Rose Rivers Page 14

‘I would! I know just as much as you, apart from Latin and Greek!’

  ‘This is filthy stuff,’ said Rupert.

  I was baffled. ‘You mean the sort of silly nonsense Algie comes out with?’

  ‘No! Well, a bit like that. But it’s about … bodies.’

  ‘Bodies?’

  ‘Do stow it, Rose!’ said Rupert hastily, looking at the fence behind us as if half of Kensington were crouched there, listening. ‘It’s what people do with their bodies,’ he whispered.

  My heart started thumping.

  ‘They talk about it all the time at school. Even Mackinley and his friends. It’s the main topic of conversation in our dorm, especially after lights out,’ said Rupert. ‘And anyone who knows just a little bit more than anyone else is Top Man.’

  ‘But you don’t know anything, do you?’ I asked.

  ‘I read a racy booklet. I actually bought it off a chap down a back street.’

  ‘You didn’t!’

  ‘He said I was too young, but I gave him twice what he was asking. I wanted to find out all about it.’

  ‘You are too young!’ I said.

  ‘Anyway, I know more than the other boys now. I made out I’d actually got a sweetheart and done some of the things in the booklet.’

  ‘Rupert!’

  ‘Hardy and Martin and all the boys in my dorm believed me. But Mackinley got wind of it and found it funny, though he punished me for telling lies. So then I thought I might try to manufacture some proof to show him. I wrote this letter to Pamela.’

  ‘You wrote a filthy letter to Pamela?’

  ‘Not a filthy one, idiot. She’d have thrown it away – or shown it to her mama!’ said Rupert.

  We both went into peals of laughter at the thought of Mrs Feynsham-Jones reading such a letter.

  ‘It was all lovey-dovey, gush-gush stuff about how I’d grown fond of her and was missing her. Nothing too dreadful.’

  ‘But it is dreadful to string her along when you don’t mean a word of it,’ I said priggishly, though inside I was rejoicing. So he didn’t really care about her at all!

  ‘It’s not dreadful, not when she seems so happy. She wrote back and said ridiculously soppy things, declaring she kissed my letter every night and longed to be close to me again. I showed it all round the dorm and they were very impressed. Mackinley was still suspicious and thought it was a letter from my sister.’

  ‘How dare he! As if I’d ever write such a letter!’ I said furiously.

  ‘Yes, but he doesn’t know you, does he? So then I asked Pamela to send me her photograph and she did, and then he could see that we’re not a bit alike, and anyway his people vaguely know the Feynsham-Joneses. He recognized Pamela. He laughed his head off and clapped me on the shoulder. Now Mackinley and half the upper sixth call me Casanova. He was a famous Italian chap who had lots of affairs,’ said Rupert, swaggering.

  ‘He was a man though, not a boy,’ I said. ‘Rupert, you’re only thirteen!’

  ‘People say I look more like sixteen. Pamela says,’ he told me, laughing. Then he pulled a silly girly face and said in a high-pitched voice, ‘Oh, Roooopert, you’re so grown up now!’

  I couldn’t help laughing too as we went indoors. Algie and Clarrie came running up, demanding to know what we were laughing at. Rupert made a fuss of them, giving them piggybacks and galloping so fast that they squealed in delight.

  I saw that Sebastian was watching. Rupert offered him a piggyback too, but he shook his head shyly.

  ‘I don’t think Montmorency would like it,’ he explained.

  ‘Well, we mustn’t upset Montmorency, because he’s such a good-natured, handsome fellow, the lord of all little rodents,’ said Rupert.

  He was teasing, but Sebastian glowed.

  The children complained bitterly when Nurse came to chivvy them upstairs for supper and bed. Rupert and I joined Mama and Papa for grown-up dinner. Mama monopolized the conversation, making plans for the weekend.

  ‘I’d really like to keep you all to myself, my darling, but I also want to show you off to our friends. You’ve grown so in just half a term! I dare say when you come home at Christmas you’ll be as tall as your papa,’ she said. ‘Though of course you’re not so very tall yourself, are you, Edward? Rupert clearly takes after my side of the family. My papa is well over six foot, and still very spry and slender. He looks very manly in the kilt. We’ll have to get you measured for a new kilt for Hogmanay, dear boy.’

  ‘So which friends are you going to invite, Mama? How about the Feynsham-Joneses? I believe Rose has chummed up with the girls while I’ve been away at school.’

  Mama thought this an excellent idea.

  MAMA INVITED THE Feynsham-Joneses for afternoon tea the next day. I felt ill at the thought of seeing them again, especially Pamela. It’s a great relief to discover that Rupert doesn’t care for her in the slightest. Still, I do wish he wouldn’t talk about her in such a sordid way at school.

  Pamela’s been so carefully brought up. She surely wouldn’t even let Rupert hold her hand. They’re only children, though they both look much older than me. Why is Rupert like this? He’s the one who always jokes around. This morning he actually slid down the banisters and landed smack on the floor. It must have hurt him, but he just laughed.

  Mama cried out in consternation, and Papa came running down from his studio.

  ‘Really, Rupert, must you always act the fool?’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You’re worrying your mama and your sister.’

  Papa put his arm round my shoulders. ‘Glad to have your brother back, poppet? Are you happy now?’

  I nodded.

  ‘How’s the sketching going, eh? Is Paris helping you at all?’

  ‘I really don’t think I have much talent, Papa,’ I said.

  ‘I’m not sure I have sometimes,’ he said. ‘Not any more.’ He said it lightly, and smiled, but he looked very tense.

  ‘Papa, are you happy now?’ I whispered.

  He looked startled. ‘Of course I am, my pet. And your mama is clearly in seventh heaven now that Rupert is back. She’s plotting a splendid tea party this afternoon.’

  Mama wanted to include the younger children, but planned to have them play prettily in the garden as soon as they’d had a bite to eat. She thought Beth too great a risk and told Nurse Budd to take her out for a walk shortly before the Feynsham-Joneses were due to arrive.

  However, the sky suddenly darkened and there was a serious downpour. Nurse Budd had only just bundled Beth into her coat and hat and boots, and now she had to take them off again. Beth protested noisily.

  ‘Oh my Lord,’ said Mama, almost in tears. ‘I was banking on Nurse Budd keeping Beth out of the way. And now she’s started one of her turns. We shall have to cancel the party!’

  ‘Rose,’ Papa murmured. ‘Go and comfort your mother.’

  I refused. She wouldn’t appreciate my comfort. Anyway, I wanted the party to be cancelled.

  Papa looked at me, and then gave my shoulder a squeeze. ‘All right. You run upstairs and see if you can calm Beth. I’ll look after your mama.

  ‘There now, Jeannie.’ He put his arms round her and held her close, there in the dining room in front of everyone.

  I thought Mama would push him away, but she gave a little sob and rested her head on his chest. We all stared, Algie and Clarrie nudging each other and giggling.

  I hurried upstairs. Beth’s screams were deafening now. She was lying on the floor, half in and half out of her coat, drumming her boots on the carpet.

  ‘Beth, for heaven’s sake! You must stop making such a row! Mama is going frantic and we’re expecting visitors,’ I said, seizing hold of her.

  Beth only cried harder.

  ‘There now, Miss Rose, leave her to me. I’ll soon quieten her,’ said Nurse Budd. ‘It’s pointless trying to reason with her when she’s in such a paddy.’

  ‘Perhaps we might give her some cake,’ I suggested.

  ‘Cake! She was sick three times in
the night after that great creamy cake she had. Three changes of sheets! I don’t want that performance again tonight, thank you very much.’

  I tried sitting down beside Beth and talking to her, but she was screaming so hard the veins on her forehead stood out.

  ‘I’m scared she’s going to have a fit,’ I said.

  ‘This will calm her,’ said Nurse Budd, going to her case by the washstand. ‘A little dose of Godfrey’s Cordial and she’ll be as right as rain. It’ll soothe her.’

  ‘But it seems to make her so sleepy,’ I said.

  ‘Well, a nice little nap never did anyone any harm, Miss Rose. Here, Miss Beth, hold still a minute for your spoonful of magic medicine. You don’t want to spill it over your coat, now do you?’

  Beth was suddenly still as still, though she was still gasping and sobbing, tears streaming down her face. She swallowed the cordial and then let Nurse Budd ease her out of her crumpled coat.

  ‘There now, dear. Time for bye-byes,’ said Nurse Budd. ‘Off you go, Miss Rose. There’ll be scarcely a peep out of her now.’

  I went downstairs again, feeling a little anxious. Rupert was lounging in front of the fireplace. Nurse had taken the little ones upstairs to be suitably prepared for the party.

  ‘Where are Papa and Mama?’ I asked Rupert.

  ‘Upstairs,’ he said. ‘He’s calming her down.’

  ‘They’re so strange, aren’t they? They snap at each other all the time, and then they act like two lovebirds, just the way they used to. Remember when we were little and Papa used to toss us up in the air – and then once he tossed Mama up in the air too.’

  Rupert raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t remember them romping around like that!’

  ‘They did, they did,’ I insisted.

  Papa would sometimes take Mama on his lap, dandling her like a little child. He’d kiss her cheek and pet her and pull out her hairpins so that her dark curls came tumbling down past her shoulders. She always protested and tried to slap his hands away, but you could tell she didn’t really mind.

  When did they stop being fond of each other? Was it after Beth was born, or after Sebastian and Algie and Clarrie? There was a gap after Clarrie. Mama had had another baby then, before Phoebe, but it was very small and puny, and died after only a few days. I remember being taken in to see it, a tiny boy lying in a much-too-big christening gown. His face was yellow like an old wax doll. I dreamed about him for weeks. Perhaps Mama did too, because for a long time she was very sad. That was about the time Papa started painting Louisa.

  I wished Mama and Papa could be happy together again. They came back downstairs hand in hand, Papa as gentle with Mama as if she were an invalid. She had changed into the blue dress she’d worn for her portrait. She’d smoothed her hair and put on some powder. Her eyes were a little red, but otherwise she looked perfectly composed. Papa had changed too, discarding his paint-spattered corduroys for a formal suit and tie – very dull and ordinary, though I suppose he looked handsome.

  Nurse managed to get all the children washed and brushed and in their best clothes before the Feynsham-Joneses arrived. Baby Phoebe was looking exceptionally sweet, her fluffy hair sticking up in ducks’ tails. Rupert looked lankily elegant in his colourful waistcoat, the gold chain of Grandpapa’s watch gleaming brightly. He seemed very grown up and dashing. I could see why Pamela was so taken with him.

  At first she sat right at the other end of the room, pretending to take an interest in Clarrie, asking her endless questions about her dolls and her dresses. Clarrie was pleased to have the attention of a much older girl, especially a pretty one with blonde curls. Clarrie now longed for long, wavy fair hair like the princesses in her storybooks. She sometimes walked around with Papa’s yellow silk scarf draped over her head as a makeshift wig.

  She stared at Pamela’s beautiful hair for several minutes, and then put out a hand and fingered one of the curls as if checking it was real. Clarrie’s hands are usually sticky, so I didn’t blame Pamela for pushing her away. Clarrie pouted and went to sit with Algie at the end of the table. Sebastian slid onto her vacated seat and started talking to Pamela. He is interested in dresses and dolls, though he’s not allowed either.

  But Pamela edged away from him and Lucinda-May stood up in terror, remembering her last visit, when Montmorency made a bolt for freedom. Sebastian promised them that Montmorency was safely locked in his cage, but they didn’t seem convinced.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to run and check on him, Sebastian,’ said Papa.

  Then Rupert took the chair beside Pamela and spoke in a low voice, his head very close to hers. I couldn’t hear properly, but Pamela soon calmed down and started smiling.

  Suddenly I caught a glimpse of my face in the looking glass above the mantelpiece. I was scowling. Was Rupert playing a game or was he really fond of Pamela?

  Letting the little ones have tea with us was a bad idea. They spilled their milk on the tablecloth and ate with their mouths open, and Algie had a coughing fit and sprayed everyone with crumbs. Mortified by their behaviour, Nurse took them up to the nursery as soon as she could.

  I was stuck between Lucinda-May and Cecily. That morning they had gone riding in Rotten Row and talked about it endlessly, while I yawned.

  ‘It’s such a shame you don’t care for riding, Rose,’ they said, and smirked at each other.

  I wished I’d been sent back upstairs with the little ones. At least I could eat with gusto there. Mama kept frowning at me and dabbing at her lips with her napkin, so I gathered that I had smears of jam or cream on my cheeks. Cook had made an enormous batch of choux buns, but when I reached for a second one, Mama shook her head vigorously.

  The Feynsham-Jones girls all ate daintily, nibbling like Montmorency, choosing the smallest, plainest cakes. Pamela scarcely ate anything, her eyes on Rupert.

  He glanced out of the window. ‘It’s stopped raining, thank goodness,’ he said. ‘Pamela, you look a little flushed. Would you care to take a stroll around the garden if you’ve finished your tea?’

  ‘I am rather hot. Yes, that would be a good idea,’ she said.

  Lucinda-May and Cecily clamoured to go out as well.

  ‘Of course. Come along, girls, we’ll all take a turn,’ Rupert said smoothly.

  ‘What a little gentleman,’ Mrs Feynsham-Jones murmured. ‘My girls think the world of him. You’re so lucky to have a son, Mrs Rivers.’

  She clearly wasn’t thinking of Sebastian or Algie! I was pleased Lucinda-May and Cecily were joining the party. Serve Rupert right, I thought. Now he’s stuck with all three and he will find it very tedious.

  But when I went to the window five minutes later, I saw Lucinda-May and Cecily galloping up and down the path together, their hands out in front as if they were holding reins. They were whinnying at each other, playing their own private game. Rupert and Pamela were at the very end of the garden under the oak tree, scarcely visible.

  Why did he have to take her down to our part of the garden? I saw that their heads were very close together. What was he whispering to her?

  I rested my forehead on the cool glass. I was feeling hot too. I wondered about going out and joining them, but I was too proud. I just watched, my heart beating fast as they started wandering back again. They paused by the greenhouse, and then Rupert opened the door and they went inside.

  He seemed to be showing Pamela the plants. Then he picked up some pruning shears. Was he going to cut a flower and make her a little nosegay? She was giggling and shaking her head. Then she ran her fingers through her long curls, holding them out in front of her, examining them carefully. She chose one that was perhaps a little longer than the others. Rupert leaned forward, holding the shears. Then I saw the steel flash as he gave a quick snip.

  They came out of the greenhouse and walked up the garden. Pamela was looking at Rupert, hanging on his every word. But Rupert was looking towards the house, straight at me, as if he knew I’d be watching from behind the curtain. He patted the pocket
where he’d put the lock of hair, and smiled.

  ‘Did you see?’ he said later, when the Feynsham-Joneses were gone at last. ‘She actually let me cut off a curl!’

  ‘I saw. You’ve cast such a spell on her she’d let you shave her head if you begged her,’ I said. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, Rupert.’

  ‘The boys in my dorm will go wild when they see it. I’ll spin them all kinds of stories.’

  ‘You’re horrible. I feel sorry for Pamela,’ I said.

  ‘You can’t stand the girl,’ said Rupert.

  ‘I can’t stand you either,’ I told him.

  ‘You’re just jealous,’ he said, looking smug.

  ‘Jealous of you?’

  ‘Jealous that you’re not part of a romantic intrigue yourself.’

  ‘How can you call your horrid scheming romantic?’

  ‘You hate the idea of any kind of romance, Rosy-Posy. You’ll end up a sad old spinster, scowling at other folks’ fun. You’ll never know what it’s like to love.’

  ‘Well, actually you’re quite wrong,’ I said heatedly. ‘I do know!’

  ‘Yes, you love Papa and Mama and me and Beth and Sebastian and Clarrie and the baby, and I dare say deep down you even love Algie, but that’s not what I mean. You’re still too young to understand.’ Rupert shook his head at me in mock sorrow.

  ‘I understand perfectly. And I do love in just the way you’re implying. I love someone who’s nothing to do with the family,’ I said rashly.

  ‘You can’t fool me,’ said Rupert. Then he looked at me properly and saw that I was blushing. ‘What? Hey! You’re serious! You’ve got a pash!’ He started laughing.

  ‘Don’t use that horrid word,’ I said. ‘And stop laughing!’

  ‘It’s such a joke. You’re in love! Who is it?’

  ‘I’m not telling you.’

  ‘I can always wheedle stuff out of you,’ said Rupert. ‘So who can it be? You don’t know anyone, that’s the trouble. I can’t think of any boys your age. Oh, hang on! It’s Jack Boots!’ He started making up a ridiculous story about Jack writing love letters in boot polish.

  I stayed disdainfully silent, so Rupert switched tack.