Clementine Rose and the Special Promise 11 Read online

  Several children who had already hidden in the storeroom rushed out, leaving the Kindergarten teacher on her own.

  Clementine smothered a laugh. She loved that Mr Smee wasn’t afraid of Mrs Bottomley like all the other teachers at the school were.

  The old woman’s muffled voice could be heard from the other side of the door. ‘But I came to talk about Grandparents’ Day,’ she protested. ‘It’s on next Friday and we still have to choose the host –’

  ‘Nan, be quiet,’ Angus hissed through the door.

  Ethel began to scold the young man when an almighty shushing from the whole class finally put a stop to her jabbering. There were a few nervous giggles as the children lay in wait.

  Poppy’s voice carried into the room as she pushed open the door.

  ‘Why’s the room all dark?’ Sophie said.

  ‘SURPRISE!’ the children yelled, leaping out from all over the place. Poor Sophie jumped into the air almost as high as Mrs Bottomley had. Teddy switched the lights back on.

  ‘Is this for me?’ Sophie said, her face crumpling.

  ‘You didn’t think we would let you leave without having a proper farewell party, did you?’ Mr Smee smiled at the girl. ‘It’s just a small one because it won’t be long at all until you’re back again.’

  There was a pounding on the storeroom door, and Joshua Tribble ran over to open it. Sophie was surprised to see Mrs Bottomley spill out into the room. The woman’s hair was sticking up all over the place and her brown dress was as crinkled as her frown.

  ‘Clearly now is not the right time to discuss Grandparents’ Day,’ Mrs Bottomley said, regaining her composure. ‘Enjoy your time away, Sophie, and make sure to savour everything France has to offer.’

  ‘Like frogs’ legs and snails,’ Joshua called out.

  The old woman shook her head and waddled out of the room.

  Mr Smee motioned for the children to gather around. ‘Clementine would like to say something,’ he announced.

  Clementine stood up in front of the whiteboard and took a deep breath. ‘I wrote a poem for Sophie.’

  Joshua Tribble groaned. ‘Poems are boring.’

  Angus glared at the boy. ‘No, they’re not, and Clemmie is really good at them.’

  ‘You’re just saying that because she’s your girlfriend,’ Joshua sputtered.

  Roderick Smee shot the boy a warning look. Joshua hunkered down and crossed his arms, glowering.

  Clementine pulled a page from her pocket and cleared her throat. She took another deep breath and began:

  When the moon rises and the stars shimmer in the sky,

  I’ll look up to the heavens and choose the first one that I see.

  I’ll call it Sophie and it will blink at me and twinkle as if it’s waving.

  And when you look into the dark night sky,

  that first star you see is me, waving right back.

  Au revoir, Sophie!

  A tear wobbled down Sophie’s cheek. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

  Clementine folded the piece of paper and placed it back into her pocket. ‘Do you promise to come back?’ she asked.

  Sophie nodded. ‘Do you promise to write and tell me all the news?’

  ‘Of course,’ Clementine said.

  The two best friends hugged each other tightly as the rest of the class clapped and cheered.

  ‘Three cheers for Sophie,’ Angus shouted. ‘Hip hip!’

  ‘Hooray!’

  Clarissa Appleby snipped another long-stemmed rose and placed it in the wicker basket at her feet. She looked up to see Clementine half-heartedly nudging her soccer ball across the back lawn with Lavender trotting along beside her. She hated to see her daughter in such low spirits.

  ‘I have to go to the butcher’s in a little while, Clemmie. Would you like to come?’ Clarissa called. ‘We could get a gingerbread man from Pierre’s?’

  Clementine shook her head without looking up. ‘No, thank you,’ she replied.

  ‘Uncle Digby said he met the new baker,’ Clarissa added. ‘Apparently, he has a little girl the same age as you. It might be nice to introduce yourself.’

  Clementine shrugged and prodded the soccer ball with her foot. ‘I don’t want any new friends.’

  ‘Clemmie,’ her mother admonished. ‘That’s not like you, darling. You can never have too many friends. It’s not as if this little girl will be replacing Sophie.’

  Clementine’s shoulders slumped as she watched the ball roll away under a bush.

  Lady Clarissa put down her garden clippers and walked over to the child. She knelt in front of Clementine and, taking up both of her hands, looked into the girl’s watery blue eyes. ‘The good news is, Will and Drew are coming tomorrow.’

  ‘They are?’ Clementine brushed her eyes with the back of her hand.

  Clarissa nodded. ‘They’re moving into the cottage at the end of next week but they’ll come to stay with us tomorrow so that Will can start school on Monday. I’m going to have a welcome dinner for them tomorrow night and I thought we could invite the new baker and his family,’ she said gently. ‘Why don’t you come inside and give me a hand, sweetheart?’

  Clementine nodded, then scurried across the lawn to retrieve her ball. She’d never felt so mixed up inside. She was happy about Drew and Will coming, but it still didn’t seem fair that Sophie had to go away for a whole year. She wondered if being really sad was like a gloomy day when, no matter how hard the sun tried, it just couldn’t get through the clouds. Clementine booted the ball hard to the other end of the garden. It whistled past Aunt Violet’s ear as the woman walked out the back door.

  ‘Good heavens, that missed me by a whisker!’ Violet Appleby exclaimed. ‘You know, Clementine, being in a sulk is not going to make Sophie come back any sooner.’

  ‘I’m not in a sulk,’ Clementine mumbled. She took Lavender up in her arms and nuzzled the little pig.

  Aunt Violet raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that so? Then get your cardigan, Clemmie. You’re coming with me to Highton Mill.’

  Clementine pouted. ‘But I don’t want to.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Clarissa offered.

  ‘No, dear,’ Aunt Violet said. ‘I’ll drop by the butcher’s and then I’ll get the bread rolls you were after for tonight.’

  ‘If you really don’t mind, that would save me some time,’ Clarissa replied. ‘We’ve got a few people arriving this afternoon and I should help Uncle Digby with the beds.’

  Aunt Violet nodded. ‘That’s settled then. Lavender can come too.’

  ‘But you don’t like her going in your car,’ Clementine said.

  The old woman softened. ‘It’s all right. Just get her lead and make sure she goes to the toilet before we leave.’

  Clementine sighed and, clutching the little pig tighter, trudged across the lawn and up the back steps.

  Violet Appleby opened the rear passenger door. Lavender jumped down onto the path and waited for her mistress to clamber out after her.

  ‘Where are we going first?’ Clementine asked, holding Lavender’s red lead.

  ‘Pierre’s, to pick up the bread order,’ Aunt Violet said.

  Clementine looked down the street. People were walking in and out of the patisserie as though nothing had changed. But everything had. For a start, Pierre wouldn’t be there. She took a deep breath and tried again to push the sad thoughts away.

  When the three of them walked inside, a man with a thick head of curly black hair looked up over the top of the counter. He had a long moustache that twirled on the ends and wore a bold yellow apron over a purple shirt with paisley swirls. Clementine stared at the apron, wondering what had happened to Pierre’s red one. She slipped her hand into her great-aunt’s.

  ‘Hello,’ Aunt Violet said to the man, eyeing his attire. ‘It’s lovely to meet you Mr … Oh dear, I have only heard Digby refer to you as Roger. How ghastly of me not to know your surname. I’m Violet Appleby and this is my great-niece, Clementine Rose.’

  �
��That’s all right, Vi. We don’t stand on ceremony around here,’ the man said cheerfully. ‘For the record, it’s Baker.’

  The old woman blanched. At a pinch she might have tolerated this stranger calling her by her first name, but an abbreviation was completely unacceptable. ‘You can call me Miss Appleby,’ she instructed.

  Clementine giggled. ‘Mr Baker is a baker,’ she whispered to Lavender.

  Roger Baker grinned and peered down at the pig. ‘What sort of dog is that?’ he asked.

  Clementine laughed. ‘Her name is Lavender and she’s a teacup pig.’

  Lavender squealed at the mention of her name.

  ‘I’ve never seen such a charming little thing. Is she a baby?’ the man asked.

  Clementine shook her head. ‘No, she’s a grown-up.’

  Roger Baker walked around the counter to give the tiny pig a pat. Lavender sniffed his fingers, then gave them a nibble. ‘Wait until my Saskia sees her,’ he said. ‘She’ll be insisting I get her one right away.’

  ‘Mr Baker, I’ve been asked by my niece, Clarissa, to invite you and your family over to dinner with us tomorrow night at Penberthy House,’ Aunt Violet said.

  The man smiled and stood up. ‘Oh, that would be lovely. I’ll bring something for dessert.’

  ‘We wouldn’t dream of it,’ Aunt Violet said. ‘Come by around five and we’ll start with some drinks on the terrace.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ Mr Baker said. He walked back to the other side of the counter and quickly washed his hands before passing Aunt Violet a large basket of bread rolls. ‘My Sassy is going to go nuts over that pig. Lock her up, Clementine,’ he warned, ‘or she might just disappear home with us.’

  Clementine’s eyes widened in horror and she squeezed her great-aunt’s hand in a vice-like grip.

  Aunt Violet frowned at the man. ‘Come along, Clemmie, we need to get to the butcher’s before it closes. Oh, I almost forgot – what would you like?’

  The child peered into the glass cabinet. For some reason the butterfly cupcakes didn’t look quite so fluffy and the buttons on the gingerbread men seemed a bit skew-whiff. Clementine shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she said softly.

  ‘Funny about that, me either.’ Aunt Violet smiled tightly at the man. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow night then, Mr Baker.’

  Roger gave them a friendly wave. ‘Looking forward to it, Vi.’

  Clementine followed Aunt Violet out onto the High Street. As the old woman launched into a speech about the decline of manners in the world today, Clementine glanced back at Pierre’s patisserie. She hadn’t thought it possible, but she now missed Sophie and the Rousseaus more than ever.

  Clementine awoke early on Sunday morning. She’d had a wonderful dream, where she’d visited Sophie in Paris. The two of them had eaten croissants, drunk hot chocolate and walked along a riverbank. It had seemed so real that Clementine was met with a pang of disappointment when she opened her eyes. She lay in bed for a while and thought about what Sophie was doing that very moment.

  Knowing that her mother and Uncle Digby would already be up preparing breakfast for the ten guests who had stayed overnight, Clementine quickly got dressed. She tiptoed out of her room, careful not to rouse Lavender, who was snoring gently. Clementine padded down the main stairs and stopped in front of the portraits of her grandparents.

  ‘Hello Granny and Grandpa,’ she whispered. ‘Guess what? Will and Drew are coming today – and not just for a visit. They’re moving to the village, which means I can see them all the time. Oh, and I had a dream about Sophie last night. Do you think she was dreaming about me as well?’

  Digby Pertwhistle walked out of the dining room with a feather duster and a cloth in his hands. He thought he’d heard a voice and glanced up at the child. ‘Good morning, Clemmie,’ he said. ‘Are you catching your grandparents up on recent events?’

  Clementine nodded. ‘I was just telling them about Drew and Will. I already told them about Sophie. I think Granny was as upset as me.’

  The old man smiled. He may have just been the butler of Penberthy House to the outside world, but he cared for the child as if she were his own granddaughter. He wondered if Clementine would soon reach a time when she stopped talking to the paintings on the wall. He hoped not. ‘You’ll have to write to Sophie next week and tell her all your news,’ he suggested.

  ‘I’m going to,’ Clementine said. ‘We made a pinky promise to write to each other every week. She’s going to help me with my French and I’m going to tell her everything that’s happening here so that when she gets back it won’t feel like she’s been away at all.’

  ‘That sounds like the perfect plan,’ the old man said, his eyes sparkling. ‘Now, how would you like to have some crepes with sugar and lemon for breakfast?’

  Clementine grinned. ‘Yes, please! Then we can pretend we’re in Paris with Sophie.’

  ‘Quick, let’s sneak some in before the guests are up,’ Uncle Digby whispered, twirling the feather duster and pointing it towards the kitchen.

  ‘Yum! Bye Granny, bye Grandpa,’ Clementine called, waving to them. ‘See you later.’

  She then skittered down the stairs and followed Uncle Digby into the kitchen.

  By midday all of the guests had left and Clementine was now helping her mother to make the chocolate mousse for tonight’s dessert. It was one of Clementine’s absolute favourites, especially when she got to lick the beaters. Clarissa flicked the switch on the mixer, sending it into a whirring frenzy.

  ‘They’re here!’ Clementine gasped, startling her mother. The child leapt off the stool she was standing on and raced out of the kitchen, leaving the door swinging wildly in her wake. Clementine rounded the corner at full speed and bumped right into Aunt Violet, who was carrying a tray of crystal glasses. The woman spun around on the spot. Clementine held her breath as the glasses wobbled dangerously. One teetered on the edge and the child reached out just in time to catch it.

  ‘Clementine! Slow down, for heaven’s sake,’ the old woman scolded. ‘This crystal is irreplaceable. It belonged to your great-great-grandparents.’

  Clementine winced. ‘I’m sorry, Aunt Violet, but Drew and Will are here!’ The child quickly returned the glass to the tray and skidded across the entrance foyer to the front door.

  ‘Well, why didn’t you say so before?’ Aunt Violet placed the tray onto the side table by the stairs. She smoothed her hair and checked her reflection in the mirror. ‘Hurry up and open the door, Clementine.’

  The child, who had been waiting impatiently, gladly grabbed the handle and pulled hard. Will and Drew were standing on the porch smiling. ‘Hello!’ Clementine shouted, her excitement bubbling over.

  ‘Good afternoon, gorgeous girl,’ Drew said, giving her a great big hug.

  Clementine giggled and rubbed her cheek. ‘You’ve got prickles.’

  ‘I do?’ Drew smiled. ‘Sorry about that. I couldn’t find my razor this morning. I must have packed it into one of the hundreds of boxes by mistake.’

  ‘Welcome to Penberthy Floss,’ Aunt Violet said, unable to wipe the silly grin off her face. ‘I hear the village has some new residents.’

  Drew smiled. ‘Thank you. It’s wonderful to be here.’

  ‘Do you want to build a cubby?’ Clementine asked Will. ‘Lavender and I have been waiting for you all day. I thought we could make up a play and Mummy said we can use the video camera.’

  The boy looked at his father.

  ‘Go on,’ Drew said, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

  Will smiled and nodded, and the two children were soon galloping away down the hall.

  Clementine opened the library door. ‘This is the best spot for cubbies,’ she explained.

  ‘It’s so big,’ Will agreed. ‘We’ll be able to build a whole city of cubbies.’

  ‘Are you happy you’re moving to Penberthy Floss?’ Clementine asked. ‘My friend Sophie just moved to France and I miss her a lot.’

  Will nodded. ‘I
’ll miss my old friends too but I can visit them. You should see my new bedroom. It’s got the whole universe painted on the ceiling and there are even stars that twinkle. They’re really lights but they look like stars. Dad says we can get a dog soon.’

  ‘What will you call it?’ Clementine asked.

  Will shrugged. ‘You can help me think of some names.’

  ‘Oops, I forgot that we need some sheets for the cubby,’ Clementine said. ‘I have to ask Mummy which ones we can use.’

  The pair charged back down the hall and around the corner, but an unfamiliar sight stopped them in their tracks. They peered into the entrance hall at the silhouette of two figures.

  Will looked at Clementine. ‘Are they …?’

  Clementine tilted her head and nodded. ‘I think so.’

  Drew released Clarissa, whose face was a darker shade of pink than the long-stemmed roses on the hall table.

  Clementine and Will ran towards them. ‘Are you in love?’ Clementine asked.

  Drew and Clarissa looked at the children and then at each other. Clarissa had been meaning to speak to Clementine all week but, with Sophie leaving, she’d thought the poor child had enough changes to deal with. Clarissa’s heart thumped. ‘Clemmie, I was going to talk to you,’ she began.

  ‘Why?’ Clementine asked.

  ‘Well, I should have said something before now,’ her mother explained.

  Clementine frowned. ‘Mummy, Drew’s loved you ever since the filming. Didn’t you know? Can we please get some sheets for our cubby?’

  Drew and Clarissa looked at one another and laughed. ‘Are you okay, buddy?’ Drew asked his son.

  ‘Of course,’ Will said. ‘I knew that’s why you wanted to move here. I heard you on the phone lots of times all lovey-dovey.’

  Clementine giggled.

  ‘Now I get to play with Clemmie all the time,’ Will added. ‘We’re making the biggest cubby ever, and Clemmie’s going to help me think of a name for our new dog.’

  ‘Mummy, can we get the sheets now?’ Clementine asked. ‘We want to get started straight away.’