Alice-Miranda at Camp 10 (12 page)

After what seemed like an age, Millie reached the top and banged on the frame.

‘Well done, Millie,' Alice-Miranda shouted, and the other children waiting below gave a cheer.

As Millie dangled from the top, Alice-Miranda watched Caprice lower Millie steadily until the girl's feet hit the ground.

Millie beamed and let out a huge sigh of relief. Alice-Miranda rushed forward and gave her a hug.

‘How was that, Millie?' Mr Plumpton asked.

‘Good.' She was still shaking but relieved to have got up and down in one piece.

‘See, told you everything would be fine,' Caprice said with a smile.

‘Oh, I'm so pleased that you two are getting along,' Mr Plumpton said happily. ‘Well done,
Caprice. Well done, Millie.' He was scribbling something on the page on his clipboard.

Alice-Miranda was relieved too. But something still didn't feel right. Caprice had just done everything by the book yet Alice-Miranda couldn't shake that niggling feeling that this wasn't the end of her dispute with Millie. Caprice was complicated: brilliant, beautiful and, if everything Millie had told her was true, quite possibly the most conniving person Alice-Miranda had ever met – which was saying something.

‘Come on, Millie, do you want to get a drink?' Caprice asked.

Millie looked at Alice-Miranda.

‘Go on,' she mouthed and gave a small nod.

The girls rushed over to where their day packs were lined up along the fence.

Ed Clifton had walked for miles through the estate village, whose cottages were now inhabited by the staff who looked after the residents of Pelham Park; past the farmhouses and the lake and the river where he had learned to fish as a boy; and through the woodlands, which to his great joy were still exactly as he'd remembered.

He reflected fondly on school holidays spent roaming around with the estate children whose lives he would gladly have traded places with in a blink.
They'd always thought him so lucky to live in the big house with all those people to look after him. But for Ed it had been like growing up in a straitjacket. He could recall a few family picnics but they were always grand affairs with servants on hand and guests who had come from all over the world – usually people associated with his father's work. Nothing was ever done just for fun.

Ed decided he'd seen enough for one day. He glanced at the hilltop. On top was the family vault, its stark cross standing out against the blue sky. He would visit them soon. Just not yet. He had been glad to hear that his brother had removed his own memorial as soon as the two of them were reunited. Seeing it would have been strange, to say the least. Then again, in some peculiar way he did bury Xavier Kennington-Jones when he left home and became Ed Clifton all those years ago.

Ed walked into the house and almost bumped into Matron Bright.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Clifton,' she said with a smile. ‘I trust you had an enjoyable walk.'

‘Yes thank you, matron. I should like to make a start downstairs. Will I need any keys to get to the cellar?'

‘Oh yes, of course. I'll get you a set now. I'm afraid I keep everything locked up tight. I had a set go missing when we first opened – never found them and it's always worried me. I'd hate for any of our residents to go wandering and find themselves somewhere they're not familiar with.' She darted away and soon returned with the keys.

Ed walked along the hallway to the rear stairs. He knew his way to the cellars, having spent a great deal of time down there with his paints. Ed was just twelve years old when, with his mother's help, he'd set up a studio at the far end of the subterranean maze. The light was terrible but he'd been able to toil away during term breaks without fear of his father finding out. Initially he had attempted to copy the works of artists he admired, before beginning to find his own unique style.

One evening, when Ed was away at university and about to take his final examinations, his father had gone in search of some long-lost object that he'd decided must be in the cellars. When Henry discovered Ed's secret he was furious. No son of his was going to be an artist – not when there was a company to run and a legacy to continue.

Henry Kennington-Jones destroyed every canvas and had the studio dismantled. No amount of
pleading from his wife would make Henry see sense – he hadn't stopped to discover that Ed's work wasn't just good, it was incredible. It wasn't until Ed returned home at the end of semester that he discovered everything was gone. He'd felt as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs.

When Ed had confronted his father, there was a terrible row. They'd fought before but never like this. A week later, Ed had packed his things and left for the United States to pursue his dreams. The very next night his mother was gone too.

Ed's chest tightened as he walked downstairs. He felt like a boy again.

He turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door at the end of the butler's pantry, careful to lock it behind him as Matron Bright had requested. Ed flicked the switch and a dull glow lit the stairs. The air was immediately cooler. He knew from experience that so long as moisture hadn't penetrated the walls, the cellar's constant temperature made it almost the perfect place to store artwork.

He reached the bottom and unlocked the second door. His hand reached instinctively for the light switch.

The cellars had always contained household cast-offs but he was stunned by just how much more had
migrated downstairs. Strewn among the sideboards, lamps and other furniture, his grandfather's and father's collection of ghastly trophies were unmissable – although Ed did have a soft spot for Sidney, the polar bear who used to live in his father's study.

‘How's things?' He looked up at the giant beast with its yellowing fur.

Ed picked a path between the goods, wondering how much anyone really needed in life.

He had always known about the vault. It was like an old-fashioned panic room, but he had never been allowed to see it as a boy. He pulled aside a black curtain and faced the vault door. Hugh had told him the combination of the lock – it wasn't hard to remember, as it was the year Pelham Park was founded. Now two of them knew that secret. Ed turned the dial and pulled on the weighty metal handle. Instead of another jumble, he was surprised to find a vast, well-organised space with a large set of storage racks.

Ed walked among the canvases, marvelling at the sheer number and realising just what a big job lay ahead of him.

‘Oh my goodness,' he said as he caught sight of a still life his mother had loved. She'd had it moved
to hang in his bedroom after he'd commented on the light and shade. He was fairly certain it was a Caravaggio.

There were pencil sketches, oils, reliefs and a small selection of modern art among the more traditional portraits, still lifes and landscapes. Hugh had been right to seek his help. It would take days to go through properly. The collection would bring a pretty penny at auction, although Hugh had mentioned that Ed should think about what he would like for himself too.

Ed's mind raced as he struggled to remember which pieces had been displayed in the house. He smiled to himself. He and his mother had often conversed about the origins of the works and their style. It was a love they shared.

Ed reached into his pocket. He wondered if his phone would pick up a signal down there, as he wanted to catch Hugh before his trip.

He looked at the screen and saw a single bar, but as the telephone rang it went straight to messages.

‘Hugh, Ed here,' he said. ‘I'm downstairs at the moment and this is amazing. I don't think I realised what an astute collector Mother was. There are works she bought from young artists that will be worth a
considerable amount now as well as some incredible old stuff too.'

As he was leaving the message, something caught Ed's eye. ‘Anyway, I'll start on making a list and then we can get someone in to take a look at it all in a few days. Have a good trip.'

Ed walked towards the furthest rack. A large landscape jutted out from behind a portrait of a beautiful woman.

Ed put his phone back into his trouser pocket and pulled the landscape out, studying it closely.

‘No,' he gasped. ‘It's not possible.'

He peered at the bottom right-hand corner. Even in the dim light, he knew what he was looking at. The signature just confirmed it. Monet.

‘I don't remember this being here.' Ed swallowed hard. He knew that it couldn't be there. It shouldn't be there. And he knew that because he was almost certain the painting was stolen.

After rock climbing, the Barn Owls had a short break before they went to archery. Mr Plumpton mapped out a boundary and gave strict instructions that the children could play some ball games but there was to be no use of other camp equipment. He was dying for a cup of tea and thought that the children could be trusted on their own for a few minutes.

Everyone seemed happy to find a shady spot and have a rest.

‘Who do you think was the fastest up the wall?' Sloane asked.

‘That's easy, it was Jacinta,' said Lucas. He smiled at the girl, who'd just sat down beside him.

Jacinta's heart skipped a beat.

Caprice's pretty eyes turned dark.

‘I don't know,' Sep said. ‘Caprice was pretty speedy. I think it would have been close if the girls had a race.'

Caprice's thunderous look disappeared as she flicked her ponytail and smiled at the boy.

‘Thanks, Sep,' she said.

Alice-Miranda watched the girl closely. She wondered what was going on in that head of hers and if she really was sorry about what had happened the afternoon before with Millie.

Beth approached them from the teacher's lounge. Mr Plumpton, balancing a cup of tea and biscuit, followed behind her.

‘Hey everyone, let's get going. Hope you're all keen to shoot some targets,' Beth called.

Caprice smiled. She had one in mind.

The archery range was only a short walk away on the edge of the woods, past the high-ropes course. Soon they sat in front of four targets, waiting to begin.

‘I need a volunteer,' Beth said.

Josiah Plumpton firmly shook his head. He wasn't giving up his cup of tea for anyone.

The young woman pointed. ‘Caprice.'

Caprice was kitted out with an arm guard and a large bow. Beth stood behind her, demonstrating how to draw the string back and release it.

‘May I shoot an arrow, please?' Caprice asked sweetly.

‘Sure,' Beth said. ‘Before we start, I need you to make sure that you
always
point your arrows towards the targets. And it doesn't matter if you run out, you're not to go and retrieve them until I've called “all clear” and
all
bows are on the ground. Is that understood?'

The children nodded.

Beth handed Caprice an arrow. The girl fumbled about for a few seconds, trying to get it to stay in the nocking point, which held it steady on the string.

Caprice grinned. ‘It's harder than it looks.'

Beth nodded. ‘You're right about that. But don't worry. No one expects you to be an expert first time.'

Caprice steadied herself and pulled back the string.

Millie was watching closely. Caprice's fumbling fingers transformed almost instantaneously and suddenly the girl looked as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

Caprice released the arrow. It flew through the air and landed in the centre ring of the yellow bullseye.

A huge cheer erupted from the group.

Beth looked at the girl quizzically. ‘So you've just picked up a bow for the first time, then?'

‘Maybe?' Caprice shrugged, not prepared to give anything away. She took another arrow from the quiver slung across her shoulder and lined it up.

It sliced through the air and again hit the target, lodging right beside the first arrow.

‘Whoa! You're amazing!' Sep called.

Three more arrows found the target, although one ended up slightly off centre in the red ring.

‘Caprice, that was remarkable.' Mr Plumpton gave the girl a clap. ‘Well done, my dear.'

After Caprice had finished showing off her extraordinary skills, the children spread out and lined up at the four targets.

Beth and Mr Plumpton watched and helped where they could.

No matter how hard Susannah tried, she simply couldn't get the arrow to fly further than a few feet. Figgy managed to hit the target twice, while Sep and Rufus did even better, although no one came close to Caprice's impressive feat.

Beth raised her hand in the air once the four shooters' quivers were spent. ‘Bows down. Now off you go and get the arrows.'

Susannah didn't have to go far to retrieve hers and returned quickly to put them into Millie's quiver. Soon the next group was lined up ready to try their luck.

Millie was on the end, with Alice-Miranda next, then Lucas and Jacinta. The children were given the all clear to take their first shots.

Just as Millie raised the bow and pulled the string back, Caprice shouted. ‘Millie! Watch out!'

Millie spun around and ducked, but before she realised what she was doing she'd released the arrow. It skimmed along the ground past Alice-Miranda's, Lucas's and Jacinta's feet and stopped just shy of Mr Plumpton's boots.

Beth flew over to the girl and yanked the bow out of her hand. Millie's face was ashen.

‘I'm … I'm … so sorry,' she said, trembling. ‘I didn't mean to …'

‘What were you thinking, Millie?' Beth demanded. ‘You could have killed someone.'

‘But Caprice yelled at me to watch out and I didn't realise I would shoot.' Millie's eyes filled with tears.

‘There was a wasp,' Caprice said. ‘It was huge and I thought she was going to be stung.'

Alice-Miranda put her bow on the ground and raced over to comfort her friend. ‘It's all right. Nobody was hurt.'

‘That arrow – it went right past you,' Millie sniffed.

‘That's right. It went
past
me,' said Alice-Miranda. ‘I'm still here.'

Beth and Mr Plumpton were standing to the side of the group, deep in conversation.

‘Millie, could you come here, please?' the Science teacher requested.

She walked over to the pair.

‘We think you'd better sit the rest of the archery out,' the teacher informed her. ‘I'm afraid you won't be receiving a pass for this activity.'

Millie nodded. Her hands were shaking so much she wouldn't have been able to hit anything anyway. ‘I'm so sorry,' she whispered.

‘We know you are. But you simply have to be more careful,' Mr Plumpton said.

‘Caprice startled me.' Millie had begun to calm down enough to realise that the whole thing wouldn't have happened if Caprice hadn't called out.

‘She was only trying to stop you from being stung.' Right on cue a huge wasp began to buzz around Mr Plumpton's head. He ducked and wove to avoid the cranky creature.

Millie had been wondering if there was a wasp at all. She walked back to a seat on the rise behind the shooters and sat down, tears still trickling.

Caprice walked over to join her. ‘That was bad luck. But at least you didn't get stung.'

‘If there really was a wasp,' Millie snapped.

‘What? You don't believe me?' Caprice said. ‘Silly you.'

‘Just leave me alone,' Millie said.

‘No,' Caprice snarled. ‘You're going to help me.'

Millie wondered what she was getting at. The last thing she wanted to do was help Caprice.

‘I don't like to lose, Millie. I think you know that now. I'm going to win the Queen's medal,' Caprice informed her.

‘You might. But you're not the only one in the running.' Millie wiped her face and looked at the girl defiantly.

‘No, it seems that I'm not. But that's where you come in. You see, I don't like your little friend Alice-Miranda very much. I don't like anyone here, but you've proved useful,' Caprice explained.

‘I'm not helping you with anything. I knew it was all an act, you being so careful at rock climbing. And just now I could have impaled someone or worse. You did it on purpose, didn't you?' Millie tugged at her collar and rubbed her neck. She could feel a prickly heat rash coming on.

Caprice smirked. ‘Think what you like, but you will help me. Because you know what I'm capable of.'

‘You're nuts!' Millie shook her head. ‘As if I'm not going to tell the teachers what you're up to.'

‘I don't think you will. If you do, I can't guarantee that the next time your little friend gets that close to an arrow it won't be … messy. There are still plenty more dangerous activities to do before we go home. And if you want her to stay in one piece, then I suggest you do everything I say from now on.'

‘You're bluffing. You wouldn't really hurt her,' Millie said.

‘Want to know why I left my last school?' Caprice arched her eyebrow menacingly.

Millie gulped. She wasn't sure that she did.

‘There was a horrible accident and one of the girls fell down a flight of stairs,' Caprice said.

Millie gasped. ‘Did you push her?'

Caprice narrowed her eyes. ‘You'll never know.'

‘If you win the stupid medal, will you leave me alone?' Millie asked.

‘Of course.' Caprice smirked again. ‘Maybe we could even be friends.'

Millie felt as if she might throw up. She would never be friends with Caprice. ‘Fine then. Just tell me what I have to do.'

Millie didn't want to believe that Caprice was really capable of hurting anyone. But she couldn't know for sure. And there was no way she was going to test the theory on her best friend.

Hugh Kennington-Jones telephoned his brother as soon as his meeting finished.

‘Hi Ed, did you find it all?' Hugh asked.

‘More than I imagined,' Ed replied.

‘Oh really? That sounds promising. Do you think we'll be able to add some funds to the trust?' Hugh enquired.

Ed laughed. ‘Put it this way, I don't think you'll have to worry about Pelham Park's financial security again.'

‘Brilliant!' Hugh said.

A loud whumping sound began to drown out their conversation.

‘Hugh, we need to talk about something I found,' Ed began. He could barely hear himself speak.

‘Sorry Ed, I've got to get going.' Hugh could see his wife sitting in the back of the chopper, tapping her watch.

‘But it's important, Hugh.' Ed realised he was yelling.

‘Sorry, I can't hear you. I'll speak to you in a few days,' Hugh shouted, then rang off.

Ed sighed. He'd do some investigating of his own. Maybe he was wrong about the Monet.