Clementine Rose and the Special Promise 11 Page 6

  ‘Who opened those doors?’ Mrs Bottomley demanded, squinting into the light. She waited for her eyes to adjust so she could make out the culprit. ‘You are far too early. We haven’t finished our rehearsal yet.’

  ‘That’s bad planning then, isn’t it?’ the elderly gentleman quipped. ‘You can’t expect us to stand around outside. I’ve got a bad back, you know, not to mention a gammy leg and two dodgy knees. Don’t even get me started on the hips! I can hula dance better than a Hawaiian teenager.’

  The children giggled and a few began to swing their hips, pretending to do the hula.

  ‘Yes, all right,’ Ethel Bottomley harrumphed loudly and signalled for Mr Smee to draw the curtains across the stage. ‘That’s the end of that then,’ the woman said, pursing her lips. ‘Just do your best and sing loudly, children. I can’t believe the sound system is on the blink today of all days.’

  ‘Will the microphone be ready in time?’ Saskia asked sweetly.

  ‘I hope so. Mr Barnsley is looking for the problem now. Are you sure that none of you touched anything when we were in here yesterday?’ The woman looked daggers at Joshua, who she’d noticed was fiddling with something while he was supposed to be singing the other day.

  The children kept quiet as mice as the hall began to fill up.

  ‘Saskia, don’t forget that we’ve swapped some things around,’ Mrs Bottomley reminded her. ‘Clementine’s poem is now part of the finale.’

  The girl rolled her eyes and sighed impatiently. ‘I know. I don’t even need this,’ she said, waving her script around. ‘I learned it all off by heart last night. Clemmie Rose isn’t the only one who can remember things.’

  ‘Well, I’d rather that you had it with you. Perhaps it will remind you to not add in anything that isn’t written in plain English,’ the teacher said pointedly. She was beginning to regret her decision to allow someone as unpredictable as Saskia Baker to have such a big part in the proceedings.

  The children could hear the crowd building from the other side of the curtain.

  ‘Where’s my grandson?’ a man asked loudly. ‘They said he’d be in the hall and there are no children here. Are they invisible?’

  The children sniggered into their hands.

  ‘There’s a seat just here, Mavis,’ another man could be heard shouting.

  ‘What treat?’ an old woman shouted back. ‘Where’s my treat?’

  ‘Seat, dear. I said seat,’ the man yelled.

  Joshua snorted and the other children began to laugh all over again.

  ‘Stop it, you lot,’ Mrs Bottomley ordered.

  Violet Appleby and Digby Pertwhistle walked into the hall together.

  ‘Godfathers, did you ever think we’d be part of this crowd?’ The woman looked around and shuddered.

  ‘At least we haven’t got walking frames and hearing aids,’ Uncle Digby sighed.

  ‘What did you say?’ Aunt Violet asked, before breaking into a grin.

  Digby Pertwhistle raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re getting funnier in your old age, Vi.’

  Violet straightened her shoulders. ‘It’s Miss Appleby to you, thank you very much. I’ve had enough of this Vi business from Mr Baker. Oh, look, there’s Clarissa. I wonder who she’s with.’

  The pair walked over to find Clarissa chatting to a well-dressed couple. The man had white hair while the woman’s bob was a glossy chestnut colour.

  ‘Hello Aunt Violet, Uncle Digby,’ Clarissa said. ‘May I introduce Drew’s parents? This is Mr and Mrs Barnsley.’

  ‘Please call us Ida and Charles,’ the woman said. ‘It’s so lovely to finally meet you both. Drew’s talked about you all with such affection. We’d only seen him for a few minutes when he introduced us to Clarissa, but,’ she said, lowering her voice, ‘she’s every bit as lovely as he’s told us.’

  Clarissa’s face took on the same hue as the raspberry-coloured dress she was wearing. ‘Why don’t we find somewhere for you to sit?’ she suggested. ‘There’s always a bit of a bunfight for the best seats and I think I can still see four near the front.’

  The group scooted down the aisle. Aunt Violet sat beside Ida, who she decided within minutes was rather lovely. She was just about to ask the woman if she happened to play bridge when, all of a sudden, there was a tremendous kerfuffle at the back of the hall.

  ‘Where’s our star? She’s had star quality ever since she was born,’ the man declared, his voice echoing around the room.

  ‘Good heavens, he’s a bit enthusiastic, isn’t he?’ Ida Barnsley said.

  Aunt Violet nodded and turned around to see a man in a gaudy plaid jacket and yellow trousers. The woman beside him wore a blue hat with a veil and a plume of peacock feathers that reached into the sky. They were heading straight for the front. ‘Interesting fashion sense too,’ Aunt Violet murmured.

  The woman in the hat came to a stop in front of a mouse-like granny wearing a grey cardigan with pearl buttons. ‘Excuse me, I think we’re supposed to be sitting here,’ she said loudly. ‘Our granddaughter has the main part and our daughter said there would be seats in the front row.’

  The mousy woman twitched nervously and apologised. She stood up and scurried up the aisle, leaving her seat and the spare one beside it.

  ‘Do you think she’s behind the curtain?’ asked the woman in the hat. ‘I wonder what she’s wearing. I hope it’s that lovely purple dress I got for her last Christmas.’

  ‘Who’s that?’ Joshua said, prompting a round of shushes from Mrs Bottomley and the other children.

  Saskia tore the corner of her script and kept her head down.

  Mrs Bottomley glanced at her watch and searched the stage for Drew. She caught his eye, hoping for good news, but the man just shook his head. ‘Right, children, time to get on with the show,’ she said.

  Saskia baulked. ‘What about my microphone?’

  ‘You’re just going to have to use your loudest voice,’ Mrs Bottomley replied. ‘If Mr Barnsley manages a miracle in the next few minutes, we’ll give it to you.’

  Mrs Bottomley signalled for the children to stand and nodded at Mr Smee, who turned the house lights down and began to open the curtain. Mrs Wang’s fingers burst into a flurry of activity, dancing along the piano keys as the children started to sing.

  The oldies were soon tapping along to the medley of songs that formed the first part of the concert. Mrs Bottomley’s arms flew all over the place as she conducted the group. The children finished and took a bow, then sat down on the risers.

  Saskia stepped forward. ‘Good morning, everyone, and welcome to Grandparents’ Day. My name is Sassy Baker and I’m the host for this morning’s show. Today the children in Kindy, Year One and Year Two are going to perform a variety of items for your pleasure.’

  The woman in the front row with the peacock hat waved. Her smile couldn’t have been any wider. ‘Hello Sass!’ she trilled.

  ‘Where’s your microphone, darling?’ the man beside her called out.

  ‘I thought she said she didn’t know any old people?’ Poppy whispered to Clementine.

  ‘Can you speak up, please? I can’t hear anything down the back here,’ a man in a cobalt cardigan yelled.

  Saskia glared at him. ‘Our next performer,’ she yelled at the top of her lungs, ‘is Astrid, who will read a story that she wrote.’

  ‘You don’t have to screech,’ the man shouted back at her. ‘I’m not deaf, you know.’

  Astrid stepped into the centre of the stage and, in her best loud voice, read her story about a princess who slays a dragon. After the girl received lukewarm applause, Mrs Bottomley waddled back onstage and stood in front of the music stand. She tapped the baton on the stand, then turned to face the crowd. ‘Good morning, everyone. My name is Ethel Bottomley and I am the Kindergarten teacher here at Ellery Prep.’

  A woman squinted through thick glasses. ‘Did she just say she has a big bottom?’ she whispered. The people on either side of her began to guffaw. ‘Well, she has, hasn’t she
? I can’t see my Evie at all when she stands there.’ The woman’s lips disappeared into a tight line.

  Mrs Bottomley gave the signal to Mrs Wang and the children began to sing again. Although a significant number of audience members couldn’t hear the words, they hummed along to the tune and some even joined in at the chorus.

  Meanwhile, out the back, Drew was out of ideas. He had searched high and low and couldn’t find any logical reason for the sound system not working. He was about to give up when he noticed a cord running under the tiered seating that the children were on. A boy was holding the end of it and fiddling with the plug. Drew waited for the next round of applause before he dived in behind them and gave the cord a good yank.

  Joshua Tribble’s head snapped in his direction. ‘Hey, what are you doing?’ he said.

  ‘Give that to me!’ Drew hissed.

  Joshua wrinkled his nose and reluctantly parted with it. Drew hurriedly plugged it in and there was a loud poomf as the microphone came to life. He circled around the back of the children to hand it to Saskia, who was standing at the end of the second row.

  ‘About time,’ the child said, rolling her eyes. When the song ended, Saskia walked to the centre of the stage, microphone in hand.

  Ethel wondered what had happened to her script and then noticed a pile of confetti-sized pieces of paper on the floor beside the second row. She dreaded what the child might be about to say.

  ‘And now I have to introduce Clementine to do a poem for you, which she wrote.’ The girl walked away but not before muttering, ‘And it’s really boring.’

  ‘How dare she?’ Aunt Violet grumbled. She had half a mind to march up onto the stage and drag the girl off.

  Clementine bit her lip and looked out at the crowd. She spotted Uncle Digby and Aunt Violet and smiled. She then glanced sideways at her mother and Drew standing in the wings. They both gave her a thumbs up. Clementine took a deep breath and turned back to the audience. ‘I wrote this poem about my mummy because she’s the best mummy in the whole wide world,’ she began.

  Clementine recited the words perfectly. By the end, there were quite a few people reaching for their handkerchiefs and even Aunt Violet mopped at her eyes.

  ‘Bravo,’ the man in the ugly plaid jacket called out as Clementine took a bow. ‘That was brilliant!’

  ‘Oh, well done, sweetheart. You must be the apple of your mummy’s eye,’ said the woman beside him.

  Saskia’s face resembled a thundercloud as she stormed across the stage and snatched the microphone from Clementine’s hand. ‘She’s not even your real mum,’ Saskia scoffed.

  The crowd gasped.

  ‘Sassy, that’s a dreadful thing to say!’ the woman with the peacock hat called out. ‘Apologise to that little girl right now!’

  ‘No!’ Saskia spat.

  Clementine swallowed. She could feel her eyes beginning to sting.

  Clarissa Appleby’s heart was pounding as she watched her tiny daughter.

  ‘I told you what’s going to happen when your mum marries his dad,’ Saskia hissed, pointing at Drew.

  The audience sucked in another breath.

  ‘Saskia May Baker, you stop that right now,’ the man in the plaid jacket ordered.

  ‘What’s going on? I didn’t hear what she said,’ an elderly gentleman called. He had thin strands of long hair slicked over from one side of his head to the other.

  ‘Excuse me, young lady, how dare you?’ Aunt Violet stood up and marched towards the stage.

  Clarissa and Drew looked at each other.

  Will had made his way down from the risers and onto the stage behind Clemmie. Ethel Bottomley was flapping about on the edge of the wings wondering what she should do next.

  ‘Clemmie and I want our dad and mum to get married,’ Will said, smiling at Clementine.

  Clarissa gasped. ‘Oh my goodness, that explains everything.’

  ‘The kids have been acting strangely because they thought I was going to propose,’ Drew said, coming to the same realisation.

  ‘Who’s getting married?’ demanded the gentleman with the slicked-over hair.

  ‘No one’s getting married,’ Drew replied. He walked onto the stage with Clarissa by his side.

  Clementine and Will exchanged quizzical looks. ‘But what about your big surprise?’ Clementine asked.

  ‘What happened to the singing?’ A lady in the second row peered around the peacock hat, trying to get a better view. ‘Are the children doing a play now? I hope it’s not Shakespeare – he’s terribly boring.’

  Clarissa smiled at the two children. ‘Is that what you thought it was?’

  Clementine and Will nodded.

  ‘How do you feel about that?’ Drew asked.

  ‘Well, at first we were upset because Saskia said that you wouldn’t love us anymore and you’d have a baby and it would be the most important thing,’ Clementine explained.

  Saskia stomped her foot. ‘I never said that!’

  ‘Sassy, that’s very disappointing,’ the man in the plaid jacket said, shaking his head.

  ‘Well, she deserved it. She’s got a pig and she’s going to be on television, but I should be on television. I’m much prettier,’ Saskia spat.

  ‘Are they your grandparents?’ Joshua called out.

  ‘Yes, I’m Dodge and this is Fifi.’ The man puffed out his chest.

  ‘But she said her grandparents were dead,’ Joshua cried.

  ‘What?’ Dodge’s forehead puckered. ‘Why would you say that?’

  Saskia turned and glared at the boy. ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Yes, you did,’ Joshua retorted.

  ‘Are you telling lies again, young lady?’ Fifi stood up and walked towards the edge of the stage.

  Saskia glared at her grandmother. ‘Stop being so mean to me, Fifi! You’re always so mean and bossy. I wish you were dead!’

  ‘Good heavens, that child is a fireball,’ Aunt Violet said as Saskia hurled herself onto the floor, clenching her fists and thumping the stage. At that moment she couldn’t help feeling sorry for her ghastly grandparents.

  Clarissa put her arm around Clementine’s shoulders. ‘Of course we’ll still love you no matter what happens – that’s a special promise between every parent and their child.’

  ‘Are you still upset about the idea of us getting married?’ Drew asked.

  Will and Clementine shook their heads. ‘I want Clemmie to be my sister,’ Will said.

  ‘And I want Will to be my brother,’ Clemmie added. ‘But if that isn’t the surprise, Mummy, what is?’

  Drew nodded at Clarissa. ‘We’d better tell them.’

  ‘It seems I’ve won a trip to France! We’re going to take you to visit Sophie in the next holidays,’ the woman said. A huge smile spread across her face.

  ‘Really?’ Clementine beamed. Will did too.

  As the children spun around, they were surprised to see Drew sink onto one knee.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Clarissa held her breath.

  ‘Oh, is this Romeo and Juliet?’ the woman in the front row said loudly. ‘I really don’t like that play at all.’

  The audience craned their necks to see what was happening.

  ‘Well, I had been saving this for when the time was right, but now that we know the children are happy, why wait?’ Drew said. ‘Besides, everyone we love is right here.’

  Clarissa blushed and tears welled in her eyes as Drew pulled a small box from his pocket and popped it open, revealing a sparkling diamond ring.

  ‘Clarissa Appleby,’ he said softly, ‘would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  ‘Oh, Drew,’ she sighed. ‘Yes.’

  As he stood up and placed the ring on her finger, the audience clapped and cheered. Joshua Tribble whistled loudly.

  ‘I told you they’d get married,’ Aunt Violet said, grabbing Uncle Digby’s arm.

  Digby Pertwhistle chuckled. ‘I seem to recall I predicted it first.’

  ‘What happened? Is
she in some sort of strife?’ the old man in the cobalt cardigan called out.

  ‘No, but I suspect that one there is about to be.’ Aunt Violet looked over at Saskia, whose face seemed set to explode.

  ‘Are they getting married?’ Saskia blurted. She pointed at Clementine. ‘Will she get to be a flower girl?’

  Clarissa nodded. ‘Of course.’

  Clementine’s eyes lit up.

  ‘But I want to be a flower girl!’ Saskia thumped her fists on the floor. ‘I’d make a much prettier flower girl than her!’

  ‘Put a sock in it,’ her grand father ordered.

  Mrs Bottomley nodded. ‘I couldn’t have said it better myself, sir.’

  Clementine and Will hugged each other fiercely. The girl felt as though she might burst with excitement. ‘France and a wedding!’ she exclaimed. ‘I can’t wait to tell Sophie!’

  But as the news sank in, her smile was replaced with a look of concern.

  Violet Appleby glanced over at her. ‘What’s the matter, Clementine?’

  Clementine clasped her hands together. ‘I need to learn lots more French right away.’

  Aunt Violet smiled. ‘Oh, don’t you worry about that,’ she said with a wink. ‘We’ll get started this evening tout de suite.’

  Clementine Rose Appleby

  Six-year-old daughter of Lady Clarissa

  Lavender

  Clementine’s teacup pig

  Lady Clarissa Appleby

  Clementine’s mother and the owner of Penberthy House

  Digby Pertwhistle

  Butler at Penberthy House

  Aunt Violet Appleby

  Clementine’s grandfather’s sister

  Pharaoh

  Aunt Violet’s beloved sphynx cat