My Name Is Rose

by Sally Grindley

  When their flight was eventually called, Rose could hardly stand up she was so tense. She was glad Mrs Luca had long since ceased to cluck over her and allowed her to make her own way on to the plane. The seats were in blocks of three this time. The Luca family sat together and Rose was across the aisle. She fastened her seat belt, rested her head back and watched the other passengers jostling and chattering as they found their places and loaded their luggage overhead. Many were Romanians, excited about going back home. A few were English, setting off on their holidays. Rose tuned in as much as possible to what they were saying in order to block out the complaints from Mr Luca, who was moaning bitterly about the crowding, the lack of legroom and the noisy children.

  As soon as the plane took off, Rose closed her eyes so that the woman beside her wouldn’t try to speak to her. It was a bumpy flight and there was a warning to passengers to keep their seat belts fastened. Rose gripped hers with both hands and started every time someone buzzed for assistance from the cabin crew. She picked at the food that was offered and left most of it, even when Mrs Luca warned her it would be hours before the next opportunity to eat. The very thought of food made Rose feel nauseous.

  In her head, Rose chanted over and over again, please let me be safe, please let me be safe, and she shuddered with relief when the announcement was made that they were coming in to land. She suddenly wished she could see out of the window, and wondered if the rabbit was still living near the runway.

  There was a hefty bump, a deafening roar of engines and a long, long wait for the plane to come to a halt.

  Finally, Mrs Luca leant across the aisle. ‘Up you get, Anna,’ she said. ‘Be sure not to lose us in the rush.’

  If only I could, Rose thought. Then, as she stepped out of the plane and on to Romanian soil, she made a silent vow: This is my home. I will never leave again.

  Chapter 31

  For the next three days, Rose and Mrs Luca went back and forth between their hotel and the theatre where they would be performing.

  ‘We need to get used to playing in a different venue,’ said Mrs Luca. ‘It’s one thing playing in the comfort of your own home, but another thing completely to play in a big auditorium. The more we rehearse here, the happier you’ll feel.’

  Rose was very unhappy when she saw how many seats there were in the theatre, especially as Mrs Luca told her that it was the smallest of the venues they’d booked, and one where she had been particularly well received during the early part of her career.

  ‘We’ll start small to build up your confidence, and finish somewhere three times the size,’ she said enthusiastically, with a distant look in her eyes.

  Rose was appalled at the idea of performing in front of so many people. However much she wanted to follow in Nicu’s footsteps, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was appalled too to see posters outside the theatre, featuring a photograph of Mrs Luca as she was many years ago, seated at the piano, with an inset portrait of herself playing the violin, and another of herself and Mrs Luca together – a photograph from her birthday. She could read enough of the words to know that they said something about mother and daughter.

  While they rehearsed, members of the theatre staff occasionally stopped work to listen and show their approval. Two older members recalled being present at a previous performance by Mrs Luca, and showered her with compliments, going on to say that her daughter had obviously inherited her talent. When they asked Rose direct questions about herself and she failed to respond, Mrs Luca explained that her daughter was very shy.

  Victoria had been incredibly sulky since their arrival, and took every opportunity to have a dig at Rose, who had the misfortune to be sharing a room with her, much to the dismay of both girls. Rose had expected nothing else, but there was nowhere to escape to in the hotel, especially in the evenings after dinner, when Mr and Mrs Luca left them to it while they disappeared downstairs to the bar.

  Mrs Luca had begun to talk about reintegrating Rose into the family and letting bygones be bygones.

  ‘If we’re to perform together, then we must find a way to live together without all the problems that beset us before. I’m sure you’d prefer to live as one of the family and not as an outcast, Anna. Do you think when we get back home we can start over again?’

  Rose nodded. She would have agreed to anything just to be left in peace to work out how she could be reunited with her family and friends. Mrs Luca gave her a big hug and promised she would try her best as well.

  ‘We’ll all try our best. Won’t we, Victoria?’

  Looking past her, Rose saw the girl’s face contort.

  ‘I think you might change your mind,’ Victoria said coolly.

  ‘What makes you say that, darling?’ Mrs Luca wanted to know.

  ‘You’ll find out sooner or later, Mother.’ Victoria said the word ‘Mother’ so scornfully, even Mrs Luca looked taken aback.

  On the morning of the first concert, Mrs Luca and Rose went to the theatre early for a final rehearsal, and to be on hand while lighting and sound checks were carried out. They returned to the hotel at lunchtime to meet up with Mr Luca, who had spent most of his mornings on business matters, and Victoria, who had spent most of hers in bed. Mr Luca was unaccountably cheerful, and announced that he was going to take them all to the best restaurant in town for lunch.

  ‘I’ve arranged for some very important people to come to our little concert,’ he said, ‘including a recording company and a bucket-load of journalists. I want to raise a glass to our success.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we do that afterwards?’ Mrs Luca cautioned.

  ‘Oh, don’t be such a wet blanket, Daphne,’ scoffed her husband. ‘It’ll be too late afterwards. The girls will be ready for bed.’

  ‘Not me, Daddy,’ Victoria protested. ‘I’m not a baby.’

  They set out for their lunch, Mr Luca and Victoria in front, arm in arm, Mrs Luca walking with Rose, talking non-stop. Rose realised she must be anxious about their performance later on. It was a beautiful late summer day. The route to the restaurant took them through a small park, where couples were lazing in the sunshine and where families were stretched out on the grass, enjoying picnics. Rose would much rather have joined them than go to an expensive restaurant where she’d be completely out of place, even after months of instruction from Mrs Luca. She cheered herself up by following the antics of a squirrel that was darting acrobatically along the branches of a tree, leaping down to the ground to pick up titbits, then scrambling up the trunk of another tree before repeating the whole process.

  ‘They’re such pests, aren’t they?’ observed Mrs Luca. ‘The damage they do to the plants in our garden just doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  ‘They’re vermin, aren’t they, Mummy?’ Victoria said, turning round and casting a glance at Rose.

  On reaching the restaurant, they were shown to a table by the window. Numerous knives, forks, spoons and glasses were laid out in front of them. Rose had no idea what she was supposed to do with them all. A waiter handed her a menu. She opened it, only to find that the list of dishes was too extensive and incomprehensible to her with her limited reading ability. She stared at it, hoping that some of the words would begin to make sense.

  ‘What are you going to have, Anna?’ Victoria asked, her lip curling.

  Rose shrugged as though undecided.

  ‘Well, I’m going to have my favourite,’ said Mrs Luca.

  ‘How very unadventurous,’ Mr Luca responded.

  ‘There’s no point in choosing something different and being disappointed,’ Mrs Luca replied. ‘I shall have the vegetable soup to start with, followed by fish cakes, and then I shall give the performance of a lifetime!’

  ‘Well, I’ll have the breaded chicken and I’m going to start with dumpling soup,’ said Victoria.

  The waiter was hovering by the table, ready to take their orders. When it came to Rose’s turn, she pointed at two random dishes on the menu, and hadn’t a clue what food would be put
before her. Mrs Luca gazed at her in surprise.

  ‘What’s Anna having, Mummy?’ Victoria asked.

  ‘Lambs’ kidneys on toast to start with, followed by veal liver as a main,’ Mrs Luca replied. ‘Are you sure, Anna?’

  Rose nodded her head confidently, though she already knew she’d made a big mistake.

  Victoria snorted. ‘What an offally good choice!’

  ‘Good joke, darling,’ praised Mr Luca, who had plumped for a selection of cold meats to start with and the pork tenderloin. He picked up his glass, which the waiter had filled with champagne, and raised a toast: ‘Here’s to a successful evening, a successful tour and a growing bank balance.’

  ‘Here’s to a happy family.’ Mrs Luca beamed.

  Rose raised her water glass and clinked it against her guardians’ glasses.

  ‘We’ll never be a happy family,’ said Victoria quietly, without raising her glass.

  ‘Not now, darling,’ her father warned.

  ‘Why not now?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s not the time or the place,’ Mr Luca said firmly.

  ‘It’s never the time or the place. You never allow me to say what I think or feel.’

  ‘I think you get plenty of opportunities,’ said Mrs Luca.

  ‘I’m not talking about you not being my mother,’ Victoria persisted.

  ‘Quiet!’ Mr Luca ordered.

  Victoria put her hand in her pocket, took it back out and placed her closed fist down on the table.

  ‘Is this some sort of a game?’ Mrs Luca asked.

  ‘But we don’t play games,’ said Victoria. ‘Or do we?’

  She opened her fist. In it lay Mrs Luca’s gold brooch.

  ‘What’s going on?’ demanded Mr Luca. ‘Where did that come from?’

  Victoria stared hard at Rose. Mr and Mrs Luca followed her stare. Rose wanted to be sick.

  ‘I brought it with me,’ Victoria announced triumphantly. ‘And this.’ From her bag she produced the silver jug.

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ snapped Mr Luca.

  ‘I was going to plant them among Anna’s clothes, but I’ve got rather bored with that game, so I thought I’d surprise you all by bringing them to the table.’ Victoria grinned at her parents while they took in what she had said.

  ‘You mean –’

  ‘Are you trying to tell us that you’re the thief?’ Mr Luca blustered.

  ‘I wasn’t really thieving, Daddy.’ Victoria pouted. ‘I just moved them around a bit. My bracelet too, but I seem to have lost track of that.’ She stared at Rose again.

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Why do you think? Because I’m fed up with not mattering. I’m fed up with Daphne and her projects. I’m fed up with being asked to share my life with any waifs and strays who drop into your lives. You married my mother and you were happy, but she got ill and died. I know it wasn’t your fault she died, and you were devastated too. But then you married again. The trouble is, I’ve never been enough for Daphne and you’re always too busy with your work.’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ protested Mrs Luca. ‘I’ve always tried my best to make you feel loved.’

  ‘But you haven’t loved me,’ said Victoria. ‘You haven’t loved me because your love died with Anna, and it’s stayed locked up in that shrine of yours for years.’

  It took Rose a moment or two to realise what was being said, and then she understood that she shared not only her new birthday with Mrs Luca’s daughter, but also her new name.

  ‘I love you, darling,’ said Mr Luca hotly.

  ‘I know you do, Daddy, in your way, but work and business are always more important. And now this silly tour is more important. There’s always something more important.’

  Just then the waiter arrived with their food. When he put Rose’s plate in front of her, she had a desperate urge to hurl it across the table at Victoria. All the pain the girl had caused her, all the terrible accusations she had made! Rose didn’t feel sorry for her, not for one second. She didn’t feel sorry for any of them. They deserved each other. They were destroying each other with a thousand cuts, and not one of them knew how to stop it.

  ‘I don’t understand why you didn’t just talk to us about how you felt, instead of trying to blame poor Anna for something she didn’t do,’ said Mrs Luca.

  ‘Poor Anna? Lucky Anna! She’s plucked from some miserable Gypsy existence to be pampered rotten, and you call her poor!’

  ‘But you made us think she was a thief!’ Mrs Luca tried to put her hand on Rose’s arm, but she pulled away. ‘What about the doll’s house? Was that you too?’ She hardly dared ask the question.

  Victoria nodded. ‘All that time it took to put it together, yet it was so easy to knock it all down.’

  ‘Never mind the doll’s house, what about the fish?’ Mr Luca demanded.

  ‘That wasn’t me!’ Victoria flared. ‘I wouldn’t do that. That probably was Anna. I’ve seen her sticking her fingers in the water.’

  Rose didn’t bother to deny it. Let them think what they like. At least they’ve been proved wrong over the missing items. She was tired of listening to them.

  ‘It was probably your precious Goran,’ Mr Luca growled, turning on his wife. ‘I’ll probably find they’re all dead by the time we get home. Well, a fine celebration this turned out to be.’

  None of them knew what to say any more. Their food sat in front of them, untouched, until Victoria began to tuck in.

  Mrs Luca pushed hers away.

  ‘I can’t eat,’ she muttered. She took her brooch from the table and Rose looked on as she very deliberately put it in her handbag.

  ‘I told you it doesn’t bring you any luck,’ said her husband. ‘Let’s hope it brings better luck this evening.’

  Chapter 32

  After everything that had happened, Rose was amazed they were going ahead with the concert. Mr Luca insisted, saying it would be wrong to let the public down and that too many other things were contingent upon its success. Mrs Luca scarcely spoke. Victoria was quiet too, though from the tilt of her chin Rose was convinced she felt no remorse over what she had done.

  ‘Don’t expect me to say sorry to you,’ she told Rose. ‘Because I won’t. Ever.’

  They passed the remainder of the afternoon resting in their hotel. When the time came to leave for the theatre, Rose wondered how she’d be able to string two notes together, and was sure Mrs Luca would struggle to move her fingers across the piano keys. Poor Mrs Luca. Rose doubted she would ever get it right where Victoria – or her husband – were concerned. She tried to free her mind of the events of the day as they walked along the street. She wanted to focus on how she might escape from this family that had ensnared her and heaped its torments upon her.

  Rose hadn’t found an answer by the time they reached the theatre door. She was beginning to doubt there was an answer. People blustered around them from the moment they entered the auditorium and nerves began to interfere with her thoughts. Was she really going to step out on to the stage and play in front of all the people who would soon be filling the seats? She thought about Nicu and Esme and how they had embraced every performance, but they were adults and had practised for years. She looked at the clock at the rear of the theatre, its hands ticking inexorably onward, and wished she could climb up and turn them back.

  She was ushered to her dressing room, where a woman, under Mrs Luca’s instructions, helped her to change into a severe black dress and tied back her hair. Nadia, as she was called, chattered continuously while she applied some colour to Rose’s cheeks and lips.

  ‘The lights will drain all your natural colour even though you’re quite dark,’ she explained. ‘We don’t want you looking like a ghost, do we? You’re very brave at your age to go out and play to all those people. I’d be scared! My knees would be knocking together so hard they’d be black and blue. Your mum looks even more terrified than you do, poor thing. I hear she used to be very good when she was younger. I expect she
wants to show she still has it in her. I played the violin once. My dad said it sounded like a cat having its tail run over. He was right too. We can’t all be talented, though, can we? Not in the same way, at least. That’s your bell going. Means you’ve got five minutes. Good luck then, my lovely. Hope it goes well for you.’

  Mrs Luca collected Rose from the dressing room, saying breathlessly, ‘I know you’re not joining me until halfway through, but you can listen from the wings.’

  Nadia’s right, Rose thought. She is shaking.

  Mrs Luca took Rose’s hand and whispered, ‘Good luck.’

  Rose squeezed her hand back and watched as she took to the stage amid rapturous applause.

  Mrs Luca was good – very good – but cold. Rose sat in the wings and tried to feel the music she was hearing. However, there was no passion in Mrs Luca’s performance, no individual voice telling the world, ‘This is me. I’m baring my soul to you. I demand that you listen.’

  Has her music always been that way? Rose wondered. Have all the bad things that have happened in her life made it impossible for her to express herself? Was she happy and free once, and did her music reflect that? Was that why she had been so praised in the past?

  All too soon it was Rose’s turn to join her. Rose was petrified. Mr Luca pushed her in the back, and she found herself stranded on the stage like a startled rabbit. A glare of lights blinded her at first, then, as her eyes grew accustomed to them, she noticed a shadowland of heads all turned towards her, watching and waiting.

  ‘Come forward,’ Mrs Luca hissed at her.