Clementine Rose and the Surprise Visitor 1

by Jacqueline Harvey

  Clementine thought for a moment. They all liked camping in the Rose Room, where they could turn the four-poster bed into a giant tent. But that was off limits because Aunt Violet was there.

  ‘Can we camp in the attic?’ Clementine asked.

  ‘No, Clemmie, it’s jam-packed with all sorts of things and I think you might find it a little on the creepy side,’ her mother replied. Clarissa didn’t like going up there in the middle of the day, let alone the thought of staying there all night.

  ‘What about the library?’ Clementine suggested.

  ‘Perfect,’ her mother said. ‘And at least there won’t be any dust, either.’

  Clementine loved the library. It was one of her favourite rooms in the whole house.

  ‘Why don’t you go and get some pillows from the linen press and take them downstairs,’ her mother suggested. ‘I can finish up here.’

  Clementine nodded. ‘Come on, Lavender,’ she called to the tiny pig, who was snuffling about under the bed. ‘We’ve got to get your basket and blanket and all the duvets and at least one hundred pillows.’

  Clarissa smiled to herself. She couldn’t imagine how dull her life would have been without Clementine.

  Clementine dragged piles of pillows and duvets downstairs to the library where Digby Pertwhistle was almost finished cleaning.

  After their second run, Lavender stayed behind and settled in for a nap under one of the armchairs.

  As Clementine charged up the back stairs to her bedroom, she caught sight of Aunt Violet coming out of the room. She was tucking something sparkly into the pocket of her trousers.

  ‘Hello Aunt Violet,’ Clementine called. ‘Were you looking for me?’

  The old woman shot into the air and spun around.

  ‘Good heavens, child, do you make a habit of sneaking up on people or do you reserve that especially for me?’ she snarled.

  ‘I didn’t mean to.’

  ‘Well, you did. And no, I wasn’t looking for you,’ Violet said with a small snort of disbelief.

  ‘But you were in my room,’ Clementine said, remembering how cross Aunt Violet had been when she had visited the Rose Room.

  ‘It was my room, actually, when I was a girl. And I was just looking,’ Violet replied.

  ‘Did you like it?’ Clementine asked.

  ‘No, it was much prettier when it was mine. But I suppose we could always fix it up to the way it should be. Perhaps I’d like to have it again.’

  ‘But it’s my room now,’ Clementine said.

  ‘You could move,’ said Violet. ‘This is a big house.’

  Clementine wondered what her great-aunt was talking about. She wasn’t moving out of her room.

  ‘Are you staying for a long time, Aunt Violet?’ Clementine asked.

  ‘That depends. Has Pertwhistle finished in the library yet?’ the old woman demanded.

  ‘No. Uncle Digby’s doing a spring clean and they take ages and then my friends are coming to stay for the night and we’re having a camp-out,’ Clementine explained.

  ‘What friends?’ asked Violet.

  ‘Sophie and Jules. They live in Highton Mill. Their father Pierre makes all of those lovely cakes you like to eat,’ Clementine prattled.

  ‘Village children?’ Violet frowned. ‘Don’t you have any more suitable friends?’

  Clementine was puzzled. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Aunt Violet.’

  ‘I’m exhausted,’ the woman declared. ‘Tell your mother to bring me a cup of tea in my room. I’ve got a headache coming on.’

  Clementine watched as her great-aunt strode along the hallway to the main staircase. Surely she couldn’t take her room away. Grandpa would have something to say about that.

  ‘Now, make sure that you do everything Clarissa asks and don’t get into any trouble,’ Odette instructed her two children as they stood on the driveway beside Clementine and her mother.

  ‘Come on, Odette, we ’ave to get all the way to Downsfordvale before dark,’ Pierre called from the driver’s seat.

  Odette gave her children a kiss on each cheek and then did the same to Clementine and Clarissa.

  ‘Sacrebleu, Odette, ’urry up. It’s only for one night. We will come back and get them tomorrow. Maybe.’ Pierre grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘That’s fine with us, Papa,’ Jules told his father. ‘We love it here.’

  ‘Maybe your Mama and me, we’ll leave you with Lady Clarissa for a week and take an ’oliday,’ Pierre teased.

  ‘We’re having a camp-out,’ said Clementine. ‘That’s like a holiday.’

  ‘In the library,’ Sophie added, as her mother closed the passenger door.

  ‘Au revoir,’ Odette called.

  ‘Goodbye,’ the children chorused as the little van sped off down the driveway.

  Lady Clarissa would gladly have kept Sophie and Jules for a week. Jules was a wonderful big brother to Sophie, and he and Clementine got along famously too.

  ‘Come on then, what would you all like for afternoon tea?’ Clarissa asked. ‘Your father has left me half the patisserie, I think.’

  ‘Chocolate brownie for me,’ Sophie said.

  ‘Chocolate eclair for me,’ Jules said.

  ‘Is there a meringue?’ Clementine was imagining the sweet tingly confection melt away in her mouth.

  ‘Several, I think,’ Clarissa nodded.

  ‘Yum! We need to have lots of energy if we’re going camping in the library,’ said Clementine.

  ‘Why?’ Sophie asked, her brown eyes wide.

  ‘Because we’re going on a safari,’ said Clementine, as if it was obvious. ‘Just like Grandpa did when he was young, except we’re not going to shoot the animals, we’ll just take some photographs.’

  Jules laughed. ‘So this is another adventure of yours, Clementine. Like last time when you said that all the people in the portraits on the walls had come to life and you told us about them.’ Sophie and Jules loved Clementine’s stories.

  Clementine nodded. The three children followed Lady Clarissa into the entrance hall and Lavender trotted along behind.

  ‘Do you remember when I told you about that lady up there?’ Clementine pointed at Aunt Violet’s portrait. ‘I said that her name was Grace and she was beautiful and kind.’

  Sophie and Jules nodded.

  ‘Well, that’s not her name.’

  Lady Clarissa disappeared into the hallway on her way to the kitchen.

  ‘What is her name?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘It’s Violet and she’s not beautiful. She’s snappy and cross, and she’s asleep upstairs,’ Clementine said.

  Sophie and Jules gasped.

  ‘But I thought she was dead, like your grandfather,’ Sophie said, her mouth gaping.

  ‘I thought so too, but she came on Friday,’ Clementine explained. ‘And I don’t think she likes me very much and she definitely doesn’t like Lavender. She has a sphynx that looks like a giant rat and this afternoon she said that she might like to have my bedroom. But she does wear nice clothes and she has some of the loveliest shoes I’ve ever seen and she didn’t tell on me last night about Mr Sparks’s hair.’

  ‘What happened to Mr Sparks’s hair?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘It’s complicated,’ Clementine replied. ‘I’ll tell you later.’

  ‘Maybe she just doesn’t know you very well yet,’ Jules suggested.

  ‘Maybe, but she really doesn’t like Uncle Digby,’ Clementine confirmed.

  ‘We should stay out of her way, then,’ Jules decided. ‘Your house is so big we shouldn’t have to see her at all.’

  The two girls nodded.

  ‘Come on, let’s get something to eat and then we can start building our tents.’ Clementine raced off towards the kitchen with Sophie, Jules and Lavender hot on her heels.

  The children had a wonderful afternoon setting up camp in the library. Lavender played hide and seek, running in and out from under the bedsheets that the girls were using to make their tents. Cl
ementine convinced Uncle Digby to light a fire in the library hearth. She told him that a camp wasn’t ‘proper’ unless there was a camp fire and, besides, a chill breath of wind was swirling through the house, a sign of a storm to come. Late in the afternoon, Mrs Mogg appeared with a delivery of groceries for Lady Clarissa including a giant packet of marshmallows and some extra-long skewers.

  By half past five, when Lady Clarissa brought their tea, Clementine, Sophie and Jules had transformed a corner of the enormous library using sheets, pegs and various bits of furniture. Clementine and Sophie had set up their beds under the desk, with a sheet over the top. Jules had a much more elaborate tent. It hung from the gallery upstairs and draped over a padded bench seat, giving him enough space inside to lie down or stand up.

  ‘Well hello, my adventurers,’ Lady Clarissa called as she carried in a tray with three plates of creamy scrambled eggs on hot buttered toast. Digby Pertwhistle followed close behind with three steaming mugs of hot chocolate and a bowl of vegetables for Lavender.

  ‘Hello Mummy, hello Uncle Digby.’ Clementine poked her head out from under the desk and greeted the pair. ‘Do you like our camp site? We’re on safari in Africa.’

  ‘Yes, darling, it’s wonderful,’ Lady Clarissa said, smiling as she surveyed Clementine’s stuffed toys, which the children had positioned around the room. ‘Look at all those animals! And I love the way you’ve made your tent two-storeys, Jules. That’s terribly clever.’

  ‘I love camping at your house,’ Jules replied. ‘It’s much better than when Papa took us to Gertrude’s Grove for a weekend and it rained and rained and our tent had a hole in the roof. At least in here, we won’t get wet.’

  ‘Don’t bet on it, young man.’ Digby Pertwhistle set his tray on a small table beside the desk. ‘I heard the forecast was for storms tonight and I was about to get some buckets. Depending on how bad it gets, you might have a drip or two right above your head.’

  ‘Just a couple of drips are okay. On our camping trip we were soaked and Mama said that it was the most terrible weekend of her life,’ said Jules as he straightened the sheet.

  ‘All right, big game hunters, come and have your supper while it’s hot,’ Clarissa called.

  ‘We’re not hunters, Mummy,’ Clementine said. ‘We’re wildlife photographers. See?’ She reached under the desk and passed her mother an old Polaroid camera.

  ‘Heavens, where did you find that?’ Clarissa took it from her daughter and examined the contraption, before giving it back.

  ‘Uncle Digby found it and it still works,’ said Clementine. She pointed the camera at her mother, snapped the shutter and a photograph whirred out of the front of the machine.

  ‘Gosh, I think I won that when I was a teenager. I haven’t seen it for years but at the time I thought it was the fanciest thing going.’ Clarissa laughed at the memory. ‘Well, I hope you find some elephants and tigers and maybe even a lion or two in here tonight. But save your shots for the most exciting things because I think the film runs out quite quickly.’

  Jules clasped the front of his tent together with two clothes pegs and joined the girls near the fire.

  ‘Would you like Uncle Digby to come back and tell you a story later?’ said Clarissa with a wink at the old man. ‘When I was a little girl he used to tell me wonderful tales about African safaris.’

  Digby Pertwhistle shook his head. ‘Oh, my dear, I think I’ve almost forgotten about my African adventures.’

  ‘No!’ Clementine Rose complained. ‘Please tell us a story, Uncle Digby.’

  ‘Yes, please, Uncle Digby,’ Sophie added.

  Lavender looked up and grunted.

  ‘See, everyone wants you to,’ Jules insisted.

  ‘Well, eat your supper and I’ll be back with the marshmallows in a little while,’ Digby agreed.

  Clarissa and Digby retreated to the kitchen and left the children to eat their fireside feast.

  A branch outside banged against the window as the wind picked up speed.

  ‘I hate storms,’ said Sophie.

  ‘I love them,’ Clementine said, as she loaded her fork with a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

  ‘You have to be brave, Sophie,’ her brother told her. ‘Like Clementine. The storm can’t hurt you.’

  ‘But I don’t like the lightning and the thunder,’ his sister said. ‘It sounds like a giant in a bad temper.’

  ‘I think it’s a giant having a party,’ Clementine replied. ‘Anyway, tonight we’re together so nothing can hurt us.’

  Jules raised his mug of hot chocolate in the air. ‘Let’s have a toast to our camping safari.’

  Clementine raised her mug and nudged Sophie to do the same.

  ‘To our camping safari,’ the girls chorused. Lavender snorted happily.

  At half past eight, after a wonderful tale about mischief-making monkeys and a hippo who liked to eat liquorice, the children brushed their teeth and crawled into their makeshift beds. Outside, the rain had begun to splatter against the windows but within minutes the only noise inside the tents was the shallow breathing of little bodies and a small squeak coming from Lavender, who was also fast asleep.

  Clarissa peeked in on the group, switched off the children’s torches and closed the library door.

  Aunt Violet had stayed in her room for the rest of the day. Clarissa had taken her a tea tray of boiled eggs and toasty soldiers for her supper, but Violet was fast asleep. Beside her, Pharaoh opened one eye and stared at his hostess, then curled his lip. Clarissa thought Clementine was quite right when she said that he was the strangest creature she’d ever seen.

  Clarissa looked at the bags and clothes covering the room. Her aunt certainly had a lot of luggage with her. She walked over to straighten the cushions on the chaise longue and noticed a letter on the desk.

  Clarissa leaned in to take a closer look, scanning the page. She glanced towards the bed where her aunt slept. ‘So that’s why you’re here,’ she whispered. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have nowhere to go. And while Aunt Violet was a lot of things, cranky and rude being top of the list, she was also family.

  Just after 10 pm, Digby Pertwhistle retired to his room. It wasn’t long afterwards that Lady Clarissa made a final check on the children and went up to bed too.

  Outside, the wind was beginning to howl. A loose shutter on the far end of the house had started to bang and Clarissa hoped that it didn’t wake anyone. She hated the thought of having to go and attend to it in her nightdress, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Overhead, thunder rumbled but down in the library the children slept without stirring.

  Clementine was in the middle of a lovely dream about her grandpa. She was telling him a new poem she had learned when suddenly lightning tore open the darkness and filled the library with light. She awoke with a start and felt as if she was falling through a giant hole in the sky.

  It took her a few moments to remember where she was.

  Clementine lay awake under the desk as the light flickered around her. Goosebumps suddenly sprang up along her arms. It wasn’t just the storm – she had a feeling there was someone else in the room. She crept to the edge of the tent and pulled open the sheets. A figure dressed in white stood at the end of the room. It had silver hair and bare feet and there was a glow coming from the end if its arm. Clementine wondered if it was one of her ancestors, perhaps from the portraits on the walls. She watched as the ghost pulled some books from the shelf. Clementine rubbed her eyes and wondered if she was still dreaming.

  ‘I knew it,’ a voice whispered. ‘I knew you were in here. And now you’re mine.’

  It was the ghost speaking. Clementine reached for the camera beside her.

  Sophie stirred. ‘What are you doing?’ she yawned.

  ‘Shhhh!’ Clementine pressed her finger against Sophie’s lips. ‘There’s a ghost out there.’

  Sophie’s eyes widened. ‘A ghost? On our safari?’

  ‘I’m going to take its picture,’ Clementine whi
spered.

  Sophie shook her head. ‘No!’

  ‘Stay here.’ Clementine began to crawl out from under the desk.

  The ghost had its back to her. It turned around and at the same time a huge streak of lightning lit up the window and the whole library.

  ‘Oh!’ The ghost caught its breath. ‘Who’s there?’ it whispered urgently when it saw Jules’s two-storey tent.

  Clementine crept in front of the white figure and pressed the button on the camera. The flash went off and Aunt Violet stood frozen to the spot.

  ‘You again! What are you doing?’ she demanded.

  ‘Phew!’ Clementine let out the breath she had been holding. ‘I thought you were a ghost, Aunt Violet!’

  Sophie scrambled out from under the desk. ‘What’s that?’ she asked, pointing at Aunt Violet’s hand.

  Jules was awake now too. He wriggled out of his tent to join the girls. The children had Violet surrounded.

  ‘Go back to sleep,’ she ordered. ‘You’re all dreaming. I am a ghost. You are asleep and I was never here. Now give me that.’ She reached out and tried to snatch the photograph that had whirred out of the old camera.

  ‘What’s going on in here?’ Lady Clarissa flicked on the library lights. ‘Aunt Violet! What on earth?’

  Digby Pertwhistle hadn’t been able to sleep either and was on his way to the kitchen to make a cup of cocoa when he heard the kerfuffle.

  ‘Is that you, Violet?’ he asked, squinting at the old woman in her nightgown.

  Violet tried to hide whatever it was she was holding behind her back.

  But Clementine handed her mother the picture that was coming to life in front of them.

  ‘Is that . . .’ Clarissa hesitated, peering at the image. ‘Is that the Appleby tiara?’ She handed the photograph to Digby Pertwhistle.

  ‘Oh, my dear, I think it is. That tiara and the matching necklace and earrings have been missing for years. Your mother always thought the set had been stolen. You know it’s worth a fortune.’