Clementine Rose and the Wedding Wobbles

by Jacqueline Harvey

  About the Book

  CLEMENTINE ROSE is fizzing with excitement. Her mother’s marriage to Drew is just around the corner and she can’t wait to be a flower girl! Preparations for the special occasion are well underway and it seems that even Aunt Violet has caught the wedding fever. But with the appearance of Sebastian Smote, wedding planner extraordinaire, Aunt Violet’s festive spirit soon turns a bit feisty.

  Add to that an unexpected letter and a curious house guest, and plans begin to unravel. Clementine will need to be on her toes as love creates chaos every step of the way!

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Premiere

  The Lost Letter

  A Curious Guest

  Full House

  Trouble

  A Snoop

  A Quiet Word

  Mixes and Muddles

  Two Snoops

  Better Days

  Questions

  Snip!

  Stuck

  Family Matters

  Granny

  Cast of Characters

  About the Author

  Books by Jacqueline Harvey

  Jacqueline Supports

  Copyright Notice

  For Ian and Olivia

  Clementine Rose adjusted the bow in her hair and smoothed the imaginary creases in her pretty white dress. It was her favourite of the costumes Mrs Mogg had made for her to wear in Basil Hobbs’s new documentary. She turned to the teacup pig sitting on the floor beside her.

  ‘What do you think, Lavender?’ the girl asked.

  The creature was wearing her best red collar and lead for the occasion. Lavender looked up at her mistress and grunted her approval.

  Clementine grinned, then an unpleasant thought happened upon her and she bit her lip. ‘Do you think I’ll sound silly up there on the screen? What if everyone laughs at me?’

  Lady Clarissa Appleby poked her head around the door of the dressing room and smiled. ‘I can’t imagine it, sweetheart,’ she said, walking in. ‘You did a wonderful job during the filming, and I’m glad you’re wearing that dress again. Margaret will be so pleased.’

  ‘I love it,’ Clementine said, swishing the skirt from side to side. ‘Do you think Mrs Mogg has nearly finished my flower girl’s dress?’

  Clarissa nodded. ‘We’re going to pay her a visit tomorrow morning. You’ll have to try it on so she can adjust the hem and see if any extra-special touches need to be added.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Clementine asked. She couldn’t picture the dress being any more perfect than it already was.

  ‘Margaret’s worried it might be a bit plain, but we’ll see. I’m sure you’ll know exactly what it needs. You have much more of an eye for fashion than I do – you and Aunt Violet are cut from the same cloth in that way,’ Clarissa said. She picked up her daughter’s hairbrush from the dressing table and popped it into her handbag. ‘But I’m still going to make you wait to see my dress. I want you all to have a surprise.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s beautiful.’ Clementine smiled. ‘Mummy, don’t you think it’s funny how Aunt Violet and I both like clothes so much?’ she mused. ‘It must be because our eyes are exactly the same colour.’

  ‘That must be it.’ Clarissa knelt down to look into her daughter’s bright blue eyes. ‘Are you ready for your starring moment?’

  Clementine shrugged. ‘I think so.’

  Finally, after many months of editing, Basil Hobbs’s documentary on historic houses was set to premiere at the village hall in Penberthy Floss. Clementine had been tasked with the honour of introducing the film, in character as her great-grandmother.

  Drew and Will appeared in the doorway, looking dapper in their suits, along with Aunt Violet. The sounds of murmuring and the scraping of chairs on the timber floor of the recently rebuilt hall filtered in from outside.

  ‘Are there many people here?’ Clementine asked in a wobbly voice.

  ‘It looks like the whole village and half of Highton Mill has come to see you,’ Will said excitedly.

  Clementine felt her tummy flutter ever so slightly.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Drew asked her. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he flashed a warm smile.

  Clementine suddenly felt better. ‘I was quite nervous at first,’ she admitted, ‘but then I had a long talk with Granny and Grandpa before we left. They said I should enjoy myself and think about how lucky I am to have such an amazing opportunity at my age.’

  Will chuckled. ‘Your grandparents are pretty smart, even if they are –’ The boy stopped and looked up at his father, who had nudged him. Will’s eyes darted down to the space between his shoes. ‘Well, they are,’ he whispered.

  ‘I know it’s only their portraits on the wall, but I still like to talk to them,’ Clementine said plainly. ‘They’re always very encouraging, particularly when I need it the most. And they’re good listeners too.’

  Aunt Violet paused in the middle of re-applying her lipstick. ‘I don’t remember your grandfather uttering a rational word for at least a decade before he kicked the bucket,’ she snorted. ‘But if the old codger speaks sense to you, Clementine, then I’d say you have a better deal than the rest of us ever did.’

  Clementine and Will looked at each other and giggled just as Basil arrived on the scene. He craned his neck through the impossibly crowded doorway to see if Clementine was ready. ‘Why don’t you all take your seats?’ he suggested to the others. ‘We’re about to start. I can help Clemmie onto the stage from the wings.’

  ‘Good luck,’ Will said, giving her a hug.

  Clarissa and Drew embraced the girl as well before Aunt Violet asked if she might have a moment alone with the child.

  Clementine’s stomach twisted. She had a sneaking suspicion it might have something to do with the perfume bottle she’d found in the bathroom. She had unscrewed the lid and put a few dabs on her wrist and neck the way Aunt Violet always did. Everything would have been all right if the woman’s sphynx cat hadn’t jumped up onto the sink and toppled the bottle over, causing its entire contents to dribble down the drain. Clementine had tried to tell her mother and Aunt Violet what had happened, but they’d been busy with guests. She’d forgotten all about it until now.

  The old woman walked into the room and closed the door. ‘Clementine –’

  ‘It was my fault,’ the child blurted, her eyes filling with tears.

  Aunt Violet stopped and looked at her quizzically. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ she asked.

  Clementine’s tears wobbled uncertainly. ‘I didn’t mean for your perfume to go down the sink,’ she began slowly, then added, ‘But it was really Pharaoh’s fault.’

  ‘I should have realised that bathroom smelt a lot better than it usually does,’ Aunt Violet said with an amused curl to her lips. ‘You needn’t worry, Clementine. I wasn’t overly fond of that scent anyway, and your mother found a bottle of my favourite in the cupboard this afternoon. She’d won a lovely gift pack months ago and was keeping it very quiet.’

  ‘So, that’s not why you wanted to talk to me?’ Clementine brushed her eyes. She tried to remember what else she might have done recently to warrant a private audience with her great-aunt.

  Violet Appleby shook her head. ‘I wanted to say that I know we’ve had our moments, but … you do make me very proud.’

  Clementine rubbed her ear, wondering if she’d heard correctly. As the old woman’s face softened into a smile, Clementine’s did too.

  ‘Thank you, Aunt Violet,’ she said, and hugged her around the middle. Clementine then stepped back to sm
ooth her dress. ‘I promise to do my best out there.’

  ‘I know you will,’ the old woman said with a wink.

  As the credits rolled, the crowd burst into applause and some audience members even rose to their feet. Digby Pertwhistle was surprised to have learned a few things about the house he’d lived in for much of his life and made a mental note to locate the hidden cupboard in the library as soon as they got home. Clementine joined Basil onstage and offered them a curtsey.

  ‘Did you enjoy making the movie, Clemmie?’ Mr Tribble called out over the clapping.

  Clementine grinned and nodded. ‘It was fun most of the time, Mr Tribble, although there is an awful lot of sitting around and doing things over and over again.’ She cupped her hand to the side of her mouth as if she were telling a secret. ‘Sometimes it was a bit boring,’ she added with a giggle.

  The audience laughed loudly.

  Ethel Bottomley raised her hand. ‘Would you like to become an actress when you’re older?’ she asked the girl.

  Clementine swished her skirt as she considered the question. ‘Maybe, but it would have to fit in with other things, like being a writer and a ballerina and a teacher and looking after animals and helping Mummy run the hotel,’ she said. ‘Oh, and being a flower girl for Mummy’s wedding.’

  ‘That’s not a job,’ Joshua Tribble heckled. ‘And who would want to be a stupid flower girl anyway?’

  Mrs Tribble glared at her son. ‘I don’t think you’d look very good in a dress, so I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.’

  The boy’s face turned bright red as a titter of laughter made its way around the hall.

  Basil took the opportunity to step in and wind up the proceedings. ‘Well, thank you all very much for your attendance this evening,’ he said graciously. ‘Please do stay and enjoy the delicious supper Mrs Mogg and her team have prepared.’

  There was another hearty round of applause as Clementine and Basil walked offstage, where they were greeted by their families.

  Digby Pertwhistle reached out to shake the man’s hand. ‘Bravo, Basil!’ he exclaimed. ‘The documentary is a smashing success and you’ve certainly done a great job making Penberthy House look very grand. I suspect our phone will be ringing off the hook after the film airs on television tonight.’

  ‘That’s all we need with the wedding coming up,’ Aunt Violet muttered.

  Clementine was surprised by her tone. She had thought that her great-aunt might have had something to say about her performance, but the woman seemed to have forgotten all about their earlier conversation. Clementine followed Aunt Violet’s eyes and noticed an envelope poking out of the woman’s handbag. It had a funny stamp on it that Clementine didn’t recognise.

  ‘Are you all right, Aunt Violet?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m fine,’ the old woman sighed. ‘Here, you’d better take Lavender for a walk outside. She probably needs a toilet stop.’

  Violet Appleby passed Clementine the little pig’s lead and snapped her bag shut.

  Violet Appleby sat down on the end of her bed and reached into her handbag. She pulled out the envelope and turned it over in her hands, her fingers trembling as she picked at the seal. There were two pages. It seemed silly now to be afraid of such a flimsy thing. The first page was an official-looking document, its message short and blunt, like a savage blow from an angry fist.

  * * *

  Dear Miss Appleby,

  I regret to inform you that your daughter, Eliza Lindström, has passed away after a short illness. In the event of her death, she instructed that I pass on the enclosed letter.

  Yours sincerely,

  Piers Karlsson

  Solicitor

  * * *

  Violet squeezed her eyes shut, summoning the strength to read the second letter. She knew she had to – she owed her daughter that much. So, with a deep breath, Violet forged on.

  * * *

  Dearest Mamma,

  I am sorry that fate has not allowed us to meet again. I still remember the day Pappa took me away. He told me you never wanted to hear from me again, but I suppose that in my heart I always knew it was a lie. Over the years, I wrote many letters to you and all of them went unanswered. It was only when Pappa passed away that I found them hidden, unopened, in a box – and the truth was finally revealed to me. I wonder, in all that time, did you try to find me?

  Please do not succumb to anger or sadness; I have led a good and happy life. Do not punish yourself for our estrangement; life is often far more complicated than we wish. If in time you find your way back to your family, I hope you will visit my cousin, Clarissa. She is like a sister to me, with the kindest of hearts. Perhaps you will find some comfort and unexpected joy with her, as I always did.

  Your loving daughter,

  Eliza

  * * *

  Violet reread the letter at least a dozen times. Through a haze of tears, she eventually noticed the date in the top right-hand corner and gasped. If the letter had been written over six years ago, why had she only just received it? Violet resolved to telephone the solicitor first thing on Monday morning to make sense of the timelines.

  But the one fact remained. The ache that Violet often felt in her heart was now one hundred times bigger than it had ever been before. That night she cried herself to sleep and dreamt of a precious little girl who was lost to her forever.

  Clarissa Appleby waltzed from one side of the kitchen to the other, counting her steps as she twirled. She had hoped to fit in a few practice sessions with her fiancé, Drew, but he was busy with a project he had to finish before the wedding.

  ‘One-two-three, one-two-three,’ Clarissa sang as her feet followed suit. She picked up two rashers of bacon and tossed them into the sizzling pan, then glided to the toaster, delivering two slices of bread into the slots.

  ‘Good morning, dear. You’re up early,’ Digby Pertwhistle said as he fetched his apron from the butler’s pantry.

  Clarissa spun around, her cheeks aflame. ‘Oh dear, you’ve caught me again.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ the old man said with a smile. He pointed to the pan. ‘We didn’t have anyone staying last night, did we?’

  ‘I thought I’d take breakfast up to Aunt Violet,’ Clarissa said as she added a ripe-red tomato cut into halves, then cracked two large eggs into the fry-up.

  Digby raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s happened now?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Clarissa said, a faint crease appearing across the top of her nose. ‘I passed Aunt Violet’s room last night and she sounded upset. When I called out to ask her if there was anything I could do, she told me in no uncertain terms to mind my own business. I hope it’s nothing serious.’

  Digby put his hand on Clarissa’s shoulder. ‘It might have something to do with that letter I signed for a few days ago,’ he said in hushed tones. ‘You know it was from Sweden.’

  ‘I had wondered,’ Clarissa replied, biting her lip.

  Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Clementine thudding down the back stairs with Lavender skittering after her. ‘I’m starving and that bacon smells delicious,’ the girl announced. ‘No offence, Lavender.’

  The little pig didn’t seem to mind in the least and ran off to find Pharaoh, who was doing yoga stretches in front of the range.

  Clarissa turned and smiled at her daughter. ‘Would you like bacon and eggs? Or I could make some pancakes after I take this up to Aunt Violet.’

  The door from the hallway swung open. ‘No need to take anything up for me,’ Aunt Violet said, marching into the room. ‘I’ll have toast, as per usual.’

  Clarissa and Digby exchanged curious looks.

  ‘How are you feeling, Aunt Violet?’ Clarissa asked.

  ‘Tiptop,’ the woman said, plonking herself down beside Clementine. She was dressed in a smart pair of cream trousers and a lovely red silk blouse.

  ‘Oh!’ Clementine gasped, startling the woman. ‘I almost forgot.’

&nbs
p; She dashed over to the noticeboard, where her mother pinned school notes and important reminders. Clementine picked up a thick black pen, then climbed onto a stool and put a big cross on the special calendar she’d made to count down the days until the wedding.

  ‘Mummy, there are only six more days to go!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Don’t remind me, Clementine,’ Uncle Digby said with a shudder. ‘I’ve still got a speech to write and I don’t know when I’ll ever get time to practise.’

  ‘Granny and Grandpa are good listeners,’ Clementine reminded him. She jumped to the ground. ‘I’ve been reciting my wedding poem to them every day.’

  She thought Aunt Violet would probably have something to say about that, but the woman didn’t utter a word.

  ‘If you don’t want your bacon and eggs, Aunt Violet, I’ll have them,’ Clementine said, scampering back to the table. ‘I must have been a lot more nervous than I thought last night because I didn’t really eat anything. I could eat a horse now.’

  ‘Well, I hope not,’ Aunt Violet said, glancing in the child’s direction. She paused, her eyes widening. ‘I know someone else who used to say that when she was little …’

  The woman’s voice trailed off as she gazed, dumbstruck, at Clementine.

  Clementine peered back at her. She’d once heard Mrs Bottomley telling a classmate’s mother about her next-door neighbour who had a stroke right in front of her. Apparently, the woman had been talking when all of a sudden she stopped mid-sentence and started staring into space.

  Clementine waved a hand in front of Aunt Violet’s face. ‘Mummy, come quickly,’ she called.