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but very competitive,’ she continued, ‘especially with her brother, Victor. When Victor made a monster, well, Victoria just had to make one too to prove a point. So here I am: legs of a ballerina, arms of a dairymaid and the head of a chocolatier from Mainz!’ Tall Nell let go of Ada’s arm and did a balletic twirl on the pebbles. Then she paused and looked out to sea once more. ‘Victor’s monster and I courted for a while, but it was doomed from the start. You see, he just wanted to get away from it all, while I wanted adventure, the
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* The Polar Explorer lives on an old sailing ship at the North Pole with his pet albatross, Coleridge. They don’t get many visitors, which is just the way they like it. Shakespeare wrote a play called The Winter’s Tale. If you want to know more you can read about the Polar Explorer in Goth Girl and the Ghost of a Mouse.
roving life of a queen among pirates!’ ‘I think I’ve met your ex-boyfriend!’ said Ada excitedly. ‘He visited my house. He calls himself the Polar Explorer*!’ ‘That’s him,’ said Tall Nell, taking Ada’s arm once more and resuming their stroll. ‘Don’t get me wrong, he’s a fine figure of a monster and I wish him well, but I’m a people person, always was, always will be. My new boyfriend understands that. He’s a people person too.’ ‘Liquorice gobstoppers!’ squawked Roald on her shoulder. ‘Soak your stick, roll up your gum, pinch of pepper, tot of rum!’ Tall Nell smoothed the parrot’s tail feathers and tickled it underneath the beak. ‘With Roald’s recipes, my boyfriend and I have opened a sweet shop selling fashionable confectionery here in
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Brighton. I was just on my way there when I met you, Ada.’ Tall Nell smiled and pointed with her parasol.
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Just ahead of them was a long wooden jetty with a row of clapboard beach huts on it. Ada could see Lady Vivienne Dashwood’s dress shop next to Jean-Paul Goatee’s, and at the end was a beach hut with a freshly painted sign that read ‘The Bolde Curiosity Shoppe: Fashionable Sweets for Fashionable People’.
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A tall figure in a yellow frock coat was standing outside. ‘That’s my boyfriend,’ said Tall Nell with a wooden-toothed smile. ‘The Sherbet Pimpernel. Perhaps you’ve read about him. He’s very dashing. Used to smuggle chocolate makers out of France during the revolution, and a brilliant confectioner, but terribly secretive.’ At the sight of Ada, the Sherbet Pimpernel pulled the brim of his hat down low and went into the shop. ‘And because he’s so secretive I sometimes worry that nobody will discover how delicious our sweets are. Particularly this one.’ Tall Nell had
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opened her sea trunk and taken out a curious-looking stripy stick which she gave to Ada. ‘We call it Brighton rock,’ she said. ‘Take it as a memento of your visit to the seaside.’ ‘Thank you,’ said Ada. ‘It looks delicious.’ ‘And lasts a very long time,’ said Tall Nell. She sighed. ‘Not that any fashionable people have tasted it,’ she said. ‘Perhaps it’s my pirate past or Sherbet’s secretive nature, but they just turn up their noses and walk on by. We haven’t had a customer in weeks, Miss Goth, and I’m at my wits’ end.’ Just then the Sherbet Pimpernel poked his head out of the sweet shop and gave a secretive-sounding whistle. ‘I must dash,’
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said Tall Nell, ‘or Sherbet will over-sugar the caramel again. It really was lovely to meet you, Miss Goth.’ She hurried off down the pier and disappeared inside the Bolde Curiosity Shoppe. Ada looked at the other two shops. ‘Since I’m here, I might as well take a look,’ she said to herself. She walked over to Lady Vivienne Dashwood’s shop, opened the door and stepped inside. ‘Can I help you?’ said a rather haughty-looking woman in a ginger wig, who was wearing a dress that looked as if it had been put on inside out and back to front, and enormous clumpy shoes. ‘I see you’re admiring my inside-out, back-to-front frock,’ continued the woman. ‘I’m Lady Vivienne Dashwood, radical philosopher of fashion.’ She looked Ada up and down. ‘You seem to be rather a radical yourself, though a little misguided,’ she added, plucking at the hem of Ada’s swimming smock.
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‘I’ve just been swimming,’ Ada explained. ‘I’ve got my clothes with me, if I could just use your changing room . . .’ ‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ said Lady Vivienne Dashwood sniffily. ‘My changing room is strictly for radical fashion followers – to use my changing room you really have to want to change. Now be off with you!’ Lady Vivienne held open the door and waved Ada out before closing it firmly behind her. Ada, a little nervously now, entered the shop next door, which had a sign that read ‘Jean-Paul Goatee, Mountain Goat Couture’. Jean-Paul Goatee clip-clopped over to greet her. ‘Excellent choice, young mademoiselle,’ he said, stroking his elegant tuft of a beard. His shop was full of beautifully knitted garments, all wonderfully soft to the touch. ‘These are my hoof slippers,’ said Jean-Paul, pointing to his boots. He took Ada
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by the arm and swept her through to his changing room, a small cubicle behind a cashmere curtain. ‘You must put them on, they go with everything! Here, try this . . . and this . . . and – oh yes! – this . . .’ Garments of beautifully soft wool sailed over the curtain and Ada gathered them up in her arms. ‘Try them on!’ urged Jean-Paul, doing an impatient little clippety-clop dance on the other side of the curtain. Ada slipped out of the swimming smock and a hand shot through the curtain and snatched it away.
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‘Sacré bleu! This item is an outrage!’ Jean-Paul exclaimed. ‘I will not have it in my shop!’ The door opened and closed again. ‘Are you ready, mademoiselle?’ came Jean-Paul’s voice. ‘Fashion waits for no one!’ ‘Nearly!’ said Ada. Not only were Jean-Paul Goatee’s clothes beautifully soft, they were also wonderfully easy to slip into. ‘How do I look?’ asked Ada, stepping through the curtain. ‘Wonderful!’ exclaimed Jean-Paul. ‘I shall wrap them myself!’ He ushered Ada back into the changing room and closed the curtain. ‘Now, hurry!’
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Ada changed back into her original clothes, passing the beautifully soft garments through the curtain as she did so. When she stepped out, Jean-Paul had the clothes beautifully wrapped up in a box with a ribbon. ‘And how will mademoiselle be paying?’ asked Jean-Paul with a beaming smile. ‘I have a twenty-guinea note,’ said Ada, reaching into the pocket of her black braided tunic. ‘Oh dear . . .’ she went on. ‘I seem to have lost it.’ Jean-Paul put down the box and opened the door. He was no longer smiling. ‘Au revoir,’ he said.
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Chapter Four da walked along the pebbly beach, saying, ‘No thank you,’ politely every time a fisherman offered her a cup of seawater. She felt very stupid to have lost the twenty-guinea banknote her father had given her. She should have kept a closer eye on Dowdy O’Dodds the Warrington Dipper. But it was too late now and Ada had nothing to wear to the World Frock Day Ball at the palace on the pebbles. She walked back along the beach. I might not have a fashionable frock to wear, Ada thought to herself, but at least I can still enjoy the sea air. She continued along the beach towards the palace on the pebbles. As Ada approached she saw the D’Urberville builders sitting on the sacks of plaster eating bacon sandwiches and drinking tea. Beau Peeps, the fashion diarist and gentleman shepherd, was talking to them. He didn’t look
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happy, nor did Charles the lamb, who let out bleats of agreement as Beau Peeps spoke. ‘What do you mean, the ballroom won’t be finished, Tess?’ Beau Peeps was saying to one of the builders. He looked slightly red in the face and his dove-grey suit was lightly dusted in plaster. ‘As the chief judge of World Frock Day I promised the Prince Regent personally that everything would be ready!’ ‘There are a lot of tradespeople involved in building a palace,’ Tess explained patiently. ‘Butchers, bakers, candlestick makers—’ ‘But what’s the hold-up?’ said Beau Peeps. ‘Well, the butchers have been fine,’ Tess replied. ‘Top
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quality bacon for our sandwiches. And the same with the bakers – beautifully fresh bread and tea-b
reak biscuits.’ She shook her head. ‘The candlestick makers are the problem. They’ve let us down on the candelabras for the ballroom – nothing we can do till they get here. They said a week at best. Bacon sandwich?’ ‘But the ball is three days away!’ protested Beau Peeps. ‘What am I going to tell the Prince Regent?’ ‘Well,’ said Tess, pouring another cup of tea and settling herself down on a comfortable plaster sack, ‘I’m just a simple
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dairy-maid-turned-builder, not a person of refinement like yourself. But you could hold the ball in the kitchen.’ ‘The kitchen?!’ exclaimed Beau Peeps, and Charles the lamb gave a bleat of disgust. ‘I know it’s not ideal,’ said Tess, ‘but as I’ve always said: you find the best people in the kitchen at parties.’ Beau Peeps looked thoughtful for a moment and then took out his small black notebook and scribbled in it. ‘Interesting thought,’ he said, ‘but will there be enough space?’ ‘Biggest kitchen on the south coast,’ said Tess triumphantly. ‘Fit for Kubla Khan’t himself!’ The other dairy-maids-turned-builders nodded their heads in agreement. Ada walked along the pebbles, admiring the parts of the palace that weren’t covered in scaffolding. The onion domes were
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* The Attic Club meets once a week in the attics of Ghastly-Gorm Hall, where the members discuss the interesting things they’ve discovered in the house and grounds. You can read about their meetings in Goth Girl and the Fete Worse Than Death. Thisbe is mentioned in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
very impressive and the towers were beautifully decorated, but it still reminded Ada of one of Mrs Beat’em’s cakes. Further along the beach she stopped to skim pebbles on the sea. Ada was very good at skimming. This was because she and Lucy Borgia had invented a skimming game with a circular wooden milk-pail lid from Mrs Beat’em’s kitchen. They called it ‘thisbe’, and Ada had taught her friends in the Attic Club* to play it too.
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Ada drew back her arm and was about to skim a flat pebble across the surface of the water when it slipped out of her hand, flew through the air behind her and clunked on the hull of an upturned sailing boat that had been turned into a shop. The sign over the door read: HORNBLOW NAVY SURPLUS STORE A young woman with fair hair and a neatly tailored admiral’s coat came out. ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ said Ada. ‘I was skimming pebbles and one slipped out of my hand.’ ‘Don’t worry,’ said the young woman
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pleasantly. ‘Worse things happen at sea, and I should know as I’m an admiral’s daughter.’ ‘I’m Ada,’ said Ada. ‘Is this your shop?’ ‘It is. I’m afraid it’s all I could afford. Not as fashionable as the pier, but I’m just getting started as a dressmaker. Would you like to look inside?’ ‘Yes please,’ said Ada. ‘My name’s Horatia Hornblow,’ said the young woman, holding the door open for Ada. The inside of the Hornblow Navy Surplus Store was packed with items of clothing the navy no longer needed.
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There were oilskin coats hanging in rows, deck boots lined up according to size, and lots and lots of hats: tricornes, bicornes, sou’westers, nor’easters and bosuns’ bonnets. In the middle of the shop was a row of
beautiful uniforms covered in gold ribbon and brocade which Horatia had bought from the King of Bavaria for next to nothing when he discovered that he didn’t need a navy. Horatia planned to alter them, she explained, and turn them into jackets and frocks to sell to the fashionable people of Brighton.
‘One day I’d like to sell them to the fashionable people of Hove,’ Horatia said. ‘But Hove hasn’t been built yet.’ ‘I know,’ said Ada. ‘Those cowgirl builders haven’t even finished the ballroom of the palace on the pebbles yet, so the World Frock Day Ball has to be held in the kitchen.’ ‘What a fascinating idea!’ said Horatia. ‘Oh, what wouldn’t I give to be able to show one of my nautical frocks on World Frock Day?! The fashion diarist and gentleman shepherd Beau Peeps is one of the judges, you know.’ ‘Oh yes, of course,’ said Ada, nodding her head sadly. ‘I’ve been invited to the ball but I lost the twenty-guinea banknote my father gave me to buy a frock, so I don’t think I’ll be able to go now—’ ‘Twenty guineas!’ exclaimed Horatia. ‘Why, with twenty guineas you could have bought everything in this shop!’
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She paused, then turned to Ada and smiled. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ she asked. Ada smiled the smile of someone who has discovered a really interesting fact or had a very clever thought. It was an Attic Club smile. ‘I think I am,’ she said.
Chapter Five hree days later the fashionable seaside resort of Brighton was full to bursting with fashionable people eager to attend the Prince Regent’s fashionable World Frock Day Ball. Anyone who was anyone in the world of fashion had been invited, and those who hadn’t were thronging the pebbles behind red sash cords that the cowgirl builders had put up around the palace. In the town the doors along Grand Parade were opening and the ball-goers, wearing heavy, tent-like capes, were making their way across the pebbles. The door to number thirty-two opened and Lady George stepped out with her three plump Dalmatians, just their paws visible beneath her large black cape. Tristram Shandygentleman walked next to her in a fashionable frock coat, and Ada walked behind. She had the hood of her cloak
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up and her outfit made a gentle swishing sound as she walked. A large full moon had risen over the sea and was shining down on the white onion domes of the palace. Lady George produced their invitations at the door to the palace. The footman checked them and gave them each a number. There was a muffled bark from beneath Lady George’s cloak, which she covered up with a polite cough. ‘Good luck,’ the footman said gruffly. ‘I’m with them,’ said Tristram smoothly, slipping
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in behind them before the footman could stop him. ‘You old rascal,’ laughed Lady George. ‘My girls weren’t invited either!’ They followed the stream of other guests down a wide corridor with signs on the wall saying ‘WET PAINT – DO NOT TOUCH’. And from there they went into the most enormous kitchen Ada had ever seen. Mrs Beat’em’s kitchen at Ghastly-Gorm Hall was big, but it was nothing compared to this.
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Four enormous plaster elephants supported the ceiling with their trunks, while the walls were lined with Chinese lacquer dressers laden with gleaming copper cooking utensils. In the centre of the kitchen four enormous ovens supported a temporary wooden walkway for the World Frock Day contestants to walk along. Three tall chairs for the judges stood opposite it, next to an upholstered throne for the Prince Regent. ‘My Lords, Ladies and dedicated followers of fashion,’ Beau Peeps’s voice
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boomed across the kitchen, ‘pray stand for the Prince Regent.’ Everybody was standing, so nobody moved. A door next to one of the plaster elephants opened and a man in enormous trousers walked out elegantly. Everybody bowed and then politely applauded as the Prince Regent carefully sat down on the upholstered throne. Behind him followed the three judges. The guests applauded wildly as the judges took their seats. ‘Let the World Frock Day judging begin,’ boomed Beau Peeps, who was obviously enjoying himself . . .
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‘Contestant number one, please.’ ‘I don’t approve of such sweetness,’ said Empress Anna Winter. Beau Peeps and the Siren Sesta* exchanged glances.
* The Siren Sesta stayed at Ghastly-Gorm Hall. She comes from a very small island near Greece. You can read about her in Goth Girl and the Ghost of a Mouse. Shakespeare set The Tempest on an island.
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‘Contestant number two!’ ‘Those slippers look too small,’ said Empress Anna Winter. The Siren Sesta sighed.
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‘Contestant number three!’ ‘Far too spotty,’ said Empress Anna Winter. Beau Peeps made a note in his little black book.
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‘Contestant number four!’ ‘What sensible footwear,’ said Empress Anna Winter approvingly. Beau Peeps and the Siren Sesta shook their heads.
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‘Contestant number five!
’ ‘I don’t approve of those slippers,’ said Empress Anna darkly. The Siren Sesta shrugged her feathered shoulders.
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Goth Girl and the Pirate Queen: World Book Day Edition 2015 Page 2
