My Name Is Rose (15 page)

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.

Rose suddenly gasped.
Is the bracelet under the dusters as well?
She hadn't thought to check.
Should I look now?

Dropping the dustpan and brush, she dashed to the cupboard, opened the door, paused to make sure nobody was coming and picked up the dusters. The bracelet wasn't there, just the silver jug, staring at her accusingly. She hurriedly returned the dusters to their place, covering the jug completely.
Did Marina take the bracelet with her when she left the house
, Rose wondered,
or did she hide it somewhere else?

Rose didn't have time to dwell on it any longer, because Mrs Luca came into the kitchen.

‘Stop what you're doing, Anna,' she said. ‘You will play for me now.'

Mrs Luca's voice was frigid, her face haunted. She gripped the doorknob, as if using it to steady herself. Rose wanted something of her own to hang on to.

She followed Mrs Luca into the dining room. Mr Luca was sitting at the head of the table. The violin was on the table in front of him. He smiled at her and waved the bow in the air – to taunt her, Rose felt.

‘I'm looking forward to this,' he said. ‘Our own private performance – even if at the moment all you can play is that gutter trash.'

‘Leave her,' said Mrs Luca without emotion. ‘How can you expect her to perform if you abuse her?'

‘I can expect it because I pay for her,' Mr Luca snapped.

Mrs Luca shot him a warning glance, then picked up the violin. She held it out to Rose.

‘Here,' she said. ‘Let me see what you can do.'

She took the bow from her husband and gave it to Rose.

Rose lifted the violin under her chin and placed the bow on the strings. Her mind was numb. She couldn't think of any tunes. Her hands felt as if they were wearing boxing gloves, the ones that hung from a hook in Uncle Aleksandar's wagon, a souvenir of the days when he could take on any young whippersnapper and win. She felt like a total novice, but saw the impatience in Mr Luca's face and forced herself to begin.

The bow grated as if it were covered with barbs. The strings seemed unwilling to harmonise. Rose gritted her teeth.
I'm doing my best, and if my best isn't good enough, so what? What am I supposed to be proving? Why is Mr Luca so keen for me to impress his wife?

She relaxed a little as soon as she had made up her mind that she didn't care. And then the music came to her – her father's favourite reel, one that she and Rani had danced to wildly when they were younger, while Esme tinkered on the accordion.

After she had played the final note, Rose dropped the violin to her side. She knew she hadn't played particularly well, and though she didn't care what they thought, she still waited anxiously for the response. Her future depended on it, she was certain.

‘You can go back to your chores now,' said Mrs Luca. ‘And don't you
ever
go into my room again.'

Chapter 26

Mrs Luca added to Rose's list of chores. She showed her displeasure that Rose had ‘led Marina astray' by making her take over as many of Marina's duties as she deemed her able to perform.

‘I'll have to do the cooking myself for the time being –
which is more than a nuisance – until we can find a suitable and trustworthy replacement for Marina. You'll do the washing, cleaning and the preparation for our meals, as well as your stable duties. In return, I'll teach you how to play the violin properly. My husband has some notion that you might have considerable talent in that direction. Personally, I have my doubts, but we shall see.'

Mrs Luca drew up a timetable for Rose to follow. She would spend an hour to two hours each day teaching her classical music, and Rose was to spend a minimum of a further two hours practising on her own. There were to be no other lessons – not that Mrs Luca had ever bothered with them in the end, Rose reflected. What Rose couldn't understand was why they thought the music lessons were worthwhile. They seemed to have given up on her over everything else, and had even told her that from now on she would eat on her own in the kitchen, just as Marina used to.

‘If the time comes when we feel we can trust you, then we may change our minds and treat you as one of the family again,' said Mrs Luca. ‘Until then, this will be your punishment. You should count yourself lucky we're allowing you to keep your bedroom.'

Mrs Luca gave Rose permission to continue playing with her doll's house, because of the money that had already been spent on it. However, with all her new duties and music lessons, it was difficult to find time for it. Besides, she grew to despise its sterile opulence, which too closely resembled the Luca mansion. She was only happy when she was outside with Crumble or working with the horses. She was still allowed to ride the ponies, provided that Mrs Luca or Victoria went with her.

‘Now that the stable boy has gone, there's no one else to exercise them,' said Mrs Luca, ‘so think yourself lucky.'

Rose didn't think herself lucky at all. She had grown in the months that she had been living with the Luca family and the ponies were far too small for her now. She felt ridiculous perched on top of them.

Her music lessons with Mrs Luca were relentless in their pursuit of excellence. Mrs Luca constantly criticised; Rose's elbow was too high, her chin was at the wrong angle, she was slouching, her bowing was too laboured or too vigorous, she had no sense of rhythm, her timing was out, she may be good at Gypsy music but she would never, ever be good enough to play classical. At the end of each lesson, Rose was exhausted, yet she had numerous chores to do before going on to practise by herself. Mrs Luca kept a strict eye on her to make sure that she played for the full two hours at least, opening the door every so often to comment on what she was hearing.

What Mrs Luca didn't know was that she had lit a fire in Rose, a fire that was smouldering beneath the surface, ready to explode into red-hot flames. Every criticism Rose had to endure fanned the fire and added to her determination to prove her guardian wrong.
I'll be the best I can be in spite of Mrs Luca, not because of her
, she determined. And it was the memory of her father that kept her going when she was ready to drop.

Little by little, Rose began to appreciate the structure and discipline of the classical pieces Mrs Luca drilled her in. The melodies drifted through her and produced a welcome feeling of calm, especially when she was practising alone in her bedroom.

Some weeks after the start of her lessons, Rose came back from mucking out the stables to hear notes being played on a piano. At first, she thought it was the radio, but she quickly realised that the notes were random and out of tune. She crept upstairs to her room and was surprised to find that the sounds were coming from Mrs Luca's ‘shrine'.

Later that day, a man arrived at the house. Rose answered the door to be informed that he was the piano tuner. Mrs Luca, looking uncomfortable, hurried him upstairs while shooing Rose back to the kitchen.

After that, it was no secret that Mrs Luca was playing the piano again. She disappeared into her piano room for hours on end. Through the closed door came the strains of classical pieces that Rose began to recognise because they were the same as those she was being taught to play on the violin. Rose couldn't help but admire her guardian's courage at finally coming to terms with the blows life had dealt her and moving on. Rose understood some of what she must be going through – the reconciliation of her life as it used to be with the terrible twists and turns of fate. It was something Rose would have to go through herself one day, when she was ready. She wasn't ready yet, though. Her pain was still too raw. The events that had gatecrashed her own life were still too recent. How long ago was the fateful day when she had lost everything that was dear to her? Almost a year? Over a year?

 

 

The seasons had changed around Rose. It was dark and sometimes there was a thick frost when she set off with Crumble on wintry mornings. The cold didn't bother her; she was used to that from living in their wagon, though in the depths of winter, Nicu and Esme had always found temporary accommodation in modern trailers or rented houses, where there were gas heaters to keep them warm. During her walks, she loved looking at the frost-covered cobwebs picked out by the moon and hanging like diamond-encrusted lace from gateposts and fences and trees. She loved the crunch of leaves underfoot, and watched her breath spiralling away into the air like smoke from a chimney.

Rose hoped it would snow, but the weather stayed relatively mild. She reminisced about the snowball fights with Rani and the other Roma children, and shivered at the memory of ice trickling slowly down her neck. She so missed the company of friends and cousins. Even when Mrs Luca had first brought her to the house, even when she had made an effort to be nice to her, she had never once suggested that Rose might like to meet other children. Her hope had been that Victoria would befriend her and that that would suffice, but Victoria had different ideas.

The spring brought its own delights. Rose watched snowdrops pushing up through the undergrowth and then buds blossoming on the trees. In the fields surrounding the Lucas' land, lambs were toddling on unsteady legs and demanding milk from their mothers. Birds were flighty in their search for a nesting partner and their chorus roused the dawn.

Rose often stood by the stile for moments on end, staring around her, remembering her family, and wishing she could disappear beyond the horizon to find herself back home. The relentless routine of her days inside the mansion was like a straitjacket on her life, but at the same time it was also what kept her together. She rarely had the opportunity to dwell on her circumstances and where they might be leading. She performed her duties to the best of her ability – even though that was never quite good enough for Mrs Luca – and she was able to immerse herself in her music more profoundly as the sounds she produced became acceptable to her own ears.

She was regularly left alone in the house now that Marina had gone. Mrs Luca compensated for the hours she spent teaching Rose by spoiling Victoria more than ever. While they were gone, Goran was left in charge. Rose never knew when he might put his head through a window to check on her and make a snide comment, or to demand tea and biscuits. He didn't come inside – Rose thought perhaps he wasn't allowed to – and she was glad about that, but she was always relieved when Mrs Luca returned to remove the malice that he seemed to represent.

 

 

Late one afternoon, having finished all her chores and wanting a break from her violin practice, Rose chose to do some more work on the doll's house, since there was nothing else for her to do. She would, however, stop following the instructions and design things to please herself.
I'm going to change the colour scheme from pastels to bright shades
, she thought mischievously to herself,
and I'm going to turn the servants into lords and ladies, and the other way round
. She opened the door to the playroom and froze on the threshold.

The doll's house was in ruins. The roof had been pushed in, the walls had collapsed, the garden furniture was smashed and the contents of the boxes were strewn across the playroom floor. Rose bent down to pick up one of the model people. It looked as if it had been trodden on. She lifted up a roof panel to see what the damage was like inside. What she found there filled her with yet more dismay. It was Victoria's bracelet.

Rose dropped the roof panel and ran from the room. If anyone found her there, they would believe that she had destroyed the house. The truth dawned on her, however, that regardless of where she was or what she did, the same conclusion would be reached. She would be guilty in everyone's eyes.

At least I can take away the ‘proo
f
?' that I'm a thief
, she suddenly thought. She stopped and retraced her steps, part of her hoping that when she opened the door this time the house would have miraculously repaired itself. It hadn't, of course, and the bracelet was still sitting under the roof, in the toy bath. Rose snatched it quickly and put it in her pocket. As she did, she noticed a dirty mark on the beige playroom carpet. It was part of a heel print – a muddy heel print.