Alice-Miranda Shows the Way Page 8

  Myrtle grabbed her apron from the pantry and went into the utility room to retrieve her antiquated upright vacuum cleaner. Perhaps the sounds and smells of good cleaning would rouse Reginald from his slumber. She’d even tried to polish his head one day in the hope that it might wake him. He had just sneezed and coughed a little, then settled back to his usual state of inertia.

  Myrtle plugged the ancient beast into the wall socket and set forth hoovering every inch of the room, including the settee.

  Over the din, she thought she heard a chime. Myrtle flicked off the switch and pushed the handle back to the vertical position. She wondered who might be calling on her – most of her friends only ever came when there was a committee meeting. The village folk were well aware of the difficulty of her having Reginald in the sitting room.

  Myrtle opened the front door. There was no one there. She peered outside and down the path to the street but couldn’t see anyone. She decided that she must have been hearing things, closed the door and went back to her hoovering. Not a minute after the machine had whirred back to life, the bell went again.

  ‘Goodness me.’ Myrtle flicked the switch off again. ‘I’ll be right there,’ she called and didn’t dally getting to the hallway.

  ‘Hello?’ She reefed opened the front door. Her eyes darted around the yard. ‘Show yourself.’

  Myrtle waited a moment and then slammed the door. She stomped back to the vacuum and began for the third time. But something told her that this game was not over. She snapped off the whirring appliance and hurried to the front door, just as the bell rang.

  ‘Gotcha!’ Myrtle flung open the door expecting to see some or other scruffy child thinking themselves very funny for playing tricks on an old woman. But that wasn’t what she observed at all.

  ‘Oh my goodness! Newton?’ she gulped. ‘Is it really you? Have you come home to Mother?’

  Newton was silent. Sitting beside him was a folded piece of paper. Myrtle picked it up, opened it and read:

  ‘I’m sorry that I ran away last year but I wanted some adventures. Please don’t be mad at me. I’ve had the best time ever and I’ve seen loads of places and met interesting people but I thought it was time to come home again.’

  Myrtle looked down at the concrete statue in front of her.

  ‘Oh Newton, I’m so glad that you’re back. I’ve missed you terribly.’ Tears pooled in the old woman’s eyes. ‘It hasn’t been the same without you. No one to talk to about Reginald, no one who understands what it’s like for me with him in there taking up all that space in the sitting room. I’m sorry that I left you outside. I won’t make that mistake ever again.’

  Myrtle picked up the gnome and hugged it as if her very life depended on it. She peered into the garden to see if there was anyone lurking about.

  ‘I know it was you lot from the carnival. It’s a year almost to the day that my Newton went missing,’ she called into the open air. ‘I have a good mind to have you all locked up.’

  She turned and walked back inside, wondering if the carnival people were already back in town and wishing that the show committee would heed her advice and hold the event without those ghastly rides and sideshows.

  ‘Reginald, Reginald, you’re never going to believe who’s come home.’ Myrtle Parker carried the gnome into the sitting room and put him down on the end of her husband’s bed. ‘Now, why don’t you come back to me too?’ she whispered at the man under the covers. ‘I’ve got some very nice jobs for you to do.’

  When Alice-Miranda and Millie returned to Grimthorpe House, a tense mood hung over the building.

  They found Sloane first, sitting in the common room thumbing through a magazine. When Sloane explained what had happened with Ambrosia and why she and Jacinta weren’t staying out for the night as planned, Alice-Miranda decided to go and find Jacinta at once and try to cheer her up. Millie preferred to keep Sloane company for a little while. She still had vivid memories of Jacinta’s reign as the school’s second best tantrum thrower.

  Alice-Miranda made her way along the hallway to Jacinta’s room and knocked on the door.

  ‘Go away! I’m not coming out and whoever you are, you’re not coming in,’ Jacinta bellowed.

  ‘Jacinta, it’s me, Alice-Miranda,’ she called as she knocked again.

  ‘I still don’t want to talk to you!’ Jacinta shouted back.

  ‘You might feel better if you talk to someone,’ said Alice-Miranda. She pushed open the door and found Jacinta sitting on the floor. Unlike the first time Alice-Miranda had met her months before, she was not squealing with the might of ten elephants, but she was busy tearing a magazine to shreds.

  Alice-Miranda was shocked. ‘Jacinta, is that a picture of your mother?’

  ‘So what if it is! It’s just a stupid magazine and she’ll be in a million more,’ Jacinta spat.

  Alice-Miranda sat cross-legged on the floor opposite her friend. ‘I gather your day didn’t turn out quite the way you’d hoped it would,’ she said gently.

  Jacinta’s bottom lip began to tremble. ‘She hasn’t changed. You remember all that fussing about me on the ship when she thought I’d been kidnapped? Saying that she would spend more time with me? It was all a lie. She doesn’t care about me. You know why she couldn’t stay? She has to go to a ball. A ball! As if she hasn’t been to a million balls before!’

  A tear spilled onto Jacinta’s cheek and trickled to the edge of her chin.

  ‘Oh Jacinta, I’m sure that your mother loves you. She’s just learning how to show it.’ Alice-Miranda reached out and touched Jacinta’s arm. ‘Don’t you remember that she hadn’t been to see you in almost a year until you saw her on the ship?’

  Jacinta had begun to cry properly. Big shuddery sobs, with real salty tears.

  ‘Was today mostly okay?’ Alice-Miranda asked her friend.

  Jacinta looked up at her. Her blue eyes glistened, the colour of wet sapphires.

  She nodded slowly.

  ‘You’ve just got to give it time,’ Alice-Miranda assured her. ‘She’s had a lot of years of doing whatever she’s wanted, whenever she’s wanted. I think sometimes grown-ups behave much more like children than most children ever do.’

  Jacinta brushed the moisture from her eyes. ‘You know, when she sent me this dress, I actually thought that maybe she was starting to get me. It’s much more my style and not like all those other outfits she’s sent before that made me look like a mini Ambrosia. And today we did have a good time, until she started talking about the paparazzi. It’s like she can’t help herself and she just has to have her picture taken all the time. I don’t get it. When I make it to the Olympics, it will be because I’ve used every ounce of talent I’ve got and worked really hard to be the best I can be,’ Jacinta explained. ‘I’d hate to be famous just because I look a certain way. That’s so stupid.’

  Alice-Miranda couldn’t agree more but she thought it was probably best not to comment. She did have a mind to call Ambrosia, though, and tell her how disappointed Jacinta was about their weekend being cut short.

  Instead, Alice-Miranda said, ‘Come on, Jacinta, let’s get this cleaned up.’ She began to pick up the paper.

  Jacinta managed a small smile. ‘I must look pretty stupid.’

  ‘Of course not. I won’t tell anyone.’ Alice-Miranda leaned forward and gave Jacinta a hug. ‘Why don’t you go and wash your face and then we can play a game before dinner. I heard Mrs Smith is making cherry cheesecake for dessert.’

  ‘Cherry cheesecake. She hardly ever makes that.’ Jacinta wondered if somehow Alice-Miranda had been responsible for the dessert.

  ‘I know. We’ve had a bit of an adventure today,’ Alice-Miranda said as she offered her hand to help Jacinta up.

  ‘How do you mean?’ Jacinta asked. ‘And what happened to your forehead?’

 
‘Let’s get cleaned up and then Millie and I will tell you all about it.’

  That evening, Alice-Miranda, Millie and Sloane worked hard to cheer Jacinta up. After dinner – a delicious lasagne and the special cherry cheesecake for dessert – the girls had been allowed to watch a movie and eat popcorn until bedtime. They let Jacinta choose and as usual ended up watching London Calling starring Lawrence Ridley for the umpteenth time. At least Jacinta’s mood improved.

  ‘Oh, he’s so gorgeous,’ she swooned a dozen times. ‘Your Aunt Charlotte is the luckiest woman in the world to be married to him.’

  The other girls laughed.

  ‘What about Lucas?’ said Sloane. ‘He’s not exactly hideous, either.’

  ‘No, he’s adorable too,’ Jacinta replied dreamily.

  ‘I thought I might ask him to go to the show with me,’ Sloane said blithely.

  Alice-Miranda and Millie gulped in unison.

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ said Millie.

  Alice-Miranda shook her head. Jacinta was in a much better mood but if she thought Sloane was about to start flirting with Lucas, things were likely to get very ugly.

  Jacinta stared at Sloane. ‘There’s no point,’ she said sharply, ‘because he’s already asked me.’

  Sloane pulled a face. ‘I was just kidding. As if I’d ever ask. Boys are stinky little creatures, even if some of them are nice to look at.’

  Alice-Miranda and Millie giggled.

  ‘Your brother’s lovely,’ Alice-Miranda added.

  ‘Sep? No, he’s not. He’s completely disgusting. You’ve never been in his room after he’s eaten Mexican food.’ Sloane held her fingers to her nose.

  The girls went off to bed in high spirits.

  ‘Fern and Tarquin sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Fern with a baby’s carriage,’ the mousy child chanted at the top of her lungs.

  ‘Get lost, Ivy! He’s my brother and you’re disgusting,’ Fern yelled.

  Ivy stuck out her tongue. ‘Are you gonna make me?’ she challenged.

  ‘I’m gonna get Pete onto you if you don’t shut your filthy little mouth,’ Fern threatened.

  ‘Well, I’ll tell Alf and then he’ll kick you out and you’ll have nowhere to live,’ said the smaller girl, screwing up her face. ‘Alf doesn’t have to let you stay, you know. Not any more. He’s the boss now.’

  Fern eyeballed her. ‘Who says?’

  ‘My mum and she knows everything,’ said Ivy.

  ‘Your mum wouldn’t know her right arm from her rear end!’ Fern leapt down from the low branch where she’d been sitting and Ivy dashed away to join some of the other children, who were kicking their scuffed football across the open field.

  When Alf had first arrived at the camp a couple of years back, sniffing around for work, some of the older blokes had been suspicious of him. But they were down a couple of men and even though Alf sounded like he gargled gravel for breakfast, he was a gentle giant – at least, that’s what they’d all thought. Best of all, he made people laugh. It wasn’t long before everyone loved him. Especially Gina, Fern and Tarquin’s mother. Alf had married Gina and moved into the big van. Gina said that he would look after them and keep the carnival running properly until it was time for their older brother to take over. But then everything changed, especially Alf.

  Fern nursed her throbbing arm. She had administered her own first aid, some ice in a plastic bag, then she’d wrapped it in an old crepe bandage she’d found in the caravan. But it hurt, worse than anything she’d felt before. She removed the bandage to have a look. Her wrist was swollen and it had started to bruise – maybe there was a broken bone. But it would just have to get better on its own. Alf wouldn’t pay for her to see a doctor.

  She could see her brother sitting in the grass at the edge of the field, near the willows. She reapplied the bandage, then walked over to him.

  ‘Hey Tarq, I got this for you.’ Fern reached into her pocket and pulled out a new badge. ‘I found it in the village.’

  Tarquin’s amber eyes shone like new moons as he stared at the silver pin.

  He reached out and took it, and immediately placed it on the ground beside the one from Chicken Charlie’s.

  ‘It’s twinkly,’ he said. ‘I like it.’

  Then he looked at Fern in a way she couldn’t ever remember him looking before.

  ‘I want Mum, Fern,’ Tarquin said. ‘And Liam.’

  ‘I want them back too,’ Fern said. ‘But I don’t know where Liam is and Mum’s not coming back. Remember? She’s gone to heaven.’

  ‘With Marty?’ Tarquin looked at his sister closely.

  She sighed. ‘Yeah, with Marty.’

  If her little brother wanted to believe that their mother was in heaven with a skinny field mouse, then let him think that.

  ‘Marty died,’ Tarquin said.

  ‘Yes, Marty died,’ Fern repeated. She’d been glad about that, in a way. Tarquin’s collections were hard enough to deal with when they weren’t alive. There were rocks and coins and shiny pieces of paper and she wasn’t ever allowed to throw anything away. The badges were a relatively new obsession. When Tarquin had found the mouse in the kitchen cupboard she had dreaded how they could cope with a collection of furry rodents. But then Marty the mouse had been dead the next morning and Tarquin had lost interest.

  Fern had buried Marty in the field next to the racetrack at Cossington Park. Their mother was buried in the cemetery in the village at Winchesterfield. When you lived with the carnival you couldn’t be fussy about where you left your dead. It was usually wherever the carnival was pulled in and it just so happened that almost a year ago their mother had taken her last breaths on the same flat piece of ground where the troupe had now set up their temporary home.

  Fern had known that her mother was sick, but she had always said that she’d get better. That she wouldn’t leave them. But she’d lied, because she’d died anyway and then Liam left too. Fern had no idea where he was or if he was all right, but he shouldn’t have done what he did. Alf said that he had no choice but to tell him to go – at least that’s what everyone said.

  That afternoon, Fern had taken a long walk across the fields and around the village, but not to the cemetery. She wanted to go there but her legs wouldn’t walk in that direction. And she’d seen that girl again, the one with the pony, and her red-haired friend. They were with an old lady driving out of the Queen’s racing stables.

  Fern had thought she looked the type. Stuck up little princess.

  But there was no point complaining. Life was what it was. Some people had it easy and some didn’t, but that made Fern all the more determined. Keeping up with school when you moved every month or less wasn’t easy, but Fern’s mother had enrolled her so that she could take her lessons via correspondence.

  They’d had a teacher with them for a while but then Ivy’s mother, Maude, had accused the young woman of being lazy when Ivy’s brother Stephen failed some stupid scholarship test and the girl upped and left. Fern had loved working with the teacher. She wasn’t lazy. Stephen, on the other hand, was no Einstein. After that, they hadn’t been able to find a replacement. Fern’s mother was smart and she could always help her daughter with her studies but since she’d been gone Fern had to slog twice as hard to work things out on her own. Sometimes another one of the carnival mums, Mrs Kessler, would have a look over her writing, and Mr Kessler was good with numbers but with four children of their own to look after, they didn’t have much time.

  In some ways Fern and Tarquin were the envy of the rest of the carnival because they had more space than anyone. Their mother had saved every penny she earned for years to buy the second-hand caravan they called home. While it was far from new, it was spotless. It was a little like a time machine, a perfectly pres
erved house on wheels from at least thirty years before. But it didn’t feel much like home any more.

  Fern had dreams – big dreams to leave the carnival and go to university. She wanted to become a doctor and then she’d make enough money to look after Tarquin properly. They could have a house – a proper house that you couldn’t hitch up to the back of a truck – and there would be a garden too. More than anything, people would respect her; Fern knew that doctors were important. When you were in the carnival no one gave you any respect. Usually they were just afraid of you. She wondered what it would be like to have people want to be friends, instead of going out of their way to walk on the other side of the street just so they didn’t have to make eye contact.

  But carnival life wasn’t all bad. You could go on the rides anytime you liked without paying, and Fern had seen more of the country than most people would ever see in their whole life. But still she wondered what it would be like to go to the same school every day and have the same friends. For now it was just her and Tarquin.

  ‘Fern!’ a voice growled from over by their caravan. ‘I’m not waiting until midnight for my supper so you’d better get your sorry self home and start cooking.’

  Fern flinched. She was thankful it was her left wrist that was damaged and not her right, but cutting up the vegetables was still going to be a challenge. Perhaps she’d just make something with rice tonight. At least Alf wasn’t all that fussy about what she cooked, as long as there was a meal on the table.

  ‘Tarquin,’ she called to her brother. ‘Come and help me with dinner.’ She knew that ‘help’ meant he would just sit at the kitchen table and lay out his badges but she preferred his company to being on her own.

  Tarquin looked up from his collection. He counted the badges one by one and placed them back into the drawstring bag, then he stood up beside her. Fern slipped her right hand into Tarquin’s. He flinched.