Alice-Miranda at Camp 10 (3 page)

‘What a day!' Sloane moaned as she pushed open the door to her bedroom. She walked inside and did a double take, before backing out again to check that she was in the right place.

‘Hey Millie, Alice-Miranda, are you there?' Sloane called from the hallway.

Millie flung open the door and looked out. Sloane was standing against the opposite wall with a puzzled look on her face.

‘What's wrong?' Millie asked as Alice-Miranda appeared beside her.

‘I just had to check.'

‘Check what?' Millie asked.

‘That I wasn't dreaming,' Sloane said, rubbing her eyes.

Alice-Miranda frowned. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘You have to see this.' Sloane scooted back through her bedroom door. The other girls followed.

‘Whoa!' Millie gasped. ‘What happened in here?'

Sloane shrugged. ‘That's what I wanted to know.'

Alice-Miranda glanced around the room and smiled. Books were lined perfectly on the shelves according to height, ornaments were displayed as if they were in a shop window and three beautiful blue-and-white wallpaper prints adorned the walls above each of the beds. The third bed looked as if it was about to be photographed for a magazine – two plump blue cushions were propped against the pillows on a smart white duvet.

‘Who did this?' Sloane asked.

‘I think you've been Capriced,' Alice-Miranda said. ‘I gather you haven't met your new roommate yet. I showed her in here a little while ago and when
she started to unpack I knew she meant business. I didn't realise she'd go this far.'

Sloane opened the wardrobe. ‘Are you kidding me? This too?'

Her clothes were lined up in order with dresses at the end, followed by skirts, pants and blouses.

Millie's face contorted. ‘What sort of a weirdo does that?'

‘I love her!' Sloane said.

‘I think it had something to do with her asking me about room inspections,' said Alice-Miranda.

‘Did you tell her Jacinta and I have never won?' Sloane asked.

Alice-Miranda nodded.

Sloane shrugged. ‘I don't mind if she wants to tidy up. I'd love to win.'

But Alice-Miranda wondered if Millie wasn't just a little bit right. It did seem somewhat extreme. Alice-Miranda was renowned for her tidiness too but she wouldn't have dreamed of touching the other girls' things without asking.

‘Sloane, are you there?' came a voice from the hall. It was Mrs Howard. The woman strode into the room. ‘Good heavens, what happened in here?' Mrs Howard's eyes almost popped out of her head.

‘Do you like it? I've been tidying up,' Sloane said, attempting to keep a straight face.

Mrs Howard glared at her. ‘And I'm Queen Georgiana's long-lost sister.'

‘Really?' Sloane looked at the woman. ‘Good for you.'

Millie and Alice-Miranda giggled.

‘Oh, all right. Caprice did it,' Sloane admitted.

‘Do you know where I can get twenty more just like her?' Mrs Howard said with a smile.

‘What a horrible thought,' Millie mumbled to herself.

‘What was that, Millicent?' Mrs Howard asked.

She shook her head. ‘Nothing.'

‘Well, if you want to thank Caprice, she's out in the sitting room creating some of the most beautiful title pages I've ever seen,' Mrs Howard said. She held up the fabric that had been slung over her shoulder and waved it at Sloane. ‘And I've just fixed your tunic. I suggest you stop growing, Sloane Sykes, or you'll be needing another uniform before the end of term.' She found a spare hanger in the wardrobe.

‘Thanks,' Sloane said.

‘I couldn't have you going around with staples holding up your hem, could I?' Mrs Howard tutted. ‘Besides, they'd soon ruin the washing machine.'

Sloane grinned at Millie and Alice-Miranda. ‘Sorry, sewing's not really Mummy's thing. I'll get changed and then I'll go and see Caprice.'

‘If anyone needs me, I'm popping over to see Mrs Smith. Poor Doreen's in a bit of a muddle and I want to see if I can help her with dinner,' Mrs Howard said as she headed for the door. ‘Oh, and the year seven girls are walking back from Caledonia Manor. Charlie went to get them but the bus broke down halfway between.'

‘At least it's not raining,' Alice-Miranda said.

‘Well, there is that.' Mrs Howard gave a wave and disappeared into the hall.

‘I'd better get back and finish my story for Miss Reedy,' Alice-Miranda said.

‘Do you want a drink?' Millie asked. ‘Science homework always makes me thirsty.'

Alice-Miranda shook her head. ‘I'm fine.'

‘Not me,' Sloane said. ‘But thanks.'

Alice-Miranda went back to their room and Millie walked out to the kitchenette, which was off the back sitting room. She expected to see Caprice doing her perfect title pages but the large table that had been brought into the house for the new girls to do their homework at was empty.

As she rounded the corner to the fridge, Millie heard a muffled voice.

It sounded like it was coming from the cupboard under the back stairs. She wondered who was hiding in there already. It was a favourite spot, especially when the girls wanted to steer clear of Mrs Howard and her jobs.

‘You didn't tell me that I'd have to share a room, Mummy,' the voice hissed.

Millie knew immediately who it was.

‘And it's a pigsty. I can't believe it – they've never ever won a room inspection.'

‘Boo hoo,' Millie whispered, and made a face.

‘And there's a horrible girl.'

Millie's eyes widened and she leaned closer to the door.

‘She has red hair and freckles and she's ugly and mean. She said that I wasn't the cleverest girl in the school. She said that Alice-Miranda is and she's not. She's stupid and she's a baby,' Caprice spat.

Millie's jaw dropped.

There was a long silence.

‘Don't tell me I'd better make the best of it. What! Well, you can tell Daddy that if he sells Shah I'll never speak to him again,' Caprice threatened.

Millie's stomach twisted. If Caprice's father had any sense at all that's exactly what he'd do.

‘I hate you. And I hate Daddy.' A noise like a whimpering puppy came from the cupboard. The door flew open and Caprice stormed out.

Millie stared at her and took a deep breath. ‘I heard what you said about me.'

‘So now you're an eavesdropper too.' Caprice walked into the sitting room and slammed the telephone back into its cradle.

Millie followed her. ‘It's not okay, you know!'

Caprice walked to the table where her books were piled neatly on top of one another. She ignored Millie completely.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room.

The girl's poisonous words swirled in Millie's head. ‘Calling someone mean and ugly isn't very nice, Caprice,' Millie persisted.

‘I didn't say that,' Caprice lied.

‘You must think I'm deaf and stupid,' Millie said with a gulp. She was determined not to cry.

Caprice's eyes filled with tears. ‘You made
me
feel stupid.'

‘What?' Millie couldn't believe what she was hearing. ‘Why are you crying? You're the one who's mean. You're just upset because I heard you.'

‘You don't understand what it's like. I'm new and I don't know anything and all anyone cares about is my famous mother.' Caprice's shoulders began to heave.

The girl deserved an Academy Award, Millie thought to herself. She brushed away the fat tears that had spilled onto her cheeks and glanced around for a box of tissues.

Sloane walked into the room. She looked at Millie and then at the new girl, who she assumed was Caprice.

‘What's the matter?' she asked, rushing to Caprice's side.

Millie shook her head and dumped a handful of tissues on the table in front of Caprice.

The girl took them, then blew her nose and wiped her face.

Millie was waiting for it. More lies.

Caprice stared at Sloane. The girl's brilliant blue eyes glistened. ‘I …' she began. Millie was ready. ‘I … I was feeling really homesick and Millie got homesick too.'

Millie flinched. She wondered what the girl was playing at.

‘Don't worry. Everyone does sometimes,' Sloane said. But she wondered about Millie. That seemed strange.

Millie wanted to go back to her room but she didn't like the idea of leaving Caprice on her own with Sloane. She hovered on the other side of the table.

‘I'm Sloane,' the girl said gently. ‘You must be Caprice. We're sharing a room. Thanks for what you did before. It's never been like that in there – ever.'

Caprice nodded slowly. ‘That's okay,' she snuffled.

‘It probably won't stay that way for long,' Sloane said apologetically.

Caprice looked at her. ‘I'm sure it will,' she said. There was an iciness to her voice that Millie didn't miss.

‘You must be even more optimistic than Alice-Miranda,' Sloane grinned.

‘No. I'm not.' Caprice shook her pretty head and pressed her lips tightly together.

The back door opened and Mrs Howard bustled through.

‘Hello hello,' she greeted the three girls, failing to notice Millie's red face or Caprice's wet eyes. ‘You're just the three I need. Mrs Smith has asked for some girls to help Charlie put out the extra tables and chairs in the dining room. Off you go.'

Millie opened her mouth to object when she saw Mrs Howard raise her eyebrow.

‘Is something the matter, Millicent?'

Sloane answered for her. ‘They were both just a bit homesick.'

Mrs Howard frowned. She'd never known Millie to be homesick in all the years she'd been at school. ‘Really?'

Caprice gave a theatrical sniff. Millie nodded.

But Mrs Howard wasn't convinced. ‘Well, in my experience there's nothing like some manual labour to take your mind off home.' She brushed her hands together. ‘Off you go, girls. Charlie's in the dining room.'

‘Don't worry,' Sloane said to Caprice as they headed out the door. ‘You'll get used to it. I hated school when I first came but now I couldn't imagine being anywhere else.'

‘Thanks.' Caprice smiled at the girl. ‘It's good to have a friend.' She turned and narrowed her eyes at Millie, who thought she might be sick.

Hugh Kennington-Jones scanned the page in his hand. He'd been going over the numbers for hours and the same solution kept bubbling to the surface. He was deep in thought when there was a knock at the study door.

Cecelia Highton-Smith popped her head around. ‘Hello darling, can I interest you in a cup of tea and some chocolate cake? Dolly's been baking this morning and I have to say it's one of her best.'

‘Ah, that would be lovely.' Hugh pushed the chair back and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. He turned and stared out the window across the field.

Cecelia set the tray down on the corner of the enormous leather-topped desk.

‘Is something wrong, Hugh?' He had seemed preoccupied for the last few days.

Hugh spun around. ‘I've been going through the finances for Pelham Park and I'm afraid the nursing home wing is costing far more than we ever expected. The apartments are fine, the residents purchase those and contribute to their upkeep, but we always said that we'd provide high care at no cost and I want to be able to keep doing that. It just has to be sustainable. I can't keep moving money from Kennington's to pay for it.'

Cecelia bit down on her pinkie nail. ‘What are you thinking?'

‘I don't know but the more I look at it the more I wonder if we're going to have to sell to one of those specialist aged-care providers,' Hugh replied.

‘No, the whole model will change,' Cecelia said with alarm. ‘We always said that we wanted the place to be about giving back. Half the residents are former
staff of Highton's and Kennington's or people who've lived on the estates. I know Daisy has finally decided to book Granny Bert in too.'

‘I know, I know. That's why I've been racking my brain.' Hugh poured the tea and then some milk into the fine china cup.

‘Surely there must be something of value over there that we can sell. There's all that furniture and bric-a-brac in the cellar we said we'd send to auction one day.'

Hugh looked at his wife. A smile crept across his face. ‘Oh, Cee, you're a genius!' He strode over and wrapped his arms around the woman and gave her a smacking great kiss on the lips.

‘What was that for?' Cecelia giggled. ‘I can't imagine that we'll make a fortune from a bunch of old sideboards and your father's predilection for stuffed animals.'

‘No, not that.' Hugh shook his head. ‘Mother's art collection. When she died, father had all of the paintings she loved taken down to the cellars and stored in a vault off to the side. He said he couldn't bear to look at it any more. I suspect that had as much to do with my brother's disappearance. I poked my head in there during the renovations and thought we
should do something about it one of these days. But I hadn't given it another thought until now. Actually, it's unforgivable to have left it doing nothing all this time. It could be the answer to our problems.'

Cecelia frowned. ‘I hadn't even realised there
was
a vault down there.' She had avoided the cellars during the transformation of the house, preferring to banish all those dreadful taxidermied beasts there. ‘Is there much in the collection?'

‘Masses. Mother loved her art and father hated it in equal measure, I think. I'm sure that some of it is museum-and gallery-worthy but we'll have to get someone in. I'm no authority.'

‘Why don't you ask your brother to sort it out?' Cecelia suggested. ‘He's always saying he wants to come and see us and this gives him a proper reason to be here. No more excuses that he's too busy – because this
is
work. Ed's an expert after all and he's family.'

‘Do you think he'd come? There are so many bad memories for him at Pelham Park.' Hugh walked back to the desk and picked up his tea cup.

Ed Clifton was Hugh's elder brother by fourteen years. Hugh was just a small boy when he was told that his mother and brother had been killed in an accident, but that wasn't the truth at all. One fateful
night, with the rain beating down and the thunder overhead, Hugh's brother had left home, defying his father's wish that he work in the family business. The young man, then known as Xavier, had decided to pursue his art. His mother had helped him leave and given him a painting, which she told him to sell to fund his studies.

The very next evening, Arabella Kennington-Jones was killed in a car accident. Hugh's father said that his brother was with her and he buried the two of them, side by side – except, of course, one of the coffins was empty.

Xavier set about building a new life for himself in New York. He donated the painting, a Renoir of a mother and her son, to the Metropolitan Museum, where he could look at it any time he liked and so could the rest of the world. He changed his name from Xavier to Edward, his middle name, which he paired with his mother's maiden name, Clifton. Over the years he became a highly successful artist and critic. He had long believed that his younger brother wasn't interested in a relationship with him, not knowing that Hugh had grown up thinking he'd died. It was only when Alice-Miranda visited New York with her parents that fate threw
her together with her uncle, and the brothers were reunited.

‘I was talking to him last week and mentioned the upcoming anniversary celebrations at Pelham Park. I said that he wouldn't know the place these days and he seemed interested. He was asking lots of questions. Coming back might give him some sense of closure with your father and mother,' Cecelia said.

‘You're absolutely right, and there's no harm in asking. He can only say no,' Hugh said thoughtfully.

‘Why don't you call him now and explain what we're trying to do. He should have a chance to see if there's anything he'd like for himself anyway,' Cecelia suggested.

Hugh smiled at his wife. ‘How do you do that?'

‘Do what?' she asked.

‘Make me fall in love with you again every single day.' Hugh sat down and picked up the telephone.

‘It's a gift, darling.' Cecelia winked then turned and walked out the door.