Clementine Rose and the Famous Friend 7 (3 page)

By Friday morning Clementine hadn't seen any more of the mysterious Miss Richardson. She had tried to accompany her mother or Uncle Digby to deliver trays of food or freshly washed clothes to the woman, but she was sent away each time. As the week wore on more guests came to stay, so Lady Clarissa and Uncle Digby were kept very busy. Aunt Violet was left in charge of getting Clementine to and from school each day.

‘Do you think there's something wrong with
Miss Richardson?' Clementine asked from the back seat of Aunt Violet's shiny red car as they sped towards school on Friday morning. ‘Maybe she's allergic to sunshine or something.' Clementine gasped. ‘Maybe she's a vampire!'

Clementine had heard of vampires only recently. Tilda and Teddy were so disappointed that there were no ghosts at Penberthy House that Teddy decided there might be vampires instead. Clementine didn't believe it. She'd never seen any bats in the house.

Aunt Violet tutted as her eyes met Clementine's in the rear-vision mirror. ‘A vampire? What nonsense are you talking about now? I suspect she's simply suffering from a bout of self-importance.'

‘What do you mean?' the child asked.

‘Well, she came to write a book, didn't she? She must think it's frightfully important for her to stay in that room working all day and night. I don't think it's very healthy and certainly not at all sociable, and as for the number of times she rings that bell of hers – she's had us
all running up and down those stairs like mad monkeys.' Aunt Violet pouted and pulled into the kerb at the front of the school. ‘Have a good day, Clementine.'

‘You know you're not supposed to park here,' Clementine said, pointing at the NO STOPPING sign.

‘I'm not parking. I'm dropping. Now hurry up and get out,' said Aunt Violet.

Clementine leaned forward between the seats and pecked her great-aunt's powdery cheek. ‘See you this afternoon.' She hopped out of the car, shut the door with a bang and raced away.

‘How many times do I have to tell you not to slam the door!' the old woman yelled.

Clementine and her fellow Warthogs tumbled into the classroom after lunch and went straight to their desks. They couldn't wait to hear what Mr Smee had in store for them. That
morning he'd taught them a new song, they'd had a run around the obstacle course on the oval and finished two pages of sums. The work was definitely harder than in Kindergarten but Clementine couldn't remember loving school as much as she had in the past week.

‘Year One, I have to give it to Mrs Bottomley, she certainly has taught you well,' Mr Smee said as he looked out at his eager students. ‘I've decided to set you a project. It will be challenging, but I think you'll find it fun. And school
should
be fun, shouldn't it?' he asked with a smile.

The students looked at one another in delight. Mrs Bottomley had never mentioned ‘fun' in the classroom.

Angus Archibald raised his hand. Mr Smee nodded.

‘What's a project?' Angus asked.

‘Does anyone know?' Mr Smee scanned the room. Hands shot up all over the place. ‘Yes, Teddy?'

‘It's when you do research,' said the boy.

Mr Smee nodded. ‘Very good.'

‘What's research?' Joshua called out.

‘Did you forget something?' Mr Smee looked at the lad closely. Joshua quickly put his hand up. Mr Smee grinned. ‘Yes, Joshua?'

‘What's research?' the boy asked.

‘Would anyone like to explain?'

Astrid's hand was already in the air. The teacher pointed to her. ‘Research is where you find out facts about things. Then you have to write a report or do a presentation with those facts. That's the project part,' she answered.

Mr Smee nodded. ‘Very good. I want you to think about someone you admire. It might be a person who has invented something or plays sport or your favourite author or someone in the community who makes a difference. They don't have to be famous but it's probably simpler if they are, because then it will be easier to look them up. Once you have collected some interesting facts about your chosen person, you will give a talk pretending you're that person.'

Angus's face scrunched up. ‘I don't get it.'

‘Yeah,' Joshua butted in. ‘How can you be someone else?'

‘Put up your hand if you've ever pretended to be another person? Maybe a superhero or a king or a queen?' the teacher asked.

Twenty hands shot into the air.

‘Ooh. Batman!' Joshua called out.

Mr Smee stared at the boy, who raised his hand too.

‘Well, instead of just imagining what it's like to be someone else, this time you have to find out some important things about the person you choose. Then you can dress up like them and give a short talk pretending that you are them,' Mr Smee said. ‘Yes, Astrid?'

‘If I chose Queen Georgiana, I could dress up like her and say, “Good evening, royal subjects”.' Astrid spoke with a funny posh voice and the children giggled. ‘Is that what you mean?'

Mr Smee smiled. ‘That's exactly what I mean.'

‘Can I be my mum?' asked Tilda.

‘She's not famous,' Joshua scoffed. ‘She's just a boring mum.'

Clementine turned around and faced the boy. ‘Mums aren't boring and Tilda's mum was a ballerina.'

‘No, she wasn't,' the boy retorted.

‘It's true. Mummy was a famous dancer,' said Tilda.

‘I think you'll find, Joshua, that Anastasia Barkov was the principal dancer with the Royal Ballet for many years,' said Mr Smee.

Joshua looked from Tilda to the teacher. ‘But I thought her mum's name was Mrs Hobbs.'

‘That raises an interesting point, doesn't it?' said Mr Smee. ‘Some famous people use different names for their work. Writers do that a lot and so do actors.'

‘That's stupid,' Joshua declared. ‘When I'm a movie star I'm going to be Joshua Tribble.'

‘Well, it's a name no one will forget,' Mr Smee said with a grin. ‘So … choose your person over the weekend and on Monday we'll start researching. I've asked Miss Critchley if Year
One can be in charge of assembly the week after that. We'll invite your parents in and you can present your work to the whole school.'

‘Oh!' the children gasped.

‘Mrs Bottomley only let us sing a song once at assembly last year and it was really boring,' Joshua said. ‘It was about parsley and sage and someone called Rosemary who couldn't tell the time.'

Mr Smee laughed. ‘Do you mean “Scarborough Fair”?'

The children nodded.

He remembered singing that when he was a boy. ‘That's a lovely old song,' he said, almost feeling sorry for Mrs Bottomley. Perhaps he could give her some newer material that the children might know.

‘We'll be famous,' Angus blurted.

‘Well, famous at Ellery Prep,' said Mr Smee.

‘Cool,' Joshua said. ‘I'm Batman.'

‘Batman's not real, Joshua,' Teddy called.

‘Yes, he is,' the boy snapped.

‘It's okay, Joshua. I can help you with some ideas,' Mr Smee offered.

‘This is going to be fun,' Clementine announced. The rest of the Warthogs nodded.

‘I have a note for you to take home tonight so you can talk to your parents about your famous friend,' Mr Smee concluded.

‘Is that what we're calling the project?' Astrid asked.

‘You know, Astrid, in the past I've called the project “My Hero”, but I really like “My Famous Friend”. Let's put it to a vote.'

Mr Smee hadn't noticed Ethel Bottomley standing in the doorway. She was listening intently and watching the man's every move.

‘Who'd like to call our special project “My Famous Friend”?' the teacher asked.

Most of the children raised their hands.

‘Who votes for “My Hero”?'

Joshua, Angus and three other students put their hands up.

‘That's it then,' said Mr Smee. ‘My Famous Friend it is.'

‘Oh,'
Joshua whined. ‘Heroes are much better. Like Batman.'

Mrs Bottomley had seen quite enough. She knocked loudly on the doorframe.

The children immediately sat up straighter and folded their arms in front of them.

‘Hello Mrs Bottomley,' Mr Smee greeted her. ‘What can I do for you?'

‘I hadn't realised Year One was a democracy,' the old woman griped. She pinched her lips together as if she'd just sucked a lemon.

‘Oh yes,' the man replied. ‘Just wait until you see what the children have in store for you in a couple of weeks' time.'

‘I shudder to think. I suspect by then they'll be in charge of the classroom, with you tied to your chair, blindfolded and a … a … a pumpkin balanced on your head!' she exclaimed.

There was a gasp as the children watched Mrs Bottomley turn on her sensible brown heels and march out the door.

‘Oops,' Mr Smee said with a grimace. He wondered if there was a reason she'd
come to the door or if she was simply spying on him.

‘Don't worry about her, Mr Smee,' Clementine said. ‘Mrs Bottomley barks more than she bites.'

‘Well, that's a relief.' The teacher gave Clementine an embarrassed grin. He was imagining just how big a pumpkin might fit on top of his head.

Clementine and her friends hurried to the school gate where lots of parents were milling about waiting for their children. She scanned the crowd, searching for Aunt Violet, but there was no sign of her. It wasn't long until there was just Clementine, Tilda, Teddy and Araminta Hobbs left standing with Mrs Bottomley, who was on duty.

‘Who's picking you up today, Clementine?' the teacher asked.

‘It's supposed to be Aunt Violet but she must be running late,' Clementine replied with a shrug.

Mrs Bottomley looked down at her watch. ‘I hope she's not too much longer. I have an appointment at the hairdresser.'

‘But your hair always looks the same,' Clementine commented.

‘Yes, that's because I have regular appointments. What about you lot?' Mrs Bottomley looked at Araminta and the twins.

‘Daddy's coming, I think,' the older girl said.

The woman frowned. ‘Well, he'd better hurry up too.'

In the distance the children spied a red car speeding towards them. It screeched to a halt and Aunt Violet hopped out and walked around to the footpath.

‘You're a bit late, Violet,' Mrs Bottomley said tersely.

‘Ethel, you have no idea,' Aunt Violet blustered, ignoring her friend's tetchiness. ‘We have a very demanding guest at the
moment and Clarissa and Pertwhistle have been so distracted that I've been running up and down stairs to the woman, seeing to her every need. She rings that bell more often than a door-to-door salesman. But I'm not allowed to use mine – even when I've got a bad head, all I get is ignored!'

‘Poor you,' Mrs Bottomley commented. ‘Perhaps you'd like to spend a day with Kindergarten instead?'

‘Godfathers, not in this lifetime. Although apparently I'm running a car pool for half the village.' The old woman cast her eyes towards the Hobbs children.

‘Oh good, are you taking them with you?' Mrs Bottomley asked. She was thinking that she might just make her hair appointment after all.

‘Yes,' Aunt Violet huffed.

‘Why are you late, Aunt Violet?' Clementine asked.

‘And hello to you too. Come along Hobbses, you're coming with us,' said Aunt Violet, turning
her attention to the three children standing by the fence.

Clementine's eyes lit up.

Araminta frowned. ‘But Daddy said he'd pick us up on his way home from the city.'

‘It seems that your parents have been delayed. They'll drop over and get you in a little while,' Aunt Violet said. ‘I'll see you for bridge next week, Ethel.' Aunt Violet turned back around but Mrs Bottomley had already fled. ‘Good heavens! What's happened to everyone's manners today?'

Teddy wrenched open the back door of the car and launched his backpack across the seat. ‘Can we play with Lavender when we get home?'

‘Excuse me, young man! I don't know how you treat your parents' car, but in mine bags go in the boot, if you don't mind,' Aunt Violet said tersely.

Teddy sheepishly crawled across the seat and retrieved the offending item, which Aunt Violet snatched off him.

‘We can play with Lavender and Pharaoh too,' Clementine said, trying to make Teddy feel better.

The children piled into the back of the car. Araminta sat next to Aunt Violet, who turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine.

‘Has everyone got their seatbelts on?' Araminta asked as she realised the old woman was about to drive off without checking.

‘Oh, yes, hurry up,' Aunt Violet said. ‘I have to stop at Pierre's. Why he couldn't have delivered everything this afternoon is beyond me. What do I look like? A courier?'

‘Pierre's? Yum!' Clementine exclaimed. ‘May we have something for afternoon tea?'

‘Don't push your luck, Clementine,' Aunt Violet said as she sped away from the kerb and down the street.

Aunt Violet pulled up outside the shop and was surprised to see Pierre standing on the footpath holding two large cake boxes.

‘Bonjour, Madam Appleby,' he said with a smile as the woman hopped out of the car. ‘I 'ave everything ready for you. Monsieur
Pertwhistle telephoned ahead and said that you would 'ave the children, so it is much easier for me to come out to you. And I am so sorry I could not make the delivery. My van is being repaired.'

‘Oh. Well, thank you, Pierre,' Aunt Violet replied. His gesture seemed to take the wind right out of her sails.

Clementine put the window down so she could say hello.

‘I 'ope you don't mind but I have included some treats for the youngsters.' Pierre looked at Clementine and gave her a wink.

Clementine clapped her hands together. ‘Thank you, Pierre,' she called.

The man placed the boxes in the boot and made sure they were securely positioned with the schoolbags around them.

‘Bon appétit, children!' Pierre grinned and gave a wave as Aunt Violet hopped back into the car. Clementine and the Hobbs children waved back as Aunt Violet drove away.

‘Pierre's so thoughtful,' said Clementine.

Tilda nodded. ‘And he makes the best cakes.'

The children chatted as Aunt Violet concentrated on the road ahead.

‘Who are you going to do your project on, Clementine?' Tilda asked.

‘I don't know,' she replied.

‘What's this about a project?' Aunt Violet asked.

‘It's called My Famous Friend,' Tilda offered. ‘I'm doing mine about Mummy.'

‘And I'm going to do Daddy,' said Teddy.

‘Clementine, what about you?' Aunt Violet asked.

‘I don't know.' She shook her head. ‘There's no one famous in our family.'

‘Does the person have to be famous?' Aunt Violet asked, glancing in the rear-vision mirror at the children in the back seat.

‘They have to be someone we admire and look up to,' Teddy explained.

‘Well,' said Aunt Violet. ‘Isn't there someone in the family you admire and look up to, Clementine?'

‘Mummy and Grandpa, but they're not famous. I wonder if Miss Richardson is famous. She's the writer lady who's staying at the house,' Clementine explained to her friends.

‘Well, that's lovely, isn't it? Not only do I get the pleasure of ferrying you all over the country side, I'm not even mildly interesting enough to be considered,' Aunt Violet muttered under her breath.

‘What did you say, Aunt Violet?' Clementine asked.

‘I said I've told you, Clementine. I've never heard of Miss Richardson. Surely there's someone else in the family that you'd like to do your project on?' Her mouth tightened in a straight line.

Tilda saw Aunt Violet's face in the mirror then leaned over and whispered in Clementine's ear.

‘Aunt
Violet
?' Clementine looked at her friend in confusion.

The old woman's ears perked up. ‘Oh, Clementine, really, you'd like to do your project on me?'

Clementine still looked puzzled. ‘No. You're not famous, Aunt Violet, and you haven't done anything interesting.'

‘Well, for your information I've done plenty of interesting things, thank you very much. A lot more than that dowdy old woman upstairs.'

Aunt Violet's chin trembled and she looked as if she might cry.

Tilda watched her carefully in the mirror. ‘Are you all right, Miss Appleby?'

‘I'm fine, Tilda,' she snapped and stared at the road ahead. ‘I know when I'm not wanted.'

Clementine bit her lip. ‘I'm sorry, Aunt Violet.'

‘Yes, I'm sorry too, Clementine,' the old woman said.

For the rest of the journey you could have heard a pin drop.

Uncle Digby was putting the rubbish out when Aunt Violet turned the car into the driveway and pulled up in front of the garage.

The children leapt out and ran around to collect their bags from the boot.

‘Did you go to Pierre's?' the old man asked as Aunt Violet stalked past him.

‘Yes, of course,' she huffed. ‘Although no one in this family gives half a thought to my contributions.'

Uncle Digby frowned. He looked at Clementine. ‘What was that all about?'

Clementine shrugged. ‘I think Aunt Violet's upset because I didn't want to do my project on her.'

Uncle Digby's eyebrows shot up but all he said was, ‘Oh, I see.' He retrieved the cake boxes. ‘Why don't you go and play and I'll bring you something to eat soon.'

Clementine and the Hobbs children nodded and raced away inside to dump their bags.

‘I'll get my ball,' said Clementine.

Soon the four of them were enjoying a
boisterous game of soccer on the back lawn. Lavender changed teams depending on the direction of the ball. The little pig squeaked and grunted as she wove in and out of legs, pushing the ball with her snout whenever it came her way. Pharaoh had joined in for a couple of minutes until a fluttery white butterfly stole his attention and he chased it into the hollyhocks instead.

‘Hello Uncle Digby.' Clementine gave a wave as the old man appeared at the back door carrying a tray.

‘Here's your afternoon tea at last,' he announced. ‘Your mother and I have been caught up with guests.'

‘Is Aunt Violet all right?' Clementine asked with a frown.

‘I haven't seen her since you arrived home,' Uncle Digby said.

‘Oh.' Clementine bit her lip and then shrugged and turned to her friends. ‘Who wants some lemonade?'

Uncle Digby poured four tall glasses as the three siblings charged over.

Teddy downed his in one gulp. ‘Ahhh!'

‘Steady on there, Teddy, you'll give yourself a tummy ache.' Uncle Digby grinned at the lad, who reached for a chocolate brownie.

‘Soccer makes you thirsty,' Teddy replied. ‘And hungry.'

Lavender snuffled over to her water bowl by the back door.

‘Your mother telephoned a little while ago and said that she and your father will be here in about fifteen minutes,' Uncle Digby informed the Hobbs children.

There was a groan all around.

‘Come on, we'd better finish the game,' said Clementine. She put her glass down on the tray.

‘Just leave all that and I'll get it later,' Uncle Digby said as he walked back to the door.

‘Thanks, Uncle Digby,' the children chorused.

The old man smiled to himself.

‘What's the score?' Tilda asked.

‘It's one–nil, Clementine and Teddy's way,' Araminta announced.

‘Come on, Mintie, we need to score a goal,' Tilda urged her big sister.

Clementine placed the ball in the middle of the lawn and ran backwards to stand beside Teddy. Teddy gave the referee's whistle and Araminta rushed forward. She kicked the ball as hard as she could down the pitch. Lavender looked up from where she was resting by the back steps, squealed and raced after it.

Teddy reached it first. ‘Clementine,' he called as he kicked the ball past his big sister. Clementine stopped the ball and tried to dribble it past Tilda, who stole it back again and kicked it to Araminta.

‘Come on, Tilda,' Araminta called as she raced towards the makeshift goal. She kicked and the ball flew past Clemmie and Teddy, straight into goal.

Tilda and Araminta raced towards each other, hands in the air, whooping and squealing. Lavender was squealing too.

‘Good goal, Mintie,' Teddy called as he
picked up the ball and ran back to the centre of the lawn. ‘It's one-all.'

The children regrouped. Tilda whistled and Teddy kicked the ball back towards Clementine. She raced down the pitch past Araminta and Tilda. Clementine looked at the goal, a frown of determination on her face. Araminta tackled Clementine just as the younger girl was about to kick for goal. They both connected with the ball at the same time. It flew into the air, higher and higher.

‘Oh no!' Clementine shouted as she watched it soaring towards the house.

Smash! The ball splintered the window, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of the pane.

The Hobbs children clutched their hands to their mouths and stood still, waiting for someone to appear.

Araminta raced towards the house and peered up at the shattered glass. ‘I'm sorry, Clemmie. That was all my fault.'

Clementine shook her head. ‘No, it wasn't. I kicked it too.'