‘If only we could open it,’ Clementine sighed.
‘I found a whole box of keys when I was looking for photographs the other week,’ Lady Clarissa said. ‘I’ll get them later and we can see if any of them work.’
‘Maybe there’s some treasure inside, like when we found Granny’s jewels and Flash,’ Clementine gasped. Tilda and Teddy’s tortoise had once gone missing, only to be located in an old jewellery box at the fair.
‘Oh, I hope there aren’t any animals in there – I don’t think they’d be in a very good way by now. You never know, there might be something interesting,’ her mother agreed. ‘Anyway, we’d better get a move on.’
Clementine slipped her hand into her mother’s and the pair hurried downstairs.
Clementine was on her way to the toilet when the front doorbell rang.
‘I’ll get it,’ she called out as she opened the door.
A short man in a camel-coloured suit stood on the porch. He wore a white shirt with a brown-and-yellow striped tie and was carrying a tan briefcase in one hand and a small suitcase in the other. He had a funny pork-pie hat on his head with tufts of grey hair poking out at the sides.
‘Hello,’ the child said. ‘May I help you?’
The man looked Clementine up and down, wondering if she was always dressed as though she were living in the 1800s.
Clementine realised that he was staring at her with an odd expression. ‘Basil is making a film and I’m my great-great granny today,’ she explained. ‘But I’m really Clementine.’
‘I see.’ The man nodded. ‘My name is Alfie Doncaster and –’
Clementine inhaled sharply. ‘The man with the bad reports,’ she whispered.
A row of lines knitted across his brow.
Clementine gulped. ‘Come in,’ she said, remembering her manners. ‘I’ll get Mummy.’
The child turned and scurried down the hall to the library, leaving Mr Doncaster on his own.
‘People only get bad reports if they deserve them,’ Alfie muttered to himself. ‘I’m not the big, bad wolf, you know.’
He set his bags on the floor and surveyed the entrance hall, making a mental note of the room. The wide floorboards gleamed as did every other piece of furniture in sight. Alfie pulled a small contraption from his coat pocket and held it against an enormous mirror, which hung above an antique side table. He waited a moment then read the numbers on the screen before checking his reflection. Then he straightened his hat and turned around, just in time to see a pretty woman striding towards him.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Doncaster. I’m Clarissa Appleby.’ The woman smiled and held out her hand, glancing warily at the device he was holding.
‘Yes, hello.’ Alfie shook her hand warmly. ‘Lovely to meet you, Lady Appleby.’
‘Please, call me Clarissa,’ the woman replied. ‘May I ask what that is?’
‘Oh, this is my shine-o-meter, and I am pleased to say that your mirror has an almost-perfect sheen.’
Clarissa exhaled gently. ‘Would you like to go straight to your room, Mr Doncaster? You can leave your suitcase here. The butler will bring it up shortly.’
‘If I may, I’d like to get started as soon as possible, and no need for anyone else to carry my bags,’ the man said. ‘I can manage.’
‘Of course. Please follow me.’ Clarissa beckoned and started up the stairs.
Her heart was pounding and she felt as if she’d swallowed a handful of sand, but there was no way she was going to let Mr Doncaster see her nerves.
‘I’m afraid you’ve come at an interesting time, Mr Doncaster.’ Lady Clarissa turned and smiled at him as they reached the first-floor landing. ‘We’re actually in the throes of filming a documentary. I hadn’t planned on any guests this week at all.’
‘A documentary, you say?’
‘Yes, Basil Hobbs is directing. He’s making a feature film on stately homes,’ Clarissa replied, ‘and ours is one of them.’
‘I love his work. I took Mrs Doncaster to see that last movie he made on the castles of France and we both thought it was marvellous.’
‘Mr Doncaster, is it possible to know the exact nature of your enquiries here?’ Lady Clarissa asked as tactfully as she dared.
The man looked at her. ‘I wish I could tell you – I really do – but guests rely on their anonymity. Lady Appleby, from what I’ve seen so far, I suspect you have nothing to worry about.’
The woman sighed. ‘That is a relief. I can assure you, Mr Doncaster, we pride ourselves on having very high standards.’
‘We shall get along just fine then,’ Alfie said as they came to a stop outside a doorway at the end of the hall.
‘This is the Sage Room.’ Clarissa turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door, promptly pulling it closed again at lightning speed. She spun around, praying the man hadn’t seen a thing. ‘I’m terribly sorry but I’ve made a mistake. You’re not in this room at all. Silly me.’
Alfie Doncaster frowned. ‘Is everything all right, Lady Appleby?’
‘Yes, yes, I think the butler must have taken a last-minute booking while I was busy this morning. If you wouldn’t mind coming back to the sitting room, I’ll arrange tea and scones while I sort out a room for you,’ Clarissa babbled. She could feel a red flush creeping up her neck.
‘Well, I would like to get started soon,’ Mr Doncaster said, ‘but I have driven quite a long way and a cup of tea would be nice.’
Lady Clarissa directed the man to the sitting room, where everything seemed to be in order. ‘Please excuse me. I won’t be a minute.’
The woman rushed away to the kitchen, where she was relieved to find Digby Pertwhistle unpacking the groceries.
‘Hello Clarissa. How’s the shoot going?’ the man asked.
‘Uncle Digby, have you been in the Sage Room?’ she asked, catching her breath.
‘Not since I checked it last night. Whatever’s the matter?’
Lady Clarissa bit her lip. ‘It’s a disaster.’
‘A disaster?’ Digby frowned. It wasn’t like Clarissa to be so flustered.
‘Yes, the bed is unmade and there are toys strewn from one end of it to the other. I’ve got to run back and sort it out, and I’ll have to find another room for Mr Doncaster. Would you mind arranging tea and scones for him? Mr Doncaster’s in the sitting room. Thank heavens I didn’t just give him the key.’
Digby Pertwhistle shot over to the sink and filled the kettle. ‘I’m sure that room was perfect when I left it last night.’ He wondered if he was losing his marbles, particularly as he’d mislaid his master key too. It was most unlike him.
Clementine skipped into the kitchen. ‘Hello Mummy. Basil said that I could have something to eat because I got my scene right in just two takes.’ The child held out two fingers on her right hand. ‘Aunt Violet and the others will be here soon for morning tea too.’
‘Clementine, have you been in the Sage Room?’ her mother asked sharply.
The child shook her head.
Lady Clarissa’s lips formed a tight line as she considered her daughter.
‘Excuse me, Clarissa, but should I also make tea for Ms Spencer?’ Digby asked.
‘She’s gone out,’ Clementine piped up. ‘I saw her at the front door. I was glad she didn’t see me in case she’s still mad about last night.’
‘Just make enough for one,’ Lady Clarissa said to Digby. ‘I’ll be back in a bit and then, young lady –’ she turned to Clementine – ‘you and I need to talk.’
The woman rushed up the back stairs, leaving Clementine to ponder what was the matter.
‘I’ll get you something in a few minutes, Clemmie,’ Uncle Digby said as he arranged two plump scones on a plate with a pot of cream and another of home-made raspberry jam, and disappeared out the door.
Clementine’s tummy gurgled, and she looked around the kitchen for something to eat.
Several scones sat under the glass dome on the bench and there was a big white box next to it.
She lifted the lid and peered inside at a delicious-looking strawberry sponge cake.
‘Yum!’ Clementine licked her lips. She loved Pierre’s sponge cakes almost as much as Uncle Digby loved Pierre’s cream buns. Clementine glanced at the empty basket beside the cooker, thinking how sad Lavender and Pharaoh would be about missing out on the cake.
She wondered what was taking everyone so long when, suddenly, she had a bright idea. She would organise the morning tea herself! It couldn’t be that difficult and, besides, she was almost six years old.
Clementine stood in front of the dresser on her tippy toes and reached as high as she could. Her fingertips touched the bottom of the plate rack but she couldn’t quite get there. She pulled a chair over from the kitchen table and clambered onto it, carefully pulling down one plate at a time and stacking them on the dresser top. Then she counted out the cups and saucers and, finally, the cutlery.
A few minutes later, Clementine surveyed the neatly laid table. There was something missing.
‘Napkins!’ she exclaimed, and hurried into the pantry.
Clementine knew which ones she was after. They were blue and white and were her mother’s favourites. She searched high and low when at last she heard footsteps in the kitchen.
‘I’m in here, Uncle Digby,’ she called out, hoping he would be able to point her in the right direction. Instead, Clementine heard a dull thud. She shrugged, not thinking anything of it. Penberthy House made lots of noises.
When Clementine was just about to give up and settle on a set of rose-coloured napkins, she caught sight of the blue-and-white ones underneath.
‘Godfathers! What on earth’s happened in here?’ Clementine heard Aunt Violet shout.
The child emerged with a handful of the pretty linen serviettes. ‘Hello Aunt Violet, I was just setting the table for morning tea and I almost forgot the napkins. I know that you don’t like it when they’re missing, so I –’
‘No, I meant that! There!’ The old woman pointed at Pierre’s strawberry sponge cake, which appeared to have exploded on the flagstone floor with the box collapsed around it.
Clementine clapped her hand over her mouth, dropping the napkins. ‘But it was on the bench.’
‘It’s certainly not there now,’ Aunt Violet said, folding her arms. ‘I suppose it magically leapt off all by itself?’
Clementine shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, Mr Doncaster seems like a perfectly nice human being,’ Uncle Digby declared as he walked in from the hallway. ‘Oh dear,’ he said, spotting the mess. ‘What happened?’
At that moment, Lady Clarissa arrived down the back stairs and immediately spied the cake catastrophe. ‘Oh my goodness! Not another disaster.’
‘I wanted to surprise you, Mummy,’ Clemen tine started to explain.
‘You’ve certainly achieved that,’ Aunt Violet said.
Lady Clarissa turned to her daughter. ‘This is not a very good surprise, Clementine, especially after what I found in the Sage Room. When were you playing in there? I told you not to leave anything lying about.’
‘But I haven’t been in there,’ the child said.
‘I found these.’ Her mother held up a skipping rope and a long rubber python. ‘I’ve just thrown a whole heap more of your things back into your room.’
‘But I put them away.’ Clementine could feel her eyes pricking.
‘And you shouldn’t have tried to move that cake on your own,’ her mother admonished. ‘It’s far too big.’
‘I didn’t move the cake,’ Clementine pro tested. ‘I was in the pantry getting the napkins and I heard someone in the kitchen. They must have done it.’
Lady Clarissa frowned. ‘Clementine, you know how important it is to tell the truth,’ she said.
‘But I am.’ The child’s bottom lip began to tremble and fat tears wobbled in the corners of her eyes. She looked to Uncle Digby and Aunt Violet for support, only to find the same look of disappointment on their faces.
‘Oh, darling, please don’t cry. Why don’t you take these things up to your room and wash your face?’ Lady Clarissa suggested. ‘We can talk about it when you come back down.’
Clementine sniffed and brushed at the tears that refused to stop. She picked up the skipping rope and rubber snake and raced up the back stairs, wishing Lavender was home.
‘I wonder if we might be able to rescue some of this cake.’ Uncle Digby bent down to inspect the damage. The centre of it was still sitting on the base of the white box. ‘I made some jelly this morning. Perhaps I could fashion a trifle for morning tea.’
‘Ugh, I’m not eating it!’ Aunt Violet shuddered.
Uncle Digby grabbed a spatula and a large plate and knelt down on the floor. Just as he was about to lever the flattened cake out of the mangled box there was a knock on the kitchen door. Mr Doncaster poked his head in.
‘Hello,’ he called in a singsong voice.
Digby Pertwhistle froze.
Lady Clarissa spun around and tugged gently on her skirt, trying to obscure Mr Doncaster’s view.
But it was Aunt Violet who saved the day. She glided over to the fellow and stood directly in front of him. ‘Hello,’ she purred. ‘I’m Violet Appleby and you must be Mr Doncaster.’
‘Yes, I just wanted to let Mr Pertwhistle know that they were the most delicious scones I’ve ever eaten,’ the man said. He patted his round tummy. ‘I’m a bit of a connoisseur.’
‘Well, why don’t I bring you some more?’ Aunt Violet took Mr Doncaster by the arm and steered him back into the hallway.
Clementine shot up the back stairs, her face blotchy and wet with tears.
‘Um, hello,’ a small voice called out.
Clementine looked up to see Will standing in the hallway. She blinked her big blue eyes but her lip refused to stop trembling.
Will pulled out a tissue from his pocket and offered it to the girl. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Mummy thinks I left my toys in the Sage Room and that I dropped the cake, but I didn’t,’ Clementine blurted.
Will frowned, puzzled. His father walked up behind him and stopped. ‘Clementine, what’s wrong?’ the man asked gently.
‘I didn’t do it and Mummy thinks that I did,’ Clementine sobbed. ‘Mr Doncaster will give us a bad report and Mummy will have to sell the house and we won’t have anywhere to live.’ She could barely speak for the hiccupy gulps.
‘I can’t believe anyone would ever give your mother a bad report,’ Drew said with a smile. ‘The woman’s an angel.’
Clementine blew her nose and wiped her eyes. ‘I try my best to tell the truth. I really do.’
‘I’m sure you do.’ Drew grinned.
‘I have to take my things upstairs,’ Clementine said, remembering the skipping rope and rubber snake in her hand.
‘Would you like some help?’ Will asked. Drew smiled at the boy.
Clementine nodded. Will offered her his hand and the two of them walked upstairs to the third floor. Clementine opened her bedroom door.
‘What a mess!’ she exclaimed, turning to Will. ‘It’s not usually like this.’
Her mother must have been very cross because it looked as if she’d stood at the door and thrown everything inside. In the middle of the floor lay a doll with her right arm sticking straight up next to her head and her left leg kinked at an awkward angle.
Clementine bent down to pick her up and gasped. ‘It’s Nellie! I didn’t recognise her.’ She stared into the doll’s glassy eyes. ‘Her hair is all chopped off.’
‘Whoever did it mustn’t like dolls very much,’ Will said, examining the shaggy crop. ‘She looks like she’s been attacked by a hedge trimmer.’
A giggle escaped from Clementine’s lips, and Will grinned at her.
‘Thanks,’ Clementine said.
‘What for?’
‘Being my friend.’
Will blushed. ‘I don’t have a lot of friends.’
‘Why?’ Clementine asked.
> ‘I don’t like talking to people very much,’ the boy replied. ‘Not since Mum went away.’
Clementine frowned. ‘Where did she go?’
‘Heaven. Is that where your dad is too?’
Clementine looked surprised. ‘I don’t know where he is. Uncle Digby found me in a basket of dinner rolls in the back of Pierre’s van.’
‘What do you mean Uncle Digby found you?’ Will wondered if he’d heard her properly.
‘Mummy adopted me,’ Clementine said.
‘Don’t you want to know who your real mum and dad are?’ Will asked.
Clementine shook her head. ‘Mummy’s my real mummy now. She loves me and so does Uncle Digby. Even Aunt Violet loves me when she’s not being mean.’ She paused for a moment. ‘You have a great dad.’
Will nodded. ‘Your mum’s nice. My dad thinks so too.’
For a moment neither of the children said a thing.
Clementine sighed. ‘I wish I could find out who was in the kitchen. Do you think the person who dropped the cake is the same person who put my toys in the Sage Room? I know I didn’t leave them there.’
‘Maybe we should look for clues to see who did it,’ Will suggested.
Clementine’s eyes widened. ‘That’s a great idea,’ she said, opening the lid of her giant toy box. ‘We can be detectives, like on the television. Except I don’t know how to take fingerprints and I haven’t got one of those giant spyglass things.’
‘It’s okay. You don’t need all that stuff to be a detective,’ Will said.
Together, he and Clementine began to put everything away. Along with the doll there was a scruffy old bear, a jigsaw puzzle and some building blocks.
Clementine picked up her skipping rope and rubber python and dumped them into the toy box. She was just about to close it when she felt something under the lid. Clementine peered underneath and saw a tiny paper envelope taped inside.
‘Look at this,’ she said to Will.
Clementine Rose and the Movie Magic 9 Page 3
