Clementine Rose and the Pet Day Disaster 2 (8 page)

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 minute. 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.

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-waiting, 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.