Rose in Bloom

by Lucia Masciullo

  ‘I’m fine,’ Abigial snapped. Rose was worried – had she bored Abigail to death with all her cricket talk?

  On Saturday morning, Rose was alone at home on the verandah. She had books to read, but by mid-morning, she was ready to scream. Every time she looked at her ankle, which was still swollen and greenish-yellow under the bandage, she wanted to scream even louder. Everything was going wrong.

  Sally brought her some freshly made lemonade and biscuits, and hesitated. ‘Miss Rose, I know your ankle is bad, but … well, my granny had a great way of fixing sprains and I thought maybe …’

  Rose sat up. ‘What is it? I’ll try anything!’ Sally went off to the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with a pot and a length of string. She took Rose’s slipper and stocking off, then the bandage, and dipped her hand into the pot.

  ‘Cabbage?’

  Sally nodded. ‘We wrap it in cabbage leaves for an hour or so, and then I’ve got a potion of witch-hazel to put on after.’

  Rose thought it sounded very strange, but the warm cabbage leaves felt soothing. Sally used the string to tie the leaves around the ankle and foot, and lifted Rose’s leg up onto a wooden stool. ‘I’ll be back in a while, Miss.’

  ‘Right-o.’ Rose opened her history book, but her mind soon drifted to Abigail. Had she fibbed – was she ill? Maybe her mother was ill. Or maybe Abigail just didn’t want to be friends anymore. But surely she would have said so? Rose sighed. She couldn’t bear to lose her best friend and be lonely again. It was such fun having someone to talk to and play with.

  ‘Time to take those leaves off.’ Sally’s voice made Rose jump.

  ‘It does feel better,’ Rose said.

  Sally untied the string, tossed the cabbage back in the pot and then opened a small bottle and smeared some of the liquid over the bruised area. ‘I’ve soaked a cloth in this witch-hazel, too, so I’ll wrap it around and put the bandage on over the top.’

  ‘Ooh, it feels funny on my skin,’ Rose said.

  Sally smiled. ‘It’s good for all sorts of things. Keep your foot up, too, Miss. Granny says you need to let the bad stuff drain away.’

  By lunchtime Rose was sure she was finally on the mend.

  On Sunday, Sally used the same treatment on Rose’s ankle, and even Mother had to admit it was looking better. ‘But don’t be impatient,’ she told Rose, ‘or it will take a turn for the worse again.’

  Rose did feel impatient – it was bubbling inside her all the time. ‘Thursday,’ she repeated over and over, ‘got to be better by Thursday.’

  She arrived at school on Monday morning, prepared to look cheerful and convince Miss Guilfoyle all was going well. She was determined to sort things out with Abigail and cheer her up, too.

  But a dreadful discovery pushed all thoughts of cricket out of her mind …

  5

  Where is Abigail?

  ABIGAIL was missing from class. Rose waited and waited, thinking she might be late, and then went up to Miss Capstan’s desk to ask if Abigail was ill.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Miss Capstan said. ‘It’s …’ She bit her lip. ‘I shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m afraid Abigail’s mother couldn’t afford the school fees, so Abigail has had to leave.’

  ‘Leave?’ Rose said. ‘Where will she go?’

  Miss Capstan shrugged. ‘A state school, I suppose. It’s very sad. Abigail was an excellent student, especially in mathematics.’

  Heartsick, Rose limped back to her desk, imagining Abigail crammed onto a long, wooden seat with a dozen other children in a classroom filled to overflowing.

  At lunchtime, the dining room quickly emptied, and Rose sat alone reading. She kept wondering where Abigail was, and how she felt. Does she miss me as much as I miss her? she wondered.

  The words on the page blurred and Rose wiped away a tear that threatened to drop. She wasn’t sure she wanted to stay at the school without Abigail, but staying home would be worse. Maybe she could ask Aunt Alice to accept Abigail as a pupil at her school. No, Abigail lived in Prahran, and it’d be too far to travel every day. Aunt Alice and Mother had talked at Martha’s dinner about scholarships, but Mother hadn’t begun her fundraising yet.

  Rose stood and hobbled over to the window. The pain in her ankle was almost gone, but it still felt weak and wobbly. Would she be better by Thursday? Suddenly the cricket game didn’t seem worth worrying about. Miss Guilfoyle was right – there’d be another one. But she’d never have another friend like Abigail.

  As Rose looked out on the cricket field, she felt like she was watching from behind a huge wall, as if none of it was real and she was totally alone. Did other people feel like that? As if life was a horrible game that most of them lost?

  Rose drew herself up, taking a deep breath. Feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to help Abigail, and moaning about her ankle wasn’t going to get her back in the cricket team. Instead of hiding in the dining room, she’d go out to watch the others play cricket and clap and cheer, and hopefully soon she’d be ready to join in.

  Each morning and afternoon, Sally continued to wrap Rose’s ankle in the witch-hazel-soaked cloth, and by Thursday the bruising was almost gone. Rose didn’t like to mention the slightly wobbly feeling she still had, but Sally brought out a different bandage, a thick brown length of cloth, and two pins.

  ‘This will make it all solid and safe.’ She wrapped the bandage quite tightly and pinned the end under. When Rose stood up she felt the difference straight away.

  ‘I could almost run,’ she said delightedly.

  ‘Not on your nelly,’ Sally said. ‘Slow and gentle is how you want to go.’

  At lunchtime, Rose was first on the field and had to wait impatiently for Miss Guilfoyle, who smiled when she saw Rose. But then her gaze dropped to the binding on Rose’s ankle. ‘Are you sure you can play with that?’

  ‘It’s just to be safe,’ Rose said. ‘My ankle is all better.’

  ‘Warm up first, and then we’ll see how your bowling goes.’ Miss Guilfoyle went off to organise the fielding while Rose stretched and twisted. Her right arm felt like a plank of wood at first, but gradually it loosened up.

  ‘Right-o, Rose, send a few down,’ Miss Guilfoyle called.

  Rose deliberately kept her run-up short and slow, focusing more on her hand and arm, but the first three balls she bowled didn’t even land on the pitch! She heard Myrtle chortling in the outfield and her face burned. She’d have to go back to her normal run-up and speed, or she wouldn’t be allowed to play, ankle or not.

  Imagine bowling to Tommy, she thought, and trying to take the grin off his face with a good, curly one. There! The ball sailed through the air, bounced just to the side of the batter and then back in towards the wickets. Clonk!

  ‘Wow, I had no chance of getting that one,’ the girl batting said. ‘Well done.’

  ‘Excellent, Rose,’ said Miss Guilfoyle. ‘Let’s have a few more.’

  Rose bowled more overs, but by the end of the third one, her ankle was aching again. What should she do? She didn’t dare ask to stop, because that would show she wasn’t fit enough to play.

  But luckily Miss Guilfoyle said, ‘Time someone else had a turn. Now, Rose, you’ll be all set for tomorrow’s game, will you?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Rose said, even though she wasn’t really.

  ‘Did you bring back your signed note?’

  Rose felt her face grow hot. ‘I …’

  ‘It’s probably on my desk somewhere.’ She patted Rose’s shoulder. ‘Now, you won’t play the whole game, but you are our star bowler. I do hope your parents are coming along to watch, are they?’

  Rose gaped at her, still stunned at getting away with not bringing in the dreaded note. Maybe she should confess, but then … Miss Guilfoyle was looking at her oddly, waiting for a reply. ‘Um … I’m not sure.’

  ‘All the parents were sent formal invitations by post. There’ll be an afternoon tea after the game, and we’ll be giving out some small awards.
I’m sure they’ll be here, don’t worry.’

  Rose walked to her fielding position, her head spinning. Never mind the permission note – what if Mother and Father did turn up to watch? Why hadn’t they said anything about receiving an invitation?

  Should she ask? No. If Mother hadn’t mentioned it, the invitation mustn’t have arrived yet. It would’ve been nice to have Father, at least, watching her play, but it was worse that there’d be no Abigail to cheer her on. Because of that, a lot of the excitement of playing in her very first game had died away.

  When John picked her up in the buggy, Rose sat in silence as Ruby clip-clopped along the dirt road, dust rising in small clouds behind them. The summer had been long and hot, and the grass along the verges was brown. Late-flowering roses in the front gardens were dropping carpets of many-coloured petals. Rose breathed in, catching bursts of heavy perfume and then a pungent dose of horse manure.

  Back at home, Rose trudged inside and pulled up short by the hall table. There, on top of a pile of letters, was an envelope with the school crest on it. The invitation! Without thinking, Rose grabbed it and tucked it inside her pinafore, then ran up the stairs.

  ‘Rose!’ a voice called behind her, and she stopped, her heart thumping, and turned. Phew, it was only Edward!

  ‘Want a game of cricket?’ he asked.

  She almost said yes, then felt a twinge in her ankle. ‘I’d better not. I couldn’t bear to hurt my ankle again before the game.’

  ‘What game?’ His face was bright with curiosity.

  Rose clapped her hand over her mouth. Now look what she’d done! But surely Edward could be trusted. ‘I’m playing a real game at school tomorrow – my first.’ She pulled out the invitation. ‘Mother and Father have been invited but …’

  ‘You think Mother would have a fit.’ He shrugged. ‘But you know Father wouldn’t.’

  ‘I don’t want to take the risk.’

  Edward nodded and she had to be content with that.

  At dinner, the conversation was all about the preparations for the opening of the first parliament in Melbourne.

  ‘The city streets are already starting to look festive,’ Father said. ‘I’ve heard of all sorts of arches and monuments being built. We’ll outdo Sydney’s proclamation celebrations, mark my words.’

  ‘Aren’t the mourning cloths and flags still up for our late Queen?’ Mother asked.

  ‘Yes, but some are being taken down. They’re looking tatty and grey.’

  ‘Hardly anyone is wearing mourning clothes now,’ Martha said. ‘All the shops are displaying bright new cloth, and everyone is having new dresses and hats made for the Federation celebrations.’

  ‘As are we,’ Mother said.

  ‘Will Melbourne have fireworks and lights, like Sydney did?’ Edward asked.

  ‘They’ll be bigger and better,’ Father said. ‘The Exhibition Building will be lit up like a fairy castle.’

  ‘I can’t wait to see that,’ Rose said.

  ‘On Sunday, we’ll be allowed to drive through the city and see all the arches, and then on Monday there’ll be a huge parade with the Duke and Duchess, which we’ll watch from my friend’s shop on Swanston Street,’ Father said, waving his knife around. ‘The actual opening of Parliament is on Thursday. People are coming from all over Australia – well, all over the world, in fact!’

  ‘Has the invitation arrived?’ Martha asked.

  Rose froze, her fork halfway to her mouth.

  ‘They’re being sent out a month before the opening ceremony,’ Mother said.

  ‘It’ll come, don’t worry,’ Father said. ‘They’ll have to fit thousands of people into the hall. Those at the back mightn’t see much.’

  Rose sagged in her chair. She’d hidden the cricket invitation under her mattress but all this talk of invitations had made her face burn with guilt, and she prayed no one would notice.

  6

  Rose’s First Game

  THE next morning, as soon as Rose woke, she thought of the cricket match and immediately tested her ankle. It didn’t twinge once! Sally strapped it firmly after putting witch-hazel on again. ‘Make sure you keep it up today, especially before the game,’ she said.

  ‘I will,’ Rose promised. She’d rest it on Abigail’s empty seat.

  Rose had decided during her long, lonely week that on Saturday she would ask to use the buggy, with Tommy to drive it, so she could visit Abigail. If Mother objected, then she’d beg Martha to take her instead. She had to see Abigail and make sure she was all right. Surely they could work out some way that Abigail could come back to school.

  At lunchtime, Rose discovered that the whole school was going to watch the cricket match. Immediately, her stomach began churning. She went out into the garden, far away from everyone, and started on her stretches and swings until she felt ready to join her team on the field.

  Just then, around the side of the school came a large bunch of girls, all dressed in white blouses and brown serge skirts. The Merton girls! Rose felt her hands go cold and clammy.

  Miss Guilfoyle joined the St Swithin’s team, holding two brand-new cricket bats. ‘Enid, you take the toss. If you win, we’ll bat first. Give them something to chase.’

  Enid did win, so she and Penelope strode out to the crease. Each team was only going to bat for twenty overs, as the game had to be completed that afternoon. Rose’s batting had not really improved, and she hoped she wouldn’t get a turn. She watched the other team intently. Would they play like the men did? What would their bowlers do?

  The Merton team only had one spin bowler, who had a traditional style with not much turn on the ball. Rose sighed with relief. A fast bowler took Penelope’s wicket and then Myrtle was in and she made three fours. Running between wickets was slow, because of the long skirts, but so was chasing the ball in the outfield. Rose couldn’t help imagining a game played in trousers, at a faster, more exciting pace.

  By the end of twenty overs, St Swithin’s had made sixty-four runs with four girls out. After a ten-minute drinks break, it was St Swithin’s’ turn to field. Rose’s nerves were jangling.

  ‘Rose, I want you fielding at third man,’ Miss Guilfoyle said, ‘and be careful of that ankle. You’ll bowl either the fourth or fifth over, when we see how well they bat.’

  Enid bowled first and the first two overs went quickly. Rose scrutinised every move, every foot placement, every swing of the bat.

  Miss Guilfoyle brought Myrtle in to bowl in the fourth over, and Rose could tell from her snooty expression that she thought she’d bowl both of the Merton girls in a trice. Instead, one of them hit a bad ball of Myrtle’s for a six! The scowl on Myrtle’s face would have curdled milk.

  Then Miss Guilfoyle beckoned to Rose. ‘Bowl just like you did yesterday.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Guilfoyle.’ Rose wiped her hands on her skirt. For one horrible moment, with the ball in her hand, she forgot how to bowl. Then it flooded back into her mind and down into her arms.

  Her first ball was straighter than usual, with a slight turn at the end. The batter blocked it easily, choosing to defend to begin with. Rose’s second ball turned a little more, and her arm felt looser – this time the batter turned it away for a single run. With a new batter facing her now, Rose decided it was time to test out something more tricky. She moved her fingers slightly, realigned her wrist and ran up to bowl. As soon as the ball left her hand, she knew it was a good one, floating down the pitch and bouncing. The batter stepped forward, took a swipe and missed. The ball jinked past her and knocked the wickets askew. She stood and stared as if they’d fallen by magic.

  ‘Yaaayyyyyyy!’ Someone cheered madly behind Rose – someone who sounded awfully familiar. She turned and spotted Tommy standing under a tree, clapping like mad. Heat flooded Rose’s face but she gave Tommy a tiny wave, then caught the ball. As she prepared to bowl again, she sneaked another glance at him and suddenly noticed a man and woman sitting on chairs nearby. Her heart gave an enormous thump against her r
ibs.

  Mother and Father were sitting there calmly watching! Mother’s face was shaded by a large hat, but Father saw her looking their way and gave her a thumbs-up sign. She turned away, clutching the ball so hard her fingers ached. What were they doing there? Surely the invitation was still under her mattress?

  And now they were about to see her make a fool of herself, because her whole body felt made of sticks. A moment later, Enid was next to her, hugging her with one arm and murmuring, ‘Come on, Rose, let’s have another wicket, eh? Never mind who’s watching. The girls are relying on you.’

  Rose lifted her head and looked around. All of her team were waiting, smiling, clapping.

  ‘Well done, Rose.’

  ‘Good bowling!’

  Even Myrtle was nodding, not scowling.

  That was enough for Rose. Everyone else understood how important this was to her – it was time Mother saw it, too. Good manners were all very well, but Rose was going to show her that she could be excellent at other things!

  Rose turned the ball over in her hands, feeling the leather, the stitching, the weight of it. Yes, another one just like the last, only a tiny bit straighter in the air …

  It took Rose until her next over to get another Merton girl out, but no one hit more than a single off her bowling. After twenty overs, St Swithin’s had won by fourteen runs! Each team cheered the other, though St Swithin’s was much louder, and then they all shook hands. For a few moments, caught up in the excitement of victory, Rose forgot about her parents.

  But when she finally turned around, Tommy had gone back to the carriage, and Rose had to face them alone. She wished heartily that Abigail was there to make her feel braver. Feeling dusty and sweaty, Rose plodded across the grass to where her parents waited. Rose had tried not to look at them during the game but every time she did, Mother sat unmoving, not clapping even once.