Clementine Rose and the Paris Puzzle Read online

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  CLEMENTINE ROSE and her family are off to Paris! It’s Clementine’s first big trip and there’s so much to see and do. She’s been practising her French and can’t wait to say bonjour to her friends Sophie and Jules.

  Exploring the city is lots of fun and, with the help of Lavender, Clementine encounters some rather curious characters. After a series of strange coincidences and a last-minute disaster, Clementine begins to wonder if it’s all part of one very tricky puzzle!

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Paris

  L’Hôtel Lulu

  Bonjour

  A Mishap

  Reunion

  Hide and Seek

  The Witch

  Madame Joubert

  Off We Go

  Sightseeing

  Ahoy!

  An Unexpected Adventure

  Day Trip

  Paris Puzzle

  A Discovery

  Bravo

  Last Day

  An Interrupted Farewell

  Red-Handed

  List of French Words

  Cast of Characters

  About the Author

  Books by Jacqueline Harvey

  Jacqueline Harvey Supports

  Copyright Notice

  For Ian, just because

  Clementine’s eyes were the size of dinner plates as she knelt up onto her seat and pressed her nose against the glass. Her breath fogged a tiny patch of window.

  ‘Look!’ she called, pointing to the street as their minivan came to a stop.

  Lady Clarissa craned her neck to see what her daughter was excited about this time. Clementine hadn’t stopped talking since they’d arrived in the city, exclaiming about something every few seconds. Will scanned left and right as he tried to keep up with the little girl’s pronouncements.

  ‘That’s Notre Dame Cathedral,’ Clementine’s Great-Aunt Violet said. ‘I was married there, actually.’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ Clarissa said. She looked over at Digby Pertwhistle, who shrugged his shoulders in reply.

  ‘Might we enquire what number wedding that was?’ he asked cheekily.

  Violet Appleby’s top lip curled. ‘No, you may not.’

  ‘I’ve been there before,’ Will piped up. ‘It’s got the best windows.’

  ‘Perhaps we should all go tomorrow,’ Aunt Violet suggested.

  Clementine shook her head. ‘I was pointing to the dog, not the church.’

  Sure enough, a tan-coloured beast that looked more lion than canine was waiting patiently by the roadside. It sported a matching navy coat and lead while its owner had a well-trimmed beard and wore a beige safari suit. A trilby hat was perched atop the man’s head at just the right jaunty angle. Together, owner and hound made quite the stylish pair.

  Will gasped. ‘He’s ginormous!’

  ‘He’s huge, all right,’ Digby agreed. ‘I wouldn’t like to pay his food bills.’

  ‘Or clean up his messages,’ Drew added.

  Clementine wrinkled her nose, and Lavender grunted as if to agree. The little pig was sitting on Digby’s lap, looking out the window too.

  ‘I think we’re almost there,’ Drew said. He knew Paris well, having visited many times for work.

  The minivan turned left and puttered along a winding cobblestoned street before crossing a main road that was brimming with colourful shops and restaurants.

  ‘Look at those heavenly flowers,’ Aunt Violet sighed longingly. The pavement outside a florist was bursting with blooms. ‘We could gather some ideas for the wedding, Clarissa, and perhaps even pick out a dress.’

  ‘Who are you marrying this time?’ Uncle Digby quipped, unable to help himself.

  Aunt Violet pretended she hadn’t heard him.

  Clementine turned from the window. ‘I thought Mrs Mogg was going to make your dress, Mummy,’ she said.

  ‘Good grief, I think we can do better than that,’ Violet Appleby tutted. ‘Fancy coming all the way to Paris and not taking advantage of the chic boutiques. I’ll most certainly be doing some shopping while we’re here.’

  ‘Did you discover a money tree before we left home, Miss Appleby?’ Digby Pertwhistle looked at Clementine and winked.

  ‘Modelling pays quite well, I’ll have you know,’ Aunt Violet said importantly. ‘In fact, Elaine told me that her friend Rodolphe, who owns a fabulous boutique here in Paris, said I would have been perfect for one of his shows. It’s just a pity they were held last week.’

  ‘Does this Rodolphe have a red nose, by any chance?’ Uncle Digby asked.

  Clementine and Will dissolved into a fit of giggles.

  Violet Appleby shot the butler a dark look. ‘Rodolphe has a very handsome nose. Elaine showed me a photograph and I thought he looked like a movie star.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll fall in love with you, Aunt Violet, and then you can stay in Paris and get married in Notre Dame again,’ Clementine said.

  Digby nodded. ‘And live happily ever after in the bell tower.’

  Aunt Violet tightened her lips like the draw string on a bag, but for once she decided to bite her tongue.

  The minivan pulled up to a pair of ornate iron gates. Everyone spilled out and followed Drew into a courtyard crowded with flowerpots and hanging baskets brimming with red geraniums.

  Clementine looked up at the pretty white townhouse. She thought it was lovely, though it was much smaller than Penberthy House. ‘Mummy, can we go to the Eiffel Tower?’ she asked. She had spotted the famous structure in the distance on their way to the city and was desperate to go right to the very top.

  ‘It’s a bit late, darling,’ Clarissa replied. ‘I think we’ll just have time to eat dinner and get settled in.’

  ‘But we’re only here for a week and I want to see everything,’ Clementine protested.

  Drew turned to her and grinned. ‘Everything?’

  Clementine nodded emphatically. ‘Oui, monsieur. Everything.’

  Clarissa Appleby smiled and shook her head. ‘Come along, then. We’d best get a move on.’

  A tall, thickset man with glasses greeted the group as they entered the hotel foyer. He wore a natty grey waistcoat and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. ‘Bonjour,’ he declared with a grin.

  Clementine’s tummy fluttered ever so slightly at the prospect of speaking French to a real French person. ‘Bonjour monsieur,’ she replied quietly.

  The man leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. ‘And what is your name?’

  ‘I’m Clementine Rose Appleby and –’

  ‘But of course!’ he said, throwing his hands into the air. ‘You are the competition winners.’

  The door behind the reception desk opened, followed by the sound of skittering claws. ‘Lulu, come back here at once,’ a woman called.

  But the little dog was on a mission and raced out to greet their guests. Within seconds the miniature dachshund and the teacup pig were nose to nose, matching one another sniff for sniff.

  A woman wearing a short skirt and a pink silk blouse emerged from the doorway and scurried after the copper-coloured dog. Her brown hair was piled in loose curls on top of her head. ‘Bonjour,’ she said. ‘I must apologise for that naughty creature. The minute she hears new guests she is in such a hurry to say hello.’

  Lulu was now licking Lavender’s snout while the tiny pig danced around, squealing. It almost sounded as if she were giggling.

  ‘You are the people with the petite piggy!’ the French woman exclaimed. Lavender snuffled at the lady’s feet, then nuzzled against her leg. ‘Oh my goodness, what an a
dorable creature.’

  ‘She likes you,’ Clementine said, as she and Will knelt down to give Lulu a pat.

  ‘She is magnifique,’ the woman replied, cradling Lavender like a baby and kissing her nose. ‘We have never had a piggy stay in the hotel before. She has such wonderful manners, perhaps she will teach Lulu to share. My husband’s dog is the most spoiled creature you will ever meet.’

  ‘That is not true, Camille,’ said the Frenchman. He walked out and scratched Lavender’s head before picking up the dachshund. ‘Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Henri Crabbe and this is my wife, Camille, and my beloved Lulu. It is our great pleasure to welcome you to our hotel.’

  ‘Thank you so much for accommodating Lavender,’ Clarissa said. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d take a pig but I thought it wouldn’t do any harm to ask.’

  ‘We are delighted to have her with us. She reminded me so much of Capucine,’ Camille replied.

  Clementine was surprised. No one had ever told her that Lavender reminded her of coffee before. ‘Really?’ she asked.

  ‘She is famous. Come, I will show you.’ Camille hurried to the cabinet behind the counter and pointed to a photograph of a woman wearing a fur coat and a matching hat. She had ruby-red lips and heavily made-up eyes and she looked to be dangling a papier-mâché pig on long strings.

  Aunt Violet peered at the picture. ‘Is that a marionette?’

  ‘Oui,’ the woman replied. ‘That is Capucine. She is the most famous pig in Paris and probably all of France.’

  ‘But she’s a puppet,’ Will said.

  ‘Who’s the woman holding her?’ Uncle Digby asked.

  ‘Madame Delacroix, the most famous puppeteer in the country,’ said Monsieur Crabbe, ‘or at least she was when I was a boy. I suspect Capucine’s fame is waning these days. There is a theatre in the Luxembourg Garden, where I think she still performs. It was always a wonderful show.’

  Drew nodded. ‘That sounds great. We should take a look.’

  ‘We must let you go upstairs and rest,’ Henri said, handing Clarissa the keys. ‘Your rooms are all on the second floor. Breakfast is served in the basement restaurant, which is also open for dinner.’

  ‘And if you need anyone to look after Lavender while you are here, I will happily volunteer,’ Camille added.

  ‘Thank you,’ Clementine said, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Oops, I meant to say merci.’ She peered up at the woman. ‘Do you know my friend Sophie?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Clementine,’ Aunt Violet scoffed. ‘Do you have any idea how many French girls are called Sophie? There must be a million in Paris alone.’

  ‘Her father is Pierre and her mother is Odette and she has a brother called Jules,’ Clementine continued, undeterred.

  Camille Crabbe’s eyes lit up. ‘Why, Pierre is our baker! He is running his papa’s patisserie just around the corner. It is very sad that Monsieur Rousseau is unwell at the minute, but to tell you the truth, I think he is more lonely than ill.’

  Clementine could barely contain her excitement. ‘Have you met Sophie? We’re seeing her tomorrow.’

  ‘Oui,’ Madame Crabbe replied, ‘but she did not mention that you were coming to visit.’

  ‘It’s a surprise,’ Clementine said proudly. ‘Mummy said it would be more fun that way.’

  Madame Crabbe nodded. ‘Sophie will be very excited. I think she will be leaping out of her lizard skins.’

  Clementine’s brow furrowed. She didn’t recall Sophie’s skin ever resembling anything like that of a lizard. She wondered what could have happened.

  Henri Crabbe snorted. ‘You are mixing your metaphors again, my dear. Sophie might be leaping like a lizard or jumping out of her skin, but she is certainly not leaping out of her lizard skins.’

  Clementine looked at Will and the pair of them giggled into their hands.

  Camille Crabbe’s face flushed. ‘I think I need to go back to my English classes.’

  ‘Come along, everyone,’ Drew said as Henri Crabbe and Uncle Digby loaded the family’s bags onto a silver luggage trolley.

  Clementine spied a rack of leaflets on the wall near the elevator. ‘There’s the Eiffel Tower and the glass pyramid and a palace,’ she said, nudging Will and pointing to the display.

  Madame Crabbe collected a few of the brochures as well as a small map. ‘You will need these for your explorations,’ she said, holding them out to the children.

  ‘Merci,’ Clementine replied, taking them from the woman. ‘There are so many things to see!’

  ‘If you are lucky, you may also see snow tomorrow,’ Madame Crabbe said.

  ‘Snow!’ Clementine gasped. ‘Imagine the Eiffel Tower all covered in white – that would be like a dream.’

  Clarissa smiled. ‘You’d better get to bed straight after dinner, darling. Maybe then your dreams will come true.’

  Clementine’s face lit up. ‘I hope so,’ she said, jiggling up and down excitedly. The lift bell sounded and she and Will dashed inside.

  Clementine’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment she wondered where she was. Then a thought as gentle as a feather settling upon a pillow came to her and she remembered she was in Paris. She pushed aside the bedcovers and tiptoed to the window, careful not to wake her mother. Clementine pulled back the curtain and peered into the dark street. There was still no sign of snow. Her fingers danced along the freezing glass as she hoped for it to come later in the day.

  There was a rustle and then the sound of Lavender’s trotters on the floor. Clementine felt the little pig’s snout tickle the back of her leg. She turned and pressed her finger to her lips. ‘Shh. Don’t wake Mummy up.’

  Clementine reached down and took the creature into her arms.

  ‘Sophie is somewhere out there,’ she whispered. ‘Do you think she’s missed me too?’

  Clementine shivered, but not from the cold. She glanced around at the wingback armchair in the corner of the room, where her mother had laid out her clothes for the day. She put Lavender on the chair and began to get dressed, taking extra care not to poke any holes in her new tights, just like Aunt Violet had taught her. When she was ready, she helped Lavender into her very own red coat.

  ‘Good morning, darling,’ Clarissa yawned, sitting up in bed. ‘You two have made an early start.’

  ‘I’m so excited, Mummy. I can’t wait to see Sophie,’ Clementine said. She placed a matching red beret on Lavender’s head and tickled the pig under the chin.

  ‘Me too,’ Clarissa said. She hopped out of bed and gave her daughter a hug.

  Clementine looked up at her mother. ‘There’s still no snow,’ she said.

  ‘You mustn’t be too disappointed, sweetheart,’ Clarissa said, cupping Clementine’s face with her hands. I don’t think it’s a particularly regular occurrence in Paris.’

  Clementine pouted at the ground. ‘I’ll keep wishing because you never know.’

  While Clarissa got ready, Clementine spread her map across the floor. She ran her finger over all of the places she and Will had circled the night before. Lavender sniffed the Arc de Triomphe.

  It wasn’t long before Clarissa was dressed too. As she finished doing up the buttons on Clementine’s new red coat, which Mrs Mogg had made especially for the trip, a knock sounded on the connecting door to their suite.

  ‘Entrez,’ Clarissa trilled.

  Drew poked his head in and smiled. ‘Ready?’

  Clarissa nodded.

  Drew glanced around. ‘Where’s Clemmie?’

  ‘I’m right here,’ Clementine said, skipping over to him.

  ‘But you’re not Clementine,’ he said, a row of frown lines crisscrossing his forehead. ‘Aren’t you a little French girl?’

  Clementine’s face split into a grin. ‘No, silly, it’s me. It must be the beret that tricked you.’

  ‘Oui, it is superb!’ he said with a thick French accent.

  Will walked through the adjoining door, dressed in a white shirt with a be
ige jacket over the top. He chuckled at the sight of Lavender. ‘It’s the piggy from Pa-ree.’

  ‘I think she looks beautiful,’ Clementine said.

  Will nodded. ‘You look really nice too,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘Merci,’ Clementine said in her best French accent.

  ‘De rien,’ the boy replied.

  ‘Listen to you two,’ Clarissa said, shaking her head in wonder. ‘You’ll be mistaken for locals.’

  ‘Do you think so, Mummy?’ Clementine asked hopefully.

  ‘I can’t wait to learn some more words,’ Will said.

  ‘From real French people too,’ Clementine added with a nod. The children had been practising every day before the trip, endeavouring to master as many French words and phrases as they could.

  ‘Well, there’s no time like the present. Your real-life French class awaits,’ Drew said. He offered Clarissa his arm and, together, they ushered the children and Lavender out the door.

  After a hot breakfast, the group of seven bundled out into the cold and set off for Pierre’s father’s patisserie. Clementine insisted on consulting the map, so Drew helped her to trace the route with her finger and they discovered that it wasn’t far at all. They just had to turn the corner, walk past a row of townhouses and through a small square.

  Clementine loved the way the chairs and tables at the front of the cafes faced outwards in a long line as if to watch a fashion parade go by. There were lots of people rugged up in coats, scarves and gloves, sipping from steaming cups. In the middle of the square, two boys raced around an old iron fountain, flicking the icy water at one another, much to the annoyance of their grandmother.

  ‘The patisserie should be down there,’ Drew said, pointing to an avenue of shops on their left.