Drowning Rose by Marika Cobbold Read Free Book Online

Vivien Leigh was a much better actress than her contemporaries gave her credit for.’
    ‘And she didn’t like maths.’ Uncle Ian’s voice held a triumphant note as if he had found something he had lost and had been searching for. ‘I remember her coming to me once when she was a little slip of a thing, crying and holding out this exercise book. “My head doesn’t like sums,” she said.’ He was smiling. ‘ “My head doesn’t like sums.” You’re right, she was funny.’ But he was hungry for more. ‘She was a good friend to you?’
    ‘Of course she was. The best.’
    ‘Was she kind?’
    ‘To me?’
    ‘Generally. Was she a kind girl?’
    I thought about it. ‘She was to me, of course. And she loved animals.’
    ‘All young girls love animals,’ he said.
    ‘Kind?’ I thought for a moment. ‘I don’t suppose you think about kindness very much when you’re that age. You notice if people are kind to you directly, but I reckon that’s about as far as it goes. I’m sure she was, though.’
    ‘Why? Why are you sure? You just said you hadn’t thought about it.’
    I felt as if I were in court. ‘I’m sorry if I’m not precise enough.’
    ‘Don’t be sorry, just be more precise.’
    ‘I suspect, though, that we were all rather self-centred. It goes with being a teenager. It’s not that you don’t care about others, it’s more that you forget that there are others. I think we were a bit like that, Rose and I and our friend Portia Dennis. You remember Portia?’
    Uncle Ian nodded. ‘What became of her?’
    ‘You know, I have no idea.’
    ‘You didn’t keep in touch?’
    I didn’t know how to explain, to him or to myself for that matter, how, far from finding comfort in the company of someone else who’d known and loved Rose, I had done everything to avoid her until we had lost touch altogether.
    ‘It was my fault. Being with her hurt. Looking at her I didn’t see her, only . . . well, things I didn’t want to think about.’
    Uncle Ian nodded. ‘I can understand that.’
    Of course he could.
    There was another pause and then Uncle Ian said, ‘Rose wasn’t very academic.’
    I relaxed. ‘Oh I don’t know. She was very good at English Literature and her spelling was brilliant.’ I nodded. ‘Really excellent.’
    ‘Of course, you were the bright one.’ His face assumed a familiar look of puzzled irritation.
    ‘Rose was perfectly bright. You can be bright without being academic. And anyway, it’s what you do with your talents that matters.’ Had I really said that? Had I said something so stupid, so insensitive?
    I shook my head. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I could have said that.’ I hid my face in my hands.
    ‘It’s all right.’ I felt a hand on my arm, fleeting, a little awkward, as if it were the wing of a clumsy bird.
    I looked up and our eyes met. The kindness in his took me aback.
    ‘I’m very well aware that after Rose’s mother left, Rose, without you and your mother, would have been a very lonely young girl.’
    I swallowed hard and then I flashed him a quick smile. ‘Would you excuse me, I’ll . . . I won’t be a moment.’ I got to my feet, stumbling over a chair leg as I hurried from the room.
    In the hallway I ran straight into Katarina. ‘Eliza, are you all right?’
    I nodded, avoiding her gaze. ‘Fine. I’m absolutely fine.’
    ‘You don’t look fine.’
    ‘It’s just a headache. I get them all the time. I’ll just lie down and shut my eyes for a bit. Would you explain to Uncle Ian, please?’
    Katarina brought me a cup of sweet milky tea – she said she knew that was what all English people wanted when they were under the weather, and a plate of plain biscuits that looked like Rich Tea but were actually called Marie. She fetched an extra pillow and made me lean back against them like a poorly child so that I could sip my hot drink.
    ‘Did you tell Uncle Ian?’
    ‘I did and he’s just sorry you’re not feeling well. I’ll come