Alice-Miranda Holds the Key 15

by Jacqueline Harvey

  ‘Yes, that sounds like our Bentley. He’s on the night shift at the Kennington’s packaging factory,’ Hugh said. ‘Lovely chap – smart as a whip but not terribly sociable. He never comes to any of the staff celebrations, though I’m not sure why, and he certainly hasn’t brought the children to the Christmas party. I’ll have to get on to him about that this year. Anyway, for some time now he’s been working on a project that could potentially revolutionise the way we dispose of plastic containers.’

  ‘Wow,’ Millie said. ‘I’ve just done an assignment on the impact of plastic on marine life and it’s seriously bad. It would be amazing if someone could fix that problem.’

  Hugh nodded. ‘I couldn’t agree more, Millie. I’ve got a deal in place with him – if this invention of his works, we’ll co-patent and I’ll wear all the costs. It could prove extremely lucrative for both of us in the long run.’

  The mention of the packaging factory triggered a thought in Alice-Miranda’s mind. ‘Has the factory been checked for contamination, Daddy?’ she asked.

  Hugh paused. ‘I’m sure it would have been, but I’ll speak with the food authorities and make sure they’ve been around.’

  Mrs Shillingsworth carried the teapot back to the table and Cecelia offered everyone cake.

  ‘Can Millie stay?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  The flame-haired girl looked hopefully at her mother. ‘I was going to stay with Grandpa but he’s come down with a cold.’

  Pippa eyeballed her daughter and shook her head. ‘Oh, I think you’ve all got far too much on your plates and we weren’t going to mention that, were we?’

  ‘But Millie’s no trouble at all,’ Alice-Miranda insisted.

  ‘I promise I’m not,’ Millie chimed in, fluttering her eyelashes innocently and smiling like a manic Cheshire cat. ‘And I could check on Grandpa and make sure that he’s okay.’

  Hugh laughed.

  ‘We can help with the preparations for the garden party,’ Alice-Miranda added. ‘And we won’t get in the way and Millie is a really hard worker.’

  Millie nodded eagerly. ‘I’m quite good at polishing silver.’

  Cecelia glanced at her husband and then at Pippa. ‘You know we’d love to have her. As long as you don’t mind being without her another week.’

  ‘Yes!’ Millie and Alice-Miranda turned and hugged each other fiercely.

  Pippa hesitated. ‘Are you sure?’

  Hugh nodded. ‘She’s no problem at all and, if she is, we’ll just pack her off and she can walk home,’ he teased.

  Millie pulled a face and Hugh wrinkled his nose, the two of them fast dissolving into a fit of giggles.

  It occurred to Alice-Miranda that she and Millie could make Daisy’s life easier too. After all, they both liked little children and Daisy would be much better at polishing the silver than either of them would be.

  Adrienne Treloar could barely keep her eyes open. She had just come off another double shift and was sitting in front of the television in her tiny flat. She’d called and said goodnight to the children as soon as she’d got in and now there were other things to do before she could get some much-needed sleep.

  Bentley had been keen to chat, asking her lots of questions about how she was getting on with the food-poisoning case. They’d had quite a good conversation, actually, and he’d given her several interesting ideas for her to research. Sometimes it was useful having a husband who was clever, despite the infuriating fact that he didn’t employ any of his talents.

  Adrienne watched the news bulletin flash onto the screen. She turned up the sound.

  ‘This is Simon Brent reporting from Kennington’s HQ, where Hugh Kennington-Jones has just told the assembled media that all of their stores would be closed until further notice while the source of the recent food-poisoning outbreak that has now affected hundreds across the country is thoroughly investigated.’

  A picture of Hugh with his wife, Cecelia, and their tiny daughter beside him flashed onto the screen.

  ‘How does it feel, Hugh? For once in your perfect life, there’s a bump in the road,’ Adrienne hissed. If only they knew the man had no integrity whatsoever.

  Exasperated, she turned off the television then walked to the table and opened her laptop. There were things to be done – things that simply couldn’t wait.

  Francesca Compton-Halls had wheeled her bag past the shops and a row of houses before reaching the edge of the village. So far she hadn’t seen one shed or building that looked like a place where she could take shelter for the night. And now it was almost dark. Chessie shivered as a car started up on the road behind her. Why hadn’t she just stayed on the train and gone to her grandmother’s house? This was surely the most stupid idea she’d ever had.

  She clutched her toy dog. He looked back at her with his amber eyes. ‘I know, Rodney. I’m scared too.’ She stroked the toy’s furry head. ‘Where do you think we should go?’

  Chessie walked on until there was no longer a footpath at all, just the road. She had no idea how far she’d gone. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, causing Chessie to jump. She forced her way through a hedge and pulled her bag behind her but it got wedged. She yanked hard but it was stuck fast. With one last almighty wrench, the bag tumbled through, and Chessie along with it, rolling backwards down a small embankment and landing in a muddy puddle at the bottom. Chessie could feel something prickling her arm and there was a rustle in the bushes. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it was about to beat right through her chest.

  She began to cry, but what was the point? Mrs Fairbanks wasn’t there to give her a hug. There was no one Chessie could rely on except herself. She sniffled and wiped her eyes, then flicked a glob of mud from Rodney’s face.

  ‘Come on, Rodney,’ she sighed, grabbing the handle of her grubby case.

  Chessie squinted into the fading light. Finally, there were some buildings – a row of sheds and, on the other side of the laneway, she glimpsed a cottage hidden behind a hedge and a tangle of vines. A light flickered in the windows. Someone was home, but the barn opposite was quiet. Chessie undid the bolt on the door as quietly as she could and dug around for the little torch in her backpack. The girls all had torches at school in case of an emergency and Chessie had become particularly attached to hers. She’d had a lot of emergencies last term.

  She shone the light around the building. There was a rusted tractor with a flat tyre. That was a good sign – it probably wasn’t going to be used any time soon. At the rear of the building there was a small enclosure lined with straw. It wasn’t exactly fresh but it didn’t smell as if there had been any animals using it recently. Chessie pulled her bag inside and plonked down with her back against the wall. She sat Rodney beside her. She pulled the loaf from her pack and suddenly realised the butter and jam weren’t much use without a knife.

  ‘Looks like it’s dry bread for us tonight, Rodney.’ She broke off a piece and offered it to the toy as she’d done a million times before. Chessie ate several slices before she packed it away and laid her bag under her head as a pillow. She covered herself with some straw, clutched Rodney to her chest and minutes later was fast asleep, dreaming of the big house she’d seen from the train and the mother who no longer wanted her.

  Desmond Berwick lay back on the thin mattress and shivered beneath the even thinner standard-issue blanket. Above him, on the top bunk, Jezza began to snore. Thank heavens this would be the last night he’d have to put up with the clattering tractor sounds of his cellmate.

  Tomorrow, he’d set the wheels in motion that would put everything to rights. He couldn’t wait to see Chessie and hoped that Jemima would bring her to meet him. Although he’d asked her several times, she was cagey. She’d been that way ever since this had happened. But at least she hadn’t abandoned him.

  He just needed to see Chessie – she was the key to everything.

  Chessie rolled over and felt something stiff poke the side of her head. Her eyelids were as heavy as lead and for a
few moments she wondered where she was. Then, like the opening of a dam wall, it all came flooding back to her. She sat up, blinking in the grey morning light, and pulled a piece of straw from her hair.

  ‘How did you sleep?’ she asked her cuddly companion. ‘I was out cold. Maybe that’s what a whole term of crying does to a person. But there’s no point crying anymore, is there?’

  The girl stood up and brushed the straw from her clothes. She walked out of the stall and surveyed the barn properly. It was smaller than she’d thought when she’d arrived last night. The rusty tractor with the flat tyre sat in the middle of the floor and there were actually three barn stalls side by side at the rear. The one adjacent to where she’d camped housed some rusty farm equipment and in the last one there was a newish-looking ride-on mower.

  Outside, an engine sputtered to life and the girl almost leapt through the roof. She scampered to the door and peered through a hole, blinking to adjust her eyes to the brilliant sunshine. A bearded man with a generous head of blond hair sat atop a large green tractor. He turned and waved to someone behind him.

  ‘Hurry up, Jasper. Are you coming or not?’ he shouted in a thick German accent.

  Chessie saw a young boy run towards the machine and leap onto the trailer at the back. ‘Poppy’s staying with Mum,’ the lad yelled over the noise.

  The vehicle lurched forward and Chessie ducked away from the peephole, terrified they would see her. She slowly stood up again and watched the pair putter off down the lane.

  She had to get out of there. Although the train wasn’t due for another couple of hours, she didn’t want to risk missing it. She was also increasingly desperate to find a toilet. Chessie rushed to the rear of the building and quickly packed her things into her bag, then grabbed Rodney and stuffed him inside her jacket. She picked up the case and her backpack and carried them to the door.

  Outside, a gaggle of geese honked loudly as they waddled past. They weren’t Chessie’s favourite of animals, having suffered the wrath of a particularly feisty creature called Beatrice at school last term. That grumpy goose loved nipping bottoms and for whatever reason picked her targets early on. Chessie couldn’t ever get from one side of school to the other without the bully giving chase.

  She reached through the hole in the door and slowly undid the bolt. It screeched a little but fortunately the geese did too. Chessie was about to push it open when she heard a woman’s voice.

  ‘Poppy, have you got the eggs yet?’ the woman called. ‘I’ve got to look for the signboards for the garden party. I think they’re in the barn.’

  Chessie looked around and spotted a sign that read ‘Garden party this way’ resting against the far wall.

  And this way was exactly where that woman was heading.

  The child grabbed her bag and raced back into the stall, covering herself with straw. She nestled down and held her breath.

  The metal door scraped open on the concrete floor.

  ‘Ah, perfect. They’re in here,’ she heard the woman say to herself. ‘Mmm, where did you come from?’

  ‘There were fifteen eggs, Mummy,’ a little girl replied.

  ‘That’s good. The girls are in excellent form,’ the woman said. ‘Is this yours?’

  Chessie suddenly felt a tickle in her nose. She scrunched up her face, trying with all her might not to let the sneeze escape.

  ‘No, but it’s very cute. Can I keep him?’ the little girl asked.

  ‘Let’s see if he belongs to Alice-Miranda. Put him on the sideboard in the kitchen with the eggs,’ the woman replied.

  ‘Can we go and see her this morning?’ the little girl asked.

  ‘I have to let Max know that I’ve found the signs so he and Mr Greening can collect them this afternoon,’ the woman said. ‘We’ll pop into the Hall then.’

  ‘Is Alice-Miranda better?’ the little girl asked.

  ‘I think so. Although she’s still sporting a black eye,’ the woman replied. ‘Come on, let’s get moving then.’

  The sneeze teased and taunted Chessie’s nostrils but she managed to hold it in as the barn door scraped closed and the bolt slid across. She waited as long as she possibly could until the voices disappeared. It was lucky the little girl was a bit of a chatterbox.

  Suddenly, Chessie sneezed so loudly she was sure they would double-back to investigate. She held her breath, waiting to be found, but no one came.

  After several minutes she emerged from her hiding spot, covered in more straw than she had been earlier. She did her best to get as much off as she could, then carried her bags to the door. She had a niggling feeling that she was missing something – and then it hit her. Chessie reached inside her jacket, but there was nothing there. Rodney was gone! She ran back to the stall and dug around in the straw, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found.

  ‘That’s what the woman was talking about,’ she whimpered, tears flooding her eyes. ‘Rodney.’

  She simply couldn’t go anywhere until she had him back. The pair had been inseparable since Chessie was a tiny girl. She had to find out who this Alice-Miranda was and where she lived right away.

  Jemima Tavistock felt as if her life was unravelling at a rate of knots. Her outing the previous afternoon had been far more difficult than she’d hoped and now Anthony had just dropped his own bombshell of sorts. Apparently, old Lord Tavistock hadn’t been as good with his money as everyone had thought and had left a trail of debts that needed to be paid from the estate. It seemed that the upkeep of Bedford Manor had put a serious drain on the family finances and, coupled with a rather abysmal few years on the stock market, cash was in perilously short supply.

  ‘What about Chessie’s school?’ Jemima looked at her husband as they crossed the main road into the village. It was such a lovely day that Anthony had insisted they walk to Penberthy Floss for lunch at the local pub. But now she felt like turning around and going straight home again.

  ‘Darling, I’m sure that we can manage it. We’re not broke yet, but I do need to work out the most prudent way to pay down the debts and whether it might be best to put Bedford Manor up for sale.’

  ‘You can’t do that!’ Jemima sputtered. ‘It’s your home. It’s been in your family for generations and we were going to raise our family there too.’

  ‘Living there has been a privilege,’ Anthony said, slipping his hand into hers, ‘but it’s going to continue to cost a fortune to maintain. I don’t want to reach a point where the place is falling down around our ears and we’re sitting in one wretched room in front of a bar heater while the rest of the place is freezing. We’ve also got to think about Mr Prigg and Mrs Mudge.’

  Jemima’s face paled. ‘What about them?’

  ‘We can’t manage the house on our own and my wages won’t cover anywhere near to even a quarter of our expenses,’ Anthony said. There was an uncomfortable silence between them.

  ‘I know you’ll work things out,’ Jemima said quietly. ‘Surely there’s a way we can keep Bedford Manor and have the life we wanted in the country.’

  Anthony nodded. ‘I’ve got some valuers coming tomorrow to go through the house. There might be some things we can sell.’

  ‘I can tell you some things to get rid of,’ Jemima huffed. ‘Starting with that beady-eyed peacock under the dome.’

  Anthony sighed. Poor old Dally wasn’t going to put any sort of dent in the tax bill – that he knew for sure.

  The pair walked past the church and rectory, and the recently rebuilt village hall to the pub around the corner. The Rose and Donkey was a pretty building with a red door and painted brick facade. Its white walls were draped with a clematis vine in full flower, like the sweep of a veil on a race-day hat. Anthony led Jemima through the cosy front bar and out into a sun-drenched courtyard filled with families and couples enjoying the glorious day. A young woman showed them to a table in a quiet corner and handed them each a menu.

  ‘Sunday roast today is pork with crackling, Yorkshire pudding, spring vegetables, baked p
otatoes and home-made apple sauce. I’ll be back to take your orders soon,’ she trilled, then danced away to another table.

  ‘I’d forgotten how charming it is back here,’ Anthony said, looking out across the low wall to the green fields beyond. ‘Penberthy Floss is such a quaint village.’

  Jemima felt the sun on her cheeks and wished that what he’d said earlier had been a bad dream. But it wasn’t and now they had to devise a plan. It was just that coming on top of everything else, she really felt quite hopeless.

  Anthony peered over his wife’s shoulder. ‘Oh, there’s Hugh Kennington-Jones,’ he commented. The man was being guided to an adjacent table with his wife and two girls. Anthony stood up as he and Hugh made eye contact. ‘Hello old boy, long time no see,’ Anthony said, grinning as they shook hands warmly.

  Alice-Miranda glided along on her crutches, accompanied by another child with flaming-red hair and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose.

  ‘Hello Lord Tavistock.’ Alice-Miranda beamed up at him, then looked over at Jemima, who had jumped to her feet. ‘It’s lovely to see you again, Lady Tavistock. This is my friend Millie.’

  The woman smiled tentatively. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Millie.’

  ‘Goodness, that looks nasty,’ Anthony said, motioning to Alice-Miranda’s leg.

  ‘I’m fine. Just a little riding accident,’ the child replied cheerfully. It was true; she felt better every day and was pleased when her father had suggested they lunch out in spite of the fact that she knew both her parents were still worrying about the case.

  ‘Oh, what a pity Chessie isn’t here,’ Anthony said.

  ‘Yes,’ Jemima said quickly. ‘But she’s having a lovely time with her grandmother.’

  Alice-Miranda frowned. She wondered why Jemima hadn’t mentioned that on Friday.