Alice-Miranda Shines Bright 8 Page 4

  Reg looked up. ‘Where’s Beryl, then?’ It was as if talk of Myrtle had suddenly brought something back to him.

  Stan cast his eyes downward. ‘She’s gone too,’ he replied.

  ‘Probably gone together,’ Reg smiled absently.

  Stan’s stomach lurched. He hadn’t seen Reginald Parker for three years and now he turned up as if he’d been here just yesterday. Stan wondered if living with Myrtle all those years had knocked the sensitivity right out of the silly old fool. Surely he’d heard that Beryl had died. The funeral had been a private affair: just the priest, Maudie, Itch and Stan, exactly as Beryl had requested. No family, no added complications. Even so, word got around the village and Stan had been surprised to find several casseroles and cakes left on the doorstop at the house. Reg must have known.

  Stan spoke again. ‘What did you do to your arm?’ He pointed at the sticking plaster covering Reg’s wrist.

  He looked at it and shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ Reg drank his tea, savouring every last drop. ‘Geez, these biscuits are delicious,’ he enthused, reaching out to take another.

  ‘You never liked them much before.’ Stan watched as Reg devoured at least six of them. ‘Haven’t you eaten today?’

  Little did Stan know that Reginald Parker hadn’t eaten a piece of solid food in years.

  Reginald gave Maudie a gentle prod and she leapt down from his lap. He walked to the sink, rinsed out his teacup, and looked expectantly at Stan. ‘Well, come on then, we should get out there.’

  ‘Out where?’ said Stan.

  ‘What’s wrong with you, Stanley Frost? Have you forgotten that we’re on the verge of making a huge discovery? We’ll be famous the length and breadth of the county. If we tell anyone, that is. I’d rather we kept it to ourselves for now. Anyway, I dreamt where we’ll find it.’

  The penny suddenly dropped. ‘I haven’t been up there in years,’ Stan whispered.

  ‘What do you mean, Stan? We were there yesterday and the day before that and the day before that.’

  Stan Frost shook his head. Something had happened to his friend. Something terrible. He needed to get to the village and let someone know. Reginald Parker had gone mad. Or Myrtle had driven him to it. The last time he’d seen Reg, he said that he had to get home and clean out the gutters because Myrtle would be back soon and she’d have his guts for garters if it wasn’t done. Stan hadn’t seen the old girl in years but he’d suffered often enough at her hands to know that Reg probably wasn’t kidding. He waited the next day for him to reappear. And the day after that. He’d telephoned the house several times but there was no answer. And then a week passed and a month. He’d wanted to go into the village to look for him but Beryl was insistent. There was never any good to come out of his friendship with Reg Parker, she said. Just leave things alone.

  And so he had, until he made one last call just before Beryl got sick. Myrtle had answered and when Stan asked to speak to Reg, she replied tartly that Mr Parker wasn’t in the business of speaking with anyone these days and promptly hung up the phone. She hadn’t asked who it was and Stan didn’t say. So that was that. Beryl’s illness and sudden death had knocked Stan sideways. Afterwards, he just puddled along on his own with the animals and his memories to keep him company. But why had Reg come back after all this time, and why did he think he’d been there the day before?

  ‘We need to go to the village,’ Stan said, wishing he’d kept up a bit more maintenance on the old Cortina in the shed and the bridge over the stream. He hadn’t turned the engine over in more than a year. If they were to go anywhere it would be on foot.

  ‘Bah, I’m not going to the village. Come on, Stan. We’ve got work to do. Let’s get outside and have a look. You won’t be sorry.’

  But Stan found that hard to believe. Reg walked over to the back door and grabbed the large torch that hung by a strap from the old hat stand. ‘What are you waiting for? An invitation?’

  Stan walked over to join him.

  ‘That’s the spirit. You wait, Stan. This is it. The big one. I can feel it in my bones.’ Reg Parker walked out the door and into the back garden. He turned to look at his friend. ‘And Stan, I think I might stay here tonight, if that’s all right with you.’

  Stan shrugged. He wondered how many more surprises there could possibly be before nightfall.

  ‘What a dreadful situation.’ Doreen Smith looked up from the pot where she was fishing red frankfurts from the boiling water. The girls were having hot dogs as a weekend treat, although Doreen wondered at the word ‘treat’. Hot dogs never failed to give her a jolly good dose of indigestion.

  ‘I just hope that wherever he is, Mr Parker’s all right,’ Alice-Miranda said as she plonked the frankfurts into bread rolls. The production line was

  completed by Millie, who was running a streak of tomato sauce down the centre of each roll.

  ‘Well, I’m sure the police will do everything they can,’ said Mrs Smith.

  Millie looked up from her job and frowned. ‘You know Mrs Parker’s not my favourite person in the world, but what’s happened to her is awful. Imagine having your husband in a coma for all those years and then suddenly he disappears.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Mrs Smith nodded. ‘What a shock. And that Nurse Raylene – I met her at the Munzes’ store just the other afternoon and she seemed like such a nice woman.’

  ‘We still don’t know for sure if they’ve gone off together,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘It could just be a coincidence.’

  ‘A very unlikely one I’d say, but you’re right, Alice-Miranda. We shouldn’t go jumping to conclusions. I’m sure that Myrtle’s done enough of that for all of us.’ Mrs Smith carried the enormous saucepan to the sink and set it down.

  ‘No, Sloane’s got the best imagination there,’ said Millie. ‘She decided that Mr Parker must have been faking it for ages and that he and Raylene had it planned all along.’

  Mrs Smith shook her head and caught sight of the kitchen clock. ‘Goodness me, look at the time.’ It was almost nine. She couldn’t remember ever feeding the girls as late as that. ‘Are you almost done there, Millie?’ The child nodded. ‘Well come on, let’s wheel that trolley through before we have anarchy on the other side.’

  Alice-Miranda held open the swing doors that led from the kitchen through to the dining room. The girls were seated at the tables chatting away, but Mrs Smith noticed immediately that the emergency biscuit jar looked rather depleted.

  Alice-Miranda and Millie made their way to where Jacinta and Sloane were sitting. Miss Reedy had brought the girls back to school while the rest of the teachers had stayed in the village to continue the search.

  Now, she stood up on the podium to direct the dinner traffic. ‘Good evening, girls.’

  Within a couple of seconds the room was silent.

  ‘May I first say thank you to everyone for your assistance this evening in the search for Mr Parker. We all hope and pray for his safe return home. And of course I will let you know as soon as we hear anything.’

  ‘Miss Reedy, why did the Fayle boys get to stay out while we had to come back?’ Jacinta called.

  The English teacher glared at Jacinta. ‘Professor Winterbottom was in charge there and so it was up to him. I think the boys had had a late barbecue lunch, unlike you girls, who must be starving by now.’

  Jacinta pouted. She’d been having a lovely time talking to Lucas about their trip to Paris and wasn’t the least bit impressed when the girls had been told to go back to school.

  ‘Now, Mrs Smith has prepared hot dogs for your dinner and I do believe that I smelt some treacle puddings for dessert, but we are very late so you mustn’t dally. You need to be in bed by ten o’clock. The girls in the sixth grade who are going to Sainsbury Palace School next year must be on the bus and ready to leave for their orientation day by nine tomorrow. Mr Plumpton and I will be accom
panying you over to Downsfordvale.’

  ‘Oh, what fun.’ Jacinta’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

  ‘We wish you didn’t have to go either, Jacinta.’ Alice-Miranda reached up and put her hand on Jacinta’s shoulder.

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ said Millie, pulling a face.

  ‘Millie! You don’t mean that,’ Alice-Miranda scolded.

  The flame-haired child smiled. ‘No.’ She almost seemed surprised. ‘I didn’t mean that. Who’d have thought it, Jacinta? I wish you could stay too.’

  ‘Who said I wanted to?’ Jacinta poked her tongue out at Millie.

  ‘I’ll have a new room mate next year,’ Sloane said absently. ‘Maybe she’ll actually know how to put her underwear away.’

  ‘And maybe I’ll get some sleep,’ Jacinta shot back. ‘I couldn’t possibly end up with someone who snores as loudly as you.’

  ‘I do not!’ Sloane snapped.

  ‘Do too!’ said Jacinta, her eyes narrowed.

  ‘Come on, you two, be kind,’ Alice-Miranda implored. ‘I’d say you make a pretty good team, even if you don’t realise it.’

  ‘Sainsbury Palace has an amazing gym program. They’ve had lots of champions,’ Millie said. ‘And it’ll only be a year before Sloane and I start there too.’

  ‘Great,’ Jacinta mumbled.

  Miss Reedy clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. ‘All right, girls, I think we should let the sixth graders go first tonight.’ She looked at the group in front of her, and felt a twinge of sadness to be losing these wonderful girls. Danika had proven herself a most capable and reliable leader, and all up they were a lovely bunch. Some years, she couldn’t wait to see the back of the oldest students – they could get quite difficult towards the end. This year would have been the same had Alethea Goldsworthy not departed when she did, but without her influence they really were super.

  Jacinta stayed in her seat.

  Alice-Miranda nudged her friend. ‘You should go up.’

  Jacinta shuddered. ‘I’m not eating that rubbish. I hate hot dogs.’

  ‘Well, there’s some salad,’ Alice-Miranda suggested.

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ Jacinta grumbled.

  ‘Really? I could eat a horse,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘Well, maybe not a horse, but you know what I mean. Are you sure?’

  ‘I don’t want anything,’ Jacinta snapped. ‘We were supposed to be having pizzas at my mother’s place, remember? Until stupid Mr Parker went and ran away.’

  ‘Jacinta,’ Alice-Miranda said, ‘are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine. Stop asking, will you?’ Jacinta jumped up and stormed off.

  Alice-Miranda frowned.

  ‘Don’t worry about her. She’s probably just tired and hungry and won’t admit it,’ Millie said.

  ‘She’s cranky that she had to leave her boyfriend.’ Sloane smirked. ‘Didn’t you see her and Lucas at the showground?’

  ‘They were just the same as always,’ said Millie. ‘Jacinta was mooning all over him and Lucas was ignoring her.’

  But Alice-Miranda didn’t think so. Lucas had seemed different. Instead of blushing and trying to steer clear of Jacinta he had walked straight up and asked how her toe was and if she was feeling okay. And when they were in Paris he’d insisted on accompanying her to the hospital with Alice-Miranda and her mother.

  The rest of the girls were directed to the servery, and the teachers and other staff arrived back from the search in time to eat too.

  ‘Is there any news, Mr Plumpton?’ Alice-Miranda asked the Science teacher as he passed their table.

  ‘No,’ he answered. ‘I’m afraid they’ve called off the search for the night. Tomorrow they’ll bring in reinforcements and I heard Constable Derby telling someone about the police rescue helicopter and sniffer dogs too.’ He was looking over Alice-Miranda’s shoulder and seemed anxious to get away.

  ‘Did Mrs Parker join the search?’ Millie asked.

  ‘No, I think she stayed at home with Mrs Headlington-Bear looking after her,’ Mr Plumpton explained. ‘If you’d excuse me, Millie, I need to see Miss Reedy quite urgently.’

  Millie turned and grinned at Alice-Miranda. ‘They’re so cute.’

  ‘Adorable,’ Alice-Miranda replied. But she knew a little more than the other girls. Mr Plumpton had taken Miss Reedy on a very special dinner the last night of their trip in Paris. Alice-Miranda had overheard the two of them talking about it. When they realised she was there, they’d sworn her to secrecy.

  Alice-Miranda was hopeful that there would be another wedding sometime soon.

  The girls took their meals back to the tables and devoured the hot dogs and puddings in record time.

  ‘We should take Chops and Bonaparte out tomorrow and see if we can help with the search,’ Millie suggested.

  Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘Good idea.’

  ‘Count me out,’ said Sloane.

  ‘You could go on foot, Sloane,’ Alice-Miranda said.

  ‘Oh, I suppose so. I’m just not going near those horrible horses.’ Sloane shuddered. She still hadn’t got over her last riding experience, when Stumps bolted for home.

  ‘Let’s go back to the house,’ Millie said.

  ‘I’ll just pop into the kitchen and see if Mrs Smith has something I can take back for Jacinta,’ said Alice-Miranda. ‘She can’t survive on fresh air.’

  Millie offered to wait but Sloane left with another group of girls to walk the short distance from the dining room to Grimthorpe House. She thought she’d probably find Jacinta already in bed.

  ‘And just where do you think you’re taking that?’ demanded Mrs Howard. She had been patrolling the hallways at Grimthorpe House and directing the girls to their showers or to brush their teeth and get straight to bed.

  ‘Oh, hello Mrs Howard,’ Alice-Miranda greeted the housemistress. ‘Mrs Smith made Jacinta a cheese sandwich because she didn’t eat any dinner. May I give it to her? I know she’ll have to brush her teeth again but she must be starving and she has to be up early for the orientation day tomorrow.’

  Mrs Howard’s forehead wrinkled. ‘I haven’t seen Jacinta come in.’

  ‘But she left the dining room ages ago, before we had our treacle puddings,’ Millie said. ‘Maybe you were upstairs.’

  Mrs Howard nodded. Yes, perhaps that was it. She’d ducked up to get some thread to finish the baby blanket she was making for her new grandchild.

  ‘Take it to her room and tell her that I will not be pleased if I find a mountain of crumbs in her bed in the morning,’ Howie growled.

  ‘Will do,’ Alice-Miranda smiled. ‘Goodnight, Mrs Howard.’

  ‘Goodnight, Howie,’ Millie added.

  ‘I’ll be along shortly for lights out,’ the woman said, rubbing her stiff neck. She was getting far too old for all this.

  Alice-Miranda knocked gently on Jacinta and Sloane’s door. There was no answer. She opened it and was surprised to find the room empty. She’d thought Jacinta might be there but refusing to answer. Although Jacinta had come a very long way over the past year, there were still occasional glimmers of the girl who’d earned herself the tag of school’s second best tantrum thrower.

  Millie had already changed into her pyjamas when Alice-Miranda walked into their room next door.

  ‘I think Jacinta must be in the bathroom,’ the child said as she flopped onto her bed. ‘I left the sandwich on her bedside table.’

  Millie grabbed her toiletries bag and headed for the door. ‘I’ll tell her when I see her.’

  Alice-Miranda changed into her pyjamas too and went to brush her teeth. The bathroom was steaming from the steady stream of showers. She stood at the sink beside Millie, who had a mouthful of foam.

  ‘Did you see Jacinta?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  Millie shook her head and spat into the basin. �
��Uh-uh, she wasn’t in here – unless she’s in the shower.’ Millie walked along the row of cubicles, poking her head under the doors to see if she could recognise any of the inhabitants’ legs.

  ‘None of those ankles are skinny enough for Jacinta,’ she declared.

  ‘Excuse me, I heard that,’ Sloane yelled from the end shower. ‘I’ve got very dainty ankles. My mother said so.’

  ‘Really?’ Millie giggled. ‘And you’d believe a word she says?’

  ‘Leave my mother alone,’ Sloane snapped. ‘She’s not always wrong.’ She emerged from one of the shower cubicles wrapped in a towel. Her long blonde hair dripped all over the floor.

  ‘I don’t understand you, Sloane. You say awful things about your mother all the time and the minute someone makes a joke, you’re all over them like a wet rag,’ Millie complained.

  Sloane rolled her eyes. ‘I can say it because she’s my mother.’

  Mrs Howard bustled into the room and almost slipped on a puddle that Sloane had created.

  ‘Why is your hair wet? the housemistress growl­ed. She had been stalking the hallways telling the girls to hurry along, and realised that there was still far too much activity in the lower bathroom.

  ‘Because I washed it,’ Sloane said. Wasn’t that obvious? She wondered if Howie was losing her marbles.

  ‘There’s no need to get smart with me, young lady.’ Howie was clearly not happy. ‘You do realise that it’s almost ten o’clock and I expect you to be in bed with lights out in ten minutes? How do you plan to dry it before then?’

  Sloane hadn’t really thought of that and she’d quite forgotten how late it was.

  ‘I’ve got a hair dryer.’ She squeezed the excess moisture out of her long mane, creating another gush of water on the floor.

  ‘Sloane Sykes, you will not keep the rest of the house awake with that supercharged turbo mon­strosity of yours.’

  It was true that Sloane’s hair dryer resembled a jet engine and was about as loud as one too.

  ‘But I can’t go to bed with wet hair,’ Sloane whined. ‘I’ll catch pneumonia and then it will be all your fault.’