Tabitha could only agree as they wandered past antique side tables and impressive artworks. There was a whole floor of classrooms below and rooms on the ground floor, which must have played host to grand dinner parties and balls in days gone by. The original owners, the Fayle sisters, lived in an apartment that opened out onto the garden at the rear of the building. Tabitha was yet to meet them.
Caroline ushered her through the foyer and down another long passageway to a door marked ‘PRIVATE’. She gave a gentle knock, then pushed it open into a shorter hallway, which led to a large kitchen where two elderly ladies were preparing dinner. One pulled what smelt like lasagne from the cooker and the other was pouring tumblers of soda water. Caroline introduced them and Tabitha immediately noticed the dreadful scar on Miss Hephzibah’s face. She tried not to stare but her gaze must have lingered too long.
‘It’s all right, dear,’ Hephzibah Fayle said with a kind smile. ‘It happened when I was a young woman. I know it’s confronting, but it’s just a scar and it doesn’t hurt.’
Tabitha was mortified at being caught gawping. ‘I-I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to upset you,’ she said, fiddling with the buttons on her cardigan.
‘Oh no, you didn’t. I was far more sensitive about the children in the village calling me “the witch in the woods” on account of my burns and the fact that for a long while I had rather a lot of cats.’ Hephzibah shook her head and chuckled. ‘When I think back now, it was utterly deserved and, if I were a small child, I’d have been quite scared of me too.’
‘Nonsense. No one ever had reason to be alarmed by you, dear sister,’ Henrietta said, placing a hand on Hephzibah’s shoulder.
Tabitha spied a large tabby asleep in a basket by the range and a black kitten preening itself on a chair in the corner. She wondered how many cats there still were. Henrietta Fayle set the deep dish of pasta onto the table, then fetched a pair of silver salt and pepper shakers from the pantry.
‘I’d hidden myself away here for decades, but it was only after I met Alice-Miranda that I realised exactly what I’d become,’ Hephzibah explained. ‘She helped reunite me with Henrietta and it was Alice-Miranda’s father who organised for the manor to be rebuilt and made useful again. It’s as if we’ve both been given a second chance at life.’
‘Alice-Miranda?’ Tabitha asked.
Hephzibah smiled. ‘You’ll meet her soon enough.’
‘And you will never have met anyone like her before, I can assure you of that,’ Henrietta chimed in as she added a generous drizzle of balsamic vinegar to the garden salad.
Tabitha nodded, surmising they were talking of a relative.
‘Anyway, come and sit down. We’re expecting Miss Reedy and Mr Plumpton too. That poor lady works so hard that I cornered her husband and made him promise she would take some time off over the weekend,’ Hephzibah tutted.
Minutes later, a tall, thin woman entered the room, trailed by a short, round man in a waistcoat. They were followed by a fellow with wild silver hair and a moustache that looked as if a furry caterpillar had crawled onto his top lip and set up camp there. He was wearing a lab coat, which seemed unusual attire for a Sunday afternoon.
Tabitha was swiftly introduced to her colleagues, who took their seats at the table.
‘Please make a start, everyone,’ Hephzibah said, nodding at the delicious spread of lasagne and garlic bread, crispy chat potatoes and salad.
‘Have you been working this afternoon, Mr Pratt?’ Henrietta asked.
Percy Pratt broke off two slices of garlic bread and placed them on his plate. ‘Yes, it’s important to ensure the experiments are going to be successful. The girls need to see competence along with enthusiasm.’ He glanced in Mr Plumpton’s direction. ‘Wouldn’t you agree, Josiah?’
The short, round man grinned. ‘Oh indeed. When you love science as much as we do, there’s no room for error.’
Percy coughed into his handkerchief. Josiah Plumpton was a walking catalogue of errors. Never in his life had he witnessed such bumbling yet no one else seemed to notice – not the girls, not the headmistress and especially not Josiah’s besotted wife. It was as if a jolly demeanour was enough to plaster over all of the cracks – no, craters – in the man’s teaching. One day he’d take a step too far and people would finally be awake to his ineptitude.
‘How wonderful that you were able to start so soon, Miss Crowley.’ Josiah Plumpton smiled at the woman as he passed the salad to his wife. ‘Livinia wasn’t looking forward to picking up all those extra classes.’
‘Don’t be so silly, Josiah. I would have managed,’ the woman said, batting a hand in his direction. ‘I’m only sorry I was away for your interview. You see, Miss Grimm is technically still on maternity leave and I’ve been running the school since her daughter, Aggie, was born. Tell me, what are some of your favourite texts to teach?’
Given Livinia was currently acting headmistress, she’d been miffed that Ophelia Grimm had arranged the interviews for Philomena Reeves’s replacement while she was at a conference. It had caused some tension between the pair, particularly as Livinia had always thought of herself as the head of English. The fact there were only two members of the faculty was beside the point. While she agreed that Tabitha Crowley seemed suitable, if a little inexperienced on paper, Livinia would have preferred to have met the woman before she’d been offered the job.
Come to think of it, Ophelia had undermined three of her recent decisions – by letting Caprice off her detention to attend the National Eisteddfod when the girl had been horrid to several staff members, lightening Percy’s extracurricular load because he’d complained of teaching more classes than Josiah, and promoting Benitha Wall to the position of acting deputy head after the children’s trip to Scotland even though no such position had existed before. If that was the case, Livinia was going to demand it was hers when Ophelia returned to work full-time.
Tabitha bit her lip and a long silence ensued.
‘Darling, you mustn’t put poor Miss Crowley on the spot like that,’ Josiah said cheerfully. ‘She’s only just settling in.’
‘Nonsense. It’s not a trick question,’ Livinia replied. She’d had two bites of supper and could already feel her hackles rising. If the woman couldn’t conjure a single book to mind, how was she going to keep up with the children?
The group stopped speaking and all eyes fell upon Tabitha.
‘Well,’ she began, ‘there’s To Kill a Mockingbird – a classic for the ages – as well as Shakespeare and Dickens, but I’m also rather fond of newer texts, which the children find more relatable. I think it’s important we support contemporary authors and don’t get stuck in a time warp of nostalgia for the books we experienced as children.’
‘Is that so?’ Livinia pursed her lips. ‘Would you care to enlighten us?’
Tabitha rattled off a list of at least ten titles, none of which Livinia was familiar with. She went on about the awards some had won, waxing lyrical to an appreciative audience.
‘Goodness me, you’ve made them sound so thrilling that I’m going to seek them out on my next visit to the library,’ Hephzibah said, and was joined by enthusiastic nods from the other diners.
Livinia set down her knife and fork on her plate. ‘I’m sure you understand that the texts are set for this term. You’ll have to keep those other books in mind for next year, assuming you make it through your probationary period and become a permanent member of staff, of course.’ She offered the woman a pinched smile.
Tabitha felt her stomach twinge. ‘Yes, of course. I’m looking forward to making a start with the Winchester-Fayle singers next week too,’ she said, eagerly changing the topic.
Livinia’s brow furrowed. ‘What do you mean? You were appointed to teach English.’
Percy flinched inwardly. The woman’s passion was admirable, but she’d soon learn that putting one’s hand up for extracurricular activities wasn’t very sensible.
‘And that’s absolutely my first responsib
ility, but Miss Grimm noted my musical accomplishments and said that she would talk to Professor Winterbottom about having me take over the group,’ Tabitha explained. ‘Music has always been a passion of mine, so when Miss Grimm mentioned that the Winchester-Fayle Singers were in need of a director, I leapt at the opportunity.’
‘Oh, how thoughtful,’ Caroline enthused. She hoped the woman leapt at every co-curricular opportunity so the rest of them could get on with the jobs at hand.
‘Marvellous!’ Josiah exclaimed, waving his fork in the air. ‘The children have been adrift since Mr Lipp found love with Frau Furtwangler. Livinia worked with them for a little while, but she doesn’t have the time nor the training. Isn’t that right, dear? They’ll be thrilled to have someone with your skills at the helm again, Tabitha.’
Livinia stared at her husband, willing him to close his mouth. ‘Frankly, Miss Crowley, I doubt you’re going to have the time. Mrs Reeves had a very full load and the sheer amount of marking alone is enough to send any teacher reaching for the aspirin.’
Tabitha Crowley plastered a smile across her face. ‘Thank you for the warning, Miss Reedy, but I’m a stickler for routine and I’ve never had a problem with workload before. I can promise you that.’
‘Well,’ Livinia said with a raised eyebrow, ‘let’s just make sure that the English classes always come first and the Winchester-Fayle singers fit in around your schedule.’
‘Of course.’ Tabitha swallowed a large gulp of soda water and hoped it would settle her churning stomach.
Hephzibah met her sister’s eye across the table, prompting the woman to speak.
‘Tell us, dear, where do you come from?’ Henrietta asked, trying to shift the mood.
‘North,’ Tabitha said, and left it at that. If Caroline Clinch could get away with a one-word response, then she could do the same.
As the girls sprinted towards the smoke, it became apparent that it was coming from a building in the high street. Being late Sunday afternoon, the road was all but deserted with just one lonely car parked outside Herman and Marta Munz’s general store.
‘It’s Fattoush!’ Millie yelled.
Flames shot out from under the restaurant awning and thick grey gusts billowed in an endless, rolling wave.
‘Has anyone got a phone?’ Alice-Miranda puffed, and was answered with a cacophony of noes.
‘I’ll go to the Munzes’ to call the brigade,’ Jacinta said, and raced away.
‘Don’t the Abbouds live upstairs?’ Sloane said.
‘Yes, they do.’ Alice-Miranda looked up at the second storey and that’s when the true horror of the situation hit her. Pressed against the window was a child’s face. Her tiny hands were banging on the glass and she was screaming. ‘Oh no, one of the little girls is inside!’
A narrow alleyway separated the building from the hairdressing salon next door. On the other side, the shop was attached to the bakery. If the brigade didn’t get there soon, the entire street could go up. Alice-Miranda used her jacket to cover her mouth and nose, then tore through the thick haze to the back of the building, hoping there was a way to get to the second floor. Chessie, Millie and Sloane followed, shielding their faces too.
Millie pointed to a small balcony accessed by a staircase leading from the garden. ‘Up there!’
‘Shouldn’t we wait for the brigade?’ Chessie shouted.
‘There’s no time.’ Alice-Miranda scampered up the stairs and used her jacket to grab the doorhandle. It wasn’t hot but it was locked.
Millie picked up a flowerpot and hurled it at the adjacent window, shattering the glass, then carefully reached inside and unlatched the door. The air was black and choking, but with their jackets providing makeshift filters, Alice-Miranda and Millie plunged into the haze. Outside, Chessie grabbed a hose and turned the tap as far as it would go. With Sloane’s help, the pair sprayed the flames that were escaping from the restaurant and licking at the back of the building. But it was a losing battle. Despite their best attempts, the fire was intensifying.
Meanwhile, inside the flat, Millie and Alice-Miranda charged through from the small kitchen and into the living room, where they found the little girl slumped on the floor by the window. She couldn’t have been more than three or four years old. Millie scooped her up and retraced her steps to the landing, where she passed the girl to Sloane and Chessie.
Sirens wailed in the distance. Around the front of the shop, a crowd had begun to gather. Jacinta searched the group for her friends, her stomach in knots. The fire truck roared into the street and pulled up with a whoosh of air brakes. As the crew of six leapt out and rapidly set to work, Jacinta jiggled on the spot. After a few more seconds, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She dashed into the wall of smoke and down the alley.
‘Stop!’ one of the firemen yelled, but she was already gone.
She rounded the corner into the back garden and found Chessie bent over a tiny girl, who was coughing and sputtering. ‘Where are the others?’ Jacinta asked. Her eyes widened when Chessie pointed to the flat.
Jacinta met Millie and Sloane at the door. They were supporting a woman who was sobbing while cradling a bigger child in her arms. She let out a cry of relief when she saw another of her daughters was with Chessie.
Two firemen wearing breathing apparatus with oxygen tanks strapped to their backs ran to her.
‘Is everyone out?’ the tallest of the officers yelled.
The woman shook her head. ‘My husband is downstairs and my babies are sleeping in the attic,’ she said, her voice shaking with fear. ‘My oldest … I do not know where she is.’
Another two firemen raced into the garden, pulling a long hose behind them.
‘Cover us,’ the taller officer ordered as he used an axe to break down the back door of the restaurant. Tendrils of fire shot out like a dragon’s tongue, but the other men held tight to the hose and released a torrent of water at the flames. It wasn’t long before the firemen emerged with Mr Abboud. They laid him down on the small patch of lawn just as Constable Derby arrived on the scene.
‘I’ll take it from here,’ the constable said, and used the radio on his vest to find out how far away the ambulance was. He was surprised to see Sloane, Chessie and Millie there with the Abboud children and their mother. ‘Is anyone still inside?’ he asked.
‘Yes!’ Millie said frantically. ‘Alice-Miranda’s up in the attic with Jacinta.’
‘Good heavens,’ the man rasped.
Two paramedics ran up from the rear lane.
‘Over here!’ Constable Derby shouted. ‘It’s Mr Abboud. He’s breathing but it’s shallow and he’s suffered burns.’
The paramedics quickly realised they needed back-up. One called for help while the other tended to Mr Abboud, who had slipped into unconsciousness. By now half the village was standing on the other side of the building, in the high street, watching the events unfold.
Myrtle Parker was beside her husband, clutching his arm. ‘I hope they got them all out. You know they have five children including the babies. Mrs Abboud has been pregnant for years.’
‘The brigade’s doing everything they can, dear,’ Reg said, patting his wife’s hand. Alerted to the unfolding drama by the Parkers, Ambrosia Headlington-Bear had hurried down to the high street and was standing beside her elderly neighbours, staring helplessly at the scene.
Herman Munz was there too, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘If it vosn’t for the children, the place vould have burned to the ground before ve knew it.’
‘What children?’ Myrtle turned to look at the man. ‘You mean the Abbouds?’
‘No, Jacinta and her friends,’ he said.
Ambrosia’s face drained of colour. ‘But the girls are at school,’ she said. ‘They left Rosebud Cottage half an hour ago.’
Herman slowly shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Ambrosia, they are at the restaurant. I saw Jacinta run down the lane vith my own eyes. The fireman vos yelling for her to come back but she did not stop.’
‘Dear God in heaven.’ Myrtle’s legs folded from the shock of it all. Reg only just managed to keep the woman upright.
‘Look!’ someone yelled. A face momentarily appeared at the attic window, causing a collective gasp from the crowd.
‘Alice-Miranda, you get yourself out of there!’ Myrtle Parker screamed.
‘Alice-Miranda, where are you?’ Jacinta cried out, then coughed fitfully. The air was hot and thick and scratched at her throat.
‘Up here,’ Alice-Miranda called. She felt her way through the gloom until her hands found the timber slats of a cot. She passed Jacinta the first infant, relieved to find the baby squirming and objecting loudly to being disturbed.
‘There, there,’ Jacinta cooed between sputters.
‘Go!’ Alice-Miranda ordered. She picked up the other child and pressed its face against her own. It was cold. For a second Alice-Miranda feared the worst until the child let out a startling scream. ‘Oh, thank goodness! Cry as loudly as you like, little one,’ she said. Holding the baby as tightly as she dared, Alice-Miranda scrambled down the stairs after Jacinta. They were met by Constable Derby and another officer who had arrived from Downsfordvale.
Not a minute later, the girls and babies were being checked by a second team of paramedics. Apart from looking like they’d been through a war zone, Alice-Miranda and her friends appeared to be fine. The Abboud children, on the other hand, would need to go to hospital for a thorough check-up and monitoring.
Their mother was hovering over the twins when she realised that her eldest daughter wasn’t with them. ‘Zahra!’ the woman screamed, turning circles in the yard. ‘Where is she?’
Flames shot up from the restaurant and had forced their way inside the flat. The curtains in the kitchen window were now well alight.
Alice-Miranda Keeps the Beat Page 2
