‘Oh, good heavens,’ Aunt Violet began. Clementine cowered, waiting for her great-aunt to explode like a firecracker. Aunt Violet saw the girl’s anxious face and her own expression softened. ‘Is that all?’
Clementine was about to put her fingers in her ears when she realised what Aunt Violet had said. ‘Aren’t you mad at me?’
‘Why would I be?’ the old woman asked. ‘It’s nothing that can’t be fixed.’
Clementine could hardly believe it. ‘Are you all right, Aunt Violet?’
‘No one was hurt, were they? You didn’t hear any shouting from up in the room? It’s just a pane of glass and it can be replaced,’ the woman replied. ‘Besides, Clementine, I can’t tell you the number of windows your grandfather and I broke over the years with our overly enthusiastic games of cricket. It’s something I was very good at as a child. I even played for the county – not that you’d want to know about that.’
‘But it’s Miss Richardson’s room,’ said Clementine. She was wondering why Aunt Violet was talking about cricket.
‘Jolly good. That will give the silly old bat a reason to get outside for a while. That room smells like old socks and mustard after having her holed up for the entire week. I need to get some newspaper, a dustpan and broom and a garbage bag. And I’d best check if any of the glass has fallen out here too.’
Clementine ran along the hedge under the window and pointed at a large shard resting on top.
‘Come away from that, Clementine,’ Aunt Violet called. ‘I’ll do the cleaning up. Why don’t you find Lavender and Pharaoh and bring them inside. I’ll pop in and get what I need.’
Clementine watched Aunt Violet stride through the kitchen door. She had thought her great-aunt would be really mad but she wasn’t. Clementine wondered if something had happened to her, but she had no idea what it was.
‘Right. Now to inspect the damage in the Rose Room,’ said Aunt Violet as she wrapped up the shards of glass she’d found in the garden and put the bundle in the bin.
‘May I come and help you?’ Clementine asked.
‘No, you need to run along and get changed,’ Aunt Violet said.
‘Why?’ Clementine asked.
‘Remember we’re having that ghastly dinner with the guests?’ Aunt Violet reminded her. ‘Off you go.’
‘I wonder what I should wear,’ Clementine said. She rushed up the back stairs and almost bumped into her mother.
‘Oh hello, darling,’ said Lady Clarissa. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t get to see Ana and Basil but I was busy showing Mr and Mrs Morley to their room.’
‘It’s all right, Mummy. Aunt Violet saw Ana and she said that she would telephone you on Sunday to see if I can go and play.’
Aunt Violet bustled up behind Clementine. She was carrying an armful of newspaper and a dustpan and broom.
‘Hello Aunt Violet,’ said Clarissa. She eyed the goods in her hands. ‘What are you doing with that?’
Clementine waited for her great-aunt to dob her in.
The old woman jutted her chin and said, ‘Nothing for you to worry about at all.’
Lady Clarissa shook her head. ‘What’s got into you?’
‘Can’t a person indulge their passion for cleaning once in a while?’
‘Aunt Violet, since when have you had a passion for cleaning?’ Lady Clarissa asked, frowning.
‘Well, now might be the one and only time you see it, so if I were you I’d keep quiet and get out of my way,’ Aunt Violet announced and walked past.
‘Don’t let me stop you,’ Clarissa called after her. ‘Remember, dinner’s at seven.’
‘Quite right,’ said Aunt Violet. ‘Set an extra place at the table.’
‘An extra place?’ asked Lady Clarissa.
‘Yes, Miss Richardson will be joining us.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Lady Clarissa said slowly. ‘I asked her this morning and she said that she was perfectly happy to have dinner in her room, as usual.’
‘Well, I’m telling you she’s having dinner downstairs whether she likes it or not.’ Aunt Violet turned and disappeared along the hallway.
‘Do you know what that was all about?’ Lady Clarissa asked Clementine.
The child nodded and was about to tell her mother what had happened to the window when her great-aunt’s sharp voice sounded from the end of the corridor. ‘Clementine, run along and get dressed. You’d better make sure that Pharaoh and Lavender have had their dinner too.’
‘Sorry, Mummy, I’ve got to go.’ Clementine inched past her mother and made a dash for the top floor.
‘I’ve put out a couple of dresses for you to choose from,’ her mother called after her. ‘They’re hanging on the wardrobe door.’
Lady Clarissa walked down the back stairs, wondering what on earth was going on.
Violet Appleby knocked sharply on the door of the Rose Room.
‘Yes,’ a soft voice called from the other side. ‘Come in.’
Aunt Violet poked her head around. ‘Good heavens, what happened in here? Cyclone in a paper factory?’
The room was covered in paper from the floor to the bed and just about every surface in between.
‘May I help you?’ Miss Richardson rose from her seat at the small dining table in the corner. Already small and thin, she seemed even smaller and thinner after spending almost a week in her room. Her ice-grey hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck and she wore a grey cardigan and black slacks with a white shirt.
‘I need to clear away some glass,’ Aunt Violet said, giving the woman a cursory glance. ‘And you need some sunlight.’
Miss Richardson frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘You must have heard it shatter,’ said Aunt Violet. ‘You haven’t left the room, have you?’
‘No, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Violet Appleby picked her way through the paper maze on the floor, careful not to tread on any of the pages. She walked to the desk under the window, which was sprinkled with slivers of glass.
Miss Richardson followed her. ‘Oh dear, how did that happen?’ she gasped. ‘I thought I heard a tinkling noise when I was in the bathroom.’
‘One usually hears a tinkling noise in the bathroom.’ Aunt Violet smiled at her own joke. ‘But this one could be hazardous to your health.’
‘Let me clear away some of those papers,’ the old woman offered. ‘I suppose it was fortunate I wasn’t sitting there.’
‘No, it’s fine. I’ve got a better idea. I’ve arranged for someone to patch the window this evening. You’ll have to come down and join us for dinner in the dining room,’ Aunt Violet instructed. She hadn’t yet made the call but Miss Richardson didn’t need to know that.
‘But I’d rather not,’ Miss Richardson said. ‘I’m working.’
‘Yes, and I’d rather not have to eat dinner in the dining room with the guests but I don’t have any choice in the matter. It’s beautiful outside at the moment. Why don’t you go for a walk around the garden? You could do with some colour, or we’ll have the other guests thinking there’s a vampire in residence.’
Miss Richardson’s jaw dropped. ‘Do you always boss your guests around in such a dreadful way?’
‘Only if they need it,’ huffed Aunt Violet. ‘I don’t know what you’re working on but all this being cooped up can’t be good for you. And it’s not as if you’re going to win a Nobel Prize, now, is it? Not for –’ Aunt Violet picked up one of the pages and scanned the words – ‘a book on the history of tractors? Godfathers, I’d be asleep after the first sentence. Off you go. I’ll clear away the glass and the man can come and fix the window while you’re at dinner.’
Miss Richardson wasn’t used to being spoken to that way at all, but it was clear Violet Appleby was not to be trifled with.
‘Do I need to change for dinner?’ Miss Richard son asked.
Aunt Violet looked at her. ‘No, you’ll do. Perhaps you could brighten yourself up with a scarf or that brooch there.’ Aunt Vio
let pointed at a sparkly pin on the dressing table.
Miss Richardson tied the scarf around her neck and stood near the door. She didn’t know exactly what she was waiting for but she lingered nonetheless.
‘Well, go on.’ Aunt Violet shooed her away and went back to the smashed window.
Miss Richardson turned and walked out the door.
Just before seven o’clock the guests gathered in the downstairs sitting room. Uncle Digby offered pre-dinner drinks while Lady Clarissa was busy in the kitchen. Mrs Mogg was there too, helping to prepare the meal. Entrees of salad and cold meats were already in place around the dining room table but the main course of roast beef, baked potatoes and a variety of vegetables was still simmering and sizzling in the ovens and on the cooktop.
‘Clarissa, why don’t you go and join everyone?’ Mrs Mogg urged. ‘Digby and I have this under control.’
‘Thank you, Margaret,’ Lady Clarissa said. She removed her apron and hung it on the hook beside the stove. ‘You’re a gem. Have you seen Clementine?’
At that moment the child skipped down the back stairs.
‘Hello Mummy, hello Mrs Mogg.’
Mrs Mogg spun around. ‘Oh my goodness, don’t you look lovely?’
Clementine wore a pink dress sprinkled with a pretty rose pattern. It was tied at the back with a large green bow. She had a matching bow in her hair and silver ballet slippers on her feet. She gave a twirl. ‘I love this dress. Thank you for making it, Mrs Mogg.’
‘Come along, darling,’ Lady Clarissa said. ‘And what do you have to remember?’
‘My best manners.’ Clementine emphasised the word ‘best’.
Lady Clarissa nodded. ‘And?’
Clementine’s nose wrinkled as she thought for a moment. ‘Don’t say anything mean about the guests.’ She was remembering the time she told a lady her job sounded boring and her mother had got cross.
Lady Clarissa smiled. ‘Yes, but I hope you never say mean things, Clementine.’
‘Not on purpose,’ the child replied.
Lady Clarissa led Clementine into the sitting room. Six guests were standing about drinking champagne and chatting. She scanned the room but there was no sign of Aunt Violet. A few minutes earlier Clarissa had heard her on the telephone making arrangements to fix something. But when she’d asked what it was, Aunt Violet had told her to mind her own business.
Clarissa introduced Clementine to Mr and Mrs Morley. He was a stocky man with thinning grey hair, while his wife was much taller with vivid red hair. Clementine thought they looked quite old, like Aunt Violet.
Mrs Morley leaned down, her long nose almost touching Clementine’s. ‘Hello dear. Is it lovely to live in this great big old house?’
The child reeled backwards as the fishy cloud of Mrs Morley’s breath hit her nostrils.
Clementine clamped her mouth shut and nodded her head like a trained seal. She could feel her face getting redder and her lungs growing tighter.
Mrs Morley frowned and wondered if there was something wrong with the girl. Perhaps she needed the toilet.
‘Clementine, come and meet the Lees,’ said Clarissa and guided her away.
The girl let out a huge sigh.
Mr Lee was a tall man with sleek black hair and round glasses. He wore a maroon-coloured velvet sports coat. His wife was blonde and wore a fitted dress patterned with sprays of white gardenias.
‘Hello,’ said Clementine. ‘I like your jacket, Mr Lee. And Mrs Lee, your dress is lovely.’
‘Oh, aren’t you a darling?’ Mrs Lee leaned down and met Clementine’s gaze.
‘And you smell nice too.’ Clementine inhaled the woman’s musk perfume, banishing the memory of Mrs Morley’s tuna breath.
‘What a precious child.’ Mr Lee looked at his wife and they both giggled.
Mrs Lee touched her husband’s arm. ‘Maybe we should have one.’
Clementine shook her head slowly. ‘Not all children are lovely, you know. There’s a boy in my class called Joshua and his mother told Mummy that she’d like to give him away. So, you could have him, but you might not like him very much.’
The Lees giggled again.
Lady Clarissa wondered if she should have Uncle Digby clear away the extra place setting for Miss Richardson. There was no sign of the woman, or Aunt Violet for that matter.
The sound of a distant gong interrupted the chatter.
‘They’re ready for us in the dining room,’ Lady Clarissa announced.
‘Do you always use the gong?’ asked a round woman in a fluttery posh voice. She wore a shimmery jacket and a pillbox hat with a tiny veil covering her eyes. An enormous silver handbag hung over her shoulder. Clementine thought she could turn it upside down and use it as a cubbyhouse.
‘No, Mrs Biggins, not these days. The house was run much more formally when I was little, especially if grandmamma was here visiting,’ Lady Clarissa explained. ‘Now if you’d like to follow me …’
Lady Clarissa walked into the foyer and across to the dining room. The guests paraded behind her. Clementine stayed at the back, showing everyone her best manners and letting them go first.
The group disappeared through the dining room door just as Aunt Violet walked down the main staircase. She was wearing a lovely cream silk pants-suit. A short, grey-haired woman was beside her.
‘Hello Aunt Violet,’ Clementine said. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yes, except that I must look a terrible mess. I only had a minute to get changed because I’ve been busy sorting out someone’s problems.’
‘Oh,’ Clementine said with a gulp. She wondered how long it would be until her mother learned of the broken window. ‘Is it fixed?’
‘I just let the glazier in the back door. And don’t worry. Clementine, I’m not planning on telling your mother. I’m sure she has enough to worry about.’ Aunt Violet gestured towards the woman beside her. ‘This is Miss Richardson.’
‘Thank you, Aunt Violet. Hello Miss Richardson,’ Clementine said. ‘I’m sorry about your window. I didn’t mean to break it. The ball just kept going and going and smash!’
Miss Richardson looked at Clementine but remained tight-lipped.
‘And I’m sorry I came to your room the other night. I just wanted to help,’ Clementine babbled.
Miss Richardson lowered her eyes to the floor. ‘Never mind.’
‘It’s all right,’ Clementine said. ‘I know lots of grown-ups don’t like children. Aunt Violet doesn’t, do you?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Clementine,’ her great-aunt retorted. ‘I like some children. Just not the snivelling ones. Which is most of them.’
Clementine grinned.
Aunt Violet walked into the dining room followed by Miss Richardson and Clementine.
The rest of the guests were taking their seats around the table. Each guest’s place was marked with a small card bearing their name in fancy script.
Miss Richardson was seated to Lady Clarissa’s left, opposite Clementine.
Mrs Biggins sat beside Miss Richardson. Her husband was even larger than she was and spill ed out over the sides of his chair. He had a black moustache and wild hair. Clementine thought he looked like a cartoon character, with his bulging cheeks and dimpled chin.
Uncle Digby appeared. He began to take the napkins from the bread-and-butter plates and shake them into the guests’ laps. When he reached Mrs Biggins, he noticed the woman was still clutching her handbag.
‘Would you like me to take that for you, ma’am?’ Uncle Digby asked. ‘I can put it somewhere safe.’
‘No, don’t touch!’ Mrs Biggins snapped and gripped the handles tighter.
‘Very well.’ He raised his eyebrows playfully at Clementine. She put her hands over her mouth to stop a giggle from escaping.
Mrs Biggins pushed the bag onto her knees and Uncle Digby shook her napkin out and laid it over the top. It looked like a circus tent on her lap.
When Uncle Digby reached Clementine, he leaned down
and whispered in the child’s ear.
‘What do you think she has in that bag, eh?’
Clementine put her hands on either side of his ear and whispered, ‘Gold. Maybe diamonds too.’
Uncle Digby winked. ‘I’ll try again later so we can take a peek.’
Lady Clarissa smiled at her guests as she leaned ever so slightly towards Clementine. ‘What are you two up to?’ she murmured.
‘It’s a secret.’ Clementine put her finger on her lip. Her mother shook her head a little and smiled.
‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,’ Lady Clarissa said from her seat at the head of the table. ‘Before we start, I’d like to introduce everyone, if I may?’
Aunt Violet rolled her eyes and muttered, ‘What is this? A self-help group?’
Lady Clarissa eyeballed her aunt and continued. ‘I think all of you have met my daughter, Clementine Rose, and that’s my aunt, Miss Appleby.’ She nodded at the old woman opposite her, then turned to her left. ‘This is Miss Richardson and next to her we have Mrs Biggins, then Mr Biggins and Mrs Morley. Across the table is Mr Morley and on my right we have Mr and Mrs Lee. Bon appétit.’
The group nodded politely at one another and picked up their cutlery. A few minutes later, Mr Morley asked, ‘So, what brings everyone to Penberthy Floss?’
‘We love a country weekend,’ Mr Biggins said. He smiled at his wife, but she was too preoccupied with her handbag to notice.
‘It’s our first wedding anniversary.’ Mrs Lee fluttered her eyelashes and patted her husband’s arm.
‘Oh, congratulations … Well done …’ a chorus of voices said at once.
‘What about you, Mr Morley?’ Aunt Violet asked.
‘I’m writing a book, actually. I thought it would be nice to find a peaceful place in the country to work on it,’ the man said with a smug smile.
Aunt Violet groaned and then tried to hide it by saying, ‘What a coincidence. Miss Richardson is also writing a book.’ She raised her eyebrows at the woman. Miss Richardson focused on the lettuce leaves in front of her while her cheeks grew red.
‘Oh really, Miss Richardson. Is that so? What do you write?’ Mr Morley asked.
Clementine Rose and the Famous Friend 7 Page 4
