Alice-Miranda at Sea

by Jacqueline Harvey

  Millie ran to Alice-Miranda’s side. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘I had a sleep and then I went for a walk to find you,’ Alice-Miranda replied.

  ‘Oh, darling, I was so worried.’ Cecelia strode across the room and gave her tiny daughter a hug.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mummy. I know it’s pretty nasty out there,’ Alice-Miranda apologised. ‘I didn’t mean to worry you.’

  A tear slid down her mother’s face. ‘It’s just the seas are so big and the ship has been pitching and rolling. I had started to think you’d gone overboard,’ she sniffed.

  ‘Please don’t cry, Mummy. I’m fine.’ Alice-Miranda raced to the bathroom and returned with a tissue for Cecelia.

  ‘Well, I was nearly swept away coming back from the gym,’ announced Jacinta.

  ‘Really?’ said Alice-Miranda. ‘On an enclosed deck?’

  ‘Well, I slipped in a puddle of water,’ Jacinta confessed, ‘and I almost fell over.’

  ‘Goodness me. You and Mummy could both win Academy Awards for your dramatic performances.’ Alice-Miranda rolled her eyes. ‘Anyway, I’m back now and it looks as though there’s a break in the weather.’

  A vivid rainbow stretched from one end of the bay to the other, perfectly framing the coastline in the distance.

  ‘Oh, look at that!’ Millie rushed to the window. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  The storm seemed to have passed and the boiling seas were settling to a hiss.

  ‘Well, I’m just glad you’re safe, darling,’ Cecelia smiled at her daughter and hugged her tightly. ‘Now, we must start getting ready for the party.’

  Cecelia Highton-Smith helped the girls select their outfits for the evening’s festivities. She had made sure that there was a range of saris packed into Alice-Miranda’s luggage. Millie selected a beautiful emerald-green with sequins, Jacinta went for hot pink with a silver edging and Alice-Miranda found herself in heavenly pale blue with delicate gold embroidery. Shilly appeared at the door and offered to do the girls’ hair so Cecelia could go and get ready herself.

  ‘I love your sari, Mrs Shillingsworth,’ said Jacinta as she admired Shilly’s red dress, which had more decorations than most Christmas trees.

  ‘Thank you, my dear,’ Shilly replied. ‘I think it’s quite fetching, myself. I certainly understand the attraction – this type of garment tends to hide all of the lumps and bumps of age.’

  Millie looked at her. ‘But you’re not fat, Shilly.’

  ‘Let’s just say, dear, that modern corsetry does a wonderful job,’ Shilly winked. ‘What would you like me to do with your hair, Alice-Miranda?’

  ‘It’s all right, Shilly. I can manage. Spend your time on Millie and Jacinta. I’ve got something I have to do,’ Alice-Miranda called from the bedroom.

  She needed to write that letter and make sure that it was in the mail first thing in the morning. Alice-Miranda retreated to the writing desk where she pulled out a piece of notepaper embellished with the royal crest.

  ‘Dear Sloane,

  I hope this letter finds you well . . .’

  Alice-Miranda finished her letter and began a new note to Neville’s parents explaining the situation.

  Winterstone appeared at the bedroom door. ‘You’re very focused, miss.’

  ‘I just want to get a letter into the post first thing in the morning, if I may?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Winterstone frowned.

  ‘Yes, just lovely, Mr Winterstone,’ Alice-Miranda replied.

  Mrs Shillingsworth emerged from the ensuite bathroom with Jacinta and Millie in tow.

  Alice-Miranda slipped the second envelope inside the first and sealed it up.

  She looked up and admired Millie and Jacinta’s ’dos. ‘Your hair looks lovely.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Millie replied. ‘Who are you writing to?’

  ‘Sloane,’ Alice-Miranda replied.

  ‘Urgh, I don’t know why you’d be wasting your time, Alice-Miranda.’ Jacinta said. ‘You know she’s a cheat and a liar.’

  ‘She can’t be all bad, Jacinta. I mean, look at Sep – he’s just about one of the nicest boys I’ve ever met and he’s her brother.’

  ‘I see what you mean. But he must be the odd one out in his family. Like me in mine,’ said Jacinta.

  ‘Well, come along, girls,’ Shilly interrupted. ‘It’s time we princesses made our way to the ball.’

  Alice-Miranda handed the letter to Winterstone.

  ‘I’ll make sure it gets in the mail run,’ he said with a nod.

  ‘Thank you,’ Alice-Miranda beamed.

  Three rooms further along the hallway, Lady Sarah Adams, having completely overcome her nasty bout of seasickness, was putting the finishing touches to her gorgeous pale pink ensemble. Her sari shimmered with thousands of tiny crystals and her blonde hair had been curled into loose ringlets.

  ‘Mummy, you look beautiful,’ her daughter Annie complimented.

  ‘Which necklace are you going to wear?’ her younger daughter Poppy asked.

  ‘Daddy’s just getting my diamonds from the safe, girls.’ Lady Sarah turned around to find her husband, Lord Robert, standing in the doorway to the main bedroom. His eyebrows were knitted tightly together.

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes, darling, of course. Would you mind popping in here for a minute?’

  ‘Girls, why don’t you go and brush your hair?’ their mother instructed.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Sarah entered the bedroom. Her husband quickly shut the door behind them.

  ‘What jewellery did you bring with you, darling?’

  ‘Um, gosh, loads, you know me, Robert. My diamond bracelet and necklace, the Cartier necklace . . . Let me think. There were three dress rings and of course the sapphires – a whole set – and my emerald earrings, a brooch and my emerald tiara for the wedding.’ Sarah stared at the wardrobe which contained the safe, ticking the list off in her mind. ‘And, of course, my usual pearls, gold chains, bracelets and my watch. At least I've still got that,’ she said, glancing at her wrist.

  ‘Well, I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but it’s all gone.’ Robert pushed the racks of gowns to one side to reveal an empty safe.

  ‘What do you mean, it’s all gone?’ Sarah gasped. ‘How? We’re in the middle of the ocean, for goodness sake! We need to call security right away.’

  ‘No!’ Robert shook his head. He was gripping a folded piece of paper tightly in his hand.

  ‘Of course we have to. I’m not letting some petty officer make off with my lovely jewels,’ Sarah pouted.

  ‘I’m afraid, darling, we mustn’t tell anyone.’ Robert sat down on the bed and passed his wife the paper.

  As Lady Sarah read the note’s contents her face drained of colour. Even her bright pink lipstick took on a decidedly pasty tinge.

  She stifled a cry. ‘This can’t be true. Do you think they’re serious?’

  ‘We can’t risk it. We mustn’t tell a soul. At least, not while we’re on board – who knows what listening devices these brutes have?’ Robert whispered into his wife’s ear.

  The pair embraced tightly.

  ‘I wonder if it’s the same gang that’s been stealing all those Russian jewels. I read something about that in the newspaper just last week,’ Robert commented.

  ‘But none of my jewels are Russian. Well, not as far as I know. It can’t be that,’ Sarah replied.

  She looked at the paper again and handed it back to her husband.

  ‘We mustn’t let the girls out of our sight,’ Sarah said in a choked voice, and then began to cry.

  ‘Come on, darling. Everything has to remain as normal as possible. We mustn’t arouse any suspicion.’ Robert handed Sarah a tissue and sh
e went to the bathroom to fix her smudged make-up.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Robert asked as she emerged.

  ‘No, not really. I feel sick to my stomach.’ Sarah managed a tight smile. ‘But I’ll be fine. I don’t have a choice.’

  ‘That’s my girl.’ Robert took his wife by the hand and they emerged from their bedroom to call Annie and Poppy. Together the family made their way to the ballroom.

  ‘Mummy, you’re not wearing your diamonds,’ Poppy commented as they headed along the hallway.

  ‘No, darling, it was far too much with all these crystals. You know I like to take the less is more approach.’

  Her young daughter seemed satisfied with her mother’s response for now. But how long it would take before someone noticed that the usually bejewelled Lady Sarah was missing her baubles was anyone’s guess.

  'Master Neville, I found your trumpet case,’ Henderson called as he entered the suite. He had been shocked to see it poking out from behind a flowerpot in the storeroom beside the ballroom. He knew how attached the boy was to it and its rather unusual contents. But there was no mistaking the brown leather case with its tatty corners and huge smiley face sticker in the middle of the lid.

  Henderson placed the case beside the end of the couch and walked into the bedroom. There was no sign of Neville. The bathroom door was open but he wasn’t in there either.

  Perhaps his mother had finally taken an interest and insisted he escort her to dinner.

  Henderson attended to his evening duties, turning back the bedclothes and fluffing the pillows. He switched on the bedside lamps before turning his attention to the bathroom where he hung up the towels and tidied the vanity. His last chore of the evening was to rearrange the cushions on the couch. He looked at Neville’s trumpet case and decided that the young boy would probably feel better if his beloved instrument was tucked away safely under the pillows, which is exactly what he did. That way, Master Neville would find it as soon as he hopped into bed.

  ‘And I’ll just collect the laundry,’ Henderson said to himself as he opened the wardrobe doors. ‘Don’t want to get myself into any more trouble with the boss.’

  Upstairs in the ballroom, the dance floor was packed with guests shimmying and shaking to the sounds of a Bollywood beat. The saris were spectacular, with literally thousands of sparkling sequins and crystals. While Lady Sarah felt quite naked without her jewels, there was enough bling to ensure that no one would notice – tonight at least.

  Vladimir and his staff had again outdone themselves with an Indian feast fit for a king, or in this case, a queen.

  On the long smorgasbord tables, kormas and koftas sat alongside naan breads and chutneys, curries of all intensities and fragrant rice. Alice-Miranda spotted Mrs Oliver making some notes about one particularly tasty dish.

  ‘Oh, I simply have to find out how Chef Vladimir gets that consistency,’ she gushed at Alice-Miranda.

  Over at the main table, Cecelia Highton-Smith was asking Admiral Harding if he’d seen Dr Lush.

  ‘No, we had quite a few passengers take ill this afternoon in the storm, my dear. The doctor won’t be off-duty for hours I should think,’ the admiral commented.

  ‘That’s a pity,’ Cecelia replied. ‘I had asked him to join us for dinner. He did a wonderful job of pulling that horrid splinter from Alice-Miranda’s foot.’

  ‘Yes, I heard the poor lass had a nasty lump of wood embedded between her toes,’ Admiral Harding said with a deep frown. ‘I am terribly sorry, Cecelia – there are men upstairs as we speak, sanding and repolishing the decking around the pool. We simply can’t have that on the Octavia.’

  ‘Please don’t fuss, Admiral. Alice-Miranda’s absolutely fine,’ Cecelia replied. ‘If I know my daughter, I’m sure she’ll be up dancing any minute.’

  But that was not quite the case. Aware that it had been a while since she saw Neville, Alice-Miranda decided to pop out to the kitchen and ask if Chef Vladimir could supply her with some leftovers. She had already placed two dinner rolls in a napkin and was holding onto them tightly. Millie spied her leaving. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I just need to take something for the pain in my foot,’ said Alice-Miranda. She hated telling untruths, but her foot was starting to throb a little and she didn’t think she’d be able to dance. Maybe she should ask her mother for a tablet.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Millie offered.

  ‘No, it’s all right. I won’t be long.’ Alice-Miranda disappeared out the side door and made her way to the kitchen.

  Unlike the first time she had been there, tonight the atmosphere was electric. Vladimir barked orders at his men, who were rushing from hotplate to oven and back again.

  Alice-Miranda marched into the galley. ‘Hello Chef Vladimir.’

  ‘Who zaid that?’ he exploded.

  ‘Excuse me, Chef Vladimir, it’s me, Alice-Miranda – down here,’ she called.

  Vladimir gazed at the tiny child. ‘You should not be here. Get out!’ he roared.

  ‘I am sorry, Chef Vladimir, I know you’re terribly busy, but I wanted to know if I might have a takeaway pack of some of the dinner, please?’ she continued.

  ‘Takeaway, what on earth you want that for?’ he demanded.

  ‘Well, you see, I have a friend who couldn’t come tonight and I know that he would love to try some of your dishes. Truly, sir, I don’t think I’ve ever had Indian food as good as this and, believe me, I’ve spent quite a lot of time with Mummy and Daddy’s friend Prince Shivaji in his palace in Jaipur. He has wonderful chefs but I think you could teach them a thing or two,’ Alice-Miranda beamed.

  ‘You think so, do you?’ Vladimir’s chest puffed out like a peacock’s.

  ‘Oh, yes, Chef Vladimir. Your vegetable kofta was amazing.’

  ‘You!’ Vladimir pointed at a pasty young chef. ‘Get this child anything she wants. Deliver for room service.’

  ‘Oh, no, that won’t be necessary, Chef Vladimir. I’d like to deliver it to my friend myself. Take-away containers will be just fine,’ Alice-Miranda confirmed.

  ‘I don’t believe we have such thing in my kitchen,’ Vladimir frowned.

  ‘You must have some plastic storage containers, Chef Vladimir. I promise I’ll bring them back afterwards,’ Alice-Miranda assured the chef.

  ‘Where is this friend of yours and why he not come to the party?’ Vladimir asked, his dark eyes narrowing.

  ‘He hasn’t been feeling well since the storm so he’s stayed in for the night. I just wanted to take him some dinner and the room service trays are far too big for me to manage on my own,’ Alice-Miranda said. This was proving more difficult than she had first imagined.

  ‘Well, I get one of these idiots to help you, then. I can’t let my food go into plastic container. Iz not right. Will contaminate taste,’ Vladimir insisted.

  ‘All right then, Chef Vladimir.’ Alice-Miranda looked up at him with her brown eyes as big as saucers. ‘I’ll come back in a few minutes to let you know which room he’s in.’

  Alice-Miranda knew very well that Neville’s room was the Albert Suite but she thought she’d better convince him to return there from his hidey-hole before the room service was sent.

  ‘Telephone the number, miss, and stay out of this kitchen. Iz no place for child – there are men with knives.’

  ‘Goodbye, Chef Vladimir,’ she called. ‘Thank you very much.’

  Vladimir stared at her as she scampered from the kitchen. There was a strange feeling buzzing on his lips – something he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

  One of the chefs prodded another who was standing beside him. ‘Did you see that?’ he whispered.

  ‘What?’ the other replied.

  ‘Old Vlad the Impaler, I think he almost cracked a smile,’ the cook grinned.

  �
�What you grinning about? Imbecile! You know the rules. There is nothing to smile about in my kitchen!’ Vladimir thumped his fist on the nearest bench and stormed off to shout at someone else.

  Alice-Miranda exited the kitchen and headed along the corridor towards the stairs.

  ‘Alice-Miranda!’ a voice called out behind her. ‘Where are you going?’

  She turned to see Millie approaching.

  ‘I thought you said that you were just taking some medicine.’

  ‘I do need some medicine, I promise, but I have something else I need to do too. I was going to tell you once I had worked things out a little bit more. But come with me and I’ll explain on the way.’ Alice-Miranda took Millie’s hand and the two girls made their way downstairs.

  Alice-Miranda told Millie how she had come to meet Neville and what a nervous boy he was and that he now thought he was in huge trouble for being on the wrong ship.

  ‘That is a pretty outrageous story,’ Millie agreed. ‘Are you sure he’s telling you the truth? Maybe he’s a miniature paparazzo sent to creep into the party and get the best pictures for Gloss and Goss.’ Millie smiled at her own cleverness.

  ‘I’m sure he’s telling the truth,’ Alice-Miranda replied. ‘The poor boy quivers like a jelly most of the time, and it took every ounce of strength for him to explain how he came to be here. Dr Lush had to treat him earlier today and he has a couple of stitches in his brow –’

  ‘What happened to him?’ Millie interrupted.

  ‘He had an unfortunate collision with a cereal bowl. Anyway, Dr Lush must have worked out that Neville shouldn’t have been there and he yelled at him through the door and said that he was going to tell Admiral Harding. That’s when I spotted him fleeing down here.’

  ‘Why don’t we just go and tell your parents and then he can join in the party? He sounds like he could do with some fun.’

  ‘Yes, I thought so, too. I suggested that to Neville but he’s so scared he doesn’t want me to tell anyone. I have a feeling bringing you along is going to cause him a great deal of distress. Anyway, I have a plan to get a message to his parents so that hopefully they won’t call the police or cause too much of a fuss. We really don’t want to attract any attention to the ship, so I’ve written a letter.’