My Name Is Rose (14 page)

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.'

Rose 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.