My Name Is Rose

by Sally Grindley

  Rose suddenly gasped. Is the bracelet under the dusters as well? She hadn’t thought to check. Should I look now?

  Dropping the dustpan and brush, she dashed to the cupboard, opened the door, paused to make sure nobody was coming and picked up the dusters. The bracelet wasn’t there, just the silver jug, staring at her accusingly. She hurriedly returned the dusters to their place, covering the jug completely. Did Marina take the bracelet with her when she left the house, Rose wondered, or did she hide it somewhere else?

  Rose didn’t have time to dwell on it any longer, because Mrs Luca came into the kitchen.

  ‘Stop what you’re doing, Anna,’ she said. ‘You will play for me now.’

  Mrs Luca’s voice was frigid, her face haunted. She gripped the doorknob, as if using it to steady herself. Rose wanted something of her own to hang on to.

  She followed Mrs Luca into the dining room. Mr Luca was sitting at the head of the table. The violin was on the table in front of him. He smiled at her and waved the bow in the air – to taunt her, Rose felt.

  ‘I’m looking forward to this,’ he said. ‘Our own private performance – even if at the moment all you can play is that gutter trash.’

  ‘Leave her,’ said Mrs Luca without emotion. ‘How can you expect her to perform if you abuse her?’

  ‘I can expect it because I pay for her,’ Mr Luca snapped.

  Mrs Luca shot him a warning glance, then picked up the violin. She held it out to Rose.

  ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Let me see what you can do.’

  She took the bow from her husband and gave it to Rose.

  Rose lifted the violin under her chin and placed the bow on the strings. Her mind was numb. She couldn’t think of any tunes. Her hands felt as if they were wearing boxing gloves, the ones that hung from a hook in Uncle Aleksandar’s wagon, a souvenir of the days when he could take on any young whippersnapper and win. She felt like a total novice, but saw the impatience in Mr Luca’s face and forced herself to begin.

  The bow grated as if it were covered with barbs. The strings seemed unwilling to harmonise. Rose gritted her teeth. I’m doing my best, and if my best isn’t good enough, so what? What am I supposed to be proving? Why is Mr Luca so keen for me to impress his wife?

  She relaxed a little as soon as she had made up her mind that she didn’t care. And then the music came to her – her father’s favourite reel, one that she and Rani had danced to wildly when they were younger, while Esme tinkered on the accordion.

  After she had played the final note, Rose dropped the violin to her side. She knew she hadn’t played particularly well, and though she didn’t care what they thought, she still waited anxiously for the response. Her future depended on it, she was certain.

  ‘You can go back to your chores now,’ said Mrs Luca. ‘And don’t you ever go into my room again.’

  Chapter 26

  Mrs Luca added to Rose’s list of chores. She showed her displeasure that Rose had ‘led Marina astray’ by making her take over as many of Marina’s duties as she deemed her able to perform.

  ‘I’ll have to do the cooking myself for the time being – which is more than a nuisance – until we can find a suitable and trustworthy replacement for Marina. You’ll do the washing, cleaning and the preparation for our meals, as well as your stable duties. In return, I’ll teach you how to play the violin properly. My husband has some notion that you might have considerable talent in that direction. Personally, I have my doubts, but we shall see.’

  Mrs Luca drew up a timetable for Rose to follow. She would spend an hour to two hours each day teaching her classical music, and Rose was to spend a minimum of a further two hours practising on her own. There were to be no other lessons – not that Mrs Luca had ever bothered with them in the end, Rose reflected. What Rose couldn’t understand was why they thought the music lessons were worthwhile. They seemed to have given up on her over everything else, and had even told her that from now on she would eat on her own in the kitchen, just as Marina used to.

  ‘If the time comes when we feel we can trust you, then we may change our minds and treat you as one of the family again,’ said Mrs Luca. ‘Until then, this will be your punishment. You should count yourself lucky we’re allowing you to keep your bedroom.’

  Mrs Luca gave Rose permission to continue playing with her doll’s house, because of the money that had already been spent on it. However, with all her new duties and music lessons, it was difficult to find time for it. Besides, she grew to despise its sterile opulence, which too closely resembled the Luca mansion. She was only happy when she was outside with Crumble or working with the horses. She was still allowed to ride the ponies, provided that Mrs Luca or Victoria went with her.

  ‘Now that the stable boy has gone, there’s no one else to exercise them,’ said Mrs Luca, ‘so think yourself lucky.’

  Rose didn’t think herself lucky at all. She had grown in the months that she had been living with the Luca family and the ponies were far too small for her now. She felt ridiculous perched on top of them.

  Her music lessons with Mrs Luca were relentless in their pursuit of excellence. Mrs Luca constantly criticised; Rose’s elbow was too high, her chin was at the wrong angle, she was slouching, her bowing was too laboured or too vigorous, she had no sense of rhythm, her timing was out, she may be good at Gypsy music but she would never, ever be good enough to play classical. At the end of each lesson, Rose was exhausted, yet she had numerous chores to do before going on to practise by herself. Mrs Luca kept a strict eye on her to make sure that she played for the full two hours at least, opening the door every so often to comment on what she was hearing.

  What Mrs Luca didn’t know was that she had lit a fire in Rose, a fire that was smouldering beneath the surface, ready to explode into red-hot flames. Every criticism Rose had to endure fanned the fire and added to her determination to prove her guardian wrong. I’ll be the best I can be in spite of Mrs Luca, not because of her, she determined. And it was the memory of her father that kept her going when she was ready to drop.

  Little by little, Rose began to appreciate the structure and discipline of the classical pieces Mrs Luca drilled her in. The melodies drifted through her and produced a welcome feeling of calm, especially when she was practising alone in her bedroom.

  Some weeks after the start of her lessons, Rose came back from mucking out the stables to hear notes being played on a piano. At first, she thought it was the radio, but she quickly realised that the notes were random and out of tune. She crept upstairs to her room and was surprised to find that the sounds were coming from Mrs Luca’s ‘shrine’.

  Later that day, a man arrived at the house. Rose answered the door to be informed that he was the piano tuner. Mrs Luca, looking uncomfortable, hurried him upstairs while shooing Rose back to the kitchen.

  After that, it was no secret that Mrs Luca was playing the piano again. She disappeared into her piano room for hours on end. Through the closed door came the strains of classical pieces that Rose began to recognise because they were the same as those she was being taught to play on the violin. Rose couldn’t help but admire her guardian’s courage at finally coming to terms with the blows life had dealt her and moving on. Rose understood some of what she must be going through – the reconciliation of her life as it used to be with the terrible twists and turns of fate. It was something Rose would have to go through herself one day, when she was ready. She wasn’t ready yet, though. Her pain was still too raw. The events that had gatecrashed her own life were still too recent. How long ago was the fateful day when she had lost everything that was dear to her? Almost a year? Over a year?

  The seasons had changed around Rose. It was dark and sometimes there was a thick frost when she set off with Crumble on wintry mornings. The cold didn’t bother her; she was used to that from living in their wagon, though in the depths of winter, Nicu and Esme had always found temporary accommodation in modern trailers or rented houses, where there were gas heaters to ke
ep them warm. During her walks, she loved looking at the frost-covered cobwebs picked out by the moon and hanging like diamond-encrusted lace from gateposts and fences and trees. She loved the crunch of leaves underfoot, and watched her breath spiralling away into the air like smoke from a chimney.

  Rose hoped it would snow, but the weather stayed relatively mild. She reminisced about the snowball fights with Rani and the other Roma children, and shivered at the memory of ice trickling slowly down her neck. She so missed the company of friends and cousins. Even when Mrs Luca had first brought her to the house, even when she had made an effort to be nice to her, she had never once suggested that Rose might like to meet other children. Her hope had been that Victoria would befriend her and that that would suffice, but Victoria had different ideas.

  The spring brought its own delights. Rose watched snowdrops pushing up through the undergrowth and then buds blossoming on the trees. In the fields surrounding the Lucas’ land, lambs were toddling on unsteady legs and demanding milk from their mothers. Birds were flighty in their search for a nesting partner and their chorus roused the dawn.

  Rose often stood by the stile for moments on end, staring around her, remembering her family, and wishing she could disappear beyond the horizon to find herself back home. The relentless routine of her days inside the mansion was like a straitjacket on her life, but at the same time it was also what kept her together. She rarely had the opportunity to dwell on her circumstances and where they might be leading. She performed her duties to the best of her ability – even though that was never quite good enough for Mrs Luca – and she was able to immerse herself in her music more profoundly as the sounds she produced became acceptable to her own ears.

  She was regularly left alone in the house now that Marina had gone. Mrs Luca compensated for the hours she spent teaching Rose by spoiling Victoria more than ever. While they were gone, Goran was left in charge. Rose never knew when he might put his head through a window to check on her and make a snide comment, or to demand tea and biscuits. He didn’t come inside – Rose thought perhaps he wasn’t allowed to – and she was glad about that, but she was always relieved when Mrs Luca returned to remove the malice that he seemed to represent.

  Late one afternoon, having finished all her chores and wanting a break from her violin practice, Rose chose to do some more work on the doll’s house, since there was nothing else for her to do. She would, however, stop following the instructions and design things to please herself. I’m going to change the colour scheme from pastels to bright shades, she thought mischievously to herself, and I’m going to turn the servants into lords and ladies, and the other way round. She opened the door to the playroom and froze on the threshold.

  The doll’s house was in ruins. The roof had been pushed in, the walls had collapsed, the garden furniture was smashed and the contents of the boxes were strewn across the playroom floor. Rose bent down to pick up one of the model people. It looked as if it had been trodden on. She lifted up a roof panel to see what the damage was like inside. What she found there filled her with yet more dismay. It was Victoria’s bracelet.

  Rose dropped the roof panel and ran from the room. If anyone found her there, they would believe that she had destroyed the house. The truth dawned on her, however, that regardless of where she was or what she did, the same conclusion would be reached. She would be guilty in everyone’s eyes.

  At least I can take away the ‘proof?’ that I’m a thief, she suddenly thought. She stopped and retraced her steps, part of her hoping that when she opened the door this time the house would have miraculously repaired itself. It hadn’t, of course, and the bracelet was still sitting under the roof, in the toy bath. Rose snatched it quickly and put it in her pocket. As she did, she noticed a dirty mark on the beige playroom carpet. It was part of a heel print – a muddy heel print.

  The front door clattered open.

  ‘Anna! Where are you, Anna? Mummy wants a cup of tea.’

  Rose fled from the room again. She steadied herself as she reached the top of the stairs. It felt as if the bracelet was burning a hole in her pocket. She wondered if its shape could be spotted through her clothes, or if it could be heard clinking.

  Victoria was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up. ‘I suppose you’ve been getting up to mischief,’ she said, as Rose made her way down.

  Rose shook her head. Please don’t let her see where I’ve come from.

  Mrs Luca was pushing through the front door, laden with shopping.

  ‘Help me put these things away, please, Anna,’ she said, ‘and put the kettle on.’

  Rose hurried to help her.

  ‘I hope you’ve been practising hard while we’ve been out,’ said Mrs Luca, walking ahead of Rose into the kitchen. Then she stopped in the doorway, turned round and looked at her searchingly. ‘Are you all right? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

  Chapter 27

  Mr Luca came home in a foul temper that evening. From the moment he entered the house, slamming the door behind him, Rose feared something bad had happened and that it would affect her in some way. She understood very quickly that another fish had died, but there was more than that. From the snatches of loud conversation she was able to hear, it seemed Mr Luca’s business ventures were collapsing around him, and that the worst of it could be traced back to the time when ‘Anna’ had appeared in their lives. She went about her duties in the kitchen, doing everything she was told as efficiently as she could and trying to keep as low a profile as possible.

  Rose could not, however, escape the lash of Mr Luca’s tongue when she served the family with dinner.

  ‘So how’s our little Gypsy girl today?’ he asked. ‘Still enjoying life at my expense, are we?’

  Victoria sniggered.

  There was no attempt by Mrs Luca to protect Rose this time.

  ‘How have you managed it, eh? How have you managed to put a curse on this family? I never believed in that sort of rubbish until you came along, but I can’t find any other explanation. The fish? That’s an easy one. They innocently open their mouths and – hey presto! – you pop in something a little bit poisonous. Result? The fish go belly up. The missing bits and pieces? I’m sure we’ll find your hiding places somewhere in the house if we search hard enough. My business interests? That’s more difficult to put a finger on, but don’t think I didn’t see you staring out of the window at me no sooner than you’d arrived here.’ He paused and took a large gulp of wine.

  ‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough, darling?’ Mrs Luca said quietly.

  ‘Yes, I have had enough!’ Mr Luca slammed his fist down on the table. ‘I’ve had enough of your projects, and I’ve had enough of this particular project. Just because her family saw fit to stick their wagon in front of my car and kill themselves, does it mean I have to pay with everything I’ve got?’ Then he said, more quietly, ‘Don’t you think I’ve already suffered for it every minute of every day since?’

  Victoria turned pale. Mrs Luca lowered her head. Silence followed, a silence during which Rose took in the meaning of his words – words that made no sense at first, but then made all too much sense. If ever she had wanted to howl with pain, it was now. She dropped the plate she was carrying and ran from the room, from the house.

  He killed them! He killed them! A voice screamed in Rose’s head, over and over. Esme, Nicu, Rani – he killed them all. It was his fault. How could he blame them? Without warning, she heard once more the hideous screech of metal against wood, relived the moment when the whole of her world was smashed apart.

  Rose had no idea where she would go, but she had to get away. She headed for the stables. Her first thought was to take one of the ponies, but then she saw Victoria’s horse, Griffin, gazing out at her over his stable door. She ran over to him, stroked him gently and opened the latch. She grabbed a crate from close by, stood on it and clambered on to his back. He whinnied loudly, excited perhaps at the possibility of a gallop after dark. All she had to
do was nudge him with her knees and he responded. He trotted out of the stable. She leant over his neck to show him which direction to take, urging him to go fast, using every movement of her body to convey her intentions.

  ‘Hey! Where d’you think you’re going? Stop!’

  It was Goran. Nothing on earth would make her stop for him. He had worked against her since her arrival. The heel print in the playroom was his, she was sure of it. While she had been practising the violin, he had entered the house and created mischief. It was he who had poisoned Mr Luca’s precious koi carp. It all fitted into place now. He didn’t like her because of who she was, not because of anything she had done. He didn’t like her because she had stolen Mrs Luca’s attention from him. He would do everything in his power to get rid of her.

  And Goran hadn’t finished with her yet. He was saddling up one of the other horses and coming after her. Why can’t he just let me go? What more does he want from me? Rose dug her heels into Griffin’s sides, willing him to gallop faster. They left the road and set off across the fields. She was exhilarated and terrified at the same time. In her heart, she was riding to freedom, while her head told her it was impossible – she knew she would be caught and taken back. But at least she could stay defiant until the end.

  Moonlight caught the top of a hedge that loomed up ahead and stretched the length of the field. Rose could see no other way through. She had jumped hedges in the past, but not on a horse she didn’t know, not at night. It was difficult in the darkness to tell how high the hedge was. She looked around. Goran was gaining on her, shouting at her not to be an idiot and to give herself up. Rose faced forward again. I’m not just going to wait for him. He’ll have to catch me. I’m going to attempt the hedge – after all, what’s the worst that can happen?