‘Accident or not,’ Myrtle said with a sigh, ‘I’m afraid life often isn’t fair.’
Alice-Miranda’s last lesson of the day was PE and involved a challenging obstacle course and cross-country run devised by Miss Wall. Back in the classroom, Millie thought her brain was going to explode as Mrs Clinch explained quadratic equations for the umpteenth time and she still didn’t have the foggiest. She’d have to ask Alice-Miranda to help with her homework again and see if she could make heads or tails of things.
The friends had passed each other on the way to last period and agreed to catch up at the stables after school. When Alice-Miranda had visited the Fayle sisters at lunchtime, Millie had gone in search of Miss Reedy to ask if she could muck out the stalls and feed the ponies as part of her punishment – that way she could see Chops even if she couldn’t ride him. Fortunately, the woman’s mood had lifted and she agreed, commenting that she was impressed Millie had wanted to make a start on her service work so soon.
Alice-Miranda was going to pay Bony a quick visit and check that the stone bruise on his foot was healing. When she and Millie had been out riding a week ago, the poor boy had managed to get a large pebble lodged in the cleft of his near front hoof. Charlie had offered to phone the vet, but Alice-Miranda opted to make a poultice and keep an eye on him. It wasn’t the first time the pony had suffered the injury and she was keen to see if she could deal with it herself. The good news was that Bony had been improving each day.
‘Hello!’ Alice-Miranda called, her voice echoing through the stone building.
Bonaparte whinnied loudly in reply, then thrust his head over the timber stall door and snorted.
‘Well, good afternoon to you too.’ Alice-Miranda walked over and gave the pony a rub on his nose. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen Millie?’
Bonaparte reached around and nibbled the girl’s hair.
‘Oi, stop that,’ she said. There were a few long strands dangling from the beast’s lips. She hurried off to the feed bins and lifted several lids before finding a stash of carrots.
Outside, a rhythmic kerthumping sound gave away Millie’s location. Moments later, she trudged in, pushing a wheelbarrow piled high with fresh straw bales. The new stablehand, a stout young woman named Dervla Nichols, was walking beside the barrow and holding on to the load to make sure it didn’t topple over on the uneven cobblestones.
Millie let go of the handles with a grunt, dropping the cargo to the ground. She wiped the back of her sweaty forehead with her hand and sighed. ‘Maybe I should have volunteered to tutor one of the junior girls instead.’
‘I can help,’ Alice-Miranda offered. She held out the carrot to Bony, who hoovered it from her hand in a heartbeat.
Millie fetched a pair of scissors from the storeroom to cut the twine on the bales while Dervla began to unload them, one outside each stall. ‘Thanks, but if Miss Reedy thought I was getting off lightly, she’d double my sentence,’ Millie grumbled. ‘Anyway, we can’t stay long this afternoon. We need to get back for the interview.’
Alice-Miranda glanced up at the clock on the wall. ‘We’ve got an hour or so. It won’t take me long to check Bony’s foot and then you can give me something to do.’
Millie grinned. ‘There’s a big pile of manure that needs to be moved.’
Alice-Miranda giggled. ‘Well, Daddy always says that shovelling dung is something everyone should do once in a while.’
‘Just maybe not every day.’ Dervla rolled her eyes, having spent the afternoon mucking out the stalls herself.
‘How are you enjoying the place, apart from the manure?’ Alice-Miranda asked.
Dervla had previously worked for Evelyn Pepper for eighteen months and had found it increasingly difficult to juggle her studies with the demands of her position. The property, Chesterfield Downs, was owned by Queen Georgiana and housed her prized racehorses. Alice-Miranda and Millie often rode over there to visit Bony’s boyfriend, a retired champion called Rockstar – one of Her Majesty’s most successful competitors. The pair adored each other, which was odd, as Bony didn’t adore anyone very much.
The young woman stopped to retie her ponytail. ‘Actually, it’s a doddle here compared to the racing stables. I wish I’d snared this job years ago, when I first started university. There’s a lot less poop here than over there, that’s for sure.’
Alice-Miranda had been fascinated to learn that Dervla was soon to graduate with a double degree in forensic science and criminology. She’d mentioned that she was keen to work for the intelligence service.
‘I heard about what you girls did yesterday in the village. Everyone’s talking about it,’ Dervla said.
‘Anyone would have done the same, given the circumstances,’ Alice-Miranda said. She walked into Bony’s stall and clipped a lead rope onto his halter, then fastened it to a round hook so she could examine his foot. She ran her hand down the pony’s front left leg and he lifted it up for her. Alice-Miranda then took the hoof pick off the ledge inside the stall and gently prodded the soft triangular section of his hoof, called the frog. For the first time since he was injured, Bony didn’t flinch. Instead he raised his tail in the air and trumpeted so loudly it sounded as if Charlie had started up the tractor outside.
‘You are a disgrace, Bonaparte Napoleon Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones.’ Alice-Miranda fanned her hand in front of her face. ‘What a stinker!’
An equally loud noise sounded from the stall next door.
‘Was that you, Buttercup?’ Alice-Miranda said.
‘I don’t think so,’ Dervla laughed. ‘All the other ponies are out in the paddock.’
‘Was that you, Millie?’ Alice-Miranda giggled.
‘Maybe … Okay, fine, it was me,’ Millie confessed. Peals of laughter rang out from Dervla and Alice-Miranda. ‘It’s because of those awful eggs this morning,’ Millie added sheepishly. ‘It’s been like the roaring forties today. I accidentally let one rip in Maths and Mrs Clinch thought she’d torn her trousers. You should have seen the woman – she was prancing about, trying not to let anyone get a look at the back of her pants until she could find a hand mirror to investigate. It was lucky I didn’t wet my pants laughing too, then of course Sloane dobbed me in.’
‘Poor Mrs Clinch,’ Alice-Miranda chortled. She picked up a brush and gave Bony’s neck a rub-down.
Dervla opened the stall door and collected his feed bin. ‘Have you heard any news about the Abbouds?’
Alice-Miranda frowned. ‘Mr Abboud is still in intensive care. Mrs Abboud and the children have been discharged. Sadly, I’ve heard on good authority from Mrs Parker that they have nowhere to go. It’s the most desperate situation.’
Millie’s head popped around the stall door. ‘What about the flat here, above the stables?’
It was a good idea, but Dervla had just moved in, and Alice-Miranda doubted that a family of five children and their mother – including two infant babies – would cope very well in the dusty, draughty building, not to mention the smells from downstairs.
‘That’s ridiculous – there has to be somewhere that poor family to go,’ Millie said. ‘I mean, how many people live here at school?’
Alice-Miranda’s eyebrows jumped up. ‘Oh, Millie, you’re a genius!’ She quickly untied Bony and scampered out of the stall. ‘Sorry for bailing on the manure, but I need to see Miss Grimm urgently. I’ll be back at the boarding house in time for the interview and I promise I’ll help on the weekend.’
‘What did I say?’ Millie called after her.
‘I’ll tell you later, if it works out,’ Alice-Miranda replied with a hearty wave. She couldn’t believe no one had thought of it earlier. It was perfect. Now she just had to convince Miss Grimm, although it crossed her mind that perhaps it was Miss Reedy she should have been asking.
Alice-Miranda ran around the back of Winchesterfield Manor to Miss Grimm and Mr Grump’s flat, where she could hear the baby crying inside. She rapped hard on the door and waited. A minute or so later, it sw
ung open and Mr Grump appeared, holding Aggie on one shoulder with a tea towel slung over the other.
‘Good afternoon,’ he said, breaking into a wide grin. ‘You’re looking hale and hearty after yesterday’s adventure. To what do we owe this pleasure?’
‘Hello Mr Grump, hello Aggie.’ Alice-Miranda tickled the toddler’s chubby bare leg. ‘I was hoping to speak with Miss Grimm, if I may. I have an idea and I need to talk to her about it right away.’
A delicious smell of roasting meat filled the air.
‘Come in. Ophelia’s just ducked through to her office to meet with Miss Wall, but she’s due back any time now.’ Aldous Grump swung Aggie down onto his hip. The baby took one look at their visitor through her teary blue eyes and her frown instantly dissolved.
‘Hello lovely girl.’ Alice-Miranda held her finger up and Aggie smiled, reaching out to grip it tightly before attempting to pull it into her mouth. Alice-Miranda laughed. ‘I think that might taste like Bonaparte’s dusty coat. Are you hungry?’
‘She’s always hungry, and around dinnertime she’s Grump by name and by nature.’ Aldous chuckled. Aggie squirmed and wriggled, eager to go to the girl, so Aldous passed her over and quickly set about mashing the potato, pumpkin, peas and carrots in the saucepan on the side of the sink.
Alice-Miranda closed her eyes and opened them with a ‘boo’ and was rewarded with several bouts of rapid-fire giggles from Aggie. Their game continued until Mr Grump walked over with her dinner. Alice-Miranda wrestled Aggie’s kicking legs into the high chair and found a bib.
‘Goodness, you’re a natural at this,’ Aldous said, placing the bowl down and a baby spoon beside it. ‘But don’t try to feed her or you’ll end up wearing it. Little Miss Independent has just discovered that she can do it herself and you won’t get that spoon off her for love nor money.’
Aggie picked up the utensil and dug into the bowl, managing to get a substantial lump onto her spoon before she shoved it into her mouth, spilling most of the contents down her front.
‘It’s very quiet in here,’ Ophelia said from the hallway. She walked through into the kitchen and was surprised to see they had a visitor. ‘Oh, hello Alice-Miranda.’
‘Hello Miss Grimm. I’m sorry to drop in unannounced, but there’s something I need to ask you and there’s no time to waste,’ the child said earnestly.
Aldous Grump greeted his wife with a kiss, then turned his attention to the onion that was peeled and waiting to be chopped on the board near the sink.
‘This sounds serious,’ the woman said, placing her notebook and pen on the table.
‘It is. It’s about the Abbouds,’ Alice-Miranda said, and launched headlong into her idea, outlining all the reasons why it would work and how the girls could help. By the time she’d finished, Ophelia Grimm was nodding in agreement.
‘You’re absolutely right – we need to do something immediately,’ the woman said. ‘I’ll call the hospital and speak to the matron. The sooner we can get that family rehoused, the sooner they can start getting their life back on track.’
Aldous turned around with tears streaming down his cheeks. ‘Well done, Alice-Miranda.’ He wiped his eyes with the tea towel. ‘Dratted onions get me every time.’
‘It was actually Millie who made me think of it.’ At the mention of the girl’s name, Alice-Miranda glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘Oh dear, I’m going to be late,’ she said, jumping to her feet.
Ophelia checked the time and frowned. ‘But dinner isn’t for another hour.’
‘Not for dinner. For the interview with Tilde McGilvray,’ Alice-Miranda said.
The woman’s eyebrows just about launched off the top of her forehead. ‘The what?’ she demanded. Aggie took one look at her mother’s face and her bottom lip began to quiver. Fat tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. ‘I specifically told Livinia I don’t want you girls reliving the ordeal and, frankly, journalists are untrustworthy to the core. They’re likely to sensationalise the whole thing and we simply can’t have that.’
It was hardly a surprise the woman felt that way. When Aldous’s daughter died, Ophelia had been ambushed by reporters who wrote awful things. When she’d finally agreed to an interview to try to make things better, the journalist had turned on her and the situation became ten times worse with her and the school being blamed for the child’s death. It took years for the enrolments to recover, not to mention the personal toll it had taken on Ophelia.
Alice-Miranda bit her lip. ‘But isn’t Tilde McGilvray’s show all about good news and Miss Reedy is the acting headmistress?’
Ophelia stared at the child as if she had just told her she had a ferret sitting on her head. ‘I beg your pardon.’
Aldous spun around and waved the knife he was holding in the air. ‘Alice-Miranda’s right, Ophelia. You put Livinia in charge and, ultimately, she’s allowed to make the final decisions. You might not like them, which is why I suggested it would be good for us to go away for a while and leave her to it,’ the man said. ‘You only have another few months off and you’ve been doing too much as it is.’
‘We’re not going anywhere!’ Ophelia said sharply. ‘Come along, Alice-Miranda. I’ll drive you over to Caledonia Stables and I’ll speak with Livinia when we get there. This interview is not happening and I will be back at the helm tomorrow morning.’ The woman marched into the hall to collect her blazer and reapply her lipstick.
Alice-Miranda felt a tightness in her stomach. ‘Sorry to have caused a problem,’ she whispered to Mr Grump.
The man smiled and offered her a wink. ‘She’ll calm down eventually,’ he whispered in reply.
‘I heard that, Aldous,’ Ophelia said, walking into the room to pick up her handbag and car keys. ‘And no I won’t. In any case, I need to return to work before I go completely mad and drive you mad with me.’ With that, she kissed Aggie on the head and stalked out the door.
Ophelia Grimm pulled up outside Caledonia Stables, beside a news truck with a satellite dish on its roof in the courtyard. As the woman turned off the engine and dialled the hospital’s number, Alice-Miranda scurried out of the car and into the boarding house, hoping she wasn’t too late. She was met at the front door by a rather harried Mrs Clarkson.
‘Alice-Miranda, where have you been?’ the woman asked. ‘They’re just about to start the interview.’
‘With Miss Grimm.’ Alice-Miranda’s eyes darted around, hoping that Miss Reedy was close by and they could speak in private. ‘Is Miss Reedy about?’
‘She’s in the sitting room with Tilde McGilvray and the rest of the girls,’ Mrs Clarkson replied. She was surprised to see Ophelia striding through the front doors.
‘Where are they?’ the headmistress demanded.
Petunia Clarkson gulped and pointed down the hall. With a brief nod, Miss Grimm charged into the sitting room, where she was confronted with glaring lights, cameras and a crew of four. Alice-Miranda followed her in and caught sight of the girls beckoning to her from the long couch, where they were lined up like a row of babushka dolls. Livinia Reedy was checking their uniforms and making sure that everyone looked their neatest. She turned and spotted Alice-Miranda, concerned by the child’s dishevelled appearance.
‘Livinia, may I see you outside?’ Ophelia barked. ‘Now.’
Sensing that something was amiss, Tilde McGilvray intercepted the woman. ‘Miss Grimm, how wonderful to meet you,’ she said, oozing charm. She took Ophelia by the arm and gently spun her around, away from the girls. ‘Seeing that you’re here, would you like to be part of the interview too? The things you’ve done for this school in the past couple of years – expanding into secondary and working so closely with the boys at Fayle – are exemplary.’ Tilde grinned. ‘And you know those stories are what I’m all about.’
Ophelia’s heart was racing. This wasn’t her objective at all, and why was this woman being so nice to her? Weren’t all journalists opportunistic twats by their very nature?
‘Please, we have room on t
he couch and I’m sure that our viewers would love to meet the woman who has instilled such selfless values in her students,’ Tilde said.
Livinia would have liked the spot on the couch herself, but she was pleased to see Ophelia. She’d left a message with Louella Derby to mention the interview to her as soon as she and Aldous arrived back from Downsfordvale. What Livinia didn’t know was that Louella had left early to attend an appointment of her own and the information had never reached their boss. It was no matter, though, as Ophelia had sent her a handwritten message with her thoughts on dealing with the press.
‘But …’ Ophelia rasped. Her mouth was suddenly as dry as a desert. ‘But I’d rather the girls didn’t do the interview.’
Tilde gasped. ‘Why ever not? They’re heroes and the world needs all the good news stories it can get. Besides, my sources tell me that just a few minutes ago you offered accommodation to the Abboud family. Perhaps, if you’re not keen about the children being interviewed, I could have a one-on-one with you instead.’
Miss Grimm was dumbstruck. How Tilde McGilvray knew about her conversation with Mrs Abboud was a complete mystery. The woman was clearly not to be trifled with. ‘N-no, that’s not what I want,’ Ophelia replied.
A pubescent-looking producer held up his hand. ‘Tilde, we’re going live in thirty seconds.’
‘Miss Grimm, I must ask you to take your seat or step out of the frame,’ Tilde said, and practically pushed Ophelia down beside Alice-Miranda. She hurried over to perch on a wing-backed armchair. ‘Girls, are you ready?’ she asked, her eyes blinking wide like a porcelain doll. She stared down the barrel of a camera lens. ‘Good evening and welcome to Tilde’s Toast of the Town, where we celebrate six good news stories of the day. To begin with, we have a tale to warm the cockles of the hardest of hearts. I am here in the senior boarding house at Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale Academy for Proper Young Ladies, where we are joined by the headmistress, Miss Ophelia Grimm, and the five girls who saved the lives of an entire family yesterday from a house fire in the village of Winchesterfield.’ Tilde smiled at Ophelia. ‘Miss Grimm, you must be very proud of the girls and what they did?’
Alice-Miranda Keeps the Beat Page 7
