Clementine Rose and the Farm Fiasco 4 Read online

  About the Book

  Clementine Rose and her classmates are all abuzz. They’re off on a springtime excursion to a local farm. When Aunt Violet comes along to help out, no-one is sure just how helpful she’ll really be. Things get a little out of control when Aunt Violet and Mrs Bottomley go missing and Joshua is cornered by Ramon the feisty ram. Will Clementine and her friends escape from Ramon and find the missing ladies too?

  .

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: Crack!

  Chapter 2: An Exciting Announcement

  Chapter 3: A Wild Ride

  Chapter 4: A Thorny Chat

  Chapter 5: A Question

  Chapter 6: Roll Call

  Chapter 7: The Bus Ride

  Chapter 8: Granny Bert

  Chapter 9: Scrambled Eggs

  Chapter 10: Pigs and Cows

  Chapter 11: Lamb Tales

  Chapter 12: Gone

  Chapter 13: In a Flap

  Chapter 14: Rammed

  Chapter 15: A Very Strange Tea Party

  Chapter 16: Another Secret

  Cast of characters

  About the Author

  Also By Jacqueline Harvey

  Clementine Rose's next adventure

  Collect the Series

  Copyright Notice

  Loved the book?

  For Darcy, Flynn and Eden,and for Ian, the best ‘manager’anyone could ever wish for.

  Clementine Rose gripped her pencil and stared at the page. Mrs Bottom­ley said that they should try to spell a word before asking for help. Clementine thought for a moment. Then, as neatly as she could, she wrote the letters h-a-t-c-h.

  Mrs Bottomley was walking around the room inspecting everyone’s work. She stopped beside Clementine’s desk and squinted through her glasses.

  ‘Let me see what you’ve got there, Clementine. The egg is going to hatch. Where did you copy that from?’

  Clementine shook her head. ‘I didn’t. I wrote it myself.’

  Mrs Bottomley’s forehead puckered. ‘Come now, Clementine. Perhaps Astrid might have helped you?’ She smiled at the girl sitting behind Clemmie.

  Clementine looked up at her teacher. ‘No, Mrs Bottomley. I sounded it out by myself.’

  ‘If you say so,’ the teacher replied, pursing her lips.

  Clementine frowned. She wondered why Mrs Bottomley didn’t believe her. ‘May I go and see if anything’s happening?’ she asked.

  ‘Happening?’ Mrs Bottomley repeated. ‘Where?’

  Clementine pointed. ‘Over there.’ Mrs Bottomley wasn’t very good at remembering things sometimes.

  ‘I think you should draw a picture first, and then you can have a look – although I don’t imagine anything will have changed in the last few minutes.’

  Clementine began to draw her illustration at the bottom of the page. She was trying to imagine what the chick would look like. She thought it would be fluffy and yellow, like the picture of a chick that was stuck up on the back wall.

  Mrs Bottomley disappeared into the store­room. Clementine stood up and walked towards the incubator. It had been set up on a table at the back of the room by Poppy’s father, Mr Bauer. It had glass sides and glaring lamps, and eight creamy eggs sitting inside.

  ‘Come on, little chickens,’ she whispered. ‘Please come out soon.’

  The eggs sat perfectly still.

  Clementine hadn’t noticed Angus standing behind her.

  ‘I’m going to eat those eggs for breakfast tomorrow,’ he said.

  Clementine spun around. ‘No, you can’t! They’re not breakfast eggs, they’re chick eggs.’

  ‘They’re boring eggs,’ Angus sneered. ‘They don’t do anything.’

  While Angus babbled on about his mother making an omelette, something caught Clem­entine’s attention.

  She put her finger to her lips. ‘Shh! Look!’

  ‘There’s nothing hap–’ The boy stopped suddenly. ‘It just moved.’

  Clementine and Angus watched as one of the little eggs rocked from side to side. They peered closer and then looked at each other and smiled.

  ‘Something’s coming out!’ Angus exclaimed.

  ‘Angus, Clementine, neither of you have finished your work,’ said Mrs Bottomley as she emerged from the storeroom. ‘I said that you could look at the eggs once your drawings were done.’

  ‘Mrs Bottomley,’ Clementine called. ‘One of the eggs is moving.’

  The whole class stopped what they were doing and looked around.

  ‘Cool,’ said Joshua. He slid out of his seat and raced over.

  ‘Joshua Tribble, go back to your desk,’ Mrs Bottomley directed.

  Clementine and Angus hadn’t moved. Their eyes were glued to the glass case.

  ‘There’s a beak, there’s a beak!’ Clementine shouted.

  The rest of the class ran towards the incubator.

  ‘Sit down at once.’ Mrs Bottomley’s voice boomed, but she didn’t stand a chance against a mob of excited five-year-olds.

  The head teacher, Miss Critchley, happened to be passing the classroom and looked in to see the children rushing around like a swarm of bees.

  ‘What’s going on in here?’ she asked cheer­fully as she strode into the room.

  ‘Children, sit down!’ Mrs Bottomley demanded.

  ‘Miss Critchley, there’s a beak,’ Clementine shouted above the din.

  ‘All right, everyone, settle down.’ Miss Critchley’s voice was like honey. The children stopped their shouting at once. ‘You don’t want to frighten the chick, do you? Gather around. If you’re in the front, please kneel down so the people behind you can see.’

  Mrs Bottomley harrumphed loudly and moved in behind Joshua.

  The whole class was transfixed as the little egg shook and the tip of a beak broke through again.

  ‘It needs my dad’s saw,’ Joshua said.

  ‘I think it’s doing a wonderful job with its beak,’ said Miss Critchley, smiling. The little hole was spreading out to become a line around the middle of the egg.

  ‘As if a chicken would have a saw inside an egg. That’s stupid,’ said Angus.

  Joshua poked out his tongue. ‘You’re stu–’

  Miss Critchley interrupted the lads. ‘There’ll be no name-calling, thank you, boys. Let’s just see what happens.’

  The children watched as the chick made more cracks in the shell. They oohed and aahed as the tiny creature began to break free.

  ‘This is boring,’ Joshua complained. ‘How long does it take to get out of an egg?’

  ‘You could sit down and do your work,’ Mrs Bottomley suggested.

  ‘That’s more boring,’ said Joshua.

  There was a loud gasp as the egg finally broke in two and a wet chick wobbled to its feet.

  ‘It’s brown,’ Angus said, clearly surprised.

  ‘Like Mrs Bottomley.’ Joshua laughed and turned around to look at his teacher. She was dressed in her usual uniform of brown shoes, brown stockings and a brown suit.

  Clementine bit back a smile. She couldn’t remember seeing her teacher wear any other colour.

  Mrs Bottomley simply raised her eyebrows and the grin slid from Joshua’s face.

  ‘Do you think the other chicks will hatch soon?’ Clementine asked.

  Miss Critchley nodded. ‘Yes, they shouldn’t b
e too far behind.’

  ‘Will we be able to hold them?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘You have to be careful,’ said Poppy, ‘because they can get cold.’

  Everyone knew that Poppy was an authority on animals, as she lived on a farm.

  ‘I’m gonna hold it first,’ Angus declared. ‘I saw it first.’

  Astrid stared at the boy. ‘Clemmie saw it first. She should have first hold.’

  ‘Yes, I think that sounds fair,’ said Miss Critchley. She winked at Clementine.

  ‘Angus can go first if he wants to,’ Clemen­tine said.

  The boy shrugged. ‘It’s okay, you can go.’

  Clementine smiled. Sometimes it was hard to believe that Angus was the same boy who had been so horrible to her at the start of the year.

  ‘I think we should give the chick a little while to get used to its surroundings,’ said Miss Critchley. ‘Why don’t you all head back to your desks and I’ll come around and have a look at your work.’

  The children sped to their seats, eager to show their writing to the head teacher.

  ‘Mrs Bottomley, do you have any stickers?’ Miss Critchley asked.

  Ethel Bottomley had a very large collection of stickers in the bottom of her desk drawer, but she used them sparingly.

  ‘I suppose you could have these.’ She pulled out a flat page of silver stars. The corners were slightly dog-eared.

  Miss Critchley walked through the room admiring the children’s work and sprinkling each page with stars, much to Mrs Bottomley’s displeasure.

  When she reached Clementine, Miss Critchley congratulated her on her efforts and suggested they sneak over to the incubator to see how the chick was getting on.

  Clementine’s eyes widened as she looked at the little bird. ‘It’s fluffy!’

  ‘And I think it’s about to get a new friend.’ Miss Critchley pointed at another egg that was rocking gently. ‘Would you like to hold the chick now?’

  Clementine nodded. She’d never held a newly hatched chick before.

  Miss Critchley reached in and gently picked up the baby. She told Clementine to hold her hands open and then placed the chick inside.

  ‘It’s so soft.’ Clementine’s smile was wide and her eyes sparkled.

  ‘What do you think we should call him or her?’ Miss Critchley asked.

  Clementine thought hard. ‘I think it’s a girl. Her feathers feel like the velvet material Mrs Mogg used to make me a winter dress. Could we call her Velvet?’

  ‘I think that’s perfect, Clemmie,’ Miss Critchley declared. ‘Hello Velvet.’

  By the end of the school day, three more chicks had hatched. Velvet had been joined by Lemonade, named by Angus, Henny Penny, named by Astrid, and Joshua, who’d been named by the boy himself.

  Clementine wondered if all eight chicks would be there when they arrived for school the next morning.

  ‘Hurry along, everyone. Pack your readers into your bags and come and sit on the floor. I have a notice for you to take home today,’ Mrs Bottomley instructed.

  Clementine wondered what the notice was about. The last one had said there was an outbreak of head lice. Her mother had inspected her hair and even washed it in some special shampoo to be sure. Clementine didn’t like the thought of those creatures at all. She scratched her head.

  Joshua looked at her. ‘Have you got nits?’

  ‘No.’ Clementine’s face turned red.

  ‘Joshua Tribble, stop talking and hurry along,’ Mrs Bottomley barked.

  The children quickly found a place on the floor in front of Mrs Bottomley’s special chair. No one was allowed to sit on it except her.

  ‘I have some news but it’s nothing to get too excited about,’ Mrs Bottomley said sternly.

  Sophie and Clementine looked at each other in bewilderment. Poppy smiled.

  ‘I don’t believe for one second that this is a good idea, but I’ve been overruled. Miss Critchley has arranged for us to visit the farm at Highton Hall on Friday.’

  A cheer went up around the room.

  ‘Shh. Stop that nonsense immediately or I’ll leave you behind on Friday to do yard duty with Mr Pickles.’ The teacher’s face was red and she was huffing and blowing like a steam train.

  Clementine leaned around and grinned at Poppy, who beamed back.

  ‘Did you know?’ Clemmie asked.

  Poppy nodded. ‘Daddy said that I couldn’t tell because it wasn’t definite, but now it must be.’

  ‘I love farms,’ Joshua said.

  ‘Yes, well, I don’t,’ Mrs Bottomley said through gritted teeth. Before she could say any more, the bell rang for the end of the school day.

  The kindergarten children cheered once more, picked up their bags, and streamed out of the classroom.

  ‘Kindergarten! Two straight lines. Now!’ Mrs Bottomley called after them but the children had scattered like Mexican jumping beans.

  Miss Critchley was already standing at the school gate, where she liked to farewell the students each afternoon.

  ‘We’re going to Poppy’s farm, Miss Critchley,’ Clementine shouted as she raced towards her.

  ‘It’s a proper ’scursion, on a bus,’ Angus called after her.

  ‘You’re going to have a wonderful time,’ Miss Critchley told the children. She didn’t add her next thought: Even if Mrs Bottomley came up with every excuse under the sun not to take you.

  Mrs Bottomley appeared, muttering some­thing under her breath.

  ‘It’s lovely to see the children so excited,’ said Miss Critchley.

  ‘Yes, I suppose you’d think it is.’ Mrs Bottomley’s lip curled and she marched off towards the staff room.

  Clementine stood at the gate and looked for Uncle Digby’s ancient Mini Minor. She couldn’t see it anywhere. Her tummy began to feel funny. It wasn’t like him to be late.

  ‘Don’t worry, Clementine,’ said Miss Critchley. ‘I’m sure someone will be here to pick you up soon. If not, you can come and wait in my office.’

  Clementine smiled back at the head teacher. Miss Critchley always knew the right thing to say.

  A few minutes later, Aunt Violet’s shiny red car roared down the road and skidded to a halt outside the school gates.

  The old woman put down the passenger side window and leaned across. ‘Don’t just stand there, Clementine,’ she called. ‘I haven’t got all day.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were coming to get me this afternoon,’ said Clementine as she walked towards the car.

  Miss Critchley followed. She opened the back door for Clementine and leaned inside. ‘Hello Miss Appleby. Thank you for picking Clementine up, but I really must insist that you observe the speed limit outside the school.’

  ‘Oh, I can see those signs perfectly well, Miss Critchley,’ Aunt Violet replied. ‘It’s just that I was running late and I didn’t want Clementine to worry.’

  Clementine was surprised to hear this.

  ‘We’d worry a lot more if you had an accident,’ Miss Critchley insisted.

  ‘I’ve never had an accident in my life and I don’t plan to start now,’ the old woman retorted. ‘If you’d remove yourself and allow Clementine to get settled, we’ll be on our way.’

  Clementine hopped into the back seat and buckled her seatbelt.

  ‘Bossy woman,’ Aunt Violet muttered. ‘Who does she think she is?’

  ‘She’s the head teacher, of course,’ Clemen­tine piped up, wondering why Aunt Violet had asked.

  ‘I don’t care who she is, she needn’t tell me how to drive.’ Aunt Violet’s face furrowed into a deep frown and she pulled out from the kerb sharply. There was a blast of a horn and a screech of brakes as Joshua Tribble’s father only just managed to swerve and avoid hitting the side of the car.

  Aunt Violet put down the window and yelled
, ‘What do you think you’re doing, man? You could have killed us driving like that.’

  ‘Excuse me, lady, but you pulled out and didn’t even look,’ Mr Tribble yelled back.

  Joshua was sitting in the passenger seat. He pulled on his cheeks and made a monster face at Clementine.

  ‘Why don’t you control your little brat?’ Aunt Violet gave Joshua a scary stare.

  The boy reeled in fright and covered his eyes.

  Aunt Violet harrumphed loudly, then squeezed her car through the gap and sped off.

  ‘Where’s Mummy and Uncle Digby?’ Clemen­tine asked. She was beginning to hope that Aunt Violet wouldn’t pick her up too often.

  ‘They’re talking to some builders about the roof,’ Aunt Violet replied. ‘And not before time.’

  Clementine nodded and then remembered her news. She bounced in her seat. ‘We’re going on an excursion!’

  ‘Yes, lovely,’ Aunt Violet said absently.

  ‘To Poppy’s farm,’ Clementine went on.

  ‘It’s not Poppy’s farm, Clementine. It’s the Highton-Smith-Kennington-Joneses’,’ her great-aunt replied.

  Clementine didn’t know what she meant. ‘But Poppy lives there.’

  ‘Yes, because her father and mother work there,’ said Aunt Violet. ‘But it’s not theirs.’

  ‘Oh,’ Clementine said. It didn’t matter who owned it. She was just excited that the whole class was going. ‘Well, we’re visiting on Friday. We’re going to see horses and cows and sheep and chickens. And four of our chicks hatched in class today and I got to hold the first one and give her a name. She’s called Velvet.’

  ‘Vel–’ Aunt Violet began. ‘Not Violet?’ She glanced in the rear-vision mirror and saw Clementine frown.

  ‘No! That’s your name. Her name is Velvet,’ Clementine repeated. Sometimes Aunt Violet could be so silly. ‘She’s brown and fluffy and her feathers feel like my velvet dress.’

  Her great-aunt simply nodded.

  Aunt Violet turned the car into the driveway at Penberthy House and came to a halt outside the front door. Clementine scrambled out of her seatbelt, grabbed her schoolbag and jumped out of the car, slamming the door.