Lina at the Games by Sally Rippin Page B

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!’
    â€˜Fetch Miss Parson,’ Mother snapped to Sally.
    Rose waited in silence, face burning, as Miss Parson rushed in. ‘Yes, Madam,’ she said.
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜Yes, Madam.’
    Miss Parson scowled at Rose and towed her up the stairs.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜Stop pushing your shoulders forward,’ Miss Parson said.
    â€˜I’m not!’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜It’s too short as well as tight. You must have grown more than I realised,’ Miss Parson said.
    â€˜I won’t wear it then,’ Rose said.
    â€˜It’s your best day dress. It will have to do.’
    â€™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.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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