Clementine Rose and the Farm Fiasco 4

by Jacqueline Harvey

  Digby grinned. Aunt Violet with twenty children and Mrs Bottomley at a farm – he rather hoped that the doctor might postpone his appointment after all, because he would have liked to see that for himself.

  Clementine glanced up from where she was eating her cereal at the kitchen table. ‘You look nice, Aunt Violet.’ Her great-aunt was wearing a white pants-suit with a pair of shiny red ballet flats. She wore a large pearl choker around her neck. ‘But don’t you think you might get dirty?’

  ‘I wasn’t planning on it.’ The old woman pulled out a chair and sat down.

  ‘I think Clementine’s right, Aunt Violet. White on a school excursion might be a little risky,’ Lady Clarissa said diplomatically. ‘Especially to a farm.’

  ‘I wear white all the time, Clarissa. I’ll be fine.’ Aunt Violet poured herself a cup of tea from the pot in the middle of the table.

  ‘Until you have to feed something,’ said Digby Pertwhistle. He was buttering several slices of toast.

  ‘I won’t be doing any of that,’ Aunt Violet replied. ‘I’m only going because Clarissa has pressing business and you have that silly doctor’s appointment, which is a waste of time if you ask me. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with you.’

  ‘Thank you for your learned opinion, Dr Appleby,’ Digby replied.

  Clementine frowned. ‘Are you a doctor, Aunt Violet?’ This was the first she’d heard of such a thing. Her great-aunt certainly hadn’t acted like a doctor when Uncle Digby had needed to go to hospital.

  ‘No, Clementine, Uncle Digby is just teasing,’ said her mother. She sat down and picked up the teapot. ‘Of course he needs to go for his check-up. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to him.’

  ‘Well, that’s a matter of opinion,’ Aunt Violet murmured. ‘Anyway, Clementine, you’re not exactly in farm attire yourself.’

  The children had been allowed to wear casual clothes for the day. ‘This is an old dress,’ Clementine replied. ‘I love it but I won’t be able to wear it much longer because I’m getting too big. I’m nearly five and a half now.’

  ‘Well, it is . . . rather sweet,’ her great-aunt replied.

  Clementine was surprised to hear her say so.

  Lady Clarissa glanced at the clock in the kitchen. ‘Heavens, look at the time. Clemmie, run along and brush your teeth.’

  Clementine pushed her chair out and hopped down. ‘Look, our shoes match,’ she said to Aunt Violet before scurrying away up the back stairs.

  It wasn’t long before Clementine farewelled her mother and Uncle Digby and she and Aunt Violet were in the car heading towards Highton Mill. Clementine was glad that her great-aunt didn’t seem to be in quite as much of a hurry as she was earlier in the week.

  As they arrived in the street, there was an old red bus sitting outside the school gates.

  ‘Where am I supposed to park?’ Aunt Violet complained.

  Clementine craned her neck to see if there were any spaces on the other side of the road. She pointed and said, ‘I think there’s a spot down there.’

  Aunt Violet pressed her foot hard on the accelerator. There was another car heading towards them and she was determined to get to the parking space first.

  ‘Ahh!’ Clementine exclaimed and covered her eyes as Aunt Violet did a U-turn in front of the oncoming car. The old woman screeched to a halt in the space and smiled smugly.

  Joshua Tribble’s father rolled down the passenger window and started shouting and gesturing wildly.

  ‘That was my spot!’ he yelled, then realised who he was speaking to. ‘You again!’

  Aunt Violet turned her head and looked the other way, pretending not to notice. ‘I didn’t see your name on it,’ she said under her breath.

  ‘I think Mr Tribble’s upset,’ Clementine said.

  ‘He’ll get over it.’ Aunt Violet opened the driver’s door and got out. Mr Tribble sped away.

  Clementine hopped out onto the footpath. She slung her small pink backpack onto her shoulders and closed the door carefully.

  Clementine bounced along beside her great-aunt until they reached the crossing in front of the school gates. She stopped and held out her hand.

  Aunt Violet strode onto the road ahead of her.

  ‘Aunt Violet,’ Clementine called.

  The old woman turned her head. ‘What are you doing back there?’

  ‘You have to hold my hand,’ Clementine said. ‘It’s the rules.’

  ‘Oh.’ Aunt Violet walked back to the kerb. Clementine slipped her hand into Aunt Violet’s.

  Just inside the school gates, a crowd of children and a small group of parents milled about. Mrs Bottomley was there too, armed with a large clipboard and with a floppy straw hat on her head.

  Aunt Violet narrowed her eyes. ‘Good heavens, what is that woman wearing?’

  It seemed that Mrs Bottomley had abandoned her usual brown checked suit in favour of a pair of brown corduroy trousers and a pasty-looking beige shirt. On her feet she wore dark green wellington boots. She’d been up before dawn going over the plans for the day and couldn’t understand why her tummy was a little knotted. The thought occurred to her that she had always felt that way as a child, just before something exciting was about to happen. But surely that couldn’t be the reason for her discomfort.

  ‘Good morning, everyone,’ the teacher called over the din. ‘I need you to make two straight lines, in alphabetical order.’

  Several of the children began to move. The parents, most of whom had come to wave the group off, continued chatting. Clementine looked up at Aunt Violet and pulled her towards the teacher.

  Ethel Bottomley surveyed the chaotic scene in front of her and raised the whistle around her neck to her lips. The shrill squeal silenced everyone and she repeated her instruction.

  ‘Children, two straight lines. NOW!’ The whole class scampered into formation. They were so used to lining up in alphabetical order by now that it took no longer than half a minute. The parents didn’t know what to do, so they stood at the back.

  ‘We need to mark the roll,’ Mrs Bottomley said. ‘Clementine Appleby.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Bottomley,’ Clemmie said.

  ‘Angus Archibald,’ Mrs Bottomley continued.

  ‘Yes, Na–’

  His grandmother shot him a nasty look.

  ‘I mean, Mrs Bottomley,’ Angus replied.

  The teacher called each name until the whole class was checked off.

  ‘I don’t know why she couldn’t have just counted you all,’ Aunt Violet whispered to Clementine.

  Clementine looked up. ‘But she always calls the roll.’

  ‘It wastes an awful lot of time, if you ask me,’ Aunt Violet said.

  Clementine could only agree. She’d thought that from her first day.

  ‘Now the parents,’ Mrs Bottomley began. ‘If you’re not joining us, please move away from the children.’

  ‘Godfathers,’ Aunt Violet muttered. ‘Is the woman incapable of counting a handful of adults?’

  ‘Lady Appleby?’

  ‘It’s Miss Appleby and yes,’ Aunt Violet replied tersely.

  Ethel Bottomley looked up from where she was ticking off the list of names.

  ‘No, you’re not coming. Clementine’s mother is joining us.’

  ‘There’s been a change of plans,’ Aunt Violet replied. ‘My niece has been caught up at home and I will be coming instead.’

  Mrs Bottomley’s lips twitched. ‘But I was expecting Lady Appleby.’

  ‘Well, you’ll just have to make do with Miss Appleby instead,’ said Aunt Violet.

  ‘You’re not exactly dressed for it,’ Mrs Bottomley scolded.

  Aunt Violet looked the teacher up and down and sneered. ‘I don’t know, Mrs Bottomley. Someone needed to inject a little bit of style into this occasion. Clearly that
wasn’t on your agenda.’

  Ethel Bottomley frowned. She decided to ignore the woman’s last comment.

  Sophie’s mother, Odette, was there too, along with Joshua Tribble’s father. Mrs Bauer and her husband would meet the group at the farm with Poppy, who’d been allowed to stay home that morning.

  ‘All right, everyone, before we get on the bus I want to go over our list of rules,’ Mrs Bottomley barked. ‘Who can tell me one of them?’

  Hands shot into the air.

  ‘Yes, Sophie?’ The woman pointed at the dark-haired child.

  ‘Don’t wander off.’

  ‘Good. Anyone else?’

  ‘Don’t touch the animals,’ another voice called.

  Mrs Bottomley nodded.

  ‘Don’t eat anything from the garden,’ Astrid said.

  ‘Yes, I don’t want anyone getting sick,’ Mrs Bottomley replied.

  Violet Appleby raised her hand.

  The teacher wondered what the old woman had to offer. She hesitated then pointed at her.

  ‘Don’t have any fun,’ Aunt Violet said with a straight face. There was a titter of laughter from the other parents and some of the children.

  ‘Of course we’re going to have fun, Miss Appleby. Orderly fun,’ Mrs Bottomley sneered.

  ‘It doesn’t sound like much fun to me,’ Aunt Violet scoffed. ‘Fancy going to a farm and telling the children they can’t touch the animals. The only reason I agreed to Clementine’s request to come along was that she told me there was fun in the offing. I’m not hearing that at the moment.’

  Joshua’s father leaned over to Sophie’s mother and whispered, ‘I never imagined Miss Appleby and I would agree on anything, but the woman’s quite right.’

  Odette Rousseau chuckled.

  Clementine wished that Aunt Violet would stop talking. She could see Mrs Bottomley’s ears turning pink and she looked crosser than usual.

  ‘First and foremost, Miss Appleby, it is my duty to ensure that the children in my care are safe at all times. And that they learn something. Now if you’re quite finished, you can board the bus.’

  Clementine walked up the steps. A round man wearing a brown shirt and shorts, and long beige socks was sitting behind the steering wheel. He had curly brown hair too, and Clementine wondered if he was related to Mrs Bottomley.

  ‘Good morning, miss,’ the man said with a smile. ‘My name’s Bernie Stubbs.’

  ‘Good morning,’ Clementine smiled back.

  ‘I think we’re in for a good day,’ he said and gave her a wink.

  Clementine decided then that he couldn’t be related to Mrs Bottomley. He was much too happy and friendly.

  She walked into the aisle and wondered where to sit. Aunt Violet, who had entered the bus behind her, had already made up her mind.

  ‘Clementine, here,’ her great-aunt said as she slid into the front seat on the passenger side.

  ‘But Mrs Bottomley said that we have to keep the front seats free for people who get bus sick,’ Clementine protested.

  ‘I don’t care what Mrs Bottomley said. We’re sitting here.’ Aunt Violet pursed her lips and Clementine slipped in beside her. ‘I’m not going any further into this contraption than is absolutely necessary.’

  The other children streamed onto the vehicle and raced towards the back. By the time Mrs Bottomley walked up the steps everyone had found a seat – although Joshua and Angus were playing a rowdy game and rushing up and down the aisle.

  ‘You boys stop that at once,’ Mrs Bottomley shouted, then blew her whistle. Joshua and Angus sat behind Mr Tribble, who had been trying unsuccessfully to get the two boys to settle down.

  Mrs Bottomley gave him a stern look and then glanced at Aunt Violet. She was about to say something but Aunt Violet got in first.

  ‘Clementine mentioned that the front seats were reserved for people who weren’t good travellers,’ the old woman said. ‘And we wouldn’t want anyone in the back of the bus to suffer if someone’s feeling a bit peaky.’ Aunt Violet motioned at Clementine, and Mrs Bottomley kept her mouth closed. She could have sworn that there was nothing on the child’s medical form about travel sickness but she didn’t feel like having another argument with Miss Appleby.

  The driver, who had hopped off the bus to make some last-minute checks, reappeared and lumbered back to his seat.

  ‘Good morning, Ethel. You’re looking lovely today,’ he said, grinning at Mrs Bottomley.

  A crimson flush rose on Mrs Bottomley’s cheeks and she giggled like a schoolgirl. No one had told her that in years.

  The bus driver turned the key in the ignition and the vehicle sputtered.

  ‘All aboard?’ he asked, glancing at Mrs Bottomley.

  ‘Wait a minute. I have to call the roll.’

  ‘Again?’ Aunt Violet said. ‘Surely you could just count everyone.’

  Ethel Bottomley held onto her clipboard like a drowning sailor to a lifebuoy. She pulled out her pen.

  ‘Would you like this?’ Mr Stubbs offered her a small microphone.

  Mrs Bottomley took it from him and pushed the button on the side of the handpiece. It crackled to life.

  ‘When everyone is in their seats I will do a final check of the roll before we head off.’

  There was an audible groan from Aunt Violet, and Mrs Bottomley noticed that Mr Tribble rolled his eyes too.

  She ignored them both and ran down the list, checking off the names.

  ‘All present and accounted for,’ said Mrs Bottomley, tapping her pen on the page.

  The bus lurched forward and Mrs Bottomley wobbled on her feet.

  ‘Heavens, Mr Stubbs, you could have waited a moment.’ Mrs Bottomley clutched the pole beside the driver and swung into her seat behind him. ‘I almost ended up in your lap.’

  ‘That wouldn’t have been so bad now, Ethel, would it?’ he chuckled.

  ‘I think you should keep your eyes on the road, driver,’ Aunt Violet said loudly.

  Ethel Bottomley’s face was redder than a beetroot. She ignored Miss Appleby’s comment and set to arranging her handbag beside her.

  Clementine looked out of the window as the bus passed by the little row of shops where Sophie’s father had his patisserie. Her tummy fluttered. She turned to her great-aunt and declared, ‘Today is going to be fun!’

  Her great-aunt nodded. ‘If you say so.’

  Clementine reached out and put her hand into Aunt Violet’s. To her surprise, the old woman gave it a squeeze.

  The bus bumped along to the other side of the village. The farm at Highton Hall wasn’t too far away but required the driver to navigate some narrow country lanes.

  ‘Perhaps we should have a song,’ Sophie’s mother suggested loudly. She started a rousing chorus of ‘The Wheels on the Bus’.

  Mrs Bottomley leaned forward and gestured at the microphone. ‘Give me that, Mr Stubbs.’

  He grinned in the rear-vision mirror. ‘Oh good, are we going to have some karaoke?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ said the teacher. ‘Children, please stop that singing at once. You’re distracting Mr Stubbs.’

  ‘Oh no, I love a good singalong,’ the driver protested.

  ‘You’re not being very helpful, Mr Stubbs,’ Mrs Bottomley whispered.

  ‘I just thought it would be nice to have a song,’ the man replied.

  ‘Goodness no,’ Ethel Bottomley said quietly, then looked over at Clementine. ‘Children, all this noise is, um, upsetting Clementine. We don’t want to make her sick, do we?’

  ‘But I don’t get bus–’ Clementine began to protest then felt a nudge from her great-aunt.

  Aunt Violet gave Clemmie a freezing stare. The singing stopped. For a few minutes all that could be heard was the drone of the engine as Mr Stubbs wrestled the old beast down a gear and headed up the hill.
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  Soon the bus slowed and Mr Stubbs turned off the road and through a grand set of gates. They were now on the estate of Highton Hall.

  The main house was quite a distance away, through another set of gates on the left. But the bus continued right, down a tree-lined drive dappled with sunlight. They passed several cottages and at the end of the road, the bus pulled up outside a hotchpotch of sheds.

  ‘Look, there’s Poppy!’ Clementine exclaimed as her friend came running towards them.

  The atmosphere on the bus had risen to fever pitch with everyone jostling to see what was going on outside.

  ‘There’s a duck,’ one of the boys called.

  ‘I can see a cow over there,’ another child shouted.

  ‘Children, get back into your seats and sit down,’ Mrs Bottomley yelled. She snatched the microphone before Mr Stubbs had time to pass it to her.

  She instructed the children to stay where they were and then hopped off the bus to find Mr Bauer, who would be taking the group on a tour of the farm. She was eager to go over the schedule with him one last time. Poppy said hello and Heinrich Bauer appeared from around the side of one of the sheds.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Bottomley,’ he said in his thick German accent. ‘It is good to see you.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mrs Bottomley. ‘I suppose I should thank you for inviting us.’

  ‘I see the children are excited.’ Mr Bauer nodded towards the bus, which had lots of little faces pressed up against the windows.

  ‘A little too excited for my liking,’ Mrs Bottomley replied. ‘You’ll need to take a firm hand with them, Mr Bauer. I certainly will. If anyone gets up to mischief they’ll be locked up in the dairy.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Bottomley. The children will be fine. I have lots of things for them to see and they will be too tired to get up to any mischief-making.’

  Mrs Bottomley reached for her schedule but the man had already jumped onto the bus and begun to welcome the children loudly.

  ‘My name is Heinrich Bauer and you know my little girl, Poppy,’ he said. ‘Now we are going to have a lovely time on the farm today but you must make sure that you follow my instructions. Most of all, I want everyone to have some fun today.’