Meet Rose Read online

  Meet Rose

  It’s 1900 and Rose lives with her family in a big house in Melbourne. She wants to play cricket, climb trees and be an adventurer! But Rose’s mother has other ideas, and only wants Rose to be a proper lady, wear frilly dresses and learn how to sew. Then Rose’s favourite young aunt, Alice, comes to town, and everything changes. Will Rose’s mother let Aunt Alice stay? And will Rose ever get to do the things she really loves?

  Meet Rose and join her adventure in the first of four stories about a Federation girl who’s determined to do things her way!

  Puffin Books

  For Brian

  With illustrations by Lucia Masciullo

  Puffin Books

  Contents

  1 Birthday Girl

  2 Buttons and Bustles

  3 Aunt Alice Arrives!

  4 Small Secrets

  5 News and Views

  6 Speaking Up

  7 Fun in the City

  8 Coles Arcade

  9 Caught Out!

  WHEN Rose heard the soft tap on her bedroom door, she joined her brother, Edward, in the dark corridor. Apart from the distant sound of Father snoring and a few birds in the trees outside, all was quiet. Edward was carrying his cricket bat and ball, and he grinned at her, his teeth white in the gloom.

  They crept down the wide staircase, past the tall stained-glass windows above the landing and out the front door, closing it behind them with a click. Dawn painted the sky a pale pink and dew coated the lawns.

  ‘Happy birthday,’ Edward whispered. ‘You want to bowl first?’

  ‘Of course!’ Rose said.

  They avoided the crunchy gravel on the driveway and ran around to the back of their huge house, past the stables and down to the farthest corner, where Edward had set up his wickets. He’d promised to play cricket with Rose on her birthday, and this was the only chance they’d have before Mother would wake up and come looking for her.

  Edward poked at the grass with his bat. ‘It must’ve rained last night.’

  Rose laughed as she warmed up her bowling arm, swinging it around and up. ‘Not making excuses already, are you Ed?’

  ‘Just bowl,’ Edward said.

  The ball floated through the air, bounced, and Edward swung at it, clipping it on the edge. It disappeared into the bushes behind him. Rose grinned. She loved bowling her tricky spinners, and even though Edward was older and taller than her, she’d soon get him out and then she could have a turn.

  They’d had one bat each when a shrill voice called, ‘Rose! Are you out here? Rose?’ It was her governess, Miss Parson.

  Rose wanted to run and hide in the bushes, but that would only get her into more trouble. She handed the cricket ball to Edward. ‘I’d better go before she busts a boiler.’

  Miss Parson was waiting near the kitchen door, a scowl on her narrow, pale face. ‘What were you doing out so early?’ she asked.

  ‘Walking,’ Rose said. She wasn’t in the habit of telling fibs, but surely a small lie to Miss Parson didn’t count. ‘It’s a lovely morning.’

  ‘Hmph.’ Miss Parson followed her inside and up the stairs. ‘Your mother expects you down for breakfast in five minutes, and your boots are dirty.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Parson.’

  In her bedroom, Rose poured cold water from the flowered jug into the bowl and washed her hands and face, shivering at how icy it was. She used the hand towel to clean her boots, and brushed her dark, unruly hair. There. Surely Mother wouldn’t scold her on her birthday? Miss Parson came in without knocking and Rose glared.

  ‘Come on, hurry up,’ said Miss Parson. ‘And pull up your stockings. They’re a disgrace.’

  Rose yanked them up and heard an awful ripping sound. She looked down at the large hole she’d just made. ‘Oops.’

  Miss Parson huffed loudly. ‘Too much haste, not enough care – as usual.’

  ‘But Sally will mend it in an instant!’

  ‘And what will you learn from that?’ Miss Parson asked. ‘No, you can sew it yourself today instead of working on your doily stitching. Or I can tell your mother and let her give you a suitable punishment.’

  Sewing was already like a punishment for Rose. She’d much rather be outside, climbing trees or digging in the garden. ‘I’ll do it myself,’ she said. Miss Parson followed her down the stairs and went off to the kitchen, while Rose continued on to the breakfast room, where she spotted a small pile of gifts by her plate. There was no way she’d let Miss Parson ruin her birthday, especially with all those surprises waiting!

  The rest of her family was already seated, her father reading the newspaper, The Argus.

  ‘Happy birthday, Rose!’ everyone chorused.

  ‘Open your presents,’ Martha said. Rose’s older sister always gave her something small and special.

  Mother tapped her plate with a spoon. ‘Eat your breakfast first, Rose. The gifts can wait.’

  ‘But …’ Rose shrugged. It was useless to argue with Mother. Rose took her plate to the sideboard impatiently, ready to choose some eggs and bacon, but there were only kippers and porridge. She hated kippers – even more than sardines – Mother knew that! Tears stung her eyes, but she bit her lip, determined not to cry. She helped herself to porridge instead, and stirred in four big spoonfuls of sugar and some preserved peaches before Mother noticed.

  Rose ate quickly and was finally allowed to open her presents. She decided to leave Martha’s until last. Mother and Father gave her gloves and a parasol. Edward’s was shaped like a book, which was what she really wanted, but it turned out to be a box of glâcé cherries. She glanced at him and he mouthed, ‘Sorry.’ That meant Mother had bought the cherries and put his name on the card. Rose put all her hopes into the last gift, the smallest one.

  She pulled the paper off and opened the little box. Nestled inside was a tiny gold oval locket engraved with birds. ‘It’s beautiful,’ Rose said. ‘Thank you.’ She jumped up and gave Martha a hug and a kiss, breathing in her perfume.

  Martha laughed and smoothed Rose’s hair with her soft hands. She was always dressed so perfectly, her pretty face framed by her swept-up dark hair.

  ‘What about everyone else?’ Mother said, tilting her head so Rose could kiss her cheek.

  ‘Eleven now, eh, Rose?’ Father said. ‘You’ll be married before we know it.’ He winked and Rose laughed. Father already knew that Rose planned to become an explorer and travel the world instead of getting married.

  When Rose kissed Edward, he whispered, ‘Here’s your real present,’ and shoved his cricket ball into her hand. Luckily, Mother was already on her way out of the breakfast room and didn’t see.

  ‘Holy smoke!’ Rose said. ‘Are you sure?’

  Edward nodded. ‘Have a nice birthday. Are you still going to the park?’

  ‘I hope so.’ Mother hadn’t actually promised when Rose had asked, but she hadn’t said no either.

  Until then, though, it was lessons as usual with Miss Parson, which meant an hour of reading from a storybook Rose nearly knew by heart and then mending her ripped stocking. She made such a mess of the stitches that Miss Parson had to give it to Sally, the housemaid, after all. Rose desperately wished Miss Parson could teach more than needlework and French verbs. Rose wanted to learn geography and history, like Edward, and study insects and fossils. However, she could just imagine Miss Parson turning her nose up at a dinosaur bone!

  At lunch, Mother said, ‘Now, I expect you to be ready by three o’clock.’

  ‘Isn’t that a little late for the park?’ Rose said.

  ‘We’re not going out,’ Mother said. ‘Your grandmother and Uncle Charles and Aunt Philippa are coming for afternoon tea.’

  ‘But what about the park?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Rose,’ Mother sai
d. ‘They are visiting for your birthday. You should be grateful. No doubt they will bring gifts.’

  Hot anger rushed through Rose and she clenched her hands. ‘I don’t care! I’ve been looking forward to the park all day!’

  ‘Fetch Miss Parson,’ Mother snapped to Sally.

  Rose waited in silence, face burning, as Miss Parson rushed in. ‘Yes, Madam,’ she said.

  ‘Please ensure Rose has on her best afternoon dress to receive visitors,’ Mother said frostily. ‘And remind her of the manners required for taking tea and conversing pleasantly.’

  ‘Yes, Madam.’

  Miss Parson scowled at Rose and towed her up the stairs.

  ‘I don’t have an afternoon dress,’ Rose said, wanting to be as difficult as possible. What was the point of having a birthday when she was not allowed to go to the park and explore the stream and climb hills and play cricket?

  Miss Parson opened the wardrobe and selected Rose’s least favourite dress, one made of white lace and frills with a hundred tiny buttons down the back and on the long sleeves. It took forever to put on, and Rose usually spilt something on it within five minutes.

  ‘This will do fine,’ Miss Parson said.

  Rose groaned, but with Miss Parson’s help she put on the white dress and waited as the governess began buttoning the back.

  ‘Stop pushing your shoulders forward,’ Miss Parson said.

  ‘I’m not!’

  ‘Pull in your stomach then.’

  Rose tried, but she could tell something was wrong. Miss Parson kept pulling and eventually she finished the buttoning, but Rose could hardly breathe.

  ‘It’s too short as well as tight. You must have grown more than I realised,’ Miss Parson said.

  ‘I won’t wear it then,’ Rose said.

  ‘It’s your best day dress. It will have to do.’

  ‘But I won’t have room to eat any of my birthday tea!’

  There was a knock at the door, and Sally popped her head in. ‘Your mother says to come now, Miss. The guests have arrived.’

  Rose put on her new locket and went down the wide marble staircase, stopping on the landing. She checked there was no one in the hall below. Should she risk it? She perched on the polished curved rail and pushed off, her dress flying up, her face flushed. That was the fastest she’d ever gone! She jumped off and stumbled, then straightened.

  ‘Rose!’ Mother stood in the doorway of the drawing room, glaring. ‘Is that any way for a lady to behave? And what on earth is wrong with that dress? Oh, never mind now. Come and greet your guests.’

  They’re not my guests, Rose thought crossly, but she followed her mother into the room. Grandmother was already seated in the best armchair, and Aunt Philippa was inspecting Mother’s latest ornaments and figurines.

  ‘Felicitations,’ boomed Uncle Charles. He bent down to kiss Rose, his whiskers prickling her cheeks, his fob watch falling out of his pocket and dangling on its chain. ‘Got a little present for you, Rosie,’ he whispered.

  Rose brightened. Uncle Charles understood how hard it was to be good all the time. His gifts were usually exactly the kind of thing she wanted. Last year he’d given her a world map.

  ‘Happy birthday, Rose,’ Grandmother said. Her face was almost as stern as Miss Parson’s, and her black muslin dress with its high neck and long puffed sleeves made her seem even more severe. Rose knew better than to kiss Grandmother – a curtsey was required. She made it without wobbling too much and Grandmother tapped her black fan on Rose’s shoulder in approval.

  When everyone had chosen their seat, Rose found one for herself in the corner. Immediately, the grownups began talking about Elspeth Brown who’d married beneath her, whatever that meant, and Harry Borland, who had a gambling problem. Rose hid a huge yawn behind her hand. Why on earth did grownups waste so much time gossiping?

  She curled her fingers around the wooden end of the chair arm, imagining it was a cricket ball and she was lining up to bowl to Edward. That’s probably what he was doing right at that moment – playing cricket at school.

  Sally nudged open the door and, smiling at the birthday girl, carried in a huge cream cake decorated with sugar flowers and eleven candles.

  Well, it wasn’t a trip to the park, but Rose did love cake! Maybe Mother would let her have two pieces, just this once.

  THE grownups’ voices droned on, and the cream cake Rose had eaten sat heavily on top of the sandwiches. Her eyelids drooped …

  ‘Rose!’

  Her head jerked. ‘Yes, Mother?’

  ‘Tell Sally we need a fresh pot of tea, please.’

  As Rose was leaving the drawing room, she checked the mantel clock. With any luck, the visitors would be gone in half an hour or so.

  ‘She what?’ Aunt Philippa screeched.

  Rose’s ears pricked up. She stopped outside the door to listen.

  ‘The letter came this morning,’ Mother said. ‘Even Daniel was taken aback.’ Daniel was Father’s name.

  ‘She’s such a disgrace,’ Aunt Philippa said. ‘Everyone must think so.’

  Who was a disgrace? This part actually sounded quite interesting.

  ‘Now, now,’ Uncle Charles huffed. ‘Alice has an adventurous spirit, that’s all.’

  Rose smiled. They were talking about Aunt Alice, Father’s sister, who lived in New Zealand. She’d gone there last year to take up a position as a governess. Aunt Alice was younger than Father, only twenty-five, and lots of fun. She even had her own bicycle, which was now stored in their stables. Aunt Philippa was Mother’s sister, and no fun at all.

  ‘Surely you don’t have to receive her,’ Grandmother said.

  ‘Unfortunately, it’s worse than that,’ Mother said. ‘She will be staying here with us.’

  Now Rose found it almost impossible to stay quiet. She peeked around the door. Aunt Alice here? She couldn’t wait!

  ‘Oh!’ gasped Aunt Philippa. ‘You mustn’t tell anyone!’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Uncle Charles said. ‘You can’t hide a grown woman.’

  ‘Well, I shan’t be inviting her to attend any functions with me,’ Mother said. ‘I’m hoping she will quickly find a position with lodgings.’

  ‘Hmph,’ said Grandmother. ‘Not if people hear what she’s been up to.’ She stood, leaning forward and straightening slowly, like a card table unfolding. ‘It’s time we were leaving.’

  ‘Rose?’ called Mother. ‘Come and say goodbye to your guests!’

  Rose waited a few seconds, then went back in. As the women said their goodbyes, Uncle Charles winked at her. ‘I haven’t forgotten your gift, Rosie.’ He drew a small parcel out of his pocket and slipped it to her. ‘Just for you.’

  So it was something Mother wouldn’t approve of! ‘Thank you, Uncle Charles.’ He bent down and Rose kissed him, trying to avoid his whiskers. She kept the parcel hidden while the grownups went out to the carriage, and then headed up the stairs to her room.

  As she reached the top, Mother called, ‘Tomorrow we shall see about the abominable state of your wardrobe, Rose.’

  That meant shopping, which Rose liked about as much as she liked sewing. Hours spent being measured and then standing around waiting while Mother fingered fabrics and laces and ribbons and buttons. Mother and Martha were obsessed with the latest fashions, and were forever having new dresses made. Martha chose soft muslins and flowered silks, and always looked like an angel. Whereas Rose felt like a lump of suet and besides, how could anyone run properly with long, heavy skirts? What would an explorer use lace for? Nothing!

  In her room, Rose locked the door. The small parcel was an odd shape, and quite heavy. She ripped off the paper. A magnifying glass! A good solid one, too. Perfect for examining fossils and reading the tiny print on her world map. She peered at an ant on her windowsill – she could even see its antennae.

  ‘Rose!’ Miss Parson was rattling the door handle. ‘Open this door.’

  Rose slid the magnifying glass under her mattress and unl
ocked the door. ‘Goodness,’ she said innocently, ‘how did that lock itself?’

  Miss Parson glared suspiciously around the room but could see nothing out of place. ‘I’ll help you with your buttons,’ she said instead.

  It was such a relief to be out of the tight dress. Rose took several enormous breaths until she felt normal again.

  ‘You’ll have to get used to it,’ Miss Parson said. ‘You’re old enough for a corset now.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘All young ladies wear corsets,’ Miss Parson said. All young ladies was her favourite beginning to most sentences.

  Not me, Rose thought. Nobody’s going to make me wear something stupid like that.

  It wasn’t until she lay in bed that night that Rose remembered the conversation about Aunt Alice. When would she arrive? Ships from New Zealand took days to cross the Tasman Sea, and Rose wasn’t sure how far Aunt Alice lived from the nearest port.

  Perhaps she had to battle her way through the thick bush and fight the natives, all while carrying her own trunk and riding a horse astride like a man. Rose hugged herself with excitement. That was the kind of thing she imagined Aunt Alice doing, because she was so strong and brave.

  And it was exactly the kind of thing Mother hated. She said Aunt Alice was an embarrassment to the family, and called her a ‘bluestocking’, which Rose thought sounded interesting. Maybe now that Aunt Alice would be staying with them, she could find out what it meant.

  After just one hour of French lessons the next morning, Rose was desperate to get out of the small, stuffy schoolroom. It had been a spare bedroom once, and it was only when Father’s business began to improve again after the Bust that Rose’s family could afford a governess, and they had turned it into a schoolroom.

  Rose couldn’t remember the Bust, but she’d heard many times how lots of people had lost money, and thousands had left Melbourne to go and pan for gold in the West, hoping to get rich. It sounded like a terrible time. Mother had been forced to teach Edward and Martha by herself in the drawing room. Mother’s patience was extremely short, and lessons had often only lasted an hour before she gave up. It was Martha who’d taught Edward and Rose to read and do sums.