Clementine Rose and the Pet Day Disaster 2 Page 5

‘Uncle Digby, Lavender, I got a sticker,’ she called, grinning proudly.

  Digby Pertwhistle was in the kitchen making a pot of tea. Clementine almost collided with him as he turned from the bench.

  ‘Steady on, young lady,’ Digby smiled at her. Clementine wrapped her arms around his middle. ‘Sounds like school was much improved today.’

  ‘Yes, it was wonderful. I got a sticker and we’re having a pet day too,’ Clementine fizzed.

  Digby leaned down and whispered into Clemmie’s ear. ‘You might want to say hello to your Aunt Violet. She’s sitting at the table.’

  The child released the old man from her grip and ran towards Aunt Violet, who was surveying the scene with her crimson lips pursed.

  ‘Hello Aunt Violet.’ Clementine noticed that she was wearing a very stylish blue top over a pair of crisp white linen pants. ‘I like your outfit. Did you have a good holiday?’

  ‘Yes, it was . . . splendid, actually,’ the old woman said, as if she was surprised by her own answer.

  ‘That’s good. I hoped you’d come back in a better mood than when you left,’ Clementine said.

  Uncle Digby coughed.

  ‘I mean, I hoped that all that time in the sea air would make you feel happier,’ Clementine tried again.

  ‘Really?’ Her great-aunt shot her a frosty stare. ‘Am I not a picture of contentment?’

  Clementine wasn’t sure what she meant but she nodded anyway.

  ‘Pharaoh’s been a good boy and he and Lavender love each other so much. You know they sleep in the same basket almost every night, except when Pharaoh sleeps down here in front of the stove. Sometimes he curls up on my pillow and he cuddles me,’ Clementine prattled.

  ‘Yes, well, he can come back to the Rose Room now,’ Aunt Violet commented.

  ‘But Mummy said that you’re having the Blue Room up near me,’ Clementine replied.

  Lady Clarissa entered the kitchen. She’d been dragging Aunt Violet’s luggage upstairs. The woman seemed to have enough clothes to start her own department store.

  Aunt Violet looked at her niece. ‘Is that true, Clarissa?’

  Clarissa straightened her shoulders and looked her aunt right in the eye. ‘I’m afraid, Aunt Violet, that I need the Rose Room for paying guests. It’s the best by far and the one I use to advertise the hotel. The Blue Room is perfectly lovely too and I’ve just bought a new duvet for your bed.’

  ‘I don’t know why you have to open our home to strangers,’ the old woman scowled.

  ‘Unless you’d like us all to be living in a tent on the Penberthy Floss Fields, that’s something you’re just going to have to get used to,’ Clarissa replied. She looked towards Digby. He winked at her.

  ‘But I don’t want to share a bathroom,’ Violet moaned. ‘It’s not . . . It’s not civilised.’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s something we all have to do,’ Clarissa replied. ‘And it’s hardly a great sacrifice.’

  ‘But I’ll have to share my bathroom with . . .’ She paused and then sneered, ‘the child.’

  ‘It’s all right, Aunt Violet. I don’t take very long in there because I don’t like the bathtub very much. It prickles my bottom. Mummy says that if she wins another bathroom makeover she’ll get it fixed up but who knows when that will happen.’

  Everyone knew about Lady Clarissa’s love of competitions. She entered loads of them and had an uncanny knack for winning too. Over the years she’d won everything from a new car to a kitchen makeover, white goods and most recently a three-month round-the-world cruise, from which Aunt Violet had just returned.

  ‘Well, I suppose the Blue Room will have to do,’ Aunt Violet huffed.

  ‘It will be fun, Aunt Violet,’ Clementine commented. ‘I can come and visit you with Lavender.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, don’t bring that pig anywhere near me, or my room,’ Aunt Violet retorted.

  ‘But if you get to know her, I’m sure that you’ll love Lavender as much as I do, and Pharaoh adores her.’ Clementine leaned down under the table. ‘I think she likes you anyway,’ she said, popping her head back up, ‘because she’s under your chair.’

  Aunt Violet’s feet shot off the floor so her legs stuck straight out.

  ‘Remove the pig this minute!’ she demanded.

  Clementine put a finger to her lips. ‘Shh. Lavender’s asleep and she doesn’t like being woken up when she’s having her afternoon nap. She doesn’t bite, you know.’

  Aunt Violet simply said ‘hmmph’ and turned to Pharoah, who was preening himself at the back door. ‘Come here, precious,’ she called.

  Pharaoh strolled across the kitchen floor, stopped at Aunt Violet’s feet and stared up at her.

  Aunt Violet relaxed her ridiculous pose and patted her lap.

  Pharaoh studied his mistress for another moment. Then he flicked his tail and padded to the other side of the table where he leapt into Clementine’s lap. He nuzzled her face and began to purr like a sports car engine.

  ‘I see,’ Aunt Violet harrumphed. ‘That’s where I stand these days.’

  ‘He always sits in my lap at afternoon tea time,’ Clementine said. The cat kneaded her legs like bread dough before finding a comfortable position.

  ‘I hope you haven’t brainwashed him to forget me,’ Aunt Violet said.

  Clementine frowned. She’d never heard of anyone washing their brain before. ‘Are you going to bring him to the pet day?’ she asked. ‘I’m taking Lavender and I’m going to enter her in everything.’

  ‘I hardly think so.’ Aunt Violet shook her head. ‘Pharaoh’s far too precious to mix with the village riffraff.’

  ‘But we’re giving the money to Queen Georgiana’s animals.’

  At the mention of Queen Georgiana’s name, Violet’s ears pricked up. ‘Will she be there?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Miss Critchley said that she’s coming to judge the competition,’ Clementine replied. ‘That was part of the big surprise and the reason we have to have the pet day so soon.’

  ‘Fancy that,’ said Uncle Digby. ‘You’ve always wanted to meet her, haven’t you, Miss Appleby. Didn’t you invite her to a party once?’

  Aunt Violet eyeballed him. ‘Of course not, Pertwhistle, don’t be so ridiculous.’

  ‘I can’t wait to meet her,’ said Clementine. ‘I’m going to practise my curtseys. And I’m going to teach Lavender how to curtsey too.’

  ‘What a lot of nonsense,’ Aunt Violet snapped. ‘Now hurry up and pour that tea before it’s stone cold.’

  Lady Clarissa exchanged a puzzled look with Digby.

  ‘So,’ said Aunt Violet before either of them could speak. ‘You must tell me, Clarissa, are there any ghastly guests booked in to stay here over the weekend?’

  The rest of the week whizzed past and Clementine continued to enjoy her days at school. Poppy and Sophie and Clemmie spent lunchtimes playing games on the field. Even Angus seemed to be better behaved, although he and Joshua did spend a lot of time helping Miss Critchley with jobs. One lunchtime, Angus tried to convince Clemmie that Queen Georgiana hated pigs, but she decided it was best not to believe him.

  Every night, Clemmie brought home a reader and would practise at the kitchen table with Uncle Digby or her mother. She had even convinced Aunt Violet to listen to her one evening.

  ‘Seriously, that must be the most boring tripe I’ve ever heard, Clementine. Can’t you bring home some proper stories?’ the old woman had complained before trotting off to the library. She’d returned with a dusty book called A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett.

  Clementine had asked if she was going to read it to her.

  ‘Heavens, no.’ Aunt Violet had shaken her head. ‘But this is what you should be aiming to read. A proper story.’

  The book had sat on the kitchen sideboard for the rest of the week, just begging to be opened.

  On Saturday afternoon, Lady Clarissa and Digby Pertwhistle were busy attending to three guests who had booked in for the weekend at the very last m
inute. Clementine and Lavender were in the kitchen having a snack when Aunt Violet appeared.

  ‘Hello Aunt Violet,’ Clementine smiled at her.

  The old woman was dressed in a smart pair of navy pants and a white blouse.

  Clementine studied her outfit. ‘You look nice.’

  ‘Yes, well.’ Aunt Violet considered Clementine’s own choice of a pretty pink dress with white polka dots. ‘Your dress is . . . sweet.’

  ‘Thank you, Aunt Violet,’ said Clementine.

  Aunt Violet went to the sink, filled the kettle with water and popped it on the stove.

  ‘Grandpa’s glad that you’re here,’ said Clementine, looking up from her chocolate brownie.

  Aunt Violet spun around. ‘Clementine, that’s nonsense. Your grandfather has been dead for years and I’m sure that he couldn’t care less whether I’m here or not.’

  Clementine shook her head stubbornly. ‘That’s not true. I was talking to Granny and Grandpa this morning and they are both very happy that you’re home.’

  Aunt Violet seemed puzzled. ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Clemmie’s head jiggled up and down.

  Aunt Violet finished making her tea, carried it over to the table and sat down.

  Clementine slipped off the chair and returned to the table clutching the book Aunt Violet had left on the sideboard.

  ‘Could you read to me?’ She stood in front of the old woman, looking up at her piercing ink-blue eyes.

  Aunt Violet shooed her away. ‘I’m busy, Clementine.’

  ‘No, you’re not. You’re having a cup of tea,’ Clementine insisted. ‘That’s not busy.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to then,’ Aunt Violet snapped.

  Clementine’s eyes began to cloud over.

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake, it’s nothing to cry about.’ Aunt Violet placed the teacup down on the saucer with a thud. ‘Give it to me.’ She snatched the book from Clementine’s hand. ‘And sit down there.’ She pointed at the seat next to her.

  Clementine scurried up onto the chair. Pharaoh had made himself comfortable in the basket in front of the stove, where it was toasty and warm. Lavender hopped up from where she was sitting under the table and waddled over to join her friend.

  Violet Appleby opened the book and scanned the inscription on the first page.

  To our dearest Violet,

  On the occasion of your sixth birthday,

  Your loving Mama and Papa

  xoxo

  Something caught in Aunt Violet’s throat and she turned the page before Clementine could see what she was looking at. She began to read.

  Clementine sat wide-eyed as her great-aunt turned the pages and the story came to life right in front of her. Neither of them realised that a whole hour had passed.

  Lady Clarissa appeared in the kitchen carrying an empty tea tray.

  ‘Hello, what do we have here?’ she enquired.

  Aunt Violet snapped the book shut.

  ‘Please don’t stop, Aunt Violet,’ Clementine begged.

  ‘I have things to do, Clementine. I can’t sit around here all day, can I?’ The old woman stood and strode out of the room.

  Clementine was confused. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ she asked her mother.

  ‘No, Clemmie,’ Lady Clarissa said, shaking her head. ‘Aunt Violet can be a bit of a puzzle, that’s all.’

  Clementine nodded. ‘She’s much harder to work out than the ones we do at school.’

  ‘Are you really not coming with us, Aunt Violet?’ Clementine asked her great-aunt at breakfast on Monday morning. ‘It’s not too late to enter Pharaoh in a competition.’

  Violet looked up from the toast she was buttering. ‘No Clementine, I won’t be attending and neither will Pharaoh,’ she said firmly.

  Lady Clarissa glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. ‘Clemmie, you’d better run up and get Lavender ready,’ she advised. ‘We’ll be leaving in half an hour.’

  ‘She’s so excited, Mummy. I’m taking her tutu and ballet slippers for the dress-up competition,’ Clementine babbled.

  Aunt Violet rolled her eyes. ‘I almost feel sorry for the ridiculous creature. A pig in a tutu is too, too much.’

  Clarissa laughed at her aunt’s accidental joke.

  ‘Oh no, Aunt Violet, Lavender loves to dress up. Mrs Mogg makes her clothes too,’ said Clementine. She gave her mother a quick hug and sped off down the hallway.

  ‘Are you sure you won’t come along?’ Lady Clarissa asked her aunt. ‘It’s bound to be lots of fun.’

  ‘No, I’d rather eat cold brussels sprouts,’ Aunt Violet said with a shudder.

  ‘Well, if you change your mind, you’re very welcome.’ Clarissa stood up to clear the breakfast things. Digby Pertwhistle arrived in the room carrying a feather duster and cloth. He’d been up early to get a head start on some of the housework. ‘You’re coming, aren’t you?’ Clarissa asked the old man.

  ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Clemmie’s so excited and I think Queen Georgiana’s fabulous.’ He winked at Aunt Violet.

  Aunt Violet glared back.

  An hour later the house was strangely silent. Aunt Violet was rattling around in her room when she decided to make herself some tea. As she descended the stairs she noticed a small black bag on the floor in the entrance hall. She marched over to pick it up and saw some pink tulle poking out.

  She opened the bag to have a better look and found a pink collar and lead and a floral garland among the tiny tutu and four ballet slippers.

  ‘Urgh, it belongs to the pig,’ she exclaimed. She stuffed the contents back inside the bag and placed it on the hall table.

  A moment later, a loose window shutter banged upstairs and Aunt Violet leapt into the air. She looked up towards the noise and locked eyes with her brother – or at least, the portrait of him hanging on the wall.

  ‘What are you looking at, Edmund?’ She didn’t like the way his eyes seemed to be following her. ‘No, I’m not going,’ she said decisively.

  Aunt Violet shook her head. Obviously she’d been spending too much time with the little one, who believed that the portraits could speak to her. And besides, she was far too busy to go running into town for a silly pet show.

  Aunt Violet stalked off to the kitchen to make her tea. But all the while there was a gnawing feeling in her stomach. She caught sight of the book she’d been reading with Clementine. She’d forgotten how much she had loved that story. She smiled to herself as she recalled sitting with her mother on the veranda many years ago. They’d been reading the exact same book and Violet’s beloved little terrier Hinchley was curled up on her lap. How she had loved that dog.

  ‘Oh, all right, I’m going,’ she muttered under her breath, before removing the kettle from the stovetop. She scurried up the back stairs to her bedroom, where she retrieved her handbag and car keys. Coming down the main stairs, she spotted Pharaoh through the double doors to the right. He was lying on the sitting room floor, basking in a shard of sunlight.

  Aunt Violet looked back at her brother. ‘Are you happy now?’ She picked up the bag from the table. Checking that she had her house keys, the old woman strode to the front door. Her shiny red car was parked in the turning circle. She locked the house, walked over to the vehicle and opened the driver’s side door before she realised that she’d left her sunglasses on the dresser in her bedroom. Aunt Violet sighed deeply and shook her head, tutting at herself.

  She headed back inside, leaving the door ajar. As she climbed the stairs, she didn’t notice a grey streak race out the door and towards the car.

  Within a minute, Aunt Violet was speeding towards Highton Mill, the black bag on the passenger seat and her sunglasses perched on her nose.

  ‘And who do we have here?’ Queen Georgiana asked Clementine. She smiled at Lavender. The pig looked up at the old woman and seemed to smile back at her. The Queen was currently judging the Cutest Pet category inside the school hall. Queen Georgiana’s lady-in-wait
ing, a stout woman of advanced years, was following closely behind. The woman wore a suit like those preferred by Mrs Bottomley and she had a snarl on her face to match.

  Clementine curtsied just as Miss Critchley had taught the girls, and then replied, ‘Her name is Lavender, Your Majesty, and she’s a teacup.’ Clementine giggled. ‘I mean a teacup pig.’

  ‘And so she is.’ Queen Georgiana reached out to give Lavender a scratch behind the ear. ‘And a very pretty little piggy you are too.’ Lavender sniffed the Queen’s hand before giving her finger a nibble. ‘Oh, you cheeky thing,’ she gasped and laughed loudly.

  Her lady-in-waiting screwed up her nose and whispered under her breath, ‘How ghastly. A pig!’

  Queen Georgiana’s ears pricked up. So did Clementine’s.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Mrs Marmalade, this piggy is so clean you could eat your dinner off her belly.’

  Clementine smothered a giggle as she imagined Lavender acting as the Queen’s dinner plate.

  Mrs Marmalade sniffed and muttered a half-hearted apology to Clementine.

  The Queen continued along the line. Sophie was standing beside Clementine and holding her cat Mintie, who was wriggling like a garden worm. Sophie curtsied too and almost lost her grip on the ball of white fur.

  ‘If I were you, dear, I’d pop her into that cage there,’ the Queen suggested, ‘before she gets away. I don’t like the look of that dog over there one little bit.’ She nodded towards a giant mastiff who was drooling all over the floor. Standing beside the dog was its owner, Angus, who had a very loose grip on the lead. ‘I don’t know if that boy would be strong enough to hold the pup if something took his fancy.’

  Sophie nodded. She wanted to say something but the words just wouldn’t come out.

  The Queen looked at the silent girl closely. ‘Are you all right?’

  Sophie nodded again.

  ‘I don’t bite, you know,’ the Queen grinned.

  Sophie nodded for a third time and was very cross with herself.

  There were only a couple more pets at the end of the line, including Esteban, Fergus’s python. When Queen Georgiana reached him she stooped lower to make eye contact. Mrs Marmalade stepped away from the creature with a look of horror.