Clementine Rose and the Ballet Break-In 8 Page 5

  The man shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. I have to get back to the workshop and finish a few things. But I’ll be here for the concert on Sunday.’ He quickly said goodbye and gave the group a wave.

  Ana turned back to the children. ‘Well, what do you think?’ she asked.

  ‘It looks ’fressional,’ Clementine said seriously.

  Ana grinned. ‘Do you mean professional?’

  ‘Oops,’ Clementine said, blushing. ‘Sometimes I get big words mixed up. But Aunt Violet tells me.’

  Ana could believe that. She mustered the children back into their places for another run-through.

  Araminta was doing a wonderful job as the narrator. ‘No sooner had Peter gone back into his house, than a big grey wolf came out of the forest …’ the girl read aloud.

  The children waited. The French horn played but there was no sign of the wolf.

  ‘Gareth, it’s time for you to come out of the woods,’ Ana called gently.

  Clementine waddled over to the trees and poked her head around. Gareth was completely mesmerised by the moth, which was flailing about trying to escape his sticky fingers.

  ‘Gareth,’ Clementine whispered. The boy ignored her, so she whispered louder. ‘You’re supposed to be chasing the duck,’ she said crossly.

  Gareth looked at her with big green eyes. ‘Oh.’

  He stood up and assumed his stalking position. Clementine danced away and Gareth finally appeared. It was just a pity the music was now miles ahead of where it should have been.

  ‘Nice to see you, Gareth,’ Ana said.

  The boy smiled.

  ‘Mintie, can we go back a bit, darling?’ Ana called.

  Araminta switched off the music and started it at the part where Gareth was supposed to come onstage. She read from the script again. ‘No sooner had Peter gone back into his house, than a big grey wolf came out of the forest …’

  This time Gareth rushed out snarling and growling, sending the rest of the cast flying.

  Ana sighed. She hadn’t realised that teaching ballet to five-year-olds would be like trying to herd cats.

  Clementine, Sophie, Tilda and Poppy raced down onto the lower field, ready to join the lunchtime soccer game. As always, Joshua Tribble declared he was the boss because he brought the ball in from home.

  ‘Okay, I’m the captain of the Missiles and –’ Joshua looked around at the group of children standing in front of him – ‘Clementine, you can be the captain of the other team. They’re called the Stupid Piggy Wiggies.’

  ‘No, we’re not,’ Clementine said. ‘And pigs aren’t stupid. My Lavender is really smart.’

  ‘No, she’s not. My goat could beat your pig any day,’ Joshua challenged.

  Clementine sighed. She wondered if she should ask Mr Smee for a ball from the sports room so they wouldn’t have to do everything Joshua said.

  ‘I’m choosing first,’ Joshua announced, and pointed straight at Poppy.

  Clementine was surprised that Joshua didn’t pick Angus first. They were always on the same team. She chose Sophie, then Joshua picked Tilda. This went on until it came down to the last two – Angus and Astrid.

  ‘Astrid, you’re on my team.’ Joshua pointed at the girl, whose eyes doubled in size.

  Everyone was surprised. They knew Astrid would never actually kick the ball. She sort of hovered around it and ran away whenever it came towards her.

  ‘How come I get Angus?’ Clementine asked Joshua. She had deliberately not chosen Angus because she’d thought Joshua would get angry if she did. ‘I’m happy he’s on our team because he’s a really good player,’ she added.

  ‘He’s a loser,’ Joshua said, and made an ‘L’ shape with his fingers on his forehead.

  ‘He is not, and that’s mean,’ Clementine said.

  Angus’s face turned bright red and the boy turned and walked away.

  ‘He is too.’ Joshua pulled a face and grabbed the ball. He ran to the centre of the field and kicked off. ‘No losers allowed on my team,’ he shouted as he booted the ball to one of the boys.

  Everyone except for Astrid raced after it like bees around a honeypot. She stayed back and ran to the other side of the field when the ball headed her way.

  Joshua ran towards the goal. He kicked the ball to Eddie Whipple, who booted it straight past Sophie and into the net. The teams ran back to the centre and within a minute Joshua had scored again.

  When Clementine finally got the ball, she kicked it to Angus, who sped down the sideline. Joshua and two other boys sprinted after him. Just as Angus was about to kick the ball, the three boys tackled him and the ball flew out. Clementine saw her chance and kicked the ball away.

  ‘Astrid, watch out!’ Clementine called as the projectile landed right in front of the other girl’s feet.

  Astrid stared at the ball as if it were about to turn into a fire-breathing dragon.

  ‘Kick it, Astrid!’ Poppy yelled from the other end of the field.

  Astrid gulped. She looked at the goal and then at the boy standing in front of her, then she raised her leg and kicked it as hard as she could.

  ‘No, not that way!’ Poppy shouted. ‘It’s the wrong goal!’

  The ball flew into the air. Clementine held her breath as it sailed into the back of the net.

  Astrid looked as if she’d just seen Mrs Bottomley in a bikini.

  Clementine, Teddy and the rest of their team raced over to the girl, cheering.

  ‘Wow,’ Astrid breathed. ‘Did I just score a goal?’

  Joshua Tribble ran into the group and snatched up the ball. ‘Yeah, for the wrong team, doofus!’ He ran back to the centre of the field. ‘But we’re still winning.’

  Clementine turned to see where Angus had gone. The boy was sitting on the ground, where he’d lost the ball, his head in his hands. She ran towards him.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, kneeling down beside him.

  His face was streaked with tears and he was rubbing his shin. ‘I’m fine,’ the boy said bluntly, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ Clementine looked at him.

  Angus shook his head and stood up.

  ‘Come on, crybaby,’ Joshua teased. ‘Are we playing soccer or doing ballet?’

  Clementine’s eyes widened. ‘Is this all because you’re doing ballet?’ she asked Angus.

  ‘I’m not doing stupid ballet anymore,’ the boy snapped.

  Clementine frowned. ‘But we need you for the concert.’

  ‘I don’t care about the stupid concert and stupid ballet!’ Angus shouted and raced away to the boys’ toilets just as the bell rang.

  ‘Excuse me, Mr Smee.’ Clementine looked up at the teacher as he was passing out handwriting books. ‘Where’s Angus?’

  ‘He got a bump on his leg at lunchtime, so he’s gone to get an ice pack and have a lie-down,’ the teacher replied.

  Clementine wondered if Angus had told Mr Smee what had happened.

  ‘Yeah,’ Joshua piped up from the next table and groaned. ‘My foot’s sore too. Angus kicked it.’

  ‘Do you need an ice pack?’ Mr Smee asked the boy.

  Joshua shook his head. ‘Nup. I’m way tougher than him.’

  Clementine glared at the lad. She didn’t believe that Angus’s injury was an accident at all. And Joshua didn’t seem to be having any trouble walking.

  Angus stayed away from class for the rest of the afternoon, and he wasn’t there on Friday morning when Mr Smee called the roll.

  ‘Do you really think Angus is hurt?’ Clemmie asked Sophie and Poppy.

  The other girls shrugged.

  ‘He might just have a cold,’ Sophie said.

  Clementine hoped that was it. She didn’t like the thought of him being injured and, what’s more, the last rehearsal for the concert was that afternoon. Angus had to come. He was the leader of the hunters and they wouldn’t be very good without him.

  After the children had eaten lunch and were dismissed from t
he dining room, Joshua grabbed his soccer ball and raced to the oval, yelling at the other kids to hurry up.

  ‘Come on, Clementine,’ the boy shouted. ‘I’ll let you be a captain again.’

  Clementine shook her head. ‘I don’t want to play.’

  ‘Why not?’ Joshua snapped.

  ‘Because of what you did to Angus at soccer yesterday,’ Clementine said crossly.

  Joshua turned and ran back to her. ‘I didn’t do anything to Angus. Your boyfriend’s a sissy-pants.’

  ‘That’s mean, Joshua, and it’s not true. I’m going to tell Mr Smee what you did,’ Clementine said. She hadn’t noticed that the teacher was right behind her.

  ‘What are you going to tell me, Clemmie?’ Mr Smee asked. He’d seen Joshua standing with his hands on his hips and didn’t think it was a good sign.

  Clementine spun around, surprised to see him. Joshua narrowed his eyes but Clementine wasn’t scared. ‘Yesterday at soccer Joshua was being mean to Angus,’ Clementine said.

  Roderick Smee frowned at Joshua.

  ‘That’s a lie,’ the boy spat. ‘She just wants to get me in trouble. He kicked me in the foot.’

  ‘Joshua, we’ve talked about how important it is to tell the truth,’ Mr Smee said sternly.

  ‘You should talk to her about that,’ Joshua said, pointing his finger at Clementine.

  ‘I am telling the truth, Mr Smee.’ Clementine took a deep breath. She could feel some bad butterflies in her tummy and there was a prickly feeling behind her eyes.

  ‘Joshua, please stop pointing at Clementine and tell me what you believe happened yesterday,’ the teacher instructed.

  ‘Nothing,’ Joshua lied. ‘Angus and I were running for the ball at the same time and then he kicked me in the foot and he fell over.’

  Two other boys standing beside him nodded and said that he was telling the truth.

  Clementine felt hot. She didn’t want Joshua to get away with being a bully.

  ‘Well, I’ll be speaking to Angus when he comes back to school on Monday,’ Mr Smee said. ‘Just to make sure.’

  ‘Can we go now?’ Joshua asked impatiently.

  The teacher nodded, and the boys sprinted off towards the field. Clementine was left standing on her own.

  ‘Aren’t you going to join in?’ Mr Smee asked.

  Clementine shook her head. ‘I don’t want to,’ she said.

  ‘Clemmie, why do you think Joshua was being mean to Angus?’ Mr Smee asked.

  Clementine bit her lip. ‘Because of ballet. Angus didn’t want anyone at school to know he was doing ballet, but Joshua must have found out. He was calling Angus names yesterday and left him to be on my soccer team,’ Clementine explained. ‘He always picks Angus first.’

  Mr Smee nodded. ‘I see. Well, don’t worry about it. I’ll sort things out on Monday.’

  Clementine nodded absently. With the concert on Sunday, Monday would be much too late. It was up to her to find a way to get Angus to the concert.

  ‘Good afternoon, Clementine,’ Aunt Violet greeted the child as she arrived at the school gate.

  Clementine rushed forward and wrapped her arms around the old woman’s waist.

  ‘Heavens! To what do I owe such grand affection?’ Aunt Violet frowned and gave the girl a squeeze back.

  Clementine shrugged. ‘Are we going to ballet practice?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I’ve got your things in the car,’ the woman replied.

  Clementine held Aunt Violet’s hand and the two of them walked to the car, where Clementine climbed into the back seat.

  Aunt Violet pulled out from the kerb and trundled along through Highton Mill until she reached the open road and planted her foot on the accelerator. She glanced in the rear-vision mirror at Clementine, who was staring out the window.

  ‘A penny for your thoughts, Clementine,’ she said.

  ‘What?’ The girl turned to look at her great-aunt.

  ‘Clementine, please. “I beg your pardon” is the correct way to address someone if you don’t hear them properly,’ the old woman admonished. ‘I said, “a penny for your thoughts”, which means I was wondering what you were thinking.’

  Clementine sucked in a deep breath.

  ‘What’s the matter, Clementine? I usually can’t get a word in when I pick you up from school.’

  Clementine looked at Aunt Violet through the gap in the seats, and sighed. She spent the rest of the trip to Penberthy Floss telling her about Angus and Joshua and her worry that Angus was sick and wouldn’t come to the concert. Aunt Violet listened intently, and by the time they pulled up outside the village hall Clementine felt much better.

  ‘Thank you, Aunt Violet,’ she said as she hopped out of the car. ‘If Angus doesn’t come today I’m going to ask Mummy if I can talk to him on the telephone.’

  ‘You know Sean and his family are coming to stay at the hotel tonight,’ Aunt Violet said. ‘Perhaps you could invite Angus over to play tomorrow. I’m sure Sean’s boys would love a rowdy game of soccer on the back lawn. Perhaps Sean could join you and have a chat with Angus.’

  Clementine thought for a minute, then her eyes grew wide. ‘Aunt Violet, you’re a genius!’

  The old woman smirked. ‘Yes, well, you just remember that.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Clementine reached in and hugged Aunt Violet before skipping off to join her friends.

  ‘Places, everyone.’

  Ana Hobbs clapped her hands together and the children scurried to the stage. Ana had enlisted Mrs Mogg’s help to make some simple additions to the children’s regular ballet outfits for the concert.

  There were pointy ears and a tail for the cat, and a beak and fluffy wings for the bird. Clementine had the same for her part as the duck, except she wore a broad bill. The hunters held cardboard rifles and wore brown hats, Grandpa had a waistcoat and a bushy beard, and Peter wore a jacket and a hat and carried a coiled length of rope. The wolf had a long bushy tail and a mask that covered Gareth’s whole head. Ana hoped that the boy would be able to see through it.

  ‘Has anyone seen Angus?’ Ana asked. The hunters were looking a little lost without their leader.

  ‘He wasn’t at school today,’ Clementine said.

  ‘Oh dear.’ Ana made a note to telephone his mother after the lesson. She hoped he would be able to make it for the concert on Sunday. ‘Remember, everyone, listen to the music and think about your actions – and, Gareth, please pay attention.’

  The little boy nodded, sending his wolf head flopping forward.

  Araminta stood at the microphone on the side of the stage, ready to start the narration. Ana turned on the music and the performance began. The children fluttered and waddled, skipped and twirled across the stage.

  It was all running smoothly until Gareth came racing out of the woods, almost pushing Clementine off the stage.

  ‘Gareth, stop, stop! It’s wonderful you remembered to come on, but you need to be a little bit less enthusiastic and a little more careful,’ Ana cautioned the boy.

  ‘But I couldn’t see anything,’ Gareth protested. ‘This wolf head is too big.’

  ‘Here, let me fix that for you.’ Ana walked onstage and pulled the wolf head back, then secured it with a couple of bobby pins she took from her own hair. ‘All right, we’ll start again from the beginning.’

  After the children had been through the dance five times, Ana decided to call it a day.

  ‘Well done, everyone. I’m afraid that’s it for our rehearsals,’ said Ana. ‘I need you all to be here by eleven o’clock on Sunday morning. We have to get you into your costumes and ready by midday.’

  Araminta collected the various headdresses, tails and clothes from the children. There was a room at the back of the stage where Ana had arranged to store the costumes and set.

  ‘We’ll be like real ballerinas,’ Sophie said with a beaming smile.

  ‘Exactly!’ Clementine nodded decisively.

  ‘Oh, hello Mrs Tribble.’ Ana spotted the w
oman near the door. ‘We won’t be long. I know you want to do some decorating for Sunday.’

  ‘Yes, and the Irish dancing troupe is having their final rehearsal this evening too,’ the woman replied.

  Clementine looked around to see if Joshua was with his mother but there was no sign of the boy.

  Ana would have loved to have an extra rehearsal with her group but apparently there was too much to do and everyone knew that Mrs Tribble was a woman on the edge of her nerves most of the time anyway. There was no point upsetting her.

  ‘Is Mr Tribble coming to help you?’ Ana said as the children ran to meet their parents.

  ‘Yes, but we’ve had a little problem,’ the woman said quietly. She fidgeted nervously. ‘We’ve lost Herbert.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear it,’ Ana said. She had no idea who that was and, given the seriousness of Mrs Tribble’s voice, she didn’t want to pry. ‘Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.’

  Mrs Tribble sighed. ‘I just wonder where he could be this time.’

  Ana rounded up her charges and gave them some final instructions for Sunday morning.

  ‘We’re home,’ Clementine called out as she raced through the back door and into the kitchen, with Aunt Violet following behind her.

  Lady Clarissa looked up from where she was enjoying a quiet cup of tea before dinner. ‘Hello darling.’

  ‘Are the guests here?’ Clementine asked.

  ‘Would you like a drink, Clementine?’ Aunt Violet offered. She walked over to the cupboard to retrieve a teacup.

  ‘Chocolate milk, please,’ Clementine said. She bent down to give Lavender and Pharaoh a scratch and a nuzzle.

  ‘There’s plenty of tea in the pot,’ Lady Clarissa said.

  ‘In answer to your question, Clementine, the McCraes have gone to dinner with Basil and Ana and the children.’

  Clementine wrinkled her nose. ‘Will they be home tomorrow?’ she asked.

  ‘Sean mentioned they would be here in the morning and they’re going to spend the afternoon with the Hobbses. Don’t worry, darling, you’ll get to meet them.’

  ‘Mummy, can you help me call Mrs Archibald, please?’