My Name Is Rose Page 10

  ‘You won’t last here,’ he said more than once. ‘You don’t have a cat in hell’s chance. Not when her ladyship puts two and two together and comes up with the right answer. You’ll be out of the door faster than I can say “good riddance”.’

  For a while, Rose wondered about Goran’s hostility towards her, which was less understandable than Mr Luca’s. In the end, all she could think of was that he didn’t like her because she was a Roma, or he didn’t want to share Mrs Luca’s attentions.

  Luckily, there was plenty to keep him occupied. It was a busy time of year in the garden, with leaves to be cleared, some vegetables to be cropped and others sown, flowers to be deadheaded and shrubs to be pruned. Mrs Luca regularly visited him to issue instructions, though it was clear Goran knew what he was doing. Rose guessed that he wouldn’t want to ruin his employer’s high regard for him by being seen hanging around the stables too often when he was supposed to be working. She overheard them discussing things sometimes – Goran smooth-talking and charming, Mrs Luca full of compliments and flattered by his attentions. Knowing how nasty he could be, it filled Rose with disgust to see how gullible Mrs Luca was in his company.

  Rose threw herself into the tasks she had been set in the stables. She loved and understood horses, and they whinnied happily as she worked around them. It gave her a sense of triumph to be able to form a bond with Griffin and Victoria’s other horse, Snooty, and she made doubly sure there was never any reason for the girl to complain about her work. Rose was grateful that Victoria was normally still in bed while she raked out the soiled bedding, washed down the concrete underneath, then piled in fresh straw.

  Mrs Luca seemed in no rush to begin lessons with her. ‘I’ll see if I can find time tomorrow,’ she said. Or, ‘There’s just so much to do at the moment, but I’m sure next week will be clearer.’

  Rose didn’t mind. Nor did she mind the fact that she was left to her own devices so often. Mrs Luca no longer expected her company on shopping trips, and seemed more intent on buying Victoria’s affections. Rose regularly overheard Mrs Luca offering her inducements like new items of clothing, the latest gadgets, facials and expensive lunches. Mother and daughter increasingly disappeared out of the house, arm in arm, laughing loudly, and stayed away for several hours.

  During their absence, and with Marina’s acquiescence, Rose slipped into the piano room to play the violin. Rose liked Marina. The housekeeper had told her that she had come to work for the Luca family when her husband became unreasonable and kicked her out. ‘My husband was English and I moved over here to be with him, but he didn’t treat me well. Mrs Luca heard about it at the church and took me in. At first, I lived as part of the family and ate meals with them. Then their housekeeper left and they said I should work for them to pay them back for their kindness. It was fair, but Mr Luca isn’t very nice to me, and I was never a servant back in Romania.’

  ‘Be very careful,’ Marina warned Rose regularly about using the piano room. ‘There’ll be an almighty row if anyone finds you in there, and I wouldn’t want to see you get into trouble.’

  But as time went by, Rose became bolder, stealing moments even when she knew there was a chance Mr Luca might come back from work early, or when it was close to the hour Mrs Luca had envisaged for their return. It was only while Rose was playing that she could rediscover the person she had once been. She was delighted to find she was improving with all the practice. The bow moved more deftly from high to low, the notes were cleaner, the transitions smoother.

  Nicu would have been so proud of her! It was what he had always wanted – for her to make the most of her ability. ‘You’re lucky to be born with a budding talent,’ he used to say, ‘but talent is nothing without hard work and dedication. You must strive to help that talent blossom into a beautiful flower, whose colourful petals and delightful scent will bring joy to the world.’

  ‘Your father is such a romantic,’ Esme would laugh, ‘but he’s right – talent should never be wasted.’

  If only I’d practised harder when Papa wanted me to, Rose lamented, but at least I’m making up for it. What she had been lacking before was passion. She had found passion through adversity and now could feel what her father had felt when he picked up his violin and lost himself in his music.

  Occasionally, when Rose paused for a break, she would wander around the room, picking up sheets of music and wondering at the strange language of circles and lines. She knew it was the language of music, but was no more able to read it than any other language. She also glanced – with no real interest – at the pictures and photographs that covered part of a wall. Until the day when, on looking more closely, she thought she recognised Mrs Luca in one of the photographs.

  Rose lifted the photograph from its hook, took it to the window and wiped away the dust with the edge of a curtain. She was sure it was Mrs Luca, much younger, dark-haired and playing the grand piano. In the background, a large audience was listening, enrapt. Rose replaced the photograph and began to study the others. One appeared to be Mrs Luca as a child, with a violin in her hands. Another showed her standing in front of a piano receiving a huge bouquet of flowers.

  Curiosity got the better of Rose now. She went to the door and checked that Marina was downstairs, then crept over to the chest of drawers and tentatively opened the top drawer. It was full of baby clothes, all neatly folded, many of them scarcely worn, others still with labels on. Rose opened another drawer. This one contained photograph albums. She leafed through the first album to find more images of Mrs Luca at various stages of her musical career. A second held numerous photographs of a baby girl.

  To begin with, Rose thought the baby must be Victoria, though she didn’t bear much resemblance. This child was dark, while Victoria was fair. Most of the photographs were portraits of the child on her own – in her cot, in her high chair, in her playpen, toddling on the lawn, playing in a nursery. Then Rose discovered a batch where the child was in Mrs Luca’s arms, or holding her hand, or playing with a balloon, some with Mr Luca beside them, looking happy. Others portrayed the child with Victoria, and there were what appeared to be family shots, with Mr and Mrs Luca, Victoria and the little girl all together.

  Who is this child? Rose wondered. She searched further, but although there were dozens of photographs of the girl up to the age of about two, there were none of her any older than that. Rose guessed that she must have been about three or four years younger than Victoria, the same age difference as she herself shared with Victoria.

  Virtually hidden at the bottom of the drawer, Rose found several photographs of a much younger Mr Luca, a rather pretty, fair-haired woman she had never seen before, and a very young toddler who could have been Victoria.

  She put the albums carefully back in the drawer, propped the violin under her chin and resumed her practice. However, she couldn’t concentrate. Her mind was full of questions about the Luca family and her own place within it. Mrs Luca had clearly been a pianist of some standing, so why did the piano now sit in this room unused and covered with dust? Why was there never any music in the house? Who was the woman standing alongside Mr Luca and gazing so dotingly at baby Victoria? Most of all, who was the other girl, who, in the photographs, seemed so cherished?

  Where is she now? Rose wondered.

  She quietly left the room and closed the door on its secrets. She took herself off to the playroom, where the doll’s house stood with its roof, floors and windows all in place, its carpets and rugs laid and some of the furniture arranged. She rummaged through the boxes until she came to the one that contained a collection of men, women, children and babies. She selected those that most resembled the Luca family, then picked out a baby and another woman. Rose found a cot, put the baby in it and placed them in the nursery. She took the man and the two women and set them in front of the house, and stood Victoria to one side.

  Which one is your mother, Victoria? I don’t think it’s Mrs Luca.

  Chapter 24

  A silver
jug went missing. This time, Mrs Luca questioned Rose directly.

  ‘Anna,’ she said, calling her into the dining room, ‘there was a small silver jug on the shelf here, but it’s not there now. Have you seen it?’ She stared piercingly at Rose.

  Rose shook her head vehemently.

  ‘I won’t be cross if you give it back,’ Mrs Luca persisted.

  Rose spread her hands open to indicate that she knew nothing about the missing jug.

  ‘It’s very strange that items have gone missing since you’ve been here. And that those fish have died.’

  Rose shook her head, then kept shaking it.

  ‘I believe you, Anna. This time,’ Mrs Luca said, without any real conviction. ‘Next time I might not. I hope there won’t be a next time. Go to your room now. I’m tired of dealing with a child who cannot – will not – speak. I think perhaps it’s convenient for you not to speak. I don’t want to see you for the rest of today.’

  And then the inevitable happened. Rose was in the piano room, practising. Marina had joined her and was sitting on the piano stool, listening in awe. She was the first to see Mr Luca as his shadow fell across the floor. She leapt to her feet and turned to find her employer standing in the doorway. She tried to attract Rose’s attention, but Rose was too absorbed.

  ‘Get out,’ he fired at her. ‘Get out of my house!’

  Marina fled.

  Rose played on, eyes closed, lost in the music of her people, unaware of Mr Luca’s presence. He leant against the door frame, arms folded, and waited. When, at last, Rose released herself from the web she had spun, she opened her eyes and lowered the violin. Three loud claps made her spin round.

  ‘So you do have a talent,’ said Mr Luca. ‘I was beginning to wonder what I was paying for. It’s a shame you use your talent to play such trashy music, though.’

  Rose backed away from him, her legs trembling so hard she could barely keep upright.

  ‘What are you doing in here?’ Mr Luca asked. ‘Wait, that’s a stupid question, isn’t it, since I’m not going to get an answer from you.’

  Rose tried to steady herself by clutching the edge of the piano.

  ‘Take your hands off that,’ shouted Mr Luca.

  Rose yelped and dropped her hand by her side, which brought a sinister smirk to her guardian’s face.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ he said. ‘A sound escaped your lips. There must be more where that came from. Tell me, what are you doing in here?’

  Rose opened her mouth. She wanted to plead with him to let her go. She wanted to tell him that she meant no harm, but no words came.

  ‘What will my wife say when I tell her you’ve broken into her shrine and soiled one of her sacred instruments with such trashy music – if it’s even worthy of the name “music”? I don’t think she’ll be very happy. I don’t think she’ll be very happy at all. She’s not someone to upset, my wife. She’s already begun to question your place here. That’s what she does. She has projects. They make her feel good for a while, and then she tires of them when they don’t meet her high expectations. You’re one of her projects, but not one she would have chosen if it hadn’t been for the accident. Even my wife wouldn’t be desperate enough to choose a Gypsy. She was driven by guilt, you see. I don’t share that guilt, but I want to keep my wife happy. And now look what you’ve done.’ Mr Luca was speaking quietly, but his tone was ominous.

  Rose didn’t know what he was talking about any more. She was desperate to escape.

  ‘What should I do with you, eh?’ Mr Luca asked.

  He stared straight into her eyes and she felt her heart freeze. He drummed his fingers on the door frame for what seemed like minutes on end. Then he laughed.

  ‘Get down to the kitchen and make me a cup of tea,’ he ordered. ‘Later, you will play for my wife.’

  He stood aside to let her go. Rose tore out of the room and down the stairs, slipping on the marble hall floor and twisting her ankle. Pain shot up her leg, but it was nothing compared to the terrible thumping of her heart. She was petrified that Mr Luca would follow her. As soon as she reached the kitchen, she ran inside and pushed the door to behind her.

  She didn’t know where anything was. She found what she thought must be a kettle, though it was nothing like Esme’s kettle. She filled it with water and opened one cupboard after another in search of tea. She began to panic when she couldn’t find it, and the kettle didn’t seem to be working. She flicked a switch and, to her relief, it sprang into action. She searched the cupboards again, then looked into a row of jars that lined the back of one of the worktops. At last, she found one that contained tea leaves.

  As she began a new search, this time for a teapot, she heard voices. Mrs Luca and Victoria had returned. Within seconds, they had entered the kitchen.

  ‘What are you doing in here?’ Mrs Luca asked sharply. ‘Where’s Marina?’

  ‘Now we know what Anna gets up to while we’re away,’ smirked Victoria. ‘She helps herself to tea – and whatever else she can find, probably.’

  The kettle behind Rose issued a tiny whistling noise that grew louder and louder.

  ‘You really are the most frustrating child,’ Mrs Luca fumed. ‘I know you can speak. They told me at the hospital that you’re perfectly able, and yet you stand there like some dumb animal.’

  Rose was worried the kettle was going to explode.

  ‘Is your pet not coming up to scratch?’ Mr Luca appeared behind them.

  ‘Ha, ha, good joke, Daddy,’ laughed Victoria.

  A sudden snap and the kettle went quiet.

  ‘She’s making me a cup of tea. Would you like one?’ Mr Luca offered.

  ‘Will you please explain what’s going on?’ demanded Mrs Luca.

  ‘It seems we have a musical genius in our midst,’ he replied.

  ‘Don’t!’ Mrs Luca warned him sharply.

  ‘But I didn’t mean you, darling. I meant our Gypsy friend here. It seems she’s a bit of a whizz on the fiddle.’

  ‘Ha, ha, another good joke, Daddy. Do you get it, Mummy?’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ Mrs Luca replied angrily.

  ‘I’ll reveal all over a nice cup of tea, provided our new housekeeper can produce it sometime this week. Later on, I shall ask her to entertain us.’

  He guided his wife and daughter out of the kitchen, leaving Rose aghast as she took in the meaning of his words. Does he really intend that I should play for Mrs Luca? For all of them? She was in such dread at the thought that she dropped a cup on the floor as she assembled the tea service. She picked up the pieces, fighting back tears, and stood up to see Goran staring at her through the window.

  Chapter 25

  Rose was sent back to the kitchen after she had served tea and told to stay there while her future was discussed. She was to scrub clean a bowlful of newly picked potatoes that Goran had left for their dinner, and to sweep and polish the floor. Rose couldn’t help overhearing raised voices through the half-open door. She wondered what fate had in store for her and considered riding off on one of the horses, but had no idea where she might go. Besides, Goran was lurking and would be sure to stop her. It occurred to her too that she might be sent away as a punishment, and then what would she do?

  Victoria came in while Rose was sweeping the floor.

  ‘Can you hear them?’ she asked. ‘They’re at each other hammer and tongs because of you.’

  She waited to see Rose’s reaction before continuing. ‘The thing is that Mummy – well, actually, she’s not Mummy at all, though she tries so hard to be, just like she did with you, but that’s only because she felt sorry for you – Mummy was a concert pianist and quite famous back home, apparently. But she stopped playing because she lost a baby and discovered she couldn’t have any more, and that sort of upset her. Do you know, it was born on November the twentieth? Funny that. I’m not enough for her because I’m not her child. And now, well, now you’ve brought it all back to her by trespassing into her shrine.’

  Ros
e carried on sweeping, slowly, methodically, and avoided looking up.

  ‘You’ll wear a hole in the floor if you keep brushing the same bit,’ Victoria sniggered. ‘Here, will this make it more worthwhile?’

  She grabbed a jar and tipped it upside down. Sugar spilled in all directions.

  ‘That’ll teach you to come here and cause so much trouble. We were fine until you arrived and put a curse on everything.’

  With that, Victoria flounced out of the room.

  Rose had never been exposed to such hatred before – not even from those people in her homeland who complained about the presence of Roma in their towns and villages, not even from the police who sometimes moved them on. She questioned how she could possibly continue to live under the same roof as someone who despised her so much. Yet she was certain there was worse to come.

  It was as she had guessed: Victoria was not Mrs Luca’s child. Who is her mother, then? Rose supposed she must be dead. Is that why Victoria behaves the way she does? Victoria was spoilt, but was she really loved by either Mrs Luca or her father? As for Mrs Luca, she must have been devastated at the loss of her child, Rose thought.

  She swept the sugar into a pile and searched for a dustpan and brush. She found them at the bottom of a cupboard and was about to take hold of them when something shiny caught her eye, something nestling at the bottom of a pile of dusters that she had accidentally disturbed. She was going to ignore it when a little voice in her head told her to see what it was. She lifted the corners of the dusters, and there was the missing silver jug. She let go of them as quickly as if she had been scalded, seized the dustpan and brush and slammed the cupboard door shut.

  It was Marina all the time! Marina, who led me to believe that she was my friend! Marina is the thief! Rose began to brush savagely at the sugar, not caring that some of it scattered. She felt more friendless than ever. She now knew who the culprit was, yet the knowledge didn’t help. What could she do with it? If she revealed where she had found the jug, who was going to believe her? She would surely make things worse for herself, and Mr and Mrs Luca would simply demand that she return the bracelet as well.