Digby Pertwhistle cleared his throat. ‘Your grandmother isn’t feeling well.’
Clementine narrowed her eyes, thinking of how Aunt Violet had pretended to need a tissue the night before. ‘That’s not true. She’s still mad at you, isn’t she?’
Digby pulled a face and nodded.
‘And she still won’t tell you what the matter is?’ Clementine asked.
He shook his head.
‘Well, that’s annoying,’ Clementine said, placing her hands on her hips. ‘I’m going to ask her myself.’
Uncle Digby recoiled. ‘No Clemmie, this is between me and your grandmother,’ the man said.
‘Not anymore. I got a terrible fright. I could have fallen down the stairs, and Granny and Grandpa could have fallen off the wall,’ Clementine said. And with that the child tapped gently and opened the door.
‘Go away!’ a muffled voice came from under the covers. ‘I don’t want to talk to you! I’m too disappointed.’
‘It’s me, Granny,’ Clementine said, and climbed up onto the side of the bed. Aunt Violet rolled over, her eyes puffy and red.
‘Why are you mad with Uncle Digby?’
‘That’s none of your concern,’ the woman said, and pushed herself up against the pillows. ‘He knows why.’
Clementine leaned in against her grandmother’s shoulder. ‘He said he has no idea and I believe him.’
‘That’s typical of a man,’ Violet sniffed. ‘Completely unaware of my feelings.’
‘But he loves you,’ Clementine said.
‘Does he really?’ Violet asked. ‘I suspect he’s the same as every other man I’ve ever put my trust in. Monumentally disappointing.’
Clementine had no idea what ‘monumentally’ meant, but it didn’t sound good.
‘I really don’t want to talk about it, Clementine. You mustn’t worry. We’re adults and we’ll sort it out – even if it means that someone has to go,’ Violet said, checking herself in a compact mirror she’d picked up off the bedside table.
Clementine’s tummy twisted. ‘But you can’t go anywhere,’ the child said. ‘You’re my granny.’
‘Yes, that’s why it won’t be me who’s leaving,’ Violet pursed her lips.
Clementine’s blue eyes widened in alarm. ‘Uncle Digby can’t go anywhere, either. He’s . . . he’s Uncle Digby.’
‘He’s the family butler, and he’s ancient and he should have retired and moved to the seaside by now,’ Violet said. ‘Anyway, we’re not talking about it, Clemmie. What are you doing up so early, anyway?’
‘I’ve got jobs to do,’ the child said quietly. She shuffled to the edge of the bed and hopped down onto the floor.
‘Speaking of jobs, I’d better get dressed and go and see Elaine. I’m hosting a parade for her on Tuesday. I need to find out what she wants me to wear,’ said Aunt Violet, but Clementine wasn’t listening. She had to find out what the problem was, and soon – the mess between her grandmother and Uncle Digby was much worse than she’d first thought.
Clementine finished her jam toast and swept the last of the crumbs to the floor for Lavender.
Drew had already left for his work trip with Basil Hobbs, their friend and neighbour. The pair were filming a documentary about the life of an important historical person (whose name Clementine couldn’t remember). Drew would be away for at least a week – maybe more – which gave Clementine a squirly feeling in her tummy. The nursery was still a big mess and they still hadn’t built the cot yet. There was so much to do, and no one seemed at all worried that the baby might decide it was ready to be born any day now.
Clarissa walked into the kitchen, yawning widely and resting a hand on her bulging belly.
‘Good morning, darling,’ she said. ‘You’re up early for a Sunday.’
The child looked at the clock. It was just after eight. ‘You’re up late, Mummy. You never sleep in this long, except when you had morning sickness, which was really all day sickness.’
Clementine had planned to write her mother a message to tell her where she was going, albeit in a roundabout sort of way. She had hoped to get moving before anyone else was up, but it seemed her luck had run out.
‘The doctor advised that I try and bank some sleep before the baby comes,’ Clarissa replied, and yawned again. ‘Drew brought me a cup of tea before he left, but then I dozed off. You know, life won’t be the same after this little one arrives.’
‘It will be even better,’ Clementine said, with a firm nod. Though she wondered if she should try to get in some extra naps, just in case.
Clarissa grinned at her daughter. ‘I hope this baby makes me smile as much as you do, sweetheart.’
Clementine nodded again. ‘It will – except when it has a stinky nappy. I have to go out for a while,’ she informed her mother, who had now sat down with a fresh cup of tea.
Clarissa gave her daughter a curious look. ‘And where, pray tell, are you off to?’
‘The village,’ Clementine said mysteriously, raising her eyebrows high on her forehead.
Clarissa chuckled. ‘Do you want to wait for Will to go with you?’
Clementine shook her head. ‘Will’s going to Jules’ this morning, remember, Mummy?’ Besides, she wanted to do her collecting all on her own.
Clarissa scratched her nose and sighed. ‘Of course. Odette and Sophie are away, aren’t they? I’d forgotten you’ve started holidays.’
‘Do babies always make their mothers forget so many things?’ Clementine asked.
‘Always,’ Aunt Violet said as she trotted down the stairs and swept into the room. ‘Would you like me to take Will to Highton Mill? I have to see Elaine this morning. I’m meeting her at the shop just after nine.’
‘That would save Pierre a drive,’ Clarissa said. She stood up and walked to the telephone and quickly called the man, who was very grateful for the offer. He was currently juggling the bakery and looking after Jules on his own, and strangely wasn’t making a delivery to the Moggs’ shop this morning, either. She sat back down at the table. ‘Have you seen Uncle Digby?’
Aunt Violet shook her head, avoiding Clementine’s gaze as the child looked up in surprise.
‘That’s not true, Granny,’ Clementine said. ‘Uncle Digby took you tea and toast – but you threw him out and broke the vase.
‘That was not my fault,’ the woman said crisply. ‘And I have no idea where he is now.’
Clarissa frowned. Uncle Digby’s bedroom door had been wide open when she’d come downstairs, and there wasn’t any sign of him. He’d usually be pottering about in the kitchen, but perhaps after the upset he’d decided to do jobs elsewhere in the house instead.
‘I’ll go and find him after breakfast,’ Clarissa said. The tension between Uncle Digby and Aunt Violet was beginning to worry her.
Clementine’s tummy felt sick. What if Aunt Violet had already told Uncle Digby to leave? That would be the worst news ever.
Clementine snapped Lavender’s red lead onto her collar and set off toward the village. Pulling her little red wagon behind her, with Lavender tripping along out front, the child marched determinedly. She would make her four visits while her mother found Uncle Digby, and then when she returned home she would do her very best to convince him that Penberthy House was exactly where he belonged.
The pair walked across the field and through the gate into the rectory garden, beside the church. Clementine parked her wagon by the roses and was about to knock on Father Bob’s back door when it burst open and the man dashed out, almost bowling the girl over.
‘Ohh!’ He jumped and the pile of white cards he was holding flew into the air, landing like giant lumps of confetti all around them. ‘Clemmie, what are you doing here?’ he said, scurrying about to retrieve the scattered notes.
‘Sorry,’ she said with a grimace. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. I just came to get the thing you were making for me.’
Father Bob stood up, a blank look on his face. ‘I’m sorry, Clemmie, but I’m
in a bit of a rush.’
‘But I’ve brought my trolley so I can take it home and put it somewhere safe,’ Clementine said.
Father Bob’s forehead creased with wrinkles. ‘What thing?’ he asked.
Clementine pulled on his arm to bring him down to her level then cupped her hand and whispered in his ear.
‘Remember?’ she said.
The man still looked confused – as much about why Clementine needed to whisper in an empty garden as to the rest of it. He thought for a moment more then stood up straight. ‘Oh, yes,’ he gasped, his left hand flying to his mouth. ‘I do remember that now.’
Clementine nodded. ‘I asked you just after Mummy told us about the baby, and you said you could do it, but then whenever I’ve seen you I’ve always been with Mummy, or Drew, or Granny or Uncle Digby and I want everyone to get a surprise – that’s why I didn’t remind you.’
Father Bob sighed. ‘Oh dear, I am sorry, Clemmie. When is the baby due again?’
‘Three weeks,’ Clementine replied, trying to ignore the fact that Lavender was munching one of Father Bob’s flowers. ‘But Micah’s sister came early, so my baby might too.’
‘Do you really think it would matter if the baby didn’t have it for a little while?’ he asked.
Clementine could feel tears brimming in her eyes. She brushed them away. ‘But I wanted everything to be perfect.’
‘Of course you do, sweetheart,’ Father Bob said kindly. ‘I’ll get to work on it this afternoon. But I have a sermon to deliver first.’
Clementine stepped back so she could see the man properly. ‘Oops,’ she said. Father Bob was wearing his black robes and white collar, and the cards she’d sent flying were covered in his notes for the morning’s service.
‘Would you and Lavender like to join us?’ he asked.
Clementine shook her head. ‘Not today, thank you. I have to go and see the Moggs, and Mrs Tribble and Ana, and get home in time to stop Granny from getting rid of Uncle Digby.’
The man looked at her, intrigued, but there wasn’t time to figure out what she meant. ‘Don’t you worry, Clemmie. I’ll get it done,’ the man said, and with that he rushed down the path to the church just as the first parishioners were beginning to arrive.
Clementine picked up Lavender’s lead and let out a sigh that seemed to come up all the way from her sandshoes. ‘I hope everyone else is better at remembering,’ she said to the little pig. ‘Or else we’re in big trouble.’
But when Clementine and Lavender arrived at the Moggs’ shop they found a ‘closed’ sign on the door and Claws, the Mogg’s old tabby cat, sunning himself on the bench out the front. Lavender gave the grumpy feline a wide berth. Clementine bit her lip. The shop was never closed, except when Mr Mogg had had to go to hospital. She walked down the driveway at the side but the place was locked up tight. Surely there was nothing wrong – with the Moggs or with her present.
At least she knew that Mrs Tribble remembered, because she had given Clementine a wink and said that she was almost finished when the child had seen her last week at the school assembly.
Clementine walked around the corner to the Tribbles’ blue cottage, knocked on the door and waited, but no one came.
Mrs Lim, the Tribbles’ neighbour, popped her head up over the hedge. ‘Hello, Clementine,’ the old woman said brightly. ‘If you’re looking for Joshua, the Tribbles left yesterday afternoon for a short break in the city. I think they’re due back on Wednesday.’
Clementine pressed her hands dramatically to the top of her head. ‘Today is a disaster,’ she declared.
‘Never mind,’ Mrs Lim said. ‘I’m sure Joshua would love to play with you when he gets back.’
That was the last thing Clementine planned to do, especially after the boy had put a fly in her drink bottle at sport last week.
Clementine said goodbye to the woman and set off again. She had one more stop before she went home. Hopefully Ana Hobbs had organised the baby-sized ballet shoes and tutu like she’d promised.
Later that afternoon, Violet Appleby poked her head around Clementine’s bedroom door and was surprised to see the child lying under the covers, a pink sleeping mask hiding her eyes. Given the girl was tossing and turning and grumbling to herself, it was clear that she wasn’t asleep.
‘What are you doing in bed in the middle of the afternoon?’ the old woman asked. ‘Are you ill?’
Clementine pushed the eye mask to the top of her head and sat up.
‘No,’ she sighed. ‘I’m banking, except it’s not working because there’s too much noise inside my head. I’ve tried counting sheep and telling myself a boring story like the ones Mrs Bottomley always goes on and on about, but I’m wide awake. And Lavender can’t sleep, either.’
The little pig grunted as if to agree.
‘Banking?’ Violet asked. ‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘Mummy said that Dr Everingham told her to try banking sleep, because after the baby comes she won’t be getting any. So, I thought I would try it as well, in case the baby keeps the whole house awake,’ Clementine said, noticing her grandmother’s beautiful outfit. The woman was dressed in a red pants suit with a pearl choker at her neck. She’d not long arrived back from Highton Mill.
‘Let’s hope that the baby is a good sleeper, otherwise it might not just be Pertwhistle who leaves home,’ Violet muttered under her breath.
Clementine looked at her in alarm. ‘What do you mean? Didn’t you and Uncle Digby make up?’
She’d assumed that her grandmother and Uncle Digby had sorted things out because the man had been vacuuming downstairs when she’d returned from her ill-fated mission. He was whistling too, and Uncle Digby always whistled when he was happy.
Clementine had discovered that the Hobbses – minus Basil – were visiting Ana’s parents and no one was sure when they were due back. In light of her disastrous morning, she’d been glad to think that at least things at home were getting back to normal.
‘As I told you this morning, that is none of your business, so you can stop asking,’ the woman said.
‘Well, you should stop being so mean,’ Clementine mumbled. It wasn’t fair at all that Uncle Digby was being pushed out.
‘I beg your pardon, young lady,’ the woman replied, brushing some unexpected tears from her eyes. ‘I think you’ll find that none of this is my fault. If that silly old man had any feelings at all, he’d know exactly why I’m upset.’
Violet reached into her pocket for a handkerchief. She blew her nose then dabbed at her face.
‘Anyway, your mother has made a cake. Would you like to come down for afternoon tea?’
Clementine hadn’t meant to upset her grandmother again. ‘Is it chocolate?’ she asked quietly.
‘With sprinkles,’ the woman replied.
Clementine heard her tummy growl right on cue. She pushed back the covers and hopped out of bed, following the woman out the door and down the kitchen stairs.
‘Hello, darling.’ Clarissa turned from where she was stirring something in a huge pot on the stove. She yawned widely, her left hand resting on her tummy. She did both of those things a lot lately.
‘Mummy, you look ’sausted,’ Clementine said, running to give Clarissa and the baby a cuddle. She kissed her mother’s tummy five times then whispered, ‘I love you, baby,’ against the bump. She rested her ear against her mother’s stomach in case there was a reply.
Digby Pertwhistle walked over to the woman and raised his eyebrows. ‘Hand me that spoon, Clarissa, and I’ll take care of the soup. You need to sit down and have a cup of tea and a piece of cake, especially if you’re going to make it through the evening with guests for dinner. I wish you would have cancelled them when there was still time.’
‘Yes, that would have been much better all round,’ Aunt Violet echoed. Digby turned and smiled at her but she looked away.
Clarissa sighed. ‘I couldn’t, Uncle Digby. It’s Mr Popov’s special birthday. He’s seventy and they b
ooked a long while ago. How was I to know that this this would happen,’ she patted her tummy.
Clementine giggled.
‘What are you laughing at?’ Violet asked the girl, who had climbed up onto a chair and was sipping the mug of hot chocolate Uncle Digby had placed there for her.
‘Popov,’ Clementine said. ‘I wonder if he does lots of pop offs. That will make the house even smellier than when Will and Drew are home.’
Violet rolled her eyes. ‘Your humour is getting as bad as your brother’s. Speaking of whom, is he back yet?’
Clarissa nodded as she put on the kettle. ‘Yes, Pierre dropped him off a little while ago. He was reading in his room. I’ll give him a shout,’ she said, then gasped.
The rest of the household leapt to their feet.
‘What’s the matter?’ Violet raced over to her niece.
Clarissa giggled. ‘I think this baby is going to be joining your soccer team before we know it, Clemmie.’ She took the girl’s hand and placed it on the kicking foot.
Clementine grinned, then bit her lip. Even more reason to make sure that she had everything organised, and the sooner the better.
Clarissa had just sat down to drink her tea when the doorbell rang. She glanced at the kitchen clock and sighed.
‘They’re quite a bit earlier than I expected,’ she said, placing her cup on the saucer with a chink.
‘You stay right there.’ Aunt Violet held her pointer finger aloft. ‘Clementine and I can greet them.’
‘Thank you,’ Clarissa said, and gave a tired smile.
Will, who was now sitting at the kitchen table reading a book, was glad to hear that he wasn’t going to have to help this time.
‘Come along, Clemmie,’ her grandmother instructed, picking up the requisite paperwork from the sideboard. ‘Pertwhistle and Will can get the bags.’
Will’s head popped up. So much for getting out of things.
‘His name is Uncle Digby,’ Clementine muttered under her breath. She hated that her grandmother was being so stubborn about sorting things out. It was getting ridiculous. Clementine straightened the blue bow in her hair then skipped ahead down the hall and opened the front door. After her unsuccessful trip to the village, the girl had changed into a pinafore, which her grandmother had commented was much nicer than her old overalls.
Clementine Rose and the Best News Yet Page 2
