Clementine Rose and the Wedding Wobbles

by Jacqueline Harvey

  ‘Look at you, Mummy,’ the child gasped. ‘You’re a princess.’

  Clarissa smiled. ‘I think Bella and Teresa have performed nothing short of a miracle.’

  ‘Your turn, Clemmie,’ Bella said.

  Clarissa stood up and Clementine jumped into the chair.

  ‘Teresa, would you mind helping me into my dress?’ Clarissa asked.

  Clementine noticed that her mother’s gown was hanging in a long white bag on the front of the wardrobe and hers was hanging next to it.

  ‘No peeking, Clemmie,’ Clarissa reminded her, then went to the other side of the room to get dressed.

  Clementine marvelled at the way Bella swept up her hair and had it looking absolutely flawless in no time. Finally, the woman positioned the little blue headpiece of flowers on her head. Teresa then gave Clementine a light dusting of blusher on her cheeks, some mascara and a smidge of pale pink lip gloss.

  Clementine closed her eyes. ‘Are you ready, Mummy?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Clarissa said.

  Clementine glanced over at her mother in her lacy gown. It had long sleeves and a tiny waistline, with a silk skirt that cascaded to the floor. Clementine had never seen anyone look so beautiful.

  ‘I don’t even have enough words in my brain to tell you how perfect you are, Mummy,’ Clementine said.

  Clarissa smiled. ‘Thank you. You are a funny one, my darling.’

  Teresa helped Clementine into her dress and shoes, and Bella sprayed Clarissa’s hair.

  ‘That’s Granny’s tiara,’ Clementine said, realising that her mother’s hairpiece was an important family heirloom.

  ‘Well, why not?’ Clarissa said. ‘You only get married once.’

  ‘Unless you’re Aunt Violet,’ Clementine giggled.

  There was a knock on the door and Uncle Digby poked his head around.

  ‘Heavens, look at my girls.’ He wiped a tear from his eye, then nodded at Bella and Teresa. ‘Would you two clever ladies like a cup of tea downstairs? The bride has a visitor.’

  ‘Who is it?’ Clarissa asked. She couldn’t imagine what could be so urgent that they needed to see her on her wedding day.

  ‘It’s Mr Johansson,’ Uncle Digby said, step ping back to let the man into the room.

  Clementine broke into a smile. ‘Hello there. I know you said you were coming back, but today’s probably not the best day. Mummy’s getting married in a little while and we don’t have any rooms for you to stay in.’

  He smiled at Clementine. ‘I won’t be staying. My timing is terrible, but you must know why I came, Lady Appleby.’

  Clarissa stood in the open doorway and wrapped her arm protectively around her daughter. ‘Please don’t take her away from me,’ she whispered.

  Clementine looked at her mother, then at Mr Johansson, her blue eyes widening in confusion.

  ‘Oh, Lady Appleby, I am so sorry. That was never my intention,’ the man said.

  Clarissa looked up. ‘But you’re her father, aren’t you?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, but I have been looking for this little girl for a long time.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Clementine stared at the man. She’d never really thought a lot about her father before and was all of a sudden feeling very mixed up.

  ‘I am your father’s brother. He passed away in an accident just before you were born. Then your mother, Eliza, disappeared and we never knew what happened to you. When I learned about her illness, I searched and searched and it has taken me all these years. She left you in a very good place.

  ‘I wanted to find you. Not only because you are my niece, but your father has left you a trust. There is enough money to pay for your education and perhaps even buy a house when you are older.’ The man reached inside his coat pocket and passed a photograph to Clarissa. ‘This is Theodore.’

  Clementine looked at her mother. ‘Like the warthog.’

  ‘You did make me smile when you told me your warthog’s name was Theodore,’ Mr Johansson said, ‘but I can assure you your father was nothing like him. He was clever and funny and smart just like you. And he would have been so very proud.’

  Clarissa handed Clementine the picture.

  The tiny girl studied it for quite some time before she spoke. ‘Is that really my daddy?’ she asked. ‘He looks kind. I’m sorry he’s not here anymore.’

  ‘I am sorry too,’ Stefan Johansson said. ‘But life is full of twists and turns and you have found the best place in the world to be.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Clementine said. ‘And now I have another uncle as well as Uncle Digby, and in a little while I’m getting a new daddy and a brother too. My family has got really big today.’

  ‘I am sorry, Lady Appleby. I had to know for sure that I had the right child. I have spent the past week getting the papers in order,’ Stefan said, ‘and tonight I must return home.’

  The woman smiled at him. ‘Perhaps you should call me Clarissa. We are family, after all. Now, you must stay for the wedding. Speaking of which, we should get going or Drew will think I’ve stood him up.’

  Mr Johansson grinned. ‘Of course. I’ll see you downstairs.’

  Clementine held out the photograph to give back to him.

  ‘Oh no, it is yours to keep,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘Thank you,’ Clementine said, and hurried over to place it carefully on the dressing table before returning to her mother’s side.

  Digby Pertwhistle arrived back in the doorway. ‘Is everything all right?’ he asked Clarissa.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, wiping away a stray tear.

  ‘I have another uncle,’ Clementine informed the old butler.

  ‘I thought you might.’ Uncle Digby smiled at the child. He looked at Clarissa. ‘Ready, my dear?’

  Clarissa beamed and took his arm. ‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’

  Clementine fixed the bottom of her mother’s dress and passed her an exquisite bouquet of pink and white peonies. Then she picked up her basket of petals and they descended the stairs to make the short walk to the garden, where Drew and Will and all their friends and family were waiting.

  ‘Congratulations, my darlings.’ Aunt Violet kissed the newlyweds as they entered the marquee, following the lawn ceremony.

  ‘Thank you, Aunt Violet,’ Clarissa said. ‘We couldn’t have done it without you, and the flowers are magnificent.’

  Sebastian Smote was hovering nearby with a smug smile on his face.

  Clementine and her family took their places at the head table, which sat on a podium overlooking the party. Uncle Digby was on the end next to Aunt Violet, then came Clementine, her mother, Drew and Will. All their friends were there and even Mrs Bottomley had wangled herself an invitation. Sophie was keeping an eye on Lavender, who looked adorable in her big pink bow. Everyone had laughed as she’d snuffled down the aisle behind Clementine, hoovering up the rose petals the child had sprinkled. Fortunately, Will didn’t drop the rings, so Lavender didn’t get a chance to eat them too.

  Violet Appleby looked across the room and caught sight of Mr Johansson sitting with Ethel. ‘Godfathers! What’s he doing here?’

  ‘He’s my new uncle,’ Clementine said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

  Violet recoiled in horror.

  ‘I’ll tell you all about it later,’ Uncle Digby whispered to the woman, ‘but there’s no cause for alarm.’

  Luckily, there were food and speeches to distract Aunt Violet for the moment.

  The wedding feast was spectacular with beef tenderloins and potato au gratin, crispy beans and honeyed carrots. Clementine was starving and ate all of her lunch. Following their main course, Drew stood up and made a speech, which saw more than a few of the guests bringing out their tissues. But it was not long after when he nodded at Mr Smote and the marquee was plunged into darkness that there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.

  ‘Clarissa, I must confess that the project I’ve been working on lately wasn’t really work at all,’ he sa
id. A projector light beamed a series of photographs and moving images on to the ceiling of the marquee, accompanied by a soundtrack of music they both loved. What followed was the most amazing record of their relationship, from the first day that Drew had arrived with Basil at Penberthy House to shoot the documentary.

  Clarissa stood up and spoke beautifully about her new husband, although she warned that their dancing might not be as good as she’d hoped due to a lack of practice. Clementine was up next with her wedding poem called ‘What is Love?’. By the time she reached the end, Aunt Violet was sniffling into her tissue with her head resting on Uncle Digby’s shoulder. Even Ethel Bottomley was wiping away tears. Mr Mogg stood up and led all the guests in a standing ovation and Clementine took a bow. Uncle Digby delivered his speech after that and made everyone laugh and smile.

  The happy couple then cut Pierre’s magnificent wedding cake before proceeding to the dance floor, where they stunned the crowd with their perfect waltz. Clarissa twirled and swayed in her husband’s arms, savouring every second of their wonderful day. Clementine and Will giggled when Uncle Digby took Aunt Violet by the hand and the pair started shimmying and shaking like teenagers. Soon the dance floor was packed, and Clementine and Will joined the throng.

  Clementine spotted Sophie dancing with Poppy but couldn’t see Lavender. She thought the tiny pig must be asleep under one of the tables. After all, it had been an exhausting day and Lavender loved to nap.

  Over in one corner of the marquee, Mr Smote was surveying the happy crowd, his hips swaying to the beat, when Clementine noticed one of the waiter’s whisper something to him. Sebastian’s face turned bright red.

  ‘Wait until I get my hands on that pig,’ the man fumed. ‘She will be pork roast for Christmas dinner!’

  Clementine scanned the marquee for any sign of her pet. ‘Uh-oh, I have to go,’ she said, leaving Will in the middle of the dance floor.

  Aunt Violet caught wind that something was amiss and dumped Digby to investigate. Seeing Smote in a tizzy almost always spelled disaster in her experience. ‘What’s going on?’ she demanded.

  ‘The desserts are ruined and my reputation along with it!’ Sebastian exclaimed as he scurried through the billiard room towards the kitchen. ‘It was that greedy, porky pig!’

  ‘Lavender!’ Aunt Violet exhaled.

  ‘Lavender doesn’t even like dessert, Aunt Violet,’ Clementine said, running alongside the pair. ‘But Pharaoh does – he ate the cake at the pet day. Remember?’

  ‘My boy wouldn’t do anything as ghastly as that,’ the old woman huffed. ‘He’s a perfect puss.’

  Clementine raced ahead with Aunt Violet in her peacock-blue suit charging after her.

  Mr Smote clutched his hands to head. ‘Pierre will be devastated. That poor man has worked for days, slaving over hot stoves and blazing ovens.’

  Clementine ran through the swinging door into the kitchen and skidded to a halt.

  She gasped.

  Aunt Violet gasped.

  Mr Smote threw his hands into the air and burst into tears.

  Pierre’s beautiful desserts were smooshed all over the floor.

  ‘Lavender!’ Clementine called out.

  She poked her head into the butler’s pantry, but it wasn’t Lavender she found. Curled up on the bottom shelf was Pharaoh. Aunt Violet and Sebastian Smote followed the child into the room.

  Clementine turned to face the pair. ‘I told you so.’

  Sebastian ran his index finger along Pharaoh’s face, accumulating a fat glob of cream as he did. He stuck his finger into his mouth. ‘It seems Clementine was right. That was our dessert.’

  ‘That was really disgusting,’ Clementine said, wrinkling her nose. ‘You shouldn’t eat food off a cat’s face.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Aunt Violet sighed. ‘What will we do? It’s all my fault. Pharaoh, I thought I trained you better than that.’

  Sebastian stuck his nose into the air. ‘It’s a disaster. The worst disaster I have ever had at any wedding and I have looked after lots of weddings.’

  A waiter poked his head into the room. ‘Excuse me, Mr Smote. The desserts are served.’

  ‘What? But they are ruined,’ Sebastian said, cradling his face in his manicured hands.

  ‘Those were the leftovers,’ the young man said sheepishly.

  Sebastian rushed at the startled fellow and hugged him tightly. ‘Oh, darling angel! That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.’

  ‘Thank heavens for that,’ Violet said. ‘Come along, Clemmie. We don’t want to miss out.’

  Clementine took the woman’s hand and they walked back through the house.

  As they reached the entrance foyer at the bottom of the stairs, Aunt Violet suddenly remembered something. ‘Clementine, what did you mean before when you said that Mr Johansson was your new uncle?’

  ‘His brother was my daddy,’ Clementine said. ‘He died before I was born.’

  Aunt Violet gasped, her eyes filling with tears.

  ‘It’s all right, Granny. I know there wasn’t just one tragedy, there were two,’ Clementine said.

  Aunt Violet looked up at the portrait of her sister-in-law.

  Clementine shook her head and stared at her great-aunt. ‘I was talking to you, Aunt Violet.’

  The woman gulped. ‘But how? When did you find out?’ she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  ‘I worked it out quite a while ago, when Mummy told me about Eliza. But you never wanted to be old and you always said that grannies were old people, so I thought it was better that you didn’t know,’ Clementine said. ‘Eliza was my mother, but she got sick. She gave me to Mummy so I wouldn’t be on my own and Mummy wouldn’t be either.’

  Violet’s lip trembled and tears spilled onto her cheeks. ‘Well, I’m not old, am I?’ she said, finding some strength in her voice. ‘I can be a young granny. And I am very happy to be your granny for the rest of my days.’

  Clementine looked at Aunt Violet and, for the second time that week, she felt as if her heart might just burst with happiness.

  What is Love?

  by Clementine Rose Appleby

  Love is

  a chat with Granny and Grandpa

  and a treat from Mrs Mogg.

  It’s games with Tilda and Teddy

  and Cosmo, their naughty dog.

  It’s Uncle Digby’s breakfasts,

  it’s Lavender tickling my cheeks.

  It’s building cubbies with Sophie and Jules,

  and Pharaoh snuggles when I’m asleep.

  It’s adventures with Aunt Violet,

  who drives way too fast,

  but I love her funny stories

  and at least we never come last.

  It’s hugs and kisses from Mummy –

  I’ll never be too big for those.

  It’s my new brother, Will, and father, Drew,

  who I’m so glad Mummy chose.

  The Appleby household

  Clementine Rose Appleby

  Six-year-old daughter of Lady Clarissa

  Lavender

  Clemmie’s teacup pig

  Lady Clarissa Appleby

  Clementine’s mother and the owner of Penberthy House

  Digby Pertwhistle

  Butler at Penberthy House

  Aunt Violet Appleby

  Clementine’s grandfather’s sister

  Pharaoh

  Aunt Violet’s beloved sphynx cat

  Drew Barnsley

  Clarissa’s husband

  Will Barnsley

  Drew’s son and Clementine’s stepbrother

  School staff and students

  Mrs Ethel Bottomley

  Teacher at Ellery Prep

  Mr Roderick Smee

  Year One teacher

  Sophie Rousseau

  Clementine’s best friend

  Poppy Bauer

  Clementine’s good friend

  Araminta Hobbs

  Eleven-year-old daughter of Basil and Ana

&n
bsp; Tilda Hobbs

  Twin sister of Teddy, classmate

  Teddy Hobbs

  Twin brother of Tilda, classmate

  Angus Archibald

  Friend in Clementine’s class

  Joshua Tribble

  Clementine’s classmate

  Saskia Baker

  Clementine’s classmate

  Friends and village folk

  Margaret Mogg

  Owner of Penberthy Floss village shop

  Claws Mogg

  Margaret’s tabby cat

  Basil Hobbs

  Documentary filmmaker and neighbour

  Ana Hobbs (nee Barkov)

  Former prima ballerina and neighbour

  Cosmo

  The Hobbs’s cavoodle pup

  Father Bob

  Village minister

  Adrian

  Father Bob’s dribbly bulldog

  Pierre Rousseau

  Owner of Pierre’s Patisserie in Highton Mill

  Odette Rousseau

  Sophie’s mother

  Jules Rousseau

  Eight-year-old brother of Sophie

  Mrs Tribble

  Joshua’s mother

  Others

  Sebastian Smote

  Wedding planner

  Mr Johansson, Mr and Mrs Swizzle

  Guests at Penberthy House