Rose on Wheels Read online

  She heard faint shouting and struggled to her feet. A couple of men were coming her way, waving and gesturing, but she had to keep going. If they realised she was a girl, they might stop her and send her home. She had to get to Father! He was her only hope.

  Rose began pushing the bike up the slope, puffing hard, her arms and legs aching. Aunt Alice might be big enough to manage her bicycle but it was a huge machine to Rose.

  Finally, she reached the top and looked towards the city. It had felt like she was pushing the bike up a mountain but it wasn’t really so high. There were glimpses of buildings among the trees but she still had a long, long way to go. Better keep cycling, she thought, or I’ll never make it. The next downward slope was steeper and ended at the bridge across the river. Even from a distance, Rose could see the bridge was busy, with lots of carriages and people crossing it, as well as horse-drawn trams.

  She tested the brake lever before setting off again, using it on her way down the hill to slow her speed. But just as she reached halfway, the brake went loose in her hand and the bicycle began to go faster and faster. And this time there was no upward slope to help her.

  Panic surged through her like a bolt of lightning, and she cried ‘Help!’ but it was too late. She kept pulling on the brake lever, and wrenching the handlebars left and right to avoid hitting anyone. This road was much more crowded, and she had to keep right over to one side where the surface was bumpy with large puddles.

  People’s faces zoomed past, astonished, their mouths like Os, but Rose had no breath to shout now. The bridge in front of her was packed with two horse trams and several carriages, and a wheel lay on the road. There was no room for her bicycle.

  As she got closer and closer, she rode through a large patch of mud that splattered up onto her trousers and boots but slowed the bicycle a little, and she was able to swerve around a woman holding a baby.

  Off to Rose’s right were some bushes growing next to the river. Rose made an instant decision and steered straight for them – they had to be softer than the brick walls by the bridge! The bicycle ran into the largest bush and stopped, sending Rose over the handlebars in a cartwheeling arc. She landed on the bush behind, broke through it, barely feeling the scratches and snags on her clothes, and rolled down, down, arms and legs spinning. It was like being inside a tornado, unable to do anything, not even scream.

  She rolled one more time, managed to grab at a bunch of reeds and – plop! Fell in to the river. The water was so cold it stunned her for a moment, but her hand somehow kept its grip on the reeds. She lay in the water, staring up at the sky, wondering if she were dead yet, or whether she was dreaming.

  A MAN shouted above her, ‘He’s down here, in the water. Quick!’ Feet slid and scrambled down the river bank and strong hands pulled her out of the water.

  ‘Let go of the reeds, boy, you’re safe now.’ A face with a thick black beard and blue eyes loomed over her, and more faces were beyond his.

  As Rose sat up, chest heaving, her cap fell off and her wet curls dropped limply around her face.

  ‘Good Lord, it’s a girl!’ the bearded man said. ‘What on earth were you doing on that bicycle?’

  Rose bent her head and burst into tears, sobs shuddering through her. What had she done? Wrecked Aunt Alice’s bicycle, for a start. Her shoulder ached fiercely and the scratches on her hands were bleeding. The stinging on her face told her that was scratched, too. Oh, she was in so much trouble. Mother would be furious, and there was no way Rose could hide what had happened.

  ‘There, there,’ the man said, patting her shoulder. ‘Where’s your mam? Can someone fetch her? ’

  That was such a terrifying idea that Rose responded, ‘No, not Mother, please!’ She sucked in a shaky breath. ‘I need my father. He’s in the city. Bourke Street.’ She looked up to find the bearded man glancing at two others who stood around, shaking their heads.

  ‘It’s a fair way into Bourke Street, young miss. You really should go home.’

  Rose shook her head. ‘I can’t. I’ll be in such trouble.’

  ‘Aye, I can see why.’ The bearded man laughed. ‘You’re as bad as my girl, Kathleen.’ He helped Rose to climb up the river bank, back to the road. Some bystanders watched curiously as another man pulled the bicycle out of the bush, and Rose rushed over to check how damaged it was.

  ‘Just some scratches on the paint,’ the man said. ‘Would have been a different story if you’d bridge, though.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Rose said. She took the bicycle, but what was she to do with it?

  The bearded man came to her rescue again. He offered his hand and Rose shook it. ‘I’m Lonnie Drysdale,’ he said. ‘If you really need to see your pa, I can put you on a tram. Although,’ he wrinkled his nose, ‘you’re pretty wet and dirty. Are you sure that’s where you want to go?’

  ‘Yes, oh yes, I’m sure,’ Rose said. ‘But what about my aunt’s bicycle?’

  ‘I’m heading to Kew,’ Lonnie said. ‘That’s my cart over there. If you live around that way, I can deliver the bicycle for you.’

  ‘Would you?’ Rose wanted to give Lonnie a big hug, but she was too muddy and wet. She gave him her address, and he raised his eyebrows.

  ‘You live in one of them big houses, then? ’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rose, feeling embarrassed, though she wasn’t sure why. She thought for a moment. ‘Could you take the bicycle around to the stables at the back?’

  Lonnie grinned. ‘And avoid your mam, I take it?’

  ‘Yes, please!’

  It wasn’t long before Lonnie had hailed a city-bound tram and put Rose onto it, paying her fare. Rose promised to give him back the money as soon as she could. As the tram trundled away from the bridge, Lonnie lifted the bicycle onto his cart, gave her a wave and set off up the hill.

  Rose closed her eyes – she didn’t want to look and see how deep and dark the river was. And she didn’t want to see the other passengers staring at her dishevelled appearance.

  It was even worse in Bourke Street. It was late afternoon and many people were on their way home from work. Rose was still damp and grubby, and she was now obviously a girl wearing a young man’s clothing. She felt small and disgraced, and drew into herself, wrapping her arms around her body. But even this was better than facing Mother at home. She saw the high arched windows of McCubbin’s Emporium and got ready to hop off.

  As Rose entered the Emporium, Miss Smith, Father’s assistant, caught sight of her and came running, her face anxious. ‘Miss Rose! What happened?’

  ‘I had an … accident. Is Father here?’ Oh please, let him be upstairs, she prayed.

  ‘Er, yes, I believe so. But why are you dressed like that?’

  Rose straightened and looked Miss Smith in the eye. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Smith, but I can’t explain right now. I need to see my father straight away.’

  ‘Oh. Yes. Yes, of course. Come with me.’ Miss Smith led the way up the stairs and Rose followed, worried that now she had dried out a little, she was dropping bits of mud everywhere. Miss Smith passed the startled secretary, reached Father’s office door and knocked, then went right in when a voice called, ‘Yes?’

  ‘Um, Mr McCubbin, it’s your daughter, Rose, she …’ Miss Smith seemed at a loss as to what to say next.

  Rose stepped past Miss Smith and into the office, trembling at what her father’s reaction might be, but wanting to get it over with as soon as possible. ‘Hello, Father.’

  ‘Rose, I …’ Father’s mouth dropped open. ‘I …’ Miss Smith was backing away. ‘Yes, Miss Smith, thank you. You may go.’

  Miss Smith closed the door behind her, and Rose was left to face her father alone. ‘I … er … had an accident.’

  ‘So I see. But…’ Father stood up and came around his desk. He knelt in front of Rose. ‘Are you all right? Are you injured? Well, I can see you are. Your face is scratched, for a start.’

  ‘I think I’m fine,’ Rose said. ‘Some bumps and bruises, but nothing broken.�
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  Father’s face darkened. ‘What on earth happened? What have you been up to? Your mother will have a fit!’

  ‘I know,’ Rose said miserably, and two tears trickled down her face. ‘I didn’t mean to crash into the bushes, or fall in the river. It was all because the brakes failed. On Aunt Alice’s bicycle. Oh dear.’ She hiccupped and more tears fell. A huge wave of despair washed over her and she couldn’t bear it – she threw herself at Father and flung her arms around him, nearly knocking him over. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean this to happen, it was Miss Higginbottom and her whip and Mother never listens and now she’s making Aunt Alice leave! I had to tell you and ask you to help. And now I’ve made it all worse!’

  Father hugged her back and stroked her damp hair. ‘All right, all right, calm down. It’ll all be fine, Rose. We’ll sort it out.’

  ‘Really?’ Rose snuffled into Father’s collar. ‘But as soon as Mother sees me …’

  ‘You do look very odd,’ Father said. He pulled back from Rose and regarded her outfit. ‘I gather those are Edward’s clothes?’

  ‘Yes. I thought they would be better than mine for riding a bicycle.’

  ‘No doubt.’ He stood and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Let’s sort out your attire first, and worry about the rest later. Except – where is the bicycle?’

  Rose explained about Lonnie and his cart. ‘I owe him for my tram fare, too.’

  ‘I’ll deal with that later.’ Father opened his office door and called to his secretary. ‘Please take Miss Rose to the ladies’ wear department and make sure she has new clothes that will not alarm her mother. Wrap the dirty clothes in a parcel for me to take home.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Rose ended up wearing a plain green skirt with a white blouse, and had to put on her boots again, although Miss Smith had cleaned them for her. She realised that Father hadn’t asked her to properly explain how the bicycle disaster had come about. Should she make up a story? What was the point? She’d never been any good at lying, unlike Edward who could be charming and get away with all sorts of tales.

  So when, back in his office, Father said, ‘Now, Rose, you’d better tell me the whole story before we go home to your mother’, Rose told him every detail, watching his face the entire time to judge his reactions.

  When she described Miss Higginbottom, he merely nodded, his face in a frown. And when she told him about Mother’s fight with Aunt Alice, he muttered, ‘For heaven’s sake.’ The part about the bicycle ride and the brakes failing and her fall into the river didn’t seem to make him angry. Did he understand? She had to know.

  ‘Father, I know I’m going to be punished, and I know it’s all my fault. But Miss Higginbottom will be the meanest governess ever.’

  ‘You need a good education, Rose,’ Father said. ‘Things are changing, despite what your mother says, and I want you to have the best opportunities.’ He paced the room, hands behind his back. ‘You’re a clever girl, interested in the world.’ Now he did smile. ‘You’re different from Martha. You and Alice are like peas in a pod.’

  Rose beamed. ‘I love Aunt Alice! She really is the most wonderful aunt. Oh, please Father, you have to stop her leaving.’

  ‘I promise I’ll talk to her, at least.’ Father reached for his bowler hat and coat. ‘Come on, let’s go home. We’ll work out what to tell your mother on the way.’

  ‘But… what about Miss Higginbottom?’ Rose asked.

  ‘Rose,’ Father said sternly, ‘let me assess things on my own. I won’t do anything that will make you miserable, I promise.’

  Rose had to be content with that, although she felt in her heart that Mother might well override anything Father had to say. She sighed, and followed Father down to the waiting buggy. As they drove home, they agreed that the bicycle and the river dunking would not be mentioned.

  ‘But you will be in a lot of trouble for coming into the city on your own, Rose. I can’t protect you from your mother’s wrath over that.’

  ‘I know.’

  When they reached their house, Rose let Father get down first, and tried to hide behind him, but as soon as the front door opened, Mother rushed out and spotted Rose immediately.

  ‘Rose Mary McCubbin, come here and explain yourself this instant!’ Standing above them on the top step, Mother looked like a volcano about to explode. Her face was dark red and her mouth was clamped so tightly shut that her chin quivered. But when Rose reached her, Mother knelt down and swept Rose into her arms, hugging her so hard Rose thought she might suffocate against the lacy blouse and jacket. It felt so nice, though, that she didnt mind a bit.

  Just when Rose thought her mother might forgive her, Mother leaned back, took Rose by the shoulders and gave her a mighty shake.

  ‘You terrible, terrible child! I thought you’d been kidnapped! I thought you’d been murdered! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?’

  ‘In the city, with Father.’ Rose’s own chin began to quiver and her eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it.’ Meaning she shouldn’t have done any of it, but she caught Father’s warning glance and said no more.

  ‘Well,’ Mother said. ‘Daniel, what are we going to do with her? The new governess is coming just in time. I cannot have behaviour like this. It will be the death of me.’

  Father coughed. ‘Let’s discuss the governess later. Rose, why don’t you go and wash your hands?’ He meant her hair, having remarked on the way home that she smelled like a dirty pond. ‘Now, now, Elizabeth.’ He took Mother’s hand and put it on his arm. ‘I think a cordial before dinner is in order.’

  ‘Very well,’ Mother said. Then she sniffed the air. ‘What’s that strange smell?’

  Father coughed again. ‘Probably manure on the garden, my dear. Come along.’

  Rose bounded up the stairs and into the bathroom, Sally following her. ‘Your father said you needed a bath filled for you,’ she said. ‘And plenty of soap.’

  Rose nodded, suddenly too tired to answer. It had been a very long day, and it wasn’t over yet. She still had to get through dinner and the next explosion from Mother when she found out what Rose had been up to. At least Aunt Alice’s trunks weren’t downstairs, ready to be taken away, although her door was closed. Right then, Rose couldn’t face Aunt Alice either.

  In the bath tub, she sank under the lovely hot water, eyes closed, and floated for a few moments before washing her hair and rinsing it. Sally came back with clean water to rinse again, then helped her get dressed, and brushed the knots out of her hair before tying it back with a large ribbon. When Rose reached the bottom of the stairs, Mother called, ‘Rose, come into the drawing room, please.’

  Oh dear. Rose’s stomach felt as if it had a hundred butterflies in it, all banging against each in other in a fluttering frenzy. She stood with a foot inside the drawing room, eyes down, waiting.

  WHEN nothing happened, Rose was forced to look up, and discovered her parents regarding her with thoughtful expressions.

  ‘Rose,’ Father said, ‘you have been very disobedient today, and put yourself in danger.’

  Did that mean he’d told Mother about the bicycle?

  ‘You must never travel alone like that again,’ Mother said.

  ‘No, I won’t. I promise.’ Rose twisted her fingers together and waited. She could tell it wasn’t over yet.

  ‘But it’s more than the tram ride.’ Mother frowned. ‘Your father says you went to see him about your new governess. You are only a child. We are the ones who decide about such important matters, not you.’

  Rose opened her mouth to protest but a sharp glance from Father shut her up. ‘I wonder if Rose needs more than a governess, Elizabeth,’ he said. ‘Being alone in the house is not good for her.’

  ‘With a governess, she won’t be alone.’

  ‘It’s …’ Father hesitated. ‘I think Rose would benefit from attending a good school. With other children. A school with strict discipline, of course, and one that teaches her the things you feel are
important.’

  What? Was Father suggesting a school of manners and embroidery?

  ‘She certainly can’t go to Martha’s finishing school,’ said Mother.

  ‘I believe St Swithin’s at Kew is excellent,’ Father said. ‘Lady Emery was in the Emporium the other day and her daughters both attend there.’

  A little thrill ran through Rose. Father was so clever! That was exactly the thing to convince Mother that school was a possibility.

  ‘It’s halfway through October. She couldn’t possibly start there now.’ Mother drained her glass and stood, as if that was the end of the conversation.

  ‘I’ll make enquiries,’ Father said, but when Mother shot him a sharp glance, he added, ‘It’ll be entirely your decision, of course, my dear. Let’s go in to dinner.’

  Rose followed her parents into the dining room and sat in her place, her stomach rumbling as the delicious smell of beef and onion soup drifted from the sideboard. Her brain whirled as she thought about her father’s suggestion. St Swithin’s! She’d never heard of it, but even the name was wonderful.

  Dinner was quiet, with everyone sunk in their own thoughts. Aunt Alice came down to eat, but was silent the whole time, staring down at her plate.

  Even Mother had little to say. Maybe she was thinking about St Swithin’s, too. Rose’s eyelids were drooping before dessert was even served and, as soon as she’d eaten her lemon pudding, she went to bed. As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered sadly if tomorrow would be her last day with Aunt Alice. Oh, she could hardly bear to think about it.

  The next day, Rose decided to stay in the house and out of trouble, but by mid-morning, she couldn’t stand being in her room a moment longer. Had Father spoken to Aunt Alice? Rose didn’t dare ask. Maybe a walk in the garden would stop her being so twitchy.

  Out by the stables, Tommy was cleaning Aunt Alice’s bicycle – what was left of it.

  ‘What happened to the front wheel and handlebars? Where have they gone?’ Rose asked.

  ‘Bent,’ Tommy said. ‘John’s fixing them.’ He rubbed the frame down with a rag and reached for a brush. ‘Bits of leaves have got in some strange places. Almost like someone crashed right into a bush.’