Now Martha attended a finishing school and Edward was enrolled at a boys’ college, and Rose was stuck at home with Miss Parson, who was supposed to turn her into a lady.
Sally knocked on the schoolroom door. ‘Mrs McCubbin wishes Rose to be ready in ten minutes to go out.’
‘Very well,’ Miss Parson said. ‘Rose, go and wash your face, and put your boots on.’
Rose did as she was told, hoping they were going to the park, but knowing in her heart that they wouldn’t be. Sure enough, Mother announced they were going to Father’s shop, McCubbin’s Emporium. ‘You need a complete new wardrobe,’ Mother said.
Rose groaned. ‘It’s only that silly dress that’s too small.’
‘Nonsense,’ Mother said as she retied the large hat bow under her chin.
Out on the driveway, John waited with the family carriage. The horse stood placidly, and Rose longed to go and pat it, but ladies didn’t do that. In fact, ladies never did anything interesting or exciting.
On their way into Bourke Street in the city, they passed a cable tram clanking along. Rose gazed at the people sitting on the open seats – she’d love to ride on a tram, but Mother thought they were ‘common’, which meant only poor people used them.
When they reached the front door of McCubbin’s Emporium, Father was nowhere to be seen. I bet he’s hiding, Rose thought with a grin. Martha had once told Rose that Father dreaded Mother’s visits because she always criticised the goods he stocked.
It was Mother who insisted that, when Father expanded his drapery three years before, he rename it an Emporium. She had been most unhappy when Father began selling ready-made clothing to the working classes during the hard years after the Bust, but Father had ignored her. It’d kept the business going, he said, when all around were failing.
Mother whisked Rose past the linen and household goods on the ground floor, and up the stairs to where the tables were piled high with colourful bolts of material and rolls of lace. She sent Rose off with Miss Smith, whose white hair matched her starched white muslin blouse. Tape measures were draped around her neck.
Rose had to undress behind a curtain down to her chemise and bloomers, and stand still while Miss Smith measured every part of her, and wrote the numbers in her notebook. ‘There,’ she said, smiling. ‘Aren’t you excited to be getting lovely new dresses?’
‘I want to ride a bicycle,’ Rose said, ‘and run and jump and play cricket. I can’t do any of those things dressed in fancy lace and satin. Maybe you could measure me for pantaloons.’
‘Oh.’ Miss Smith looked worried. ‘I’m not sure you’re –’
‘Rose,’ Mother called from the other side of the curtain. ‘Are you finished?’
‘Yes.’ Hopefully, Mother had already ordered everything and they could go home now. But Mother showed Rose every single bolt of material and roll of lace she had chosen, with Miss Smith draping coloured lengths all over her as if she were a Christmas tree, while they talked endlessly about buttons and bustles.
Holy smoke! thought Rose. I could have climbed Kilimanjaro twice in the time I’ve been standing here. Father had told Rose that Mount Kilimanjaro was the highest mountain in Africa. Rose imagined standing on top, the clouds below her and the sun warm on her face.
However, just when it seemed like the clothes torture was over, Rose discovered there was worse to come.
Miss Smith held up a funny piece of underwear with buttons down the front and two straps. The back was laced loosely together, and the waist curved inwards. A corset! Rose edged back but Mother pushed her forward again. ‘Go and try it on, Rose,’ she said.
‘But …’ The corset looked tiny – far too small to be comfortable.
‘It gives a lovely shape,’ Miss Smith said.
Before Rose knew it, she was back behind the curtain, and Mother watched while Miss Smith put the corset on her and pulled the laces tight, one at a time.
Within moments, Rose was gasping for breath, her face burning red.
‘Lovely,’ said Miss Smith.
‘Much better,’ said Mother, smiling at last. ‘We’ll take that as well.’
Rose gaped at her mother. Even a suit of armour would be more comfortable than the corset. Well, she’d just refuse to wear it!
AFTER waiting for Mother to finish her orders, Rose climbed into the carriage and wriggled, exhausted, into the corner seat. As they headed off, they passed Coles Arcade, but she could barely raise the energy to look at the tempting rainbow signs and window displays. They stocked more books than anywhere else in Melbourne, and she’d heard there were amazing things inside like monkeys and parrots. But Coles Arcade was another place that Mother said wasn’t fit to be seen in. Rose sighed. If Mother wasn’t so high and mighty, life would be a lot more entertaining.
When they arrived home, there were three trunks and two large hatboxes in the hallway. Aunt Alice had arrived!
Just as Mother was demanding to know where the clutter had come from, a familiar voice floated down the stairs. ‘Elizabeth, I’m so sorry about the luggage. We weren’t sure which room I was to stay in.’
‘Aunt Alice!’ Rose called. ‘Hello!’
Next to her, Rose heard Mother hiss to Sally, ‘I told you the small room on the third floor.’
‘Miss Alice said she wouldn’t fit in there, Madam,’ Sally whispered.
Mother made a snorting noise and Rose had great trouble keeping her giggles inside her.
‘Hello, Rose. You’ve grown so much!’ Aunt Alice galloped down the stairs and swept Rose up in a huge hug.
‘Aunt Alice!’ Rose said. ‘You’re wearing …’
‘Pantaloons,’ Aunt Alice said. ‘They’re the latest fashion for adventurous outings.’
‘Not if I can help it,’ Mother said icily.
‘I’m sure I can settle into the green room next to Rose’s,’ Aunt Alice said. ‘Could John take my luggage up, please?’
John avoided Mother’s glare and heaved the first trunk onto his shoulder, escaping up the staircase.
Rose’s stomach gave an enormous rumble. ‘Mother, I’m starving. Can we have lunch?’
‘I’m sure Cook has it ready, Rose. Let’s go into the dining room and I’ll ring the bell.’ Mother marched off without another word to Aunt Alice, who didn’t seem to mind a bit. She winked at Rose. ‘I can see I’m as welcome as a downpour in December.’
‘Come and eat lunch with us,’ Rose said, taking her hand. ‘Mother will be all right once she gets used to you again.’
‘What about you, Rose? Could you get used to me again?’
‘Oh, very much.’
At the dining table, Rose sat and inspected Aunt Alice over the salt and pepper shakers. There was something different about her. It wasn’t just her tanned skin, when all the ladies in Melbourne kept theirs pale under parasols. Her face was sharper, her eyes flashed instead of just shining. And her hair was pulled back into a tight knot instead of piled on her head. In her pantaloons and flannel blouse, she looked … strong. Not delicate and ladylike at all.
Rose imagined herself looking just like Aunt Alice, and a little thrill ran through her. She had a feeling life was going to be quite different with Aunt Alice in the house.
Rose poked her fork into the sliced tongue on her plate. It was grainy and tough, so she hid it under her potatoes. Mother was silent, picking her way through her lunch, eyes fixed on the tablecloth in front of her.
Aunt Alice smiled at Rose. ‘How is school?’
‘I’m not allowed to go to school,’ Rose said. ‘I have a governess, Miss Parson.’
‘That’s a shame,’ Aunt Alice said.
Rose saw her mother stiffen and her eyebrows arrow down. Normally, that was a signal to be quiet, but Rose was too curious. ‘Why? I thought you were a governess in New Zealand.’
‘That’s why I went,’ Aunt Alice said. ‘But the position didn’t work out. The girls’ mother was very … difficult.’ She smiled. ‘So another governess and I started our own
school.’
‘Your own school?’ Rose said. ‘That’s wonderful! Then why have you come back to Melbourne?’
Mother’s fork clattered onto the plate, but Aunt Alice took no notice, leaning towards Rose. ‘Apparently I was teaching young ladies inappropriate lessons. There was a campaign against me, and lots of people withdrew their daughters from the school.’
‘Inappropriate?’ The word burst out of Mother. ‘That’s a strange word to use. I heard it was dangerous and … masculine!’
What on earth could Mother mean? How could a girls’ school be dangerous? Maybe the girls sailed ships and swam at the beach and played cricket. ‘What did you teach them?’ asked Rose.
‘All about politics, and how to vote.’ Alice raised her eyebrows at Rose. ‘You do know that New Zealand was the first country to let women vote in elections. It’s only fair that everyone gets to choose who is in charge. Everywhere else it’s just the men who decide!’
Rose made a face. She had heard Father talk about voting and politics, and they didn’t sound dangerous or exciting to her.
‘Huh!’ Mother said. ‘Women don’t need to vote. Men run Victoria perfectly well.’
‘Run Victoria well?’ Aunt Alice said, her voice steely. ‘I suppose that was why we had the Bust, and all those people starved and lost their savings.’
Mother threw her napkin onto the table. ‘I will not be insulted in my own house. I will finish my lunch later.’ She stood and swept towards the door, then paused. ‘Rose, bring your plate. You can eat in the schoolroom.’
Aunt Alice smiled and mouthed, ‘Go on.’
Rose picked up her plate and followed her mother up the stairs. What was so bad about what Aunt Alice had said? She was dying to know more about this extraordinary school.
In the schoolroom, Rose quickly scraped the tongue into the bin, covering it with some scrap paper. Her stomach was still only half-full. I know! she thought. I’ll sneak down to the kitchen and ask Cook for a big slice of apple pie!
As Rose pushed open the kitchen door, she goggled at the sight of Aunt Alice sitting at the large wooden table with a cup of tea in front of her, chatting with Cook and Sally while John stood near the wood stove, smiling.
Aunt Alice waved her closer. ‘Shut the door, Rosie. We don’t want your mother barging in.’
Rose did as she was told, and her stomach rumbled. ‘Is there any apple pie left?’ she asked.
‘Of course,’ Cook said, and cut Rose an enormous piece. It was brown and crunchy on top, with delicious soft apple and cinnamon inside.
The others were talking about the Emporium. Rose screwed up her nose. ‘It’s an awful place. They sell corsets!’
Much to Rose’s disgust, the adults all laughed. ‘Sorry, Rose,’ Aunt Alice said, wiping her eyes. ‘We’re not laughing at you. It was the expression on your face. I take it you don’t like corsets?’
‘You can’t breathe in them!’ Rose eyed her aunt. ‘Do you wear one?’
‘No, I do not,’ Aunt Alice said. ‘Another black mark against me, no doubt!’
A bell jangled loudly from its rack on the wall. ‘That’s Mrs McCubbin,’ said Sally. ‘She’ll be wanting something.’
‘I’d better go back upstairs,’ Rose said.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Aunt Alice said. ‘Do you want to help me unpack? I have some souvenirs of New Zealand that might interest you.’
‘Yes, please,’ Rose said, jumping up.
Rose and Aunt Alice crept up the stairs and, once in Aunt Alice’s bedroom, they closed and locked the door. John had stacked Alice’s three trunks neatly along the wall and she bent to open the first one, pulling out all of the clothes. There were only three dresses and a nightgown, plus some underwear. Rose peered into the trunk. It was filled with books!
‘Do you have your own library?’ Rose asked, reaching for the top book before she could stop herself.
‘You can’t teach properly without good books,’ Aunt Alice said. ‘You may borrow any of these.’
Rose’s hand faltered. Already she could see some boys’ adventure stories that Mother wouldn’t approve of. Guilt prickled over her skin. Mother was very strict about what Rose was allowed to read. Rose had a funny feeling that trouble was coming, but how could she possibly turn down the offer of such fascinating books? There was one about Africa, one about fish and one with the mysterious title of The Jungle Book. Underneath that lay another book that Rose had been longing to read since Edward told her about it – Treasure Island!
‘May I read this? Please?’
‘Of course,’ Aunt Alice said. ‘It’s a ripping story. In fact, why don’t you keep it? Let’s make it your birthday present. Or a part of it, anyway.’
‘Thank you so much! I’ll be happy just with this.’ Rose hugged the book to her chest.
‘You shouldn’t be so easily pleased, Rose,’ Aunt Alice said, a glint in her eyes.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think your mother has–’ A sharp rap at the door cut her off.
‘Rose McCubbin! Are you in there?’ It was Miss Parson. ‘It’s time for your piano practice.’
‘Yes,’ Rose squeaked. In a panic, she looked around for somewhere to hide her precious book.
Aunt Alice held out her hand. ‘I’ll give it to you later, after my suffragette meeting.’
‘What’s a suffragette, Aunt Alice?’ asked Rose.
‘Suffragettes are women, like me, who think we should be able to do the same things as men,’ said Aunt Alice as she unlocked the door. It swung wide open to reveal Miss Parson looking huffy. ‘Miss Parson, how would you like to become a suffragette?’ Alice asked.
Miss Parson paled and stepped back as if Alice had a disease that she didn’t want to catch. ‘And march all over town demanding to be allowed to vote? I could think of nothing worse. How uncouth. Come along, Rose.’ She marched off down the corridor.
Rose said goodbye to Aunt Alice and trailed after the stiff-backed governess. A whole hour of pounding the piano keys! How much more exciting to be curled up on her bed, reading Treasure Island. Miss Parson was in such a cross mood that Rose ended her practice with stinging fingers from raps with a wooden ruler. As soon as she was allowed, Rose ran out of the piano room, down the stairs, and into the garden.
Beyond the stables were an orchard and a vegetable patch. The apple trees were laden with fruit. Rose climbed into the lower branches and picked a large, juicy apple, sinking her teeth into it. Maybe I could fetch my new book, and read it here, under the tree in the autumn sunshine, she thought. And then she could hide it in the secret box she kept in a hole behind the ivy on the wall. Maybe she should put her cricket ball and her lovely magnifying glass there, just for safekeeping, away from Miss Parson’s big, snooping nose. Rose closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of grass and fallen apples and late-blooming roses. There was a rustle below her.
‘What are you doing out here?’
It was Edward, hands in his pockets, staring up at her. He must’ve just arrived home.
‘Hiding from Miss Parson. And Mother.’
Edward climbed up and sat on another branch, picking an apple and munching with his mouth open. Rose was about to remind him to close it when she realised that would make her sound like Mother. ‘What did you do at school today?’
Edward scowled. ‘Nothing. It was boring.’
‘How could school ever be boring? You should be here with Miss Parson. You could embroider a tablecloth or two.’
Edward laughed. ‘No thanks. But school isn’t as exciting as you think.’
Rose didn’t believe him. Martha’s finishing school sounded horrendous – just imagine learning how to run a household all day! – but the boys’ school must be marvellous. Rose could see herself reading about darkest Africa, or learning about ancient Rome. ‘Do you play cricket with the other boys?’ she asked Edward.
‘No,’ he said, hunching his shoulders.
Rose was puzzled. Judging by his exp
ression, Edward’s school seemed worse than Martha’s. She wanted to cheer him up. ‘Thanks awfully for the cricket ball, Ed. I know it was your favourite.’
‘That’s all right. You’re darned good at bowling, you know – especially for a girl.’ He grimaced. ‘Sorry about those horrible cherries – Mother made me. Have you got the ball with you? We could play catch.’ He finished his apple and threw the core away.
‘No, it’s in my room. Hide-and-seek? I’ll let you hide first.’
‘Hide-and-seek is a baby’s game,’ he said. Then he grinned. ‘Make sure you count to fifty, and don’t look!’ He climbed down and ran towards the stables. Rose giggled, closed her eyes and started counting.
ROSE and Edward got to play two games of hide-and-seek before they were called inside. Too late, Rose remembered that she’d been going to retrieve her tin box of special things from behind the ivy, and put her book into it. She would have to leave Treasure Island with Aunt Alice. There was nowhere in her room that was safe from Miss Parson, who came and searched through Rose’s drawers and cupboards regularly, although Rose could never work out why. Miss Parson did it when Rose wasn’t there, but she left telltale signs – little things out of place, bedcovers a bit crooked. But Mother had told her she was imagining things when Rose had mentioned it.
Maybe Miss Parson thought she was hiding a beau! Rose giggled. She wasn’t at all interested in boys, except to play cricket with. Martha had had two handsome young men call on her already, probably because she was so pretty and graceful. Rose hoped Martha wouldn’t do something silly like get married. Rose would miss her too much.
As she ran through the gardens, Rose waved to the gardener who kept everything so neat and tidy. There were freshly mowed lawns spreading in every direction, perfectly trimmed hedges and square garden beds with precise rows of flowers. Even the fountain at the front of the house had been scrubbed clean.
She gazed up at the big arched windows and caught a glimpse of Aunt Alice moving about in her bedroom. Perhaps she would come out and play some cricket later? Aunt Alice looked like she’d make a fine batsman.
Meet Rose Page 2
