My Name Is Rose Page 5

  ‘Shall we have peas as well?’ Mrs Luca asked.

  ‘If ma’am wants peas, then peas she shall have,’ replied Goran. He grinned broadly and, much to Rose’s astonish­ment, winked at Mrs Luca, who blushed and turned away.

  ‘We’ll be eating early,’ she said. ‘Be sure to get the vegetables to Marina as soon as possible.’ She hurried Rose back through the gardens. ‘Goran used to keep the gardens of a government minister back home, but lost his job when the minister lost his. He came to England for a change of life and I found him working in a garden centre. Of course, he jumped at the chance of working here.’

  They headed towards the stables. Victoria was there, lifting the saddle from her horse, with Crumble the dog sitting by her feet.

  ‘Did you have a good ride, darling?’ Mrs Luca called, a signal for the dog to come rushing over to her, yapping furiously.

  ‘Yes, until some idiot blew his horn and frightened the life out of us,’ she replied. ‘I could have been thrown off for all he cared.’

  ‘I do wish you’d stick to the paths and fields,’ Mrs Luca said, frowning.

  ‘That’s for babies and novices,’ snorted Victoria, staring directly at Rose. ‘I suppose you’ve already told her she can learn to ride if she wants.’

  ‘I believe Anna has ridden before.’

  ‘Well, she’s not having one of my horses. She’ll never ride one of my horses.’

  Before Mrs Luca could respond, Victoria threw down the saddle, called for Crumble to follow and stalked off towards the house.

  Chapter 12

  When she woke up, Rose didn’t know where she was again, nor what time it was. The room was dark, but a sliver of light from a gap she had left in the curtains told her it was morning. Once she had made sense of her surroundings, she wondered what she was supposed to do. Should I stay in bed and wait to be told? Or should I get up and go downstairs?

  She could at least find out what sort of day it was, she decided. She crossed to the windows and peered through the curtains. It was pouring with rain – a fine, dense rain that obscured all but the immediate vicinity. Rose remembered what had happened during the night and became anxious about seeing Mr Luca. She resolved to put the moment off for as long as possible and stay in her room until someone came for her.

  The house was so quiet. Is everyone else still sleeping? It had never been quiet in the wagon, even when they were deep in the country. There were the cries and scufflings of nocturnal animals. In the early hours of the morning there would be the crow of a cockerel, or jays would drop pine cones on the wagon roof. Nicu’s snoring spread intermittently through the night, joined in a chorus by Esme’s snuffles and Rani’s mumbling. Rose had been so used to it that its absence disturbed her more than the cacophony itself. Esme said that Rose sometimes wailed in her sleep, as though caught up in a terrible dream from which there was no escape. If I wail in my sleep now, Rose thought, it will be because the dream is real.

  A knock at the door sent her scrambling back to bed. She sat up against the pillows as the door opened slowly.

  ‘Miss Anna? Are you awake, Miss Anna?’

  Rose nodded in the half-light.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Miss Anna. I’ve brought your breakfast.’

  Marina walked towards her, carrying a tray laden with cups, plates and a big silver dome, like the one in the hotel. She placed it carefully across Rose’s lap.

  ‘Ma’am said you need building up, so I’ve brought you cereal, toast and a full English breakfast. When you’ve eaten it, ma’am says you’re to shower, get dressed, go downstairs, and she’ll talk you through the plans for the day. Is that all right, Miss Anna?’

  Rose nodded. She watched Marina open the curtains, then go to the chest of drawers and take out some clothes.

  ‘It’s going to rain all day today according to the forecast,’ Marina said. ‘It rains a lot in England, I’m afraid.’ She grimaced and added, ‘I miss our home country’, before bustling out of the room.

  For the second time in two days, Rose was bewildered by the amount of food that had been placed in front of her, especially when she discovered what lay under the silver dome. A full English breakfast, it seemed, consisted of eggs, bacon, a strange-looking sausage, tomato, beans and mushrooms. Was she really supposed to eat all of it? She dared not leave any if so. Mrs Luca had insisted that she eat every last morsel at dinner the previous evening, even though she had been given a far bigger portion than Victoria.

  She ploughed her way through most of it, but in a moment of rebellion she dropped one of the triangles of toast out of the window, watching it land on the gravel and hoping that an animal would eat it before one of the family found it.

  In the bathroom Rose tried to remember how to operate the shower. She fiddled with the taps and knobs and squealed with fright when water suddenly spurted out of the shower head, lifting it from its mount and spraying the carpeted floor. Rose grabbed at it, but it seemed to have a mind of its own, twisting in her hand and squirting her in the face as well as dousing the wall behind her. She reached across the cubicle to turn off the tap and chose to wash at the basin rather than risk a flood. She picked up a flannel and soap and recalled how Esme would have made sure she scrubbed herself until she was pink and glowing. Esme was a stickler for cleanliness. Rose did her mother proud, before dressing hurriedly and standing in front of the dressing-table mirrors to look at herself again.

  She really was so thin! There were dark rings under her eyes, and her hair, normally so thick and wavy, draped mournfully over her sunken cheeks. Worse than that, standing there in the neat pink blouse and dark grey trousers that had been left out for her, she looked like a gadje.

  ‘I’m not a gadje, I’m a Roma,’ she mouthed in Romani words.

  She was scared she would forget her language and culture, forget how to be a Roma. She wanted to tear off her alien clothes, to knock down the walls of her room and run away before she was sucked too far into gadje ways.

  The sound of raised voices broke through her thoughts. She moved to the door and listened. A man was shouting. Rose assumed it was Mr Luca, but couldn’t be sure. As much as she didn’t want to see him, she was also a little curious about what was happening, apart from the fact that she was expected downstairs. She quietly opened the bedroom door and stood by it, listening. A heated conversation was going on in one of the rooms below. Mr and Mrs Luca were arguing. She would have to wait. She didn’t dare descend until they had stopped.

  Nicu and Esme hadn’t argued often, but Rose and Rani hated it when their parents were at loggerheads. They were both strong characters and neither liked to back down, though mostly it was Nicu who called a halt by going off to smoke his pipe, or simply taking the wind out of Esme’s sails by telling her she was gorgeous when she was angry. The rows never lasted long, but when they were at their height, Rose used to lie on her bed and bury her head in the cushions if they were travelling, or go as far from the wagon as possible if they were stationary.

  It was different listening to Mr and Mrs Luca rowing. She didn’t care that they didn’t get on, but she didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.

  When it seemed that peace had settled, she picked up her breakfast tray, crept out of her room and made her way downstairs. As she approached the dining room, she heard Mr Luca say loudly, ‘I’m going out and I shan’t be back until supper. You and your projects will be the death of me.’

  ‘My latest “project”, as you call her, is entirely down to you and your arrogance,’ Mrs Luca responded, her voice tight with emotion. ‘You and your stupidity, and I’ll never forgive you.’

  ‘So you’re happy to bankrupt me, are you?’ Mr Luca shouted. ‘Because I’ll be taking you down with me. We were perilously close to tipping over the edge before all this, and all you can do is make things worse.’

  He stormed out of the room and tore straight into Rose. She lost her grip on the tray. Plates, cups, cutlery and the silver dome clattered to the floor, togeth
er with the remains of her breakfast. Rose stood transfixed as runnels of milk and juice soaked into the carpet.

  Mr Luca glared at her. ‘Clear it up,’ he ordered, then barged past, muttering something in what she took to be English.

  Rose bent down to do as she was told, only to hear Mrs Luca say, ‘You should have left it in your room. It’s Marina’s job to clear away. Leave it and come in here.’

  Rose noticed the grim set of her lips. She followed her into the room and waited while Mrs Luca composed herself.

  ‘I trust you slept well?’

  Rose nodded.

  ‘And ate well?’

  Rose nodded again.

  ‘You must be getting a little tired of having to nod and shake your head all the time.’

  Rose lowered her eyes and shifted uncomfortably.

  ‘I’m sorry, that was unkind of me. I mustn’t take my frustrations out on you. I’m sure you must have plenty of your own.’ Mrs Luca didn’t wait for a response, but continued, ‘You’ll begin your schooling straight away. We have a teacher who comes to the house for Victoria, but she conducts her lessons in English. She will teach you too eventually, but we’ve decided in the short term to take on a qualified English teacher to help you with the rudiments. You’ll need to understand and read the language, even if you can’t speak it for the time being.’

  Rose stared at Mrs Luca in alarm. It hadn’t occurred to her that she would be expected to have lessons. In fact, she hadn’t given any thought to how she might spend her days, so much had happened to her in such a short space of time. Now Mrs Luca would discover that she had had very little schooling because of her parents’ life on the road, and that she could count, but could barely read or write.

  ‘We need to know what you’re thinking to make sure you’re happy,’ said Mrs Luca, ‘so we’ll buy some notebooks for you to write things down in, and for your lessons. That way you can let us know if you need anything. You might even want to keep a diary.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Mummy? She’s a Gypsy. I bet she can’t even write.’ Victoria stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a scornful look on her face. ‘You can’t change who she is just by dressing her in smart clothes.’

  ‘How dare you, Victoria! Don’t you ever call Anna a Gypsy again,’ Mrs Luca said angrily. ‘And this has nothing to do with you.’

  ‘I only live here, that’s all! You’re supposed to be my mother, but you’re only concerned about Anna, or whatever her real name is,’ shouted Victoria.

  ‘Darling, you know that’s not true, and I’ll thank you to treat Anna with respect. She doesn’t deserve the cut of your tongue.’ Mrs Luca adopted a more conciliatory tone.

  ‘And I don’t deserve to be sidelined while you wrap yourself round someone else’s child,’ retorted Victoria.

  ‘It’s not like that, you know it’s not. I’ll just make sure Anna’s settled in, then we’ll have some proper time together.’

  ‘You’ve gone too far this time, Mummy. You know you have, and Daddy thinks so too,’ Victoria said coolly, then hurried away.

  ‘I seem to be upsetting everyone today,’ Mrs Luca said with a false lightness. ‘Things will soon settle down, you’ll see, and we’ll be one big happy family together.’

  Chapter 13

  Rose had never been on a shopping spree such as the one Mrs Luca took her on the moment she was fit enough. The only shops she had ever visited were small village stores selling bread and milk or needles and cottons. She always loved looking at the shelves loaded with foodstuffs and the bottles filled with colourful sweets. If she and Rani had been good, Esme allowed them to pick their favourites, and they would watch the shopkeeper unscrew the lids of the bottles, pour some of the sweets out on to a set of scales and tip them carefully into small white bags. Rose could have spent all day in the drapers’ shops, where Esme took her to choose materials for her dresses. She liked to run her fingers over the different fabrics, especially the silks and satins.

  Mrs Luca, Victoria and Rose drove into a big city and parked in a concrete building full of nothing but cars. Then they walked through some huge glass doors that led into what seemed to Rose like a glass palace full of shops, so brightly lit that it hurt her eyes. Crowds of people bustled about, many loaded down with bags but still searching for more things to buy. Rose had to stop herself gawping as Mrs Luca led her past one shop after another, each with its windows full of goods, while Victoria dragged along behind, not wishing, it seemed, to be associated with either her mother or Rose.

  Rose had never seen so many handbags and shoes and dresses and coats and pieces of jewellery and scarves and soaps and creams and books and ornaments. It was as if every single item from every single small shop she had ever been in during her lifetime had been gathered together in one place and magic dust thrown around to make everything seem bigger and better and more beautiful. One store was selling nothing but chocolates, some decorated with tiny pink and purple flowers, others individually wrapped in silver and gold, or set in gold boxes tied with gossamer ribbons. How Esme would have loved to go in there! Esme adored chocolate and couldn’t resist buying some whenever they went into a village, though she always complained that her waistline was expanding because of it.

  Seeing the glint in Rose’s eyes, Mrs Luca led her into the store and demanded a chocolate for her to sample. Rose could have died with embarrassment when the shop assistant held out a small plate with a chocolate sitting in the middle.

  ‘Go on, try it,’ urged Mrs Luca.

  Rose took the chocolate and bit into it. She didn’t enjoy it because everyone was staring at her, but she nodded her head as if to say it was delicious. Encouraged, Mrs Luca ordered a large box to be filled with dark and white chocolates. Rose watched as the assistant picked up one chocolate after another with metal tongs and placed them carefully in the box, before tying a big red bow round it.

  ‘Our treat for later on,’ said Mrs Luca.

  ‘I thought you were worried about your weight,’ Victoria said scornfully.

  ‘A little chocolate once in a while won’t do any harm. Besides, we’re celebrating our homecoming.’

  Victoria sloped out of the shop. Mrs Luca hurried after and linked arms with her, leaning across to whisper something conspiratorially.

  ‘Don’t dally, Anna,’ she called back. ‘We’re nearly at the clothes shop, and Victoria’s kindly agreed to help us choose for you. She’s such an expert at knowing what looks good and what doesn’t, aren’t you, darling?’

  The way Victoria seemed to feel about her, Rose was convinced she would choose something monstrous just to spite her. She certainly didn’t want to wind up in skimpy shorts.

  She followed them through a revolving glass door that opened up into a huge store, where the walls were lined on all sides by photographs of models sporting the latest fashions. Underneath were row upon row of shelves piled high with T-shirts and jumpers. The central area was filled with clothing rails neatly arranged in squares, each square surrounding a mannequin perched on a plinth. Trousers, skirts and blouses hung from the lower rails, dresses from those that were higher.

  The clothes all seemed to be the same sort of colours, Rose noticed. There were purples and deep reds and black, but no yellows and greens and blues. They looked drab! She was relieved when Mrs Luca led her through an archway into a second hall, where ‘the little kids’ clothes’, as Victoria put it, were on display, and where the colours were brighter.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Mrs Luca. ‘Where would you like to start, Anna?’

  Rose gazed around. She hadn’t the slightest idea.

  ‘We’ll look at blouses first, then,’ said Mrs Luca. ‘Four or five should keep you going for the time being.’

  ‘She’ll have to have a couple of white ones,’ said Victoria, ‘and this blue denim is really cool. And what about this? I wouldn’t mind this myself.’

  She held up a red-and-white striped blouse with a white collar and cuffs. Rose hated it. It�
�s more like a man’s shirt, she thought.

  ‘Try it on, Anna,’ Mrs Luca suggested. ‘Go to the changing room and help her, Victoria.’

  Rose shook her head. She didn’t want to try on the blouse or any other clothes. She didn’t want to stand in front of a mirror and look at herself. She didn’t want these strangers staring at her and deciding what she should wear.

  ‘That’s not very grateful, is it, Mummy?’ Victoria scoffed.

  ‘Don’t you like it, Anna?’ Mrs Luca asked. ‘You choose something, then.’

  Rose fixed her eyes on the floor. She had no idea what to choose and was sure that if she did take something from a rail, Victoria would laugh at her choice.

  Mrs Luca called a shop assistant and spoke to her in English, pointing to Rose and explaining what they wanted.

  When the assistant went away to fetch some items of clothing, Rose overheard Victoria hiss at her mother, ‘Don’t call her your daughter. She’s not your daughter.’

  ‘It’s easier that way,’ Mrs Luca replied.

  ‘Don’t call me your daughter,’ Rose wanted to say. ‘I’m not your daughter. I’m Esme’s daughter.’

  The shop assistant returned with arms full of clothes. She held them up in turn for Rose’s approval. Rose nodded at every single one of them. She didn’t care, as long as she didn’t have to try anything on and as long as she could get out of the store without further embarrassment.

  ‘We’ll just have to hope they fit you if you really won’t try them on,’ said Mrs Luca, while the shop assistant folded their purchases and put them into large plastic carrier bags.