jacket and kilt, legs planted wide apart as if daring the weather to have any effect on him. He hugged us all and gently burrowed his hand into Phoebe’s shawls to tickle her under her chin.
‘She’s a rare bairn,’ he said, making little clucking noises at her as she was carried into the house.
Nurse Budd was new to him, and he shook her hand stiffly and then ignored her, but he seemed very taken with Clover, who was marshalling the sleepy little ones into some semblance of order, and removing their coats and hats and mittens in the hall.
‘Who’s this little elf?’ he asked, shaking his head at her wild hair and tiny figure. ‘Haven’t you enough children of your own, Jeannie, to go adopting a mischievous little fairy?’
‘Fairy,’ Beth murmured, and Grandpapa gave her a little wink and tried to pat her on the shoulder, but she shied away.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Papa,’ Mama replied. ‘The girl is a little nurserymaid wished upon me by Edward – one of his whims. Papa, let me introduce Edward’s dear
friend Mr Walker. He is painting my portrait and, though I shouldn’t say so myself, it’s a masterpiece. It will attract attention at the Academy, you mark my words.’
Paris protested, and Papa laughed and thumped him on the back.
‘You mustn’t believe a word of it, sir,’ said Paris.
‘No, no, Jeannie’s right. You will be the English Leonardo and Jeannie your Mona Lisa,’ said Papa.
They were clearly joking, but Mama giggled delightedly. Grandmama tutted, and when one of the maids helped Mama off with her coat she shook her head at her.
‘My, Jeannie, you’ve certainly been putting on the beef since the last baby. Look at you, lassie! You make two of me now,’ she pointed out.
Mama laughed awkwardly, but she’d gone scarlet, and her hands went helplessly to her thickened waist. I had forgotten how sharp Grandmama was with her. It is strange how cruel mothers can be to their daughters. If I have a daughter I shall cherish her and make her feel loved.
We were all swept into the dining room, and given game soup and bread and cheese and oatcakes, adults and children alike. Nurse and Nurse Budd were for once united, protesting that this was far too rich for the little ones.
‘Nonsense,’ said Grandpapa briskly, cutting himself at least a quarter of a pound of Scottish Cheddar and eating it straight off the knife. ‘The kiddies need feeding up. Look at the girls – skinny wee creatures.’
If Grandpapa thought Clarrie skinny, he needed spectacles! He seemed specially fond of her, pulling her onto his lap.
‘How’s my wee bairn?’ he said, gently pinching her cheek.
She pretended to be a baby, cooing in a tiresome manner, but Grandpapa played along, and even mimed giving her a bottle. Perhaps she misses Nurse’s attention now that she’s no longer the baby of the family.
Phoebe was given an oatcake to chew on after she’d finished her bottle of milk.
‘She’ll choke on it!’ Nurse warned, but Phoebe gnawed on it happily for five minutes and then fell asleep, dribbling.
Rose Rivers Page 25
