Alice-Miranda Takes the Lead Page 7

  ‘Friends?’ Hephzibah’s voice quivered.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Alice-Miranda asked. ‘Why don’t you take your hat off and then I can see you properly?’

  ‘I can’t,’ Hephzibah wheezed. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Of course you can,’ Alice-Miranda insisted. ‘I know it’s important to wear sun protection outside but we’re inside and I’d so love to see your face.’

  Hephzibah hesitated, fearing this would be a terrible mistake. But something about this child made her feel different. There was something comforting about her – something she hadn’t felt since …

  Hephzibah slowly lifted her veil before taking her hat off and placing it on the table beside her cup. She looked up at Alice-Miranda, her mouth drawn tightly into a thin line. With the fingers of her left hand, she gently traced the outline of her scarred face. A tear formed in her right eye and slid silently down her cheek, dropping onto her lap.

  ‘Oh, you have such pretty eyes.’ Alice-Miranda smiled.

  All at once, Hephzibah broke down into shuddering sobs. Alice-Miranda slipped from her seat, pulled the chair around beside her new friend, and immediately climbed up and placed her arm around the elderly woman’s shoulder.

  Armed with a hand-drawn map tucked safely into her breast pocket, Alice-Miranda returned safely to school with Bonaparte that afternoon, to the great relief of all. Mr Charles and Susannah had gone out in the Land Rover to look for her while Millie and Wally had taken the horses and retraced the girls’ journey from Gertrude’s Grove. Sloane said that there was no way she was going out looking for anyone – she had lines to learn (and a very sore bottom).

  Alice-Miranda and Bony had met Millie and Wally at the fork in the road. She explained Bonaparte’s wilful behaviour, saying that he had sniffed out an old vegetable patch and simply couldn’t be held. Thankfully, she added, there weren’t any cabbages, but she had pulled up a few woody carrots for Bony and then waited until he was in a better mood before heading for home. She didn’t like telling untruths but she had a feeling that the real story might cause undue concern.

  Millie nodded after hearing her friend’s tale. She well knew about Bonaparte’s predilection for cabbages – and any other vegetable on offer.

  Wally pointed towards the pathway where Bony and Alice-Miranda had come from. ‘You know, miss, the witch lives down there?’

  ‘I’m sure there’s no such thing, Wally,’ Alice-Miranda chided.

  ‘It’s true, you know. She’s scary as. I once went there with my mates – we was daring each other. It was just on dusk with the light fading fast and then we saw her – dressed from head to toe in black and this veil thing covering her ugly head. She screamed blue murder and set her feral cats on us. I ran so fast, I thought my heart was going to burst right out of my chest.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Alice-Miranda whispered. ‘Poor Hephzibah.’

  ‘Anyway, looks like you survived, miss. Now, we’d better get these ponies home. I’ll call Charlie and let him know you’re safe and sound.’

  The group met at the stables. Alice-Miranda recounted the same story to Susannah and Charlie who seemed satisfied with her explanation.

  Millie, Alice-Miranda and Susannah walked back to the house.

  ‘Well, you took your time getting back.’ Sloane glanced up at the girls from where she was lying on the couch in the sitting room, rehearsing her lines for the audition. ‘Did you have a fall?’

  ‘Hello Sloane,’ Alice-Miranda began. ‘I am sorry about the ride. I know I said that I wouldn’t leave you at all but my Bonaparte had other ideas, I’m afraid, and once he has a sniff of a vegetable patch, he’s pretty much unstoppable.’

  ‘Well, now that I know how unreliable you are, I won’t depend on you again.’ Sloane buried her head in the script.

  Millie rolled her eyes. Susannah didn’t say a word but headed straight to her room.

  ‘Come on, Alice-Miranda,’ Millie said. ‘Let’s go and get changed and then we can help each other learn our lines.’

  Sloane looked up and pouted. ‘I need someone to practise with too. Jacinta’s off doing stupid gymnastics training or something. Anyone would think she wants to go to the Olympics.’

  ‘She does,’ Millie replied.

  ‘She does what?’ asked Sloane, pulling a face.

  ‘Want to go to the Olympics.’

  ‘She’s incredible and I’m sure that she’ll get there. She trains almost every day.’ Alice-Miranda smiled.

  ‘Whatever.’ Sloane flicked her hand dismissively. ‘I need someone to rehearse with.’

  ‘We’re busy,’ Millie informed Sloane as she grabbed her friend’s hand and headed for their room.

  ‘We could include Sloane, you know,’ Alice-Miranda said to Millie as they were getting changed.

  ‘She’s awful,’ Millie replied. ‘I thought Alethea was spoiled and horrible but Sloane’s just as foul.’

  ‘I’m sure she’s just getting used to being at school, that’s all,’ Alice-Miranda replied. ‘Don’t you remember what it’s like being the new girl?’

  ‘Well, I hope I was never like her,’ Millie frowned.

  Alice-Miranda and Millie spent the rest of the afternoon in all manner of poses and positions, learning their parts for the Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs auditions. Alice-Miranda decided she would try for the lead as well as some of the supporting roles, while Millie had her heart set on either Doc or the Magic Mirror.

  Later that evening, Alice-Miranda skipped off to call her parents.

  ‘Hello Mummy, how are you?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m fine, darling – and how are you finding things back at school?’ her mother fussed.

  ‘Wonderful, Mummy – so please don’t start crying. You know that I’m perfectly all right and if you cry, I won’t call you any more,’ Alice-Miranda scolded.

  ‘Oh, don’t be cross. Anyway, I have some marvellous news for you, sweetheart,’ her mother offered. ‘You know that Lawrence had made some enquiries about getting Lucas into Fayle? Well, first he was told that there were no spots at all and Lucas would have to go on the waiting list – which I think, between you and me, he didn’t mind one bit. But Lawrence just called a little while ago and apparently there are twins leaving to do some travelling with their parents, so Lucas has a spot. He’ll be starting next week. In fact, I think he might be there tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘That’s fantastic, Mummy. I can’t wait to tell Jacinta. She’ll be over the moon. Does that mean Aunt Charlotte and Lawrence will be bringing Lucas down? Will they have time to come and visit?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Of course, darling. I’ll phone Cha and let her know you’re looking forward to seeing them.’

  Alice-Miranda wanted to tell her mother about Hephzibah but something told her that now was not the right time. She knew that her parents would want to help, but she didn’t know if Hephzibah was ready for the full force of the Highton-Smith-Kennington-Joneses just yet.

  She had promised to visit Caledonia Manor again and knew that the only way she could go would be to take a friend with her, as students were not allowed to ride on their own. Of course she would take Millie, but she’d wait for just the right moment to tell her. Hephzibah hadn’t asked to be kept a secret but Alice-Miranda understood that there was something very special about her new friend – and just now, a strange feeling told her that their meeting would be best kept to herself.

  Instead, she spent a few minutes telling her mother all about the excitement the play was causing. ‘I’d better go, Mummy. Millie and I are rehearsing for the auditions. I’d love to have a role – then I’ll be able to see Lucas much more often.’

  ‘All right, darling. Love and hugs from Daddy and me, and Shilly just said to say hello and Dolly wants to know if you enjoyed the fudge.’

  Indeed, Alice-Miranda could hear Shilly and Mrs Oliver calling out in the background.

  ‘Tell Mrs Oliver that her fudge was the best ever,’ Alice-Miranda replied. ‘G
ive everyone a big hug from me and I’ll talk to you soon. Love you.’ She put the phone back into its cradle and ran off to find Jacinta and tell her the good news.

  In the late afternoon sunshine, Smedley and September Sykes reclined on their brand-new lay-z lounges in their brand-new back garden, sipping brand-new champagne and indulging their fantasies about where they would take the children for holidays once Smedley’s brand-new property developing business took off.

  Although it wasn’t the warmest of days, September was working on her tan, in a terrifyingly tiny leopard-print bikini. Her husband gazed admiringly at his wife, who he worried spent rather more time at the beauty salon than he could currently afford. Being a vacuum cleaner salesman, even on the home shopping channel, did not exactly bring in the big bucks. But Smedley believed with great certainty that their fortunes were about to change.

  ‘Have you talked to the children today?’ Smedley asked.

  ‘Yes, Sloane called this morning. She’s getting on soooo well with the other girls. I told her to make friends with that Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones child. Imagine us being invited to their mansion for the weekend! They must be almost the richest people in the whole country,’ September babbled. ‘I haven’t spoken to Sep but I’m sure he’s fine. I just hope he’s making some friends – that boy needs to get his head out of those dull old science textbooks and start paying attention to the important things in life, like whose father owns that gorgeous sky-blue Rolls-Royce I saw turning out of the Fayle driveway when I was dropping Sloane at school the other day.’

  ‘Don’t you worry about Septimus – he’s just a bit shy, that’s all. You keep working your magic, sweetheart, and I’m sure we’ll be top of everyone’s invitation list before long.’ Smedley grinned, revealing a dazzling white smile to match that of his wife’s. A handsome man, Smedley had once harboured dreams of a career as a talk-show host. Unfortunately, things never quite came together and the closest he had come to being a TV star was plying his trade in vacuum cleaner technology on infomercials.

  ‘You know, we’d be far further up the social ladder if your father hadn’t been such a dreadful cheapskate. The reading of his will was the most disappointing day of my life – fancy only leaving us his hideous old grocery shop and that poxy flat. I’d have thought a man of his supposed intelligence would have had some other investments,’ September moaned.

  ‘Well, at least Step-Mummy Henrietta’s taken care of the school fees,’ Smedley said with a wink.

  ‘Yes, I suppose so, but I wish that wretched nursing home would stop calling. You know I haven’t got the time. I don’t look like this –’ September paused to bounce her curls – ‘by sitting on my rear end all day. There’s the gym and the nail salon and the hairdresser and the beautician. And I think I should probably join the Village Women’s Association too. I might be able to run some workshops for all the fashion victims around here.’ September rolled her huge blue eyes. ‘Golden Gates phoned four times yesterday. Apparently the daft old bat’s been asking for some suitcase that was left in the shed at your father’s place. I don’t know where it is and I haven’t got the time to go looking. I’ve no idea what happened to any of that rubbish. For all I know, it went to the tip.’

  Smedley sighed and stood up. As he stalked off towards the shed at the far end of the garden, his mobile phone rang. He disappeared into the shed and re-emerged with a large blue suitcase in his left hand, all the while continuing his conversation.

  September could only hear snatches of the exchange.

  ‘Yes, yes, that’s great. How much? Fantastic, I’ll put the money in the account tomorrow.’ Her husband gave her the thumbs up, then strode back towards the terrace where she was sitting.

  September sat up. ‘What was all that then?’

  ‘Everything’s a go for the off shore property deal.’ Smedley put the suitcase down by the back door before picking up the champagne bottle and topping up both their glasses. ‘Won’t be long now until we’re living life in the fast lane.’ He raised his glass and tried to chink it against September’s, except that it thudded instead, being made of plastic. ‘And I think that’s Step-Mummy Henrietta’s suitcase.’ He pointed at the battered leather bag.

  ‘Well, I haven’t got time to deliver it. You’ll have to take it. And you’d better be right about this deal because I have just bought two pairs of designer jeans and a gorgeous leather jacket – and someone has to pay for them. I’ve got my eye on a new fridge with a built-in ice-maker and you know we have to buy a fountain for the garden. I can’t possibly work any more, what with the children and their hectic schedules,’ September griped.

  Smedley had rather hoped that now Septimus and Sloane were busy at boarding school, September might get a few odd modelling jobs here and there – but after what happened earlier in the year, he was reluctant to bring up the subject again.

  A few months ago Smedley had heard about a new agency that was recruiting and had been stupid enough to read the ad aloud to her. ‘Models required! All ages, sizes, shapes and talents welcome.’

  September had gone very white for a moment and then flown into a blistering red rage. ‘You might as well say I’m a fat old cow with a head like a robber’s dog! Is that what you mean, Smedley?’ she had screamed.

  ‘No darling, of course not. It’s just that, well, you’re not quite the little thing you were before the children, now are you? And I hear there’s very good money in catalogue work for the more mature lady.’

  Smedley had dug himself a hole that took two whole months to get out of. No end of flowers and shoes, and shoes and handbags, and handbags and flowers had been able to thaw September’s icy mood until one day he walked into the kitchen and threw a set of car keys on the bench.

  ‘For you, darling.’ He looked at the keys and glanced up at his wife.

  ‘If you think getting my car washed is going to see you back in the good books, Smedley Sykes, then you’re even thicker than I thought.’

  ‘Have a look at the keys, my lovely,’ Smedley cooed. ‘I think you might find that the “car wash” had rather a transforming effect.’

  Sloane picked up the keys. She examined them carefully and realised that the key ring certainly wasn’t that of her old sedan.

  ‘Oh my gosh, Smedley, what have you done?’ September squealed. ‘Is it new?’

  ‘Of course, darling, nothing less would do for you, my sweetheart.’ Smedley laid on the charm so thick you could have eaten it on toast for breakfast. He held out his arms, waiting for September to rush to his embrace. His wife, however, had other priorities and ran straight past her husband to the garage to hug her new baby sports car.

  Smedley had hoped that would do the trick and might even encourage September to give the modelling another thought. Goodness knows, the jobs were hardly taxing and usually paid more money than he saw in a month. But she would have none of it and he hadn’t been brave enough to mention it again, although he was thinking about it – a lot.

  Smedley sat back down beside his wife and pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head.

  ‘Smedley, is this deal really going to come off?’ September glared. ‘I’m so sick of being poor. I just don’t deserve this life,’ she wailed.

  ‘Don’t you worry your pretty head, my lovely. Soon enough the Sykeses will have more money than God.’

  September smiled broadly. ‘But how do you know how much money God has?’ she asked, tilting her head and looking thoughtful.

  ‘Oh, trust me, darling – I’m sure he has loads,’ said Smedley.

  The Fayle school campus spread out over a thousand glistening acres, with magnificent Victorian buildings surrounded by sports fields, a swimming pool, sailing lake and stables. From the road it was almost completely hidden from view, no doubt the result of clever planning by generations of gardeners. McGlintock Manor, named after its founder’s beloved wife, Helena Louise McGlintock, was renowned as the most beautiful of any school building in the country and had b
een extended over the years to house most of the classrooms, administration areas and the headmaster’s residence.

  Septimus could hardly believe his luck when he heard that his step-grandmother Henrietta had arranged for him and his sister Sloane to go to boarding school. It had been his dream – and one that he’d shared with his beloved grandfather Percy on the rare occasions that he’d been allowed to visit and the even rarer ones he was able to stay the night. Three years ago, Septimus had pinned a list of schools he would have liked to attend to his bedroom wall, with Fayle being his first preference. He’d heard that it was an outstanding institution, where being smart was revered, rather than reviled. And if there was one thing Septimus most certainly was, it was smart.

  In his family, Sep had always felt like the odd one out. The only person who truly understood him was Grandpa Percy, and now that he was gone, life seemed like a lonely place. Septimus adored reading – about science and history and politics. His mother, on the other hand, only ever flicked through the pages of Women’s Daily and Gloss and Goss, his father pored over the racing pages at the back of the newspaper, and his sister thought reading was something you only ever did if the television was on the blink. He loved his mother and father but, quite simply, he thought they could have been from another planet.

  So when Septimus arrived at Fayle, he found that it was even better than he had dreamt of. Although just twelve years of age, Sep had learned early the difference between what you hoped for and what you expected. While he hoped the students would be kind, the teachers brilliant and the school perfect, what he expected was very different.

  At his last school, on the very first day the kids had branded him Septic Sykes and it had stuck. He expected the teachers at his new school to be strict in the extreme, perhaps even carrying canes or some other medieval devices of punishment. But so far, Fayle was different. No one said anything about his name. When he told the boys that everyone called him Sep, they believed him without question and Sep it was. And the teachers, while perhaps a little on the vague side, were incredibly knowledgeable and kind, with no sign of any instruments of torture. He couldn’t believe that there was absolutely nothing to be disappointed about – and that made him happier than he had been in his entire life.