In the second of the boys’ heats, Joshua was narrowly beaten by Lester.
‘That’s not fair,’ Joshua whined. ‘He tried to trip me.’
But Lester had been running on the opposite side of the track to Joshua. Mr Smee told the boy to be a good sport or he wouldn’t be allowed to run in the final at all.
The second of the girls’ heats saw Sophie coming in first place and, much to everyone’s astonishment, Astrid hit the line second.
The girl’s mouth gaped open. ‘How did I do that?’ she gasped.
‘Well done, Astrid!’ Mr Smee called out. He was as surprised as she was. The girl wasn’t the most natural of athletes, particularly when it came to ball games, but perhaps running was her thing. Roderick Smee checked his watch. They might have time for a soccer game before the end of the day if they finished the races quickly. ‘Come on then, boys, line up,’ he instructed.
The four lads in the final spaced themselves out across the track. Angus and Joshua were side by side in the centre, with Eddie on the other side of Angus. Joshua glanced at his competitors and sneered.
‘Good luck, everyone,’ Angus said.
‘Bad luck, everyone,’ Joshua muttered.
Mr Smee shook his head. He’d speak to the lad after the race. He held the whistle to his mouth. ‘On your marks, get set …’ The whistle trilled loudly.
Angus was instantly in the lead while the other three lads battled it out, neck and neck. Lester loped along with long strides, and Eddie would have been quicker if he didn’t veer all over the lane. Joshua’s face was bright red and he looked as if he was about to burst as he made one last surge behind Angus. As the boys hit the finish line, Joshua fell over and clutched his leg.
‘Ow, ow,’ he moaned. ‘It’s killing me!’
Roderick Smee jogged towards the finish line. ‘What happened?’ he asked, bending down to inspect the boy’s knee.
‘I pulled a muscle,’ Joshua groaned. ‘You didn’t let me warm up properly.’
The teacher sighed. Fortunately, Joshua’s parents weren’t the sort who believed everything the boy said. ‘Let’s have a look.’
‘It’s not fair. I would have won if you let me do my warm-ups,’ Joshua sniffed.
‘Oh, well, you won’t be able to play soccer with us then.’ Mr Smee clicked his tongue and shook his head gravely. ‘We’ll have to send you up to the office to get an icepack, and if it’s really bad, you won’t be able to participate in the carnival on Friday.’ The man sighed again. ‘That’s such a pity, you might have won some ribbons.’
Joshua gulped. He stared at the teacher and rubbed his knee. ‘I think it feels better,’ the boy said, perking up considerably.
‘Are you sure?’ Mr Smee asked. ‘You don’t want to overdo it.’
Joshua nodded. ‘I think I felt the muscle pop back in. They can do that, you know.’
The teacher offered the lad a hand and helped him up.
‘Do you want me to get the soccer ball?’ Joshua asked.
‘Great idea,’ Mr Smee replied, and the lad sprinted away.
Meanwhile, the girls had organised themselves on the start line. Clemmie, Tilda, Sophie and Astrid were springing about, eager to run.
‘Is Joshua all right?’ Sophie asked.
‘He’s fine,’ Mr Smee replied. He turned to the rest of the class and clapped his hands. ‘Okay, Year One, let’s cheer for the girls.’
The class lined the track for the final race. Seconds later, the whistle blew and they were off. The children’s shouts echoed across the playground. It was close the entire way until, in the last five metres, Clementine pulled ahead of the pack. A huge cheer rose up as she crossed the finish line. Angus rushed down the track and hugged her, closely followed by the girls, who patted her on the back and congratulated her too. Clementine couldn’t stop smiling.
‘I told you you’d win,’ Sophie whispered with a smile.
Clementine took a deep breath. She couldn’t wait to tell everyone at home!
Mr Smee beckoned the children over to him, and the class settled on the hill that sloped down to the oval. ‘It seems we have our runners for the special relay on Friday,’ he said. ‘Clemmie and Angus, stand up – let’s give them a round of applause.’
The children clapped loudly.
‘You were fast,’ Angus said to Clementine.
She smiled. ‘You were too.’
‘I think the kids are going to beat the grownups on Friday,’ Teddy said loudly.
Mr Smee chuckled. ‘You know, Ted, with Clemmie and Angus on their team, I think you might be right’.
Clementine was bursting with excitement as she rushed through the back door, with Uncle Digby following closely behind her. ‘Mummy, guess what happened at school today?’
‘What is it, sweetheart?’ Lady Clarissa looked up from where she was finalising the household accounts.
‘Big news,’ Uncle Digby said, nodding firmly.
‘I won the race and now I get to be in the team that’s going to run against the parents and teachers at the sports carnival on Friday,’ Clementine said, without drawing breath.
‘That’s wonderful!’ Her mother stood up, and Clementine rushed into her arms.
‘I was really fast, and Angus is the fastest boy, so we’re both on the team,’ Clementine said into her mother’s waist.
‘Well, speedy, we’d better get you some afternoon tea before ballet, quick smart,’ Lady Clarissa said as Clementine wriggled her backpack off her shoulders. Clarissa hung it on a hook near the back door.
‘I’ll help,’ Clementine said, skipping over to the cupboard. She pulled out a large glass and carried it back to the table. Lady Clarissa filled the glass with milk and Uncle Digby set a home-made honey jumble down in front of her.
‘Where’s Lavender?’ Clementine asked. She saw that Pharaoh was asleep on his own, curled up in the basket by the range.
Lady Clarissa frowned. ‘I don’t know. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her since before lunchtime.’
Clementine began to slide off her chair. ‘I’ll go and look for her.’
‘Sweetheart, you need to eat your afternoon tea and get changed, or you’ll be late for ballet,’ Lady Clarissa warned. Clementine reluctantly wriggled back into her chair.
‘Don’t worry,’ Uncle Digby said, emerging from the utility room with an armful of fresh towels. ‘I’m on my way upstairs. I’ll see if I can find her.’
‘Thanks, Uncle Digby,’ Clementine said, before gulping down the rest of her milk.
‘I wonder where Aunt Violet is,’ her mother thought aloud. ‘She’s been rather mysterious the past few days, leaving the house early and not coming back until dinnertime. Look at you.’ Clarissa grabbed a cloth and wiped the milk moustache from Clementine’s top lip. The woman glanced at the clock. ‘Off you go, Clemmie. You’ve got five minutes to get changed if we’re to get to ballet on time.’
Clementine nodded and raced up the back stairs. She passed Uncle Digby, who was coming out of the bathroom. ‘Did you find Lavender?’ she asked.
Uncle Digby shook his head. ‘Not yet, dear. I’m sure she’s just having a lovely long nap somewhere warm. I’ll keep looking.’
‘That’s probably it,’ Clementine said, and sped along the hall to her bedroom. She couldn’t wait to see what Ana Hobbs had in store for them today.
Clementine swung her mother’s hand as they walked home across the field. ‘I love ballet,’ she declared wistfully.
As always, the lesson had flown by and Clementine had revelled in every minute of it. She delighted in Ana’s funny warm-ups and being able to practise real postures like proper ballerinas. Today, Ana had introduced the class to fifth position. It was like fourth position except that both arms were in the air.
‘Ana said that we’re going to start working on a new dance next week. It’s one from Swan Lake,’ Clementine bubbled.
The pair walked through the back gate and into the garden just as Aunt Violet’s c
ar pulled up in front of the garage.
Clementine ran to greet her while Lady Clarissa headed off to water the vegetable patch.
‘Hello Aunt Violet,’ Clementine said as the woman opened the driver’s door and hopped out. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Out,’ the old woman replied.
‘Out where?’ Clementine asked. ‘You look really tired.’
‘None of your business, stickybeak,’ Aunt Violet said, marching towards the house.
Clementine skipped along beside her. ‘Mummy says you’re being mysterious.’
‘Does she, now?’ Aunt Violet pursed her lips. ‘How was your ballet lesson?’
‘Wonderful!’ Clementine said. ‘Do you want to see what I learned?’
‘I need a rest before dinner,’ Aunt Violet said. ‘You can show me later.’
‘All right.’ Clementine executed a twirl and a leap, then ran off into the house, where the smell of bolognaise sauce filled the kitchen.
‘Hello Clemmie,’ Uncle Digby said, looking up from where he was busy setting the table. ‘How was ballet?’
‘Lovely,’ Clementine said firmly. She raced to Lavender’s basket, only to find Pharaoh there alone. Clementine’s stomach twisted. ‘Haven’t you found Lavender yet, Uncle Digby?’ she asked.
The old man shook his head. ‘Sorry, Clemmie. I had a brief look upstairs, but then I had to make a start on dinner. I hadn’t realised just how late it was.’
Clementine’s brow puckered. ‘But she’s always here.’
Digby Pertwhistle’s brow furrowed too. ‘You’re right, it’s not like Lavender at all. I hope she hasn’t got locked in somewhere by accident. Or perhaps she’s playing hide-and-seek. Let me finish this and I’ll come and help you search for her.’
‘Okay,’ Clementine said, and flew up the back stairs calling Lavender’s name.
Clementine skipped along the hall, opening and closing all the doors. ‘Lavender, where are you?’ she called in a singsong voice.
She checked every one of the bedrooms on the first floor – and the bathrooms too – before wandering back downstairs. It was fortunate there were no guests staying in the house, so she didn’t have to worry about keeping her voice down.
‘Lavender!’ she shouted. ‘It’s dinnertime!’
She raced along the hallway and into the library, her voice growing more and more urgent. ‘Lavender, it’s not time for games. You need to come out now.’
Just as she was about to try her luck in the music room, Clementine noticed the curtains on the far window ruffle ever so slightly.
‘Lavender, is that you?’ the child scolded, her hands on her hips. ‘What are you doing hiding behind there?’ She bent down and peered under the fabric.
‘Oh, good, you’ve found her,’ Uncle Digby said, walking into the room. He strode over and pulled the curtains back.
There was Lavender, curled up in a ball and shivering madly. The little pig let out a pitiful grunt.
Clementine gasped. ‘Uncle Digby, something’s wrong!’
‘It’s all right, Clemmie,’ he said calmly. ‘Run and ask your mother to telephone the vet, and I’ll carry Lavender to the kitchen.’
‘Is she sick?’ Clementine’s lip trembled and her eyes began to fill with tears.
‘Let’s just see what Dr Wanner has to say.’ Uncle Digby bent down to touch the teacup pig, and was surprised to find that she was awfully hot.
Clementine shot off, calling out to her mother.
Lady Clarissa met her at the kitchen door, alarmed by the fear in her daughter’s voice. ‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’ she asked.
‘Lavender’s sick. Uncle Digby said you have to call Dr Wanner,’ Clementine said, her voice wavering.
‘Dear me.’ Clarissa wiped her hands on her apron and hurried to the telephone. She flipped open an organiser and thumbed through until she found the right page. Just as she dialled the number, Uncle Digby appeared with Lavender in his arms. His face looked pinched and his lips were drawn into a tight line.
‘She’s very warm,’ he said gravely.
Clementine hovered around him, eager to see exactly what was going on.
‘Clemmie, could you pick up Pharaoh?’ the man asked. ‘It’s probably best Lavender has the basket to herself for the moment.’
The child reached in to take the cat. The beast complained loudly but began to purr when Clementine gave him a tickle under the chin.
Digby Pertwhistle knelt beside the basket and carefully laid Lavender down. He stroked the pig’s side gently, trying to soothe her. She was panting and her little body was heaving up and down with each rapid breath. Clemmie deposited Pharaoh onto the floor and sat beside Uncle Digby.
‘What’s wrong, Lavender?’ she asked, gazing into her pet’s eyes. ‘I wish you could tell us where it hurts.’
Behind them, Clarissa hung up the phone and ran into the utility room.
‘What did Dr Wanner say, Mummy?’ Clementine called after her. She hoped he would get here soon.
‘He’s coming now. We’re lucky he was in the village checking on Adrian’s progress,’ Lady Clarissa said. Father Bob’s dribbly bulldog, Adrian, had recently been in an unfortunate tangle with a car and had broken a hind leg. ‘Dr Wanner said we should try to cool Lavender down.’ Clarissa reappeared with a wet hand towel, which she gently placed over the creature.
Clementine frowned. ‘She might get too cold.’
But Lavender let out a sigh and seemed to relax.
‘What’s going on?’ Aunt Violet said, appearing on the back stairs.
‘Lavender’s sick,’ Clementine said, her voice breaking.
‘Oh dear, that’s no good.’ Aunt Violet looked over at her cat, who had made himself right at home on the old church pew at the end of the kitchen. ‘I hope she hasn’t given anything to Pharaoh.’
‘Lavender wouldn’t do that,’ Clementine said crossly. ‘Not on purpose.’
There came the sound of crunching gravel outside, followed by a loud knock at the back door.
‘Come in,’ Uncle Digby called as he rushed to open it.
‘Good evening, Digby. How are you?’ Dr Wanner asked. The man was dressed in his trademark uniform of moleskin pants and a checked shirt and was carrying a small black bag.
‘I’m fine, thank you, but I’m afraid our little Lavender isn’t well,’ Digby replied, stepping aside to let the man in.
Dr Wanner strode into the kitchen. ‘There are a few things going around at the moment, but most of them are easily fixed,’ he said reassuringly.
‘Hello Dr Wanner,’ Clarissa greeted the man, and Aunt Violet gave him a nod.
Clementine looked up from where she was sitting, next to the basket. ‘Can you make her better?’ she asked.
‘I’ll do my best, Clemmie,’ the man said. He opened his bag and pulled out a large thermometer. ‘Why don’t you hop up, and I’ll take a look at her?’
Clementine did as she was asked and stood aside. Aunt Violet walked over and offered Clementine her hand while the family watched and waited for Dr Wanner’s verdict.
He took Lavender’s temperature, then listened to her breathing. He pressed and prodded until, finally, he stood up again. ‘I think Lavender has a touch of porcine pneumonia,’ the man said firmly.
‘Pneumonia?’ Aunt Violet gasped.
Clementine’s eyes began to flood with tears. She had no idea what that was but it didn’t sound very good at all.
Dr Wanner looked at the child. ‘No need to worry, Clemmie. I think we’ve caught it just in time. She hasn’t got a cough. Has she been off her dinner?’
‘I fed her last night,’ Clementine said, pausing to remember, ‘but I don’t think she finished it, and she always finishes her dinner.’
‘She didn’t eat her lunch today,’ Lady Clarissa added. ‘I should have known there was something wrong. Pigs never turn down food, do they?’
The vet shook his head. ‘It doesn’t sound as if she’s been unwell for too
long, but I’m going to have to take her with me. I’ll give her a shot now and then monitor her progress. I’ll call you in the morning.’
Clementine squeezed Aunt Violet’s hand. ‘She’s not going to die, is she?’
‘I’m fairly confident that Lavender will make a full recovery,’ Dr Wanner said with a smile. ‘Do you have something I can wrap her up in?’
‘Of course,’ Lady Clarissa said, and hurried into the utility room. She reappeared with a couple of towels and a blanket.
‘Why don’t you use Pharaoh’s carry case?’ Aunt Violet suggested. ‘Lavender will fit in there nice and snug.’
Clementine looked up at her great-aunt. ‘That’s a good idea,’ she sniffed.
While Clarissa fetched Pharaoh’s case, Dr Wanner took out a large syringe from his bag. He pulled the plunger and then pressed it to expel the excess air, before giving it a flick with his fingers. He then rubbed Lavender’s shoulder with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic.
Clementine hid her face behind her hands as Dr Wanner inserted the needle into Lavender’s flesh. The little pig grunted softly.
‘All over,’ Dr Wanner said with a smile, turning to Clementine. ‘Do you want to say goodbye?’
Clementine shook her head.
‘Are you sure?’ her mother asked.
Clementine began to cry. ‘If I say goodbye she might never come back.’
‘Oh, darling, I’m sure she’ll come home soon,’ Lady Clarissa said, gently squeezing her daughter’s shoulder.
On her other side, Aunt Violet leaned down and cuddled the girl. ‘Don’t you worry. Lavender is a fighter. Besides, she has to get well – Pharaoh would be lost without her.’
Clementine looked at her great-aunt, a tiny smile forming on her lips. ‘Do you mean that?’ she asked.
The old woman nodded. ‘Yes, I do.’
Clementine let go of Aunt Violet’s hand and rushed over to Lavender. She bent down close and whispered into the little pig’s ear. ‘Be brave, Lavender. I love you.’ Clementine kissed her snout, then stood up. ‘She’s ready now.’
Clementine Rose and the Birthday Emergency Page 2
