Clementine Rose and the Famous Friend 7 (2 page)

When Lady Clarissa returned from upstairs, she and Clementine walked to the village to collect the mail. They stopped to look at the progress on the village hall, which had recently been destroyed in a fire. Clementine was excited to see that there was already a floor and a frame. That meant that Tilda and Teddy's mother, Ana, would be able to start her ballet school soon. Clementine couldn't wait to have lessons. Mrs Mogg was going to make her a red tutu.

By the time they arrived back, Uncle Digby had covered most of Clementine's books and dinner was well underway. Aunt Violet had gone upstairs to have a rest, complaining that she had a headache coming on.

Clementine settled down to colour in the title page in her writing book. Her pencils spilled out of their pretty pink polka-dot case all over the kitchen table.

‘Clemmie, can you pack your things away and set the table for me, please?' Lady Clarissa asked as she strained a large saucepan of vegetables.

‘Is the writer lady having dinner with us?' Clementine asked as she bundled up her pencils. She hadn't seen Uncle Digby set the table in the dining room, which was where the guests usually ate their meals.

‘No, darling. Miss Richardson has asked to have dinner taken up to her room,' Lady Clarissa replied.

‘She's a bit
'sterious
,' Clementine said.

Aunt Violet walked down the back stairs into the kitchen at that moment.

‘“Mysterious” is the word you're looking for, Clementine,' she said as she strode over to the table. ‘You're a big girl now. You need to start pronouncing your words correctly or I'll enrol you in some elocution lessons.'

Clementine stopped in her tracks. ‘Electrocution lessons! What's that?' Clementine's mother and Uncle Digby had always told her to stay away from electricity because it was dangerous.

Lady Clarissa and Uncle Digby laughed.

‘Godfathers, Clementine. Elocution, not electrocution. It means learning how to speak properly. Given you're so fond of all those silly poems Pertwhistle insists on teaching you, it would be a very good idea,' said Aunt Violet.

Clementine sighed with relief.

‘Aunt Violet, that's a lovely thought but I'm afraid my budget won't stretch to soccer, ballet and elocution at the moment. Why don't you teach Clementine? I'm sure she'd enjoy learning some more poems from you as well,' Lady Clarissa teased.

‘Clarissa, I'm no teacher and thank heavens for that,' Aunt Violet said with a shudder. ‘You should hear some of the horrendous tales Mrs Bottomley has shared with me. No, Pertwhistle can keep instructing her and I'll just correct them when necessary.'

‘Of course she will,' Uncle Digby whispered. He gave Clementine a wink and she smothered a giggle.

Clementine was trying to imagine Aunt Violet standing out the front of her class. She shivered just thinking about it.

‘Oh, Clarissa.' Uncle Digby turned from where he was stirring a pot on the stove. ‘I've just remembered that we're low on candles in the dining room. We'll need them for Friday night. You might want to add them to the shopping list.'

‘Thanks, Uncle Digby,' said Clarissa. ‘I think we're almost out of chocolates too.' She wiped her hands on her apron and dashed over to the sideboard to add the items to her never-ending shopping list.

‘Do you think I could tell the guests one of my poems at the special dinner?' Clementine asked.

‘Let's just see how things go,' Lady Clarissa replied. ‘Not everyone appreciates your poems as much as Granny and Grandpa and Uncle Digby and I do.'

‘What special dinner?' Aunt Violet asked.

‘Aunt Violet, you remember that Uncle Digby suggested we offer a dining package with the family as part of a weekend stay?' Lady Clarissa reminded the woman.

‘No! That sounds perfectly ghastly.'

‘You were there, Aunt Violet. You groaned about it when Mummy told you and you said that you'd rather eat in the kitchen with Lavender and Pharaoh than have to entertain any silly guests,' Clementine said.

Aunt Violet huffed. ‘Well, what of it?'

‘We're having our first dinner this week,' Lady Clarissa explained as she drained and mashed the potatoes.

The old woman put the back of her hand
on her forehead. ‘I think I can feel a fever coming on.'

‘Oh no, Aunt Violet, I don't think so,' Clarissa chided. ‘I need you to be there.'

Aunt Violet sighed. ‘And what do I get out of it?'

‘A lovely dinner and the pleasure of our company,' Lady Clarissa said with a grin.

‘And maybe a poem too,' Clementine said with a smile.

Aunt Violet rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, lucky me.'

Lady Clarissa scooped the last of the mashed potato onto the fifth plate while Uncle Digby poured a trail of gravy over the top of the roast chicken and vegetables.

He placed one of the plates onto a large tray, along with a pair of crystal salt and pepper shakers and a tall glass with a bottle of mineral water beside it.

‘Please may I help, Uncle Digby?' asked Clementine. She rushed over to see what she might carry.

‘No, it's fine, Clemmie. I'll be back in a jiffy
and we can have our dinner,' he said, and set off upstairs.

Clementine frowned. ‘Will I
ever
get to meet Miss Richardson?'

‘She's very busy with her work, darling. I don't want you to interrupt her and I'm sure you'll get to meet her when she's ready,' said Lady Clarissa.

‘She's no one special, Clementine,' Aunt Violet said. ‘I told you that before. Don't go thinking we've got anyone famous up there.'

After dinner, Pharaoh and Lavender wandered over to Clemmie for their nightly tummy tickles. Both creatures rolled about on the flagstone floor, enjoying all the attention. Lady Clarissa had gone upstairs to run Clementine a bath.

‘Well, the washing up won't do itself,' Uncle Digby declared as he stood up to clear the last of the plates.

Aunt Violet rose too. ‘You'll have to manage it on your own, Pertwhistle. My head is pounding. It must be the thought of that wretched dinner.'

Clementine looked up at her great-aunt. ‘Your head is always pounding when it's time to do the washing up, Aunt Violet. Are you allergic?'

Uncle Digby glanced over his shoulder with a knowing look.

‘Don't be ridiculous, Clementine,' said the old woman. She stalked across the room and disappeared up the back stairs.

‘I'll wipe up, Uncle Digby,' Clementine offered. She ran off to wash her hands first.

‘Good girl,' said Uncle Digby.

Just as Clementine picked up a clean tea towel the front doorbell rang.

Digby glanced at the kitchen clock. It was almost seven. ‘I wonder who that could be. Unless it's our wine delivery. He should have been here hours ago.'

‘I'll go,' Clementine offered.

‘No, you stay here.' The old man took off
his yellow rubber gloves and hurried from the room.

A few seconds later another bell tinkled by the pantry. Clementine looked at the old-fashioned light box above the pantry door. Each light was labelled with the name of a room in the house. It could only be Aunt Violet or Miss Richardson ringing the bell. The light for the Rose Room was glowing. The bell rang again.

Clementine ran out into the hall to find Uncle Digby. He was standing at the open front door talking to a man in overalls.

‘Sorry it's so late but there was an accident on the motorway,' the man said gruffly.

‘Why don't you drive around to the garage and I'll help you unload it,' said Uncle Digby.

He walked out the door and closed it behind him.

Clementine frowned and scurried back into the kitchen to see if her mother had returned, but there was no sign of her. The bell rang again.

There was only one thing to do. Clementine
scampered up the back stairs and along the corridor.

She tapped gently on the door of the Rose Room. There was no answer. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

‘Hello Miss Richardson?' Clementine said. ‘May I help you?'

‘Who are you?' a high voice wavered from deep inside the room. ‘Where's Miss Appleby?'

The Rose Room was the largest bedroom in the house with a four-poster bed in the centre and a small dining table for two in one corner. A roll-top writing desk with carved legs stood behind the enormous bed, by one of the windows. There was a huge wardrobe and an ensuite bathroom too. The Rose Room had received the most attention over the years and was by far the loveliest of all.

Clementine couldn't see where the voice was coming from. ‘Excuse me, Miss Richardson, but where are you?' she asked as she walked into the room.

‘S-s-stop right there,' the voice stuttered. ‘What is your name and why are you here?'

‘I'm Clementine and I live here.'

‘Nobody told me there were children. Are you the only one?' The woman sounded nervous and a bit cross too.

‘Yes, except when I have friends over to play. Sometimes I have sleepovers with Poppy and Sophie, and Jules comes too,' Clementine explained.

‘Why did you come? Where's your mother?'

‘She's running my bath and Aunt Violet has gone to bed with a headache, but that's just because she didn't want to do the washing up. Uncle Digby was answering the front door and helping the man with a delivery, so there was only me left,' said Clementine.

‘Go away. I don't want to see you. I don't want to see any children at all.'

‘Why?' Clementine asked.

‘I have my reasons.'

‘Aunt Violet doesn't like children very much either but I think I've grown on her – at least, that's what Mrs Mogg said to Mummy,' Clementine said.

‘I didn't say that I don't
like
children,' the woman said, her voice softening a little.

Clementine frowned in confusion. ‘I just came to see what you wanted. If it's a cup of tea you'll have to wait for Uncle Digby because I'm not allowed to make it yet. But if you want a glass of water or a biscuit or a piece of cake, I could get that. So long as I don't have to use the big knife.'

She craned her neck around the nearest bedpost. At last she spotted the woman. Miss Richardson was sitting at the writing desk but Clementine could only see the top of her grey head.

‘I don't want anything. Now off you go,' said Miss Richardson. She still hadn't turned around.

Clementine was about to ask Miss Richardson about her book when she heard her mother calling her name.

‘What are you waiting for? Shoo!' the old woman quavered.

Clementine reversed out of the room and closed the door.

‘Clemmie, what were you doing in there?' Lady Clarissa demanded. She had searched everywhere for the girl.

‘Miss Richardson rang the bell and Uncle Digby had gone to see who was at the front door and Aunt Violet had gone to bed so there was only me.'

‘Did you find out what Miss Richardson wanted?' Lady Clarissa asked.

Clementine shook her head. ‘She wouldn't tell me. I don't think she likes children much.'

‘Oh dear. Go upstairs and hop into the bath while see what I can do here. I'm sure that Miss Richardson has her reasons for not wanting to talk to you. You just have to remember that not all grown-ups are fond of children,' said Lady Clarissa.

Clementine nodded. ‘I know that. I live with Aunt Violet.'