My Name Is Rose (9 page)

When she said it for a second time, Rose looked at her.

‘Why are you crying?' Mrs Conta asked. ‘A child who's being disobedient doesn't cry. A child who doesn't want to learn doesn't cry. But a child who is unhappy, or a child who's frightened to admit that she can't do what she's being asked to do might cry. Which is it, Anna, or is it both things?'

She took Rose's hand. ‘Squeeze my hand once if you're unhappy, twice if the writing is the problem, or three times if it's both.'

Rose squeezed the teacher's hand once, paused, squeezed again, almost imperceptibly, then hesitated, before pulling her hand away.

‘If that's the problem, then it's a problem we can do something about. I will teach you how to write,' Mrs Conta said brightly. ‘And I won't tell, if that's what you're worried about, though I can't guarantee your secret won't be found out.'

Rose was so grateful, but she was anxious as well. Writing had always seemed such a strange thing to do and she wasn't sure she could master it, especially since a lot of her Roma friends and family were unable to write.
What if not being able to write is in my blood?

She picked up the pencil and held it in her hand the way she had been shown in the past and the way Mrs Conta was demonstrating now. For the next half an hour, she copied shapes and lines until she could keep the pencil from wobbling and had stopped gouging deep furrows into the paper. Occasionally, she wanted to hurl the pencil across the room, frustrated at the constant repetition and at being confined indoors for so long, but when she had mastered the letters
r
,
o
,
s
and
e
and carefully consigned them to her memory, she was happy with her achievement.
I'll always be Rose if I can write my name
.

‘You're lucky your name has only two different letters in it,' Mrs Conta had said at the beginning of the lesson. ‘You'll master it in no time.'

It was true. Rose was soon able to write
anna
, though she had no more emotional attachment to the word than to
luca
.

She liked Mrs Conta. The teacher was kind without being treacly, firm without being harsh. She seemed to understand Rose's needs. She didn't probe, but responded sympathetically whenever Rose appeared distant or sad. She didn't ask Rose to write down what she was feeling, even when she was proficient enough to be able to express herself on the page.

Rose began to look forward to her lessons. The whole process of sitting still, listening and learning was alien to her, and she had to get used to being closeted in a room for hours on end, but she found herself becoming hungry to learn more. She especially enjoyed discovering about England's history. When she heard there was a queen who lived in a huge palace, she wanted to go and see her.

‘Is she beautiful?' she wrote using words and pictures.

‘She has a kind face and she works very hard for her people,' said the teacher. ‘Perhaps one day Mrs Luca might take you to London to see the palace, but very few people meet the queen.'

Rose had visions of looking up and catching a glimpse of the queen framed by one of the palace windows. She would wave to her and tell her that she was unhappy in her country and would like, if you please, to go home.

Mrs Conta brought her magazines with photographs of famous places in England, like Trafalgar Square with its lion statues, Stonehenge with its huge prehistoric stones, the white cliffs of Dover overlooking the sea, Windsor Castle, where the queen sometimes lived, as well as Buckingham Palace itself. Rose gazed at them in awe – they were all on such an enormous scale compared to anything she had come across in her previous life.

She felt more at home when Mrs Conta showed her pictures of country villages with narrow, winding lanes and cottages decked with flowers. She could imagine being with her parents and brother in their wagon, trotting slowly along the lanes, Nicu with his pipe in his mouth, Esme humming quietly with her sewing on her lap and Rani chattering non-stop. Some of the villages were so pretty!
If only I might be allowed to walk around them one day
, Rose brooded.

‘Perhaps Mrs Luca will be happy for me to take you out for the day,' Mrs Conta suggested when she saw Rose pass her fingers wistfully over the photograph of a river lined with bulrushes and overhung with willows. ‘Would you like that?'

Rose nodded quickly, her eyes lighting up.

‘I'll see what I can do, but first it's time for maths.'

Rose pulled a face. She loathed maths and felt hopeless at it. As long as she could count she didn't see the need for complicated calculations, however hard Mrs Conta tried to make her understand their usefulness.

‘Sour faces won't get you anywhere,' Mrs Conta responded to her pouts, ‘whereas knowing your multiplication tables will come in very handy in lots of different situations.'

Rose pulled another long face, which made Mrs Conta laugh, but tried to concentrate on the numbers the teacher was writing on the board.

From time to time, Mrs Luca would pop her head round the door to see how they were getting on. Mrs Conta would always praise Rose's efforts.

‘Anna is a model pupil,' she said. ‘She's very curious and picks things up quickly.'

‘Good,' said Mrs Luca. ‘I'm delighted to hear that we'll soon be able to communicate with her properly.'

Chapter 16

When lessons were over and at weekends, Rose was allowed to wander freely around the grounds of the house. She couldn't wait! She let herself out of the back door and took deep breaths of the fresh air that welcomed her. Summer was almost over. The leaves on the trees were turning crisp and golden, prey to sudden gusts of wind that would break their fragile hold and send them twirling downward in a last dance of life.

Rose loved the autumn. Back home, her family used to ramble through woods and meadows in search of edible mushrooms to sell in nearby villages. They would travel the country looking for work helping farmers to harvest their crops. It was always a race to be there first, ahead of other Roma families. There was only so much work to go round. Nicu prided himself on the relationship he had built over the years with farmers who were happy to employ him because they knew he could be trusted. He and the family would set up camp on a farmer's land and dig for potatoes or pick peas and beans. Rose preferred the peas and beans. It was back-breaking work sifting the earth for potatoes.

Rose was growing used to life at the Lucas' house and could even appreciate some aspects of it. She enjoyed spending time in the garden, wandering from one area to another. She played on an old tyre swing and climbing frame that used to belong to Victoria, which Mrs Luca had asked Goran to set up for her. She liked to sit on the edge of the pond and watch the fish, running her fingers gently through the water and trying to spot snails on the water lily leaves.
Fifteen today
, she would count to herself.
Twenty-eight today!

If she had to be cooped up anywhere, Rose could think of worse places than her bedroom. She wouldn't have dreamt of swapping it for her tiny bed in the wagon and the closeness of her family, but she had never before experienced such comfort and it was the perfect place for her to take refuge and just be herself.

Rose looked forward more and more to her lessons with Mrs Conta. She had never thought she would enjoy learning in a classroom environment, but Mrs Conta made it fun.
She's so nice
, Rose thought.
Some gadje are nice. I wish Esme and Nicu could have met her. They would've liked her and been happy for me to spend time with her
.

Rose would sometimes come across Goran as she walked through the gardens. When he wasn't driving a lawnmower up and down the extensive lawns, much of his time was spent clearing leaves from the paths and plucking them out of the pond. He always touched his cap to her, but his manner was less than respectful.

‘Not a bad place to wind up, is it?' He smirked. ‘You could've done worse for yourself.'

Rose didn't know how to respond. She nodded blankly.

‘Cat got your tongue, has it? Bet I could find it for you. Mind you, I think I'd let the cat have my tongue if it meant I could move into a place like this.'

Everything he said was delivered with the same big smile, his lips wrapped round a mouth full of overlarge teeth, two of which were capped with gold.

‘She's a bit of a soft touch is the mistress of the house, as well as being rather beautiful. Don't you go upsetting her, will you? I reckon it wouldn't take much to turn her from a pussy cat into a tiger.'

Rose was shocked that he should discuss Mrs Luca in such a way, and decided to avoid him in case he tried to share more of his opinions about Mrs Luca. It wasn't easy. He often appeared as if from nowhere when she stopped to look at the fish, or to smell a flower, or simply to enjoy being outside.

‘They're worth a lot of money, those fish,' he said, catching Rose off guard as she held out a finger for one of them to suck to see what it would feel like. ‘He's obsessed with them, Mr Luca is. He'd go potty if anything happened to them.'

Rose pulled her finger back quickly as though she'd been bitten, which caused Goran to laugh out loud.

‘Unless you've put a curse on him, I don't think that's going to do any harm,' he chuckled, ‘which is a shame, because personally I can't stand the ugly brutes.'

Rose attempted to walk away, but he caught her arm. ‘Rumour has it you're a Gypsy.' He searched her face. ‘Nothing wrong with that, though, is there? As long as things don't start to go missing.' He laughed out loud again. ‘Off you go, miss.'

Rose was relieved when he wasn't around, and knew she was safe if his truck wasn't parked behind the sheds. She took to checking first before going into the walled gardens, where there was no escaping him. Alternatively, she set off in the opposite direction to reach the stables. She loved wandering up and down here, stroking the horses and feeding them with the sugar lumps Marina gave her when nobody was looking. If the stable boy was there she nodded at him shyly, but otherwise ignored him. He largely ignored her too, though she sometimes caught him staring at her.

Mrs Luca had charged Victoria with helping Rose choose which of the two ponies would be hers. Victoria had saddled each of them up in turn and tutted while Rose struggled to mount.

‘Mummy said you knew how to ride,' she said impatiently.

‘
Yes, I know how to ride
,' Rose wanted to shout with frustration. ‘
I know how to ride with my body next to the horse's body so that he can feel and understand what I want him to do and I can feel him too
.'

She detested the oversized riding hat that Mrs Luca forced her to wear, and thought she would die of embarrassment when Victoria led her round the yard with the pony on a lead, especially when Mrs Luca arrived and clapped her hands.

‘Well done, Anna,' she said. ‘You look quite at home up there. Now, which pony are you going to choose?'

Rose pointed reluctantly to the piebald, though she had no desire to ride either of them.

‘That's a good choice,' Mrs Luca agreed. ‘Kosta's very placid and easy to handle. Well, now, I'm pleased. We're making such good progress. As soon as you're confident, Anna, we'll all go for a ride together.'

Rose saw Victoria pull a face and fought against doing the same thing.

When, a few days later and first thing in the morning, they set off along the lane, Victoria leading, Rose in the middle, Mrs Luca behind and Crumble scampering along the verge, Rose's only enjoyment was breathing in the morning air and listening to the birdsong. Dressed in newly purchased jodhpurs, riding jacket and hat, she felt as though she had been squeezed into clothing designed for someone half her size. Victoria and Mrs Luca were wearing similar outfits, and Rose wondered if they were as uncomfortable as she was. Victoria sat unnaturally straight-backed, Rose thought, and seemed not to be interested in the early morning sights and sounds.

Mrs Luca kept checking that Rose was managing all right and not tiring herself out too much.

‘It's so easy to forget that you spent nearly three months in hospital not so many weeks ago,' she said. ‘You look so much healthier now.'

‘She's fine, Mummy. Stop fussing over her,' Victoria said without turning her head.

It's true
, Rose admitted to herself. She had filled out all round and her hair was thick and shiny, though Mrs Luca had insisted on having it cut shorter, ‘to make you look more modern and less like . . . less unkempt'. She wanted to laugh, however, at the suggestion that she might tire herself out sitting on a horse and doing nothing more strenuous than trotting up a lane. She hoped they might break into a canter at least, but soon they took a short cut along a bridleway and arrived back at the house.

‘Did you enjoy that, Anna?' Mrs Luca asked as they dismounted.