Clementine Rose and the Perfect Present 3 (7 page)

The children headed back inside just before dark. Clementine had decided the best thing she could do was forget all about Angus and his party and concentrate on the wedding and playing with her three new friends.

Mrs Gunalingam met them at the back door and guided her children straight upstairs to their baths.

Inside, Margaret Mogg was stirring the gravy on the stove. Clementine stood on tiptoe to watch. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Mrs Mogg.’

‘We couldn’t let the guests starve, could we?’ said Mrs Mogg. She left the wooden spoon in the saucepan and opened the oven to check on the lamb.

Clementine’s nostrils twitched. ‘It smells delicious. Is Mummy home yet?’

‘She telephoned a little while ago. Aunt Violet is driving over to pick her and the doctor up,’ Mrs Mogg explained.

‘That’s a relief,’ said Clementine.

The sound of the front door opening distracted the pair and Clementine ran off into the hallway.

‘Mummy!’ Clementine launched herself at her mother’s waist. From out of nowhere, tears sprang from her eyes and she began to cry in big shuddery sobs.

‘Oh Clemmie, sweetheart, what is it?’ Her mother knelt down and Clementine clung to her like a periwinkle in a rock pool.

‘I – don’t – know,’ she gulped.

‘Clemmie, Uncle Digby will be fine. Please don’t worry. He wouldn’t want to see you like this.’

Lady Clarissa brushed a rogue strand of hair from Clementine’s wet face. ‘I know it’s been a difficult day, what with all the excitement of the wedding and then the worry about Uncle Digby. But I’m sure that tomorrow will be much brighter.’

Clementine didn’t tell her that she’d been upset about seeing Joshua and hearing Mr Smote talk about a party too, or that she was mad about having to give up her room, or that Aunt Violet had been even crosser than usual. She didn’t want to sound like a crybaby.

‘Come along, Clemmie. Let’s go and wash your face and then we can get ready for dinner. Mrs Mogg has been busy – something smells delicious.’

Lady Clarissa stood up. Clementine grabbed her hand and the two of them walked to the downstairs bathroom where Clementine splashed some water on her face and dried her eyes.

‘Where’s Aunt Violet?’ Clementine asked between sniffs.

‘She went straight upstairs to move her things into Uncle Digby’s room for the night. I had to tell her in the car that I’d given her room away too and she’d be bunking in with us. But now, of course, with Uncle Digby away, she’s decided to take his room. She wasn’t nearly as cross as I expected but I think that was because Dr Gunalingam was in the car too. No doubt I’ll hear about it later when everyone’s gone home.’

Clementine nodded. Her mother was right about that.

No one noticed the little pile of mail on the hall table. Just as Aunt Violet had been about to leave to pick up Lady Clarissa and the doctor, Father Bob had turned up on the doorstep clutching a bundle of letters that had been among his mail. He’d been very surprised to find them, as Mrs Mogg never made mistakes with the post. Then again, she had left Mr Mogg in charge on Thursday afternoon when she’d been helping at Penberthy House and Clyde wasn’t known for his attention to detail.

Lady Clarissa glanced at the kitchen clock. It was already past midnight and she had just finished the washing up and sent Margaret Mogg on her way. Fortunately, dinner had gone well and the guests seemed to be enjoying themselves. She thought that the bride and groom seemed very well suited, although Roberta Fox had certainly not been any less demanding in person. Clarissa had been glad when Aunt Violet skulked off to bed early complaining of another imaginary ailment. Her aunt had done enough damage that day and Clarissa thought she couldn’t possibly upset anyone from her bed.

In the eerie quiet, Lady Clarissa wondered if Uncle Digby was all right. She missed him terribly; over the years she’d come to rely on him as much as she would have her own father. A tear spilled onto her cheek and she brushed it away. She couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to him. She shook the notion from her head. Of course he’d be fine – there wasn’t any other option.

Meanwhile upstairs, Aunt Violet awoke wishing she hadn’t had that last cup of tea before bed. She peered into the darkness. After a few moments she remembered that she had been banished to Pertwhistle’s bedroom, which at least had a bathroom attached. In fact, it wasn’t a bad room at all. Perhaps she’d swap. She tottered off to the toilet, not bothering to put on the light.

Further down the hallway, Orville Fox felt the same urge. He put on his dressing-gown and slippers and headed along the corridor to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he shuffled back to his room and opened the door, stubbing his toe and wondering who had put the wooden trunk near the bed in the time he’d been out.

Orville sat down, took off his slippers and eased out of his gown. He adjusted the pillows and rolled onto his side and within just a few seconds he was fast asleep.

Lady Clarissa finished drying the last saucepan. From somewhere high in the house, a bloodcurdling scream shook the windows. She leapt into the air, threw the saucepan onto the bench with a clatter and ran up the back stairs two at a time.

Clementine woke with a start. She sprang out of bed and ran along the corridor towards Uncle Digby’s room. There was an awful noise coming from inside. When she opened the door and flicked on the light, her eyes almost popped out of her head.

‘Aunt Violet, what’s going on?’ she gasped.

Lady Clarissa ran into the room behind her.

Violet Appleby was standing beside the bed, her face as white as a sheet and her hair standing on end as if she’d poked her finger into a power point. Her breathing was shallow and she looked as if she was trying to speak.

‘Mummy, there’s a man in Aunt Violet’s bed!’ Clementine exclaimed.

‘Get him out of here!’ Aunt Violet shrieked, prodding the intruder’s side with her forefinger. ‘Get him out of here NOW!’

But Orville Fox was sound asleep. Clearly the man could have slept through a cyclone, because he’d just met Hurricane Violet.

Clementine rubbed her eyes. For a moment she had forgotten where she was. She took a few seconds to remember that she was on a mattress at the foot of her mother’s four-poster bed.

She could hear the pitter-patter of raindrops against the window.

‘Mummy,’ Clementine called. But there was no reply. She sat up and saw that her mother’s bed was already made.

Clementine threw back the covers and shivered. Lavender and Pharaoh were curled up together in Lavender’s basket near the radiator.

She grabbed her dressing-gown, stuffed her feet into her woolly slippers and headed out along the corridor to the back stairs. As she passed by her own bedroom, the door opened and she was met by Uncle Orville.

He must have stayed put after his earlier adventure. Half the house had come running after Aunt Violet’s scream. In the end, Mr Fox and Dr Gunalingam had carried Uncle Orville back to Clementine’s room, much to the relief of Aunt Violet. She said that she was going to barricade the door.

The man squinted at Clemmie. ‘Hello dear.’

‘Good morning, Mr Fox,’ she said. ‘Did you have a good sleep?’

‘Yesh, yesh, but I had a terrible dream about a wild woman who was shcreaming like a witch . . .’

Clementine wondered why he was talking strangely.

‘Are you joining ush for the wedding today?’ he asked.

Clementine couldn’t believe that she’d almost forgotten about it. Of course, that’s why Mr Fox was dressed up. He might have been old and a little off kilter, but he was a very snappy dresser.

‘I like your suit,’ Clementine said, admiring the pinstripes and the lovely silk handkerchief that was poking out of his pocket. ‘But you might want to change your shoes.’

Mr Fox looked down at his slippered feet.

‘Oopsh.’ He turned and walked back into the room. ‘I wash a tailor you know.’

‘Really?’ Clementine was impressed. ‘Mrs Mogg makes all my clothes. I think she’s very clever. She can make just about anything . . . Although, I don’t know if she could make a suit.’ She followed him inside the room.

Clementine glanced at her bedside table and noticed what she first thought was a glass of water. Then she looked more closely.

‘Mr Fox, I think you’ve forgotten something else too,’ she said, pointing.

‘Oh, thank heavensh.’ Mr Fox shuffled over and reached into the glass. He popped his teeth into his mouth and gave Clementine a big smile.

Other children her age might have been frightened, but Clementine had seen plenty of false teeth at the house before. In fact, she even had a couple of sets that guests had left behind. She sometimes made up plays with the talking teeth, much to her mother’s and Uncle Digby’s horror.

‘You look very nice, Mr Fox,’ said Clementine, grinning back at him. ‘Even better with your teeth.’

Clementine said goodbye and raced down the back stairs to find her mother and Mrs Mogg busily preparing breakfast. Violet Appleby was dressed and sitting at the table sipping a cup of tea.

‘Oh, hello, sleepyhead.’ Her mother glanced at the clock on the wall. It was half past nine.

‘Half the day’s gone, Clementine,’ her great-aunt commented. ‘Why don’t you run along and get dressed. I presume you still want to see that wedding?’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Clementine.

The smell of bacon filled the room as Mrs Mogg opened the oven and retrieved a plate piled with crispy rashers. She trotted off to the dining room.

‘Would you like something to eat first, Clemmie?’ her mother asked.

The child nodded. Her stomach was making all sorts of funny gurgles.

‘What about an egg and some bacon on toast?’ her mother suggested.

‘Yes, please.’

Lady Clarissa turned to her aunt. ‘Aunt Violet, would you like to see Uncle Digby this morning? Then I’ll go later tonight.’

Clementine looked up expectantly. She’d hoped Uncle Digby would be home today.

‘No,’ Aunt Violet said tersely. ‘I’m far too tired. Some of us didn’t have a good night at all.’

‘But that’s not Mummy’s fault,’ said Clementine.

‘Of course it is,’ Aunt Violet snapped. ‘If she’d bothered to have locks installed on the bedroom doors, I’d never have been confronted by that ghastly man – who, by the way, was missing his teeth!’

Lady Clarissa changed the subject. ‘Well, Aunt Violet, do you think you could manage to give Mrs Mogg a hand this morning with some tidying up? The caterers will be here soon – thankfully everything is pre-prepared and they just have to use the ovens to heat things up.’

‘I’m exhausted, Clarissa,’ Violet snapped. ‘And you’ve employed half the village to help. Why do I have to get involved?’

Lady Clarissa stood firm. ‘Aunt Violet, with Uncle Digby in hospital we are still short-staffed.’

‘Well, it’s just like him to bunk off when we’re busy,’ Aunt Violet complained.

Clementine had been getting crosser by the second. ‘It’s your fault Uncle Digby’s not here!’

‘I beg your pardon, young lady?’ Aunt Violet turned sharply to look at the girl.

‘If you hadn’t made Uncle Digby go to the shop with me yesterday afternoon he’d still be all right. You made him sick!’ Clementine pushed the plate of bacon and eggs so hard that the bacon scattered all over the table.