The Birthday Present by Pamela Oldfield Read Free Book Online Page A

sufficiently to join in with one of Rose’s songs although he looked rather uncomfortable, Rose thought. Probably not used to being engaged in anything like that – she imagined him at the opera or the ballet. Maybe an orchestral concert where he could sit po-faced and look superior.
    She stared at the ceiling, discovering a few slight cracks in the plasterwork. ‘I didn’t like him,’ she said aloud. ‘Sorry, Letitia. You obviously love him but I think he’s stuffy.’ Her gaze came down a little and she took in the large, ornate picture above the mantelpiece. It showed a bull-like creature with fancy horns and she thought it might be a stag. ‘Bernard drank a bit too much,’ she told the absent Letitia, ‘and then he tried to wheedle me on to his lap!’ Unsuccessfully, however. Rose smiled faintly. She was certain that a girl could lose her women friends by allowing their husbands to take liberties.
    Climbing from the bed she padded across the bare polished floorboards and pulled the curtains open and found herself peering down into a small courtyard which was beautifully decorated with pots of flowering shrubs on to which the sun shone. The romantic picture thus revealed was rather spoiled by the sight of Mrs Bray pegging out serviettes and tea towels on a clothes line. Either the housekeeper was up very early or Rose had overslept. There was no clock in the room and Rose was undecided about what to do. Was it bad manners to go wandering about in other people’s houses? Maybe the housekeeper would bring her a tray of tea and toast! Now that would be real luxury.
    Opening the large wardrobe she found nothing but a smell of mothballs. The drawer below contained a selection of toys, mostly showing signs of loving attention over many years. Crumpled books, a box of ludo, a top but no whip, a wooden sailing boat with a damaged mast and a few skittles minus the box. She picked out an ancient pixie, handmade in green felt, and gave it a hug to prove it had not been forgotten. There was a blue knitted rabbit, a doll with yellow wool for hair and a small velvet mouse with button eyes. Rose loved them all on sight and wondered which toy had belonged to which member of the family. Naturally, the doll belonged either to Marie or Letitia, the rabbit might have been Steven’s but the teddy bear definitely belonged to Marcus. Arms and legs ramrod straight, it appeared to be standing at attention. It gave no sign that it had ever been cuddled, its fur was fresh and unfaded and its brown glass eyes seemed to stare at her with cool disinterest.
    ‘You’re a dear, sweet thing,’ she told it, rearranging the legs so that it could sit up on top of the chest of drawers. ‘There! That’s more comfortable, isn’t it?’
    Turning away, she examined the large, almost empty room. Velvet curtains, polished wooden floorboards with a patterned carpet – a far cry from her own room at home with its cracked linoleum and a rag rug made years ago by her mother. There was a washstand in one corner of the room with a jug of cold water and a basin, a folded towel and a soap and flannel. Rose made use of them and then dressed in her everyday clothes.
    While she did this, she tried to recall the last few hours of the party when she had definitely drunk too much wine and hoped she hadn’t made a fool of herself and let Marcus down. She remembered Steven proposing to her, going down on one knee and everyone laughing.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she had told him, smiling down into those beautiful but cold blue eyes, ‘but I’ve decided not to marry until I’ve made a name for myself in the music halls – but thanks ever so for the proposal. It’s my first ever!’ Which was a small white lie because a boy at school had asked her to marry him and she’d said ‘yes’ because at that time they were both six years old and she hadn’t decided on her career path. Last night everyone had cheered Steven’s proposal and her rejection and he had