Alice-Miranda Shines Bright 8
About the Book
Alice-Miranda and Millie have made a dazzling discovery in the woodlands near their school. They vow to keep the secret to themselves, but it seems that a greedy politician and a pair of old friends are searching for the same treasure. Back at school, the sixth grade girls are preparing for a change to high school. Jacinta is being particularly grumpy with everyone and even with the most persistent questioning, no one quite knows why. When Myrtle Parker’s husband awakes from his coma and disappears, Alice-Miranda puts on her detective hat. She’s determined to find Reginald Parker, deter the politician and uncover exactly why Jacinta is playing up.
Contents
Cover
About the Book
Title
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
And just in case you’re wondering
Cast of Characters
About the Author
Also by Jacqueline Harvey
Alice-Miranda Diary
Alice-Miranda's next adventure
Copyright Notice
Loved the book?
For Ian and Sandy, and for my mother-in-law, Joan Harvey
Ursula turned the photograph over in her hand. His smile beamed out at her like a ray of sunshine. His short blond curls framed an almost perfect face. He had always been the pretty one.
‘Two peas in a pod,’ everyone used to say. ‘Inseparable.’
Ursula closed her eyes and she was back there. The rain beating down, the swirling water, the log across the stream, the crack, the fall. Her hand gripping his, the screaming in her ears and the thunder overhead. Then the silence that reached all the way to the sky.
They shouldn’t have been there in the first place. It was her idea. But it was an accident, a terrible, senseless accident. After the sobbing and the howling came the whispers and accusations. Her mother’s finger always pointed straight towards her, while her father tried to broker peace. No one was to blame and yet Ursula felt so much guilt.
She’d left home the day after her last exams and found a job in the city. At first she wrote to her parents but there was never a reply. After a few years she stopped.
Now, almost twenty years had passed. Ursula had lived all over the world but always carried the photograph with her. She put it back in the little timber jewel box.
Ursula stood up and smoothed her trousers, then walked into the bathroom and tamed her curls into a ponytail. Life had taken some unexpected turns bringing her back to Downsfordvale. She was almost home.
Jacinta Headlington-Bear could hear the girls returning from their afternoon games. She scribbled a few final words in her diary and hid the little red book under her mattress just as Sloane Sykes burst through the door.
‘You missed a good game,’ Sloane puffed. She slumped onto her bed and leaned forward to untie the laces on her football boots. ‘We won three-nil. And I killed it.’
‘Hooray,’ Jacinta said sarcastically.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ Sloane glanced over at her room mate, who was lying on her bed and flicking through a magazine.
‘Nothing,’ Jacinta snapped.
‘It doesn’t sound like nothing,’ Sloane replied. ‘It’s only a week until you can go back to gymnastics training. You can walk perfectly now anyway, can’t you?’
There was a knock at the door before Jacinta could answer.
‘Come in if you’re good-looking,’ Sloane yelled.
Alice-Miranda appeared.
‘Hi Sloane, great game,’ she said. ‘You should have seen her, Jacinta. Sloane flew down the field and scored the winning goal.’
‘And broke a nail,’ Sloane complained as she inspected her fingers.
It was a surprise to almost everyone – Sloane included – that she was becoming quite an accomplished athlete.
‘Are you feeling okay, Jacinta? I thought you would have come to watch.’ Alice-Miranda walked over to Jacinta’s half of the room and sat on the end of her bed.
‘It was only a stupid game,’ Jacinta said. ‘We have them every week.’
Alice-Miranda ignored Jacinta’s grumpiness. ‘How’s your toe?’
‘I don’t know. Why don’t you ask it?’ Jacinta replied, raising her leg in Alice-Miranda’s direction.
Alice-Miranda smiled at her but she had a strange feeling there was more to Jacinta’s bad mood than a broken toe. She looked over at Sloane, who was pulling out some clean clothes.
There was a sharp knock at the door. Millie didn’t wait to be invited in. ‘Pooh, what’s that disgusting smell?’ she said, pinching the end of her nose.
‘Sloane’s feet,’ said Jacinta. ‘They reek like blue cheese.’
‘Do not,’ Sloane retorted.
‘Do so,’ Jacinta bit back.
Sloane reached down to pick up her discarded socks from the floor. In one swift move she was rubbing Jacinta’s nose with them.
‘Get off me!’ Jacinta screeched. ‘You’re disgusting. I can’t breathe.’
‘Stop it, Sloane, or Howie’ll . . .’ Millie began.
The door burst open and the housemistress, Mrs Howard, stood with her hands on her hips. Her bulk took up most of the doorway. ‘Sloane Sykes, leave Jacinta alone or I will have you on sock-washing duty for the whole house. Is that what you’d like?’
Sloane skulked back to the other side of the room. ‘No,’ she muttered.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Mrs Howard gave the girl a steely stare.
‘No, Mrs Howard,’ Sloane replied.
‘Good. Now hurry along, girls. You don’t want to be late for Miss Reedy and Mr Trout’s end-of-year concert auditions. I trust you’ve all been practising something?’
Alice-Miranda beamed. ‘Oh yes, I’ve learned a new poem.’
‘Wonderful. I look forward to hearing it.’ Mrs Howard smiled back at the tiny child.
‘Are you coming to the auditions?’ Alice-Miranda asked.
‘Yes, I’m going to pop over now. You’d better get moving, girls.’ And with that Mrs Howard bustled away down the hall.
‘What are you going to do for the concert?’ Millie asked Sloane.
‘I thought I might sing,’ said Sloane.
‘Good idea,’ Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘Your singing in Notre Dame was amazing.’
Jacinta sat up and eyeballed her room mate. ‘Only because she stole my part.’
‘And that was only because you were injured,’ said Sloane. ‘Do you want to sing something for the concert together?’
‘As if I’d want to sing with you.’ Jacinta
stood up and grabbed a cardigan that was slung over the back of her desk chair.
Sloane frowned. ‘What’s the matter? You’re so crabby.’
Jacinta ignored the question and stalked across the room. She pulled the door open and slammed it behind her.
‘That was weird,’ Millie said.
‘No, that’s normal – at least, since we got back from Paris,’ said Sloane.
‘Has she told you what’s bothering her?’ Alice-Miranda asked.
Sloane shook her head. ‘She’s been in a permanently bad mood. I don’t know what it is but she won’t tell me anything. I’ve asked her if she’s mad with her mother or her father – well, she’s always mad with him but that’s pretty understandable – and she didn’t answer. When I asked if she’d had a fight with Lucas I thought she was going to knock me on the head.’
‘She must be terribly disappointed about the gymnastics championships,’ Alice-Miranda decided. Jacinta’s broken toe had ruled her out of the competition, which she’d been training for all year. ‘I’d be upset about that too.’
‘Yeah, but she doesn’t have to be such a cow about it,’ Millie grumbled. ‘She’s got less than a month here until the end of school. The way she’s going, Miss Grimm will send her off sooner.’
‘Or make her repeat. That would be worse,’ Sloane said.
Alice-Miranda wrinkled her nose. ‘Do you think so? I never want to leave Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale. It’s the best school in the world.’
‘I didn’t think I’d ever say this but I agree,’ Millie nodded.
Sloane looked thoughtful. ‘Well, it is much better than that awful school I went to in Spain.’
‘I hate the thought of you all leaving and me staying on my own,’ said Alice-Miranda.
‘Well, you’re safe for a while yet. I don’t know where I’m going when I leave here anyway,’ Sloane said. ‘I hope it’s the same place as all of you. But I suppose that’s up to Granny.’
‘At least you’ve still got another year to convince her that it’s worth spending her money on your education,’ Millie grinned. ‘Lucky you repeated, Sloane, or you’d be off with Jacinta now too.’
Alice-Miranda glanced at the clock beside Jacinta’s bed. ‘Look at the time. Come on, we don’t want to be late.’
Sloane slipped her feet into a pair of sandals and followed Millie and Alice-Miranda out the door.
Silas Wiley smiled for the camera. He was feeling quite pleased with himself. He’d lost a little weight recently, and even managed to put off the photo shoot until his diet was showing results. The fact that Ursula, his lovely new secretary, had commented on how good he looked had done wonders for his confidence. The photographer told him to take a break for a few minutes while he changed lenses.
Silas glanced around the chamber. He wanted to replace the shabby chairs and get the place painted. The people of Downsfordvale deserved better than this. He knew he certainly did.
The photographer cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me, Mr Wiley, I’m ready.’
‘Mayor Wiley,’ Silas corrected him tartly.
‘Sorry, Mayor Wiley,’ the man mumbled. He’d already taken about fifty shots but his subject insisted on reviewing each one and hadn’t found any to his liking.
The photographer began snapping away. Silas assumed several poses, some smiling, some serious, but always looking straight down the barrel of the camera.
After another five minutes, the photographer stood up straight. ‘We’re done.’
‘I think I’ll be the judge of that.’ Silas ambled over to assess the pictures.
At the same time, Ursula appeared at the door. A pretty woman in her late thirties, today she wore a striking red dress with matching red heels. Silas wished she wasn’t quite so tall. With the added height of the heels, she made him feel rather like a hobbit.
‘Excuse me, sir, have you finished?’ she asked, smiling.
Silas waved her over. ‘Perhaps. What do you think?’
Ursula scrolled through the photographs before stopping at a shot she thought was particularly flattering. ‘That one.’
‘Do you think so? Doesn’t make me look a bit, mmm . . .’ Silas pulled on his jowls.
‘Oh no, sir, it’s lovely.’ Ursula winked at the photographer, sensing his impatience.
Silas nodded. ‘All right, if you think so. Let’s go with that one.’
The photographer had to stop himself from breathing an audible sigh of relief.
‘How long until we get it up there?’ Silas asked the man, pointing at the gap on the wall above the mayor’s seat. On either side, the former mayors of Downsfordvale smiled out across the chamber.
‘A couple of weeks, Mr – I mean, Mayor Wiley,’ the photographer replied.
‘Oh, you can do better than that, young man,’ Silas said with a grin. ‘Did you mention earlier that you were putting in a planning application for some renovations?’
The photographer gulped. ‘Yes, sir. I’m sure that we can have the portrait back from the framers within the week.’
‘Good man.’ Silas slapped the chap on the back, almost causing him to choke on the caramel he’d been sucking.
Ursula smiled tightly at the photographer. ‘I’m sure he was just kidding,’ she whispered, before following Silas from the room. But Ursula wasn’t sure of that at all. ‘Shall we get you out of that gear before your next meeting?’ she asked Silas. She was amused by her boss’s fondness for wearing the mayoral robes and chain. They were awfully heavy and not especially attractive, but he seemed particularly attached to them. He had even been known to turn up to morning tea fully kitted out.
Silas glanced at his watch. ‘What meeting?’ he barked. ‘It’s already half past five. You know I don’t take late meetings, Ursula. What’s it about – parking on the high street again? Or that silly woman with the garden gnome wittering on about next year’s village show?’
‘No,’ said Ursula carefully. ‘It’s someone by the name of Finley Spencer. I tried to put him off but his secretary said it was urgent. He’ll be here any minute.’
Something about that name rang a bell but Silas couldn’t think why.
‘Well, go and see what you can find out before he arrives,’ Silas grumbled.
‘Yes, of course.’ Ursula turned and tripped down the hallway.
A few minutes later, she appeared at his office door. ‘Finley Spencer is here, sir.’
‘Already?’ Silas grumbled. He was starving. The cream cheese and carrot sandwiches he’d requested for his lunchtime meeting had not satisfied him at all. ‘Could you bring me a cup of tea and a biscuit? Surely Finley Spencer can wait a few minutes.’ Silas paused. He couldn’t think why that name had come to him so easily. Silas hated being thought of as unprofessional – what if this Finley Spencer wasn’t someone he should keep waiting? ‘No, on second thoughts, make a pot and get out the good biscuits. None of those ghastly honey snaps.’ Silas stalked around to the other side of his desk and shuffled some papers.
‘But Mayor Wiley –’ Ursula began.
‘Did you get any details about what he wants?’ Silas flicked through a pile of new development applications.
‘No sir, but –’ Ursula tried again.
‘Don’t just stand there, Urs, go and make the tea. Give me a minute then send him in.’ Silas opened the bottom drawer of his desk and dumped a stack of documents inside.
Ursula turned on her red heels and strode out of the room.
A few minutes later, there was a sharp knock at the door and Ursula entered.
‘Hello, Mayor Wiley, may I introduce . . .?’
Silas stood up and walked to the door, holding out his hand in anticipation.
‘. . . Finley Spencer.’
‘Good Lord,’ Silas’s jaw dropped. ‘But you’re . . .’ He’d been about to say ‘a woman�
� when it occurred to him that it might not go down too well. ‘Your hands are so warm and soft,’ Silas said with a sickly smile. He gulped and realised that was probably quite inappropriate too.
‘Good afternoon, Mayor Wiley, it’s lovely to meet you,’ the woman purred. She looked him up and down and smiled to herself, wondering if he wore the mayoral robes all the time or just for meetings.
Silas had never met anyone so beautiful in all his life. Her skin was like cream and her hair, the colour of honey, was swept into an elegant French roll.
Ursula interrupted her boss’s staring. ‘I’ll just bring the tea in, shall I?’
‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Silas waved her away. ‘Please sit down.’ He sighed deeply and directed his visitor towards the low black leather couches.
‘Are you all right, Mayor Wiley?’ asked Finley Spencer. She’d noticed that beads of perspiration had sprung up on the man’s brow.
‘Yes, yes, just need to catch my breath, that’s all.’ He mopped his forehead with a handkerchief.
Finley Spencer wore a striking black-and-white dress, cut just above the knee. Her black heels complemented the outfit perfectly. Silas tried not to admire how splendid she looked but his eyes were drawn to her like a magnet.
Ursula returned to the room, placed the tray down between them and began to pour the tea.
Silas offered the plate of chocolate biscuits to his visitor.
Finley shook her head. ‘No, thank you, Mayor Wiley.’
‘Oh no, me neither.’ Silas’s stomach led out a high-pitched whine.
‘Please don’t let me stop you,’ said Finley. She watched Silas gulp and leave the biscuits on the plate.
There was an awkward silence between them, broken by Silas slurping his tea. ‘How can I be of assistance, Ms Spencer?’ he finally enquired.
‘Well, I have a small business, Mayor Wiley –’ Finley began.
‘Oh, lovely, I do adore a cottage industry. A dress shop, perhaps? No, I see you with one of those day spas,’ Silas prattled.
‘Not quite,’ Finley smiled.
Silas Wiley frowned. ‘You’re a hard woman to work out, Ms Spencer.’
‘Why don’t I just give you this?’ She leaned over the table and handed Silas a small white business card.