Intrigued by the ruckus, Mr Johansson had emerged from the dining room and was peering up the staircase. Clarissa hurried back down, encouraging her guest to return to his breakfast with the promise of fresh coffee and pastries.
Stefan Johansson smiled to himself. There was now no doubt in his mind that he had found the right child and what he intended to do was absolutely the best thing for everyone.
Clementine stared out of the window at the cows grazing in the field. It was nice to see them properly for a change, instead of them being one big blur.
‘I’m sorry about the lady beetles,’ she apologised for the tenth time, glancing at her great-aunt’s face in the rear-vision mirror.
Violet Appleby raised her perfectly plucked left eyebrow while a wry smile perched on her lips. ‘I suppose I should be thankful you weren’t collecting worms or cockroaches.’
Clementine grinned and was about to confess that she’d like to catch cockroaches if only they didn’t run so fast when she was distracted by a chorus of blasting car horns. The child wriggled around to investigate. Her eyes almost popped out of her head when she saw the long line of cars trailing behind them. The drivers looked very angry.
‘I think they want you to go faster, Aunt Violet,’ she said, turning back to face the front. That was not a sentence Clementine had ever thought she would utter. She was usually hanging on for dear life when Aunt Violet was driving. ‘I might be late to school if you keep driving like an old granny.’
‘I’m being careful, that’s all,’ Aunt Violet replied. ‘And I am no old granny, thank you very much! Better late than never, I say.’
Clementine raced into her classroom, where Mr Smee was writing up the day’s timetable on the whiteboard.
‘Good morning,’ he said with a smile. ‘Well done on your performance in Basil’s documentary. I thought you were terrific.’
Clementine grinned. She saw Poppy and Tilda whispering and went over to see what they were talking about.
‘Hello,’ Clementine said.
Poppy and Tilda stopped their whispering and looked at her. ‘Hi,’ the pair giggled.
Clementine’s tummy twisted. The girls didn’t usually talk behind her back, but now it seemed as though they had a secret. She hoped it wasn’t something bad.
Joshua Tribble ran past and poked his tongue out at Clementine. ‘Hey flower-girl-movie-star,’ he said as he slid onto the carpet in front of Mr Smee’s chair.
The teacher gave the lad a warning look before addressing the class. ‘Good morning, Year One,’ he said, and was greeted with a cheerful reply almost in unison. ‘I hope you all had a great weekend. It was wonderful to see so many of you at Penberthy Floss on Saturday night. I think we should give the star of the show, our very own Clementine Rose Appleby, a huge round of applause for her amazing performance in Mr Hobbs’s film.’
The children clapped loudly. Clementine’s cheeks went bright red.
‘You were really good,’ Angus whispered to her.
Clementine could feel herself getting hotter. ‘Thanks,’ she mumbled.
‘It wasn’t even a proper movie,’ Saskia Baker sneered from the third row. ‘It was just on television.’
‘Saskia, I’m not enjoying that tone at all.’ Mr Smee glared at the girl, who quickly shrank back among the other children. She’d come a long way since the Grandparents’ Day Concert but was still prone to vicious outbursts.
Mr Smee started calling the names on the roll, with Clementine first as always. But he kept stopping to look at his watch as if he were waiting for something. The children were getting restless. They usually had the roll marked in less than a minute and were on to their reading groups.
Clementine was wondering why Tilda and Poppy were still giggling as Mr Smee read out Sophie Rousseau’s name. She was about to remind the teacher that Sophie was still in Paris when a small voice answered. Clementine quickly turned around and saw Sophie and her mother, Odette, standing in the doorway.
Poppy and Tilda giggled, ‘Surprise!’
Clementine leapt to her feet and ran over to her best friend. The two girls hugged and hugged until everyone else in the room faded away. Then they pulled apart and grinned at one another.
‘I can’t believe you’re back,’ Clementine said.
Odette’s eyes sparkled. ‘We could not miss the wedding,’ she said.
Clementine launched herself at the woman’s middle, giving her a huge hug as well. ‘Are you staying?’ she asked hopefully.
Sophie nodded. ‘Grand-père is much better. He and Madame Joubert are spending lots of time together. She’s even been helping him in the shop when she’s not putting on little puppet shows in the square.’
‘But what about Saskia?’ Clementine whispered.
‘The Bakers are leaving at the end of the week,’ Odette said quietly. ‘Mr Baker ’as a new job in the city.’
‘Where are you going to stay until they go?’ Clementine asked.
‘Your house,’ Sophie said. ‘So Mama can help your mummy with the wedding. Papa is going to make the wedding cake.’
Clementine’s heart felt as if it might burst with happiness. Sophie was back for good and Pierre and Odette and Jules too. Clementine couldn’t help it and suddenly dissolved into tears.
Odette knelt down. ‘What is the matter, chérie?’
‘My heart is too full and my head is a muddle,’ Clementine sobbed.
‘Darling girl, it is such a big time for you and your family.’ Odette looked at Mr Smee. ‘May I take Clementine outside with Sophie for a few moments? Perhaps we can get a drink of water.’
Roderick Smee nodded. ‘Good idea.’
Odette and Sophie held Clementine’s hands and the trio walked out into the playground.
Clementine wiped her eyes and tried to stop the tears. ‘I must have the wedding wobbles,’ she sniffled.
Odette smiled. ‘What a lovely way to put it. There is so much anticipation and excitement but lots of change too. You know, I am sure it will be perfect.’
Sophie and Clementine sat down on a bench in the sunshine. ‘When we left Paris I cried a lot,’ Sophie said. ‘Mixed-up tears of happy and sad.’
Clementine squeezed Sophie’s hand and smiled. ‘Everything feels right again now that you’re here.’
And with that the little friends hugged each other tight.
Violet Appleby arrived home in time to see Mr Johansson walking out the back gate towards the village. She was yet to get a moment alone with the man, but decided there might be another way to find out exactly what he was up to.
She managed to avoid Pertwhistle and Clarissa and headed straight to the Sage Room. It was clear the butler had already been in and made up the bed. Violet walked across to the roll-top bureau and slowly raised the lid. Disappointingly, there was nothing inside except for the Penberthy House Hotel paper and pens that Clarissa supplied to her guests. The old woman tried his suitcase next but found it was locked. She then moved on to the chest of drawers and had just pulled open the first drawer when a floorboard creaked in the hallway.
Aunt Violet eyed the door warily as the handle began to turn. She hastily shut the drawer and cast about for somewhere to hide. Deciding that the wardrobe was the only place she’d fit, she scrambled inside it, holding her breath as light footsteps entered the room.
Violet Appleby’s heart was pounding so loudly she thought she’d be discovered any minute now. She heard a drawer open and close, then another. It sounded as though the desk lid was rolled up and then down again. What on earth was the man doing?
Beads of perspiration peppered Violet’s brow and she was beginning to feel quite faint. That was all she needed – to fall down inside the wardrobe with a clatter and a bang.
Violet Appleby wondered just how long she was going to be trapped in the man’s wardrobe when the footsteps started heading her way. She pressed her back against the cupboard wall, doing her best to look invisible among the suit coats and trousers. The door opened
.
‘Oh!’ Clarissa gasped, leaping into the air. ‘What on earth are you doing in there?’
‘Godfathers, Clarissa, what are you trying to do? Kill me?’ the old woman demanded.
Clarissa pushed aside the curtain of hangers. ‘And I might ask you the same thing,’ she said pointedly. ‘Why are you snooping about?’
A knock on the door caused both women to jump. ‘Ladies,’ Digby Pertwhistle said through the door, ‘I think our guest might be on his way back.’
Aunt Violet was out of the wardrobe in a flash. Clarissa quickly rearranged the clothes and the pair of them darted out into the hallway.
Digby raised an eyebrow at the women. ‘I trust the two of you changed the towels and freshened the flowers.’
Aunt Violet looked as if she was six years old and had just been caught with her hand in the biscuit jar.
The tops of Clarissa’s ears turned pink. ‘All done,’ she squeaked, and the two women scurried away like thieves in the night.
‘Mummy, I’ve had the best day!’ Clementine exclaimed as she and Sophie charged up the back steps and into the kitchen.
After her initial surprise, Clementine’s day had got better and better. Mr Smee said her story about kissing frogs was her cleverest yet and she got all the answers right on her subtraction sheet. To top it off, her soccer team won the lunchtime derby, with Angus kicking the winning goal.
‘That’s wonderful, darling,’ Clarissa said, pleased to see her daughter was back to her usual happy self. ‘And welcome home, Sophie.’
‘Where’s Aunt Violet?’ Clementine asked. ‘I want to show her my story, which I got to read to the whole class.’
‘It’s really funny,’ Sophie added, grinning.
Clarissa’s heart warmed at the sight of the two friends back together again. ‘You’ll find her in the study,’ she said. ‘I’ll make you some afternoon tea in the meantime.’
‘Thanks, Mummy. Come on, Sophie, let’s go,’ Clementine said, grabbing her friend’s hand and bounding out of the room.
‘Ask Aunt Violet if she’d like a cup of tea,’ Clarissa called after the pair.
Clementine and Sophie sped along the hall and around the corner to the study, which was located at the back of the house and overlooked the garden. Clementine knocked on the door and poked her head around. Aunt Violet was sitting at her brother’s enormous mahogany desk, with her head in her hands, crying. Clementine hesitated.
‘What’s the matter, Aunt Violet?’ she asked, stepping into the room.
The woman raised her head and pulled a tissue from her pocket, wiping her eyes. ‘I’m fine, Clementine.’
But that wasn’t true at all. When Violet had finally got hold of someone in the solicitor’s office who could speak English, she’d been shocked to learn that the letter she’d received was supposed to have been sent six years ago. That meant Eliza had been gone all that while and Violet had never known. She wasn’t just a bad mother; she was the worst there ever was.
Sophie hung back in the doorway. She was scared of Aunt Violet at the best of times and seeing her upset wasn’t something she’d encountered before.
Clementine eyed the envelope on the desk. It had the same unusual stamps as the one she’d seen in Aunt Violet’s handbag the other night. ‘Did something in the letter upset you?’ she asked, inching forward.
Aunt Violet nodded.
Clementine leant into the old woman and placed her head on her arm. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘That would be lovely,’ Aunt Violet replied, a small smile on her lips.
‘I’ll get it,’ Sophie offered. She disappeared, leaving Clementine alone with her great-aunt.
‘Why are you sad? Don’t you want Mummy and Drew to get married?’ Clementine asked.
Aunt Violet’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Of course I do. Why would you think that?’
‘You told Mrs Mogg on Sunday that you thought the house would be too crowded,’ Clementine said.
The old woman sniffled into her tissue. ‘I wasn’t talking about when your mother and Drew got married,’ she replied.
‘If you are worried about that, I have an idea. You could live in Crabtree Cottage and Will could have your room. Then Mummy will still have the same number of bedrooms for the guests.’
The woman looked crushed. ‘I suppose it would only be what I deserve. I was a terrible mother and I’m sure I’m a horrible –’
‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ Clementine said, patting the old woman’s shoulder. ‘I thought you’d like Crabtree Cottage better because it has two new bathrooms and the tub won’t bite your bottom like ours does.’
Aunt Violet laughed. ‘So you aren’t trying to get rid of me?’
Clementine shook her head. ‘I love you and so does everyone else – even Uncle Digby.’
Violet Appleby held out her arms and the girl walked into them. ‘I love you too, Clementine,’ she whispered.
Digby Pertwhistle arrived with a tray containing a pot of tea, a cup and saucer and a home-made caramel slice, which he set down on the side of the desk. He squeezed the woman’s shoulder and, for just a second, she reached up and held on to his hand.
‘Aunt Violet isn’t moving to Crabtree Cottage,’ Clementine said.
Uncle Digby looked at her in surprise.
‘Don’t ask, Pertwhistle,’ Violet said. ‘It’s far too confusing. Perhaps after I’ve had my tea you can all help me pull those appalling bows off the front of the house. Honestly, that Sebastian Smote will be the death of me before the end of the week.’
The next few days flew by. Clarissa had been careful not to take on too many guests at once and had put a line through Thursday and Friday. Meanwhile, Odette had been doing most of the cooking with Uncle Digby, as Pierre was busy creating a variety of scrumptious treats for the wedding. Mr Smote was a frequent visitor, and on Wednesday morning the marquee was scheduled to go up on the terrace off the billiards room. There were workmen coming and going all over the place and Clementine was having lots of fun talking to each one of them about the wedding. Aunt Violet wasn’t so thrilled when she’d discovered three men stringing fairy lights across the back of the house. At least she hadn’t cut them down – yet.
On Wednesday afternoon, Clementine found herself wandering the house on her own. Sophie and Jules had accompanied Odette to Highton Mill to have their hair cut, her mother was in the study catching up on paperwork, and Aunt Violet and Uncle Digby were having some sort of mad clear-out upstairs. Clementine stayed out of their way in case they decided she needed to have a special clean-up of her room too. Drew and Will were due for dinner later and Pierre was at the shop, up to his eyeballs in icing sugar and fondant, according to Mr Smote, who had called in to say that the cake was coming along splendidly.
The house was quiet apart from its usual grunts and groans. Clementine sat down on the main staircase and looked up at the portraits of her ancestors.
‘Hello Granny, hello Grandpa,’ she said. ‘Are you having a good day? I am.’
Clementine babbled away, unaware she had a spectator in the corridor below.
‘I wish you could come to the wedding,’ she continued. ‘But it’s probably best you don’t. Aunt Violet might get scared and Uncle Digby could have another heart attack. Anyway, it still feels as if you’re about, making sure that we’re all okay. I know Aunt Violet says mean things about you, Grandpa, but I don’t think she really believes them. That’s just her.’
The man downstairs was enchanted by the girl’s one-sided conversation. He chuckled to himself. ‘Are they good listeners?’ he asked.
Clementine jumped up and looked over the balustrade. ‘Yes, very,’ she said, and smiled as soon as she saw who the voice belonged to.
‘And do they ever tell you anything?’ he asked as he walked upstairs to join her on the landing.
Clementine thought Mr Johansson had such kind eyes. ‘Not to worry about things mostly,’ she answered truthfully. ‘Do you have a
ny children?’
At that moment Aunt Violet and Uncle Digby emerged at the top of the stairs on the floor above. Aunt Violet was about to speak when the butler put a finger to his lips.
‘Shhh, she’s probably chatting to her grand parents,’ he whispered.
Aunt Violet rolled her eyes then grinned, but she wasn’t expecting a man’s voice to speak next.
‘I have a little girl,’ Mr Johansson said to Clementine, ‘but I haven’t seen her in a long, long time.’
‘What’s he doing talking to Clemmie again?’ Violet huffed. ‘I thought he’d be gone by now.’
‘Does she live far away from you?’ asked Clementine.
‘Yes, I’m afraid so,’ Mr Johansson answered.
‘I’m sure you’ll see her again one day soon,’ Clementine said. ‘You know, you only have to think of her and she’ll feel you in her heart.’
Aunt Violet’s eyes filled with tears. Uncle Digby put his arm around the woman and she turned into his chest.
‘You are very wise for such a young girl,’ Mr Johansson said. ‘How do you know such things?’
‘When Sophie moved to Paris, I missed her so much that sometimes it made me cry. When I got upset Mummy would tell me to close my eyes and think about her and I would feel her right here,’ Clementine said, crossing her hands over her heart.
Aunt Violet couldn’t stand it a moment longer. She burst into racking sobs and was quickly rushed away by Uncle Digby. Clementine looked up just in time to see them disappearing and wondered what the matter was now.
‘Are you going home today?’ she asked, turning back to Mr Johansson.
The man shook his head. ‘Not home, but I am leaving to make some special arrangements in the city. I think I will be back again,’ he said. ‘Very soon.’
‘You must really like it here to stay for so many days,’ Clementine observed. ‘What was the best thing? Mummy says it’s helpful to know what guests enjoy the most so she can work on the other things that aren’t so good.’
Clementine Rose and the Wedding Wobbles Page 4
