Clementine Rose and the Famous Friend 7 (5 page)

Just before seven o'clock the guests gathered in the downstairs sitting room. Uncle Digby offered pre-dinner drinks while Lady Clarissa was busy in the kitchen. Mrs Mogg was there too, helping to prepare the meal. Entrees of salad and cold meats were already in place around the dining room table but the main course of roast beef, baked potatoes and a variety of vegetables was still simmering and sizzling in the ovens and on the cooktop.

‘Clarissa, why don't you go and join everyone?' Mrs Mogg urged. ‘Digby and I have this under control.'

‘Thank you, Margaret,' Lady Clarissa said. She removed her apron and hung it on the hook beside the stove. ‘You're a gem. Have you seen Clementine?'

At that moment the child skipped down the back stairs.

‘Hello Mummy, hello Mrs Mogg.'

Mrs Mogg spun around. ‘Oh my goodness, don't you look lovely?'

Clementine wore a pink dress sprinkled with a pretty rose pattern. It was tied at the back with a large green bow. She had a matching bow in her hair and silver ballet slippers on her feet. She gave a twirl. ‘I love this dress. Thank you for making it, Mrs Mogg.'

‘Come along, darling,' Lady Clarissa said. ‘And what do you have to remember?'

‘My best manners.' Clementine emphasised the word ‘best'.

Lady Clarissa nodded. ‘And?'

Clementine's nose wrinkled as she thought for a moment. ‘Don't say anything mean about the guests.' She was remembering the time she told a lady her job sounded boring and her mother had got cross.

Lady Clarissa smiled. ‘Yes, but I hope you never say mean things, Clementine.'

‘Not on purpose,' the child replied.

Lady Clarissa led Clementine into the sitting room. Six guests were standing about drinking champagne and chatting. She scanned the room but there was no sign of Aunt Violet. A few minutes earlier Clarissa had heard her on the telephone making arrangements to fix something. But when she'd asked what it was, Aunt Violet had told her to mind her own business.

Clarissa introduced Clementine to Mr and Mrs Morley. He was a stocky man with thinning grey hair, while his wife was much taller with vivid red hair. Clementine thought they looked quite old, like Aunt Violet.

Mrs Morley leaned down, her long nose
almost touching Clementine's. ‘Hello dear. Is it lovely to live in this great big old house?'

The child reeled backwards as the fishy cloud of Mrs Morley's breath hit her nostrils.

Clementine clamped her mouth shut and nodded her head like a trained seal. She could feel her face getting redder and her lungs growing tighter.

Mrs Morley frowned and wondered if there was something wrong with the girl. Perhaps she needed the toilet.

‘Clementine, come and meet the Lees,' said Clarissa and guided her away.

The girl let out a huge sigh.

Mr Lee was a tall man with sleek black hair and round glasses. He wore a maroon-coloured velvet sports coat. His wife was blonde and wore a fitted dress patterned with sprays of white gardenias.

‘Hello,' said Clementine. ‘I like your jacket, Mr Lee. And Mrs Lee, your dress is lovely.'

‘Oh, aren't you a darling?' Mrs Lee leaned down and met Clementine's gaze.

‘And you smell nice too.' Clementine inhaled the woman's musk perfume, banishing the memory of Mrs Morley's tuna breath.

‘What a precious child.' Mr Lee looked at his wife and they both giggled.

Mrs Lee touched her husband's arm. ‘Maybe we should have one.'

Clementine shook her head slowly. ‘Not all children are lovely, you know. There's a boy in my class called Joshua and his mother told Mummy that she'd like to give him away. So, you could have him, but you might not like him very much.'

The Lees giggled again.

Lady Clarissa wondered if she should have Uncle Digby clear away the extra place setting for Miss Richardson. There was no sign of the woman, or Aunt Violet for that matter.

The sound of a distant gong interrupted the chatter.

‘They're ready for us in the dining room,' Lady Clarissa announced.

‘Do you always use the gong?' asked a round
woman in a fluttery posh voice. She wore a shimmery jacket and a pillbox hat with a tiny veil covering her eyes. An enormous silver handbag hung over her shoulder. Clementine thought she could turn it upside down and use it as a cubbyhouse.

‘No, Mrs Biggins, not these days. The house was run much more formally when I was little, especially if grandmamma was here visiting,' Lady Clarissa explained. ‘Now if you'd like to follow me …'

Lady Clarissa walked into the foyer and across to the dining room. The guests paraded behind her. Clementine stayed at the back, showing everyone her best manners and letting them go first.

The group disappeared through the dining room door just as Aunt Violet walked down the main staircase. She was wearing a lovely cream silk pants-suit. A short, grey-haired woman was beside her.

‘Hello Aunt Violet,' Clementine said. ‘Is everything all right?'

‘Yes, except that I must look a terrible mess. I only had a minute to get changed because I've been busy sorting out someone's problems.'

‘Oh,' Clementine said with a gulp. She wondered how long it would be until her mother learned of the broken window. ‘Is it fixed?'

‘I just let the glazier in the back door. And don't worry. Clementine, I'm not planning on telling your mother. I'm sure she has enough to worry about.' Aunt Violet gestured towards the woman beside her. ‘This is Miss Richardson.'

‘Thank you, Aunt Violet. Hello Miss Richardson,' Clementine said. ‘I'm sorry about your window. I didn't mean to break it. The ball just kept going and going and
smash!
'

Miss Richardson looked at Clementine but remained tight-lipped.

‘And I'm sorry I came to your room the other night. I just wanted to help,' Clementine babbled.

Miss Richardson lowered her eyes to the floor. ‘Never mind.'

‘It's all right,' Clementine said. ‘I know lots of grown-ups don't like children. Aunt Violet doesn't, do you?'

‘Don't be ridiculous, Clementine,' her great-aunt retorted. ‘I like some children. Just not the snivelling ones. Which is most of them.'

Clementine grinned.

Aunt Violet walked into the dining room followed by Miss Richardson and Clementine.

The rest of the guests were taking their seats around the table. Each guest's place was marked with a small card bearing their name in fancy script.

Miss Richardson was seated to Lady Clarissa's left, opposite Clementine.

Mrs Biggins sat beside Miss Richardson. Her husband was even larger than she was and spill ed out over the sides of his chair. He had a black moustache and wild hair. Clementine thought he looked like a cartoon character, with his bulging cheeks and dimpled chin.

Uncle Digby appeared. He began to take the napkins from the bread-and-butter plates
and shake them into the guests' laps. When he reached Mrs Biggins, he noticed the woman was still clutching her handbag.

‘Would you like me to take that for you, ma'am?' Uncle Digby asked. ‘I can put it somewhere safe.'

‘No, don't touch!' Mrs Biggins snapped and gripped the handles tighter.

‘Very well.' He raised his eyebrows playfully at Clementine. She put her hands over her mouth to stop a giggle from escaping.

Mrs Biggins pushed the bag onto her knees and Uncle Digby shook her napkin out and laid it over the top. It looked like a circus tent on her lap.

When Uncle Digby reached Clementine, he leaned down and whispered in the child's ear.

‘What do you think she has in that bag, eh?'

Clementine put her hands on either side of his ear and whispered, ‘Gold. Maybe diamonds too.'

Uncle Digby winked. ‘I'll try again later so we can take a peek.'

Lady Clarissa smiled at her guests as she leaned ever so slightly towards Clementine. ‘What are you two up to?' she murmured.

‘It's a secret.' Clementine put her finger on her lip. Her mother shook her head a little and smiled.

‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,' Lady Clarissa said from her seat at the head of the table. ‘Before we start, I'd like to introduce everyone, if I may?'

Aunt Violet rolled her eyes and muttered, ‘What is this? A self-help group?'

Lady Clarissa eyeballed her aunt and continued. ‘I think all of you have met my daughter, Clementine Rose, and that's my aunt, Miss Appleby.' She nodded at the old woman opposite her, then turned to her left. ‘This
is Miss Richardson and next to her we have Mrs Biggins, then Mr Biggins and Mrs Morley. Across the table is Mr Morley and on my right we have Mr and Mrs Lee. Bon appétit.'

The group nodded politely at one another and picked up their cutlery. A few minutes later, Mr Morley asked, ‘So, what brings everyone to Penberthy Floss?'

‘We love a country weekend,' Mr Biggins said. He smiled at his wife, but she was too preoccupied with her handbag to notice.

‘It's our first wedding anniversary.' Mrs Lee fluttered her eyelashes and patted her husband's arm.

‘Oh, congratulations … Well done …' a chorus of voices said at once.

‘What about you, Mr Morley?' Aunt Violet asked.

‘I'm writing a book, actually. I thought it would be nice to find a peaceful place in the country to work on it,' the man said with a smug smile.

Aunt Violet groaned and then tried to
hide it by saying, ‘What a coincidence. Miss Richardson is also writing a book.' She raised her eyebrows at the woman. Miss Richardson focused on the lettuce leaves in front of her while her cheeks grew red.

‘Oh really, Miss Richardson. Is that so? What do you write?' Mr Morley asked.

She glanced up. ‘It's nothing, Mr Morley. Just a little project.'

‘Well, not everyone's as talented as my Dennis,' declared Mrs Morley. She grinned and revealed a set of teeth as yellow as cheese. ‘But you mustn't give up, dear. If you stick with it and perhaps join some writers' groups, you never know what might happen. Although at your age you really mustn't leave it too long.'

Miss Richardson frowned and a squeak escaped from her lips. Clementine watched her closely from the other side of the table.

Digby Pertwhistle entered and cleared the entree plates.

‘And what is it that
you've
written, Mr Morley?' Miss Richardson asked.

‘Dennis has done a lovely little book for kiddies,' his wife answered for him. ‘It's about a train and a dragon and there are some fairies too.'

Clementine's eyes lit up. ‘Are you famous, Mr Morley?'

‘Clemmie,' Lady Clarissa whispered and frowned at the child. ‘Manners, darling.'

‘Sorry, Mummy. It's just that I have to do a school project about a famous person and I wondered if Mr Morley was famous.'

‘Well, I don't like to boast but I did just have a lovely spread in our village newspaper,' the man replied.

Mrs Mogg and Uncle Digby arrived bearing the main course as Miss Richardson coughed delicately into her napkin.

‘Where can we buy this book of yours, Morley?' Mr Biggins asked as Mrs Mogg set a plate of roast beef and vegetables in front of him.

Mrs Morley answered for him again. ‘Well, it's not quite ready yet and we're just waiting
to hear back from a publisher, but they're very excited about it. I'm sure they're going to take it on.'

A ‘huh' sound blurted from Miss Richardson's lips. She took a mouthful of food and chewed it rapidly.

‘Your project sounds exciting, Clementine,' Mrs Lee said from the other end of the table. ‘Who else do you think you might choose for it?'

‘I'm not sure,' Clementine said, her brow furrowing. The question had been in the back of her mind all afternoon. ‘I thought about Tilda and Teddy's mum, Ana, because she was a famous ballerina. But Tilda is going to talk about her and it would be silly to have two projects on the same person.'

‘What about a singer?' Mr Lee suggested.

‘No, the child doesn't want popular nonsense,' Mr Biggins tutted. ‘She should be studying a prime minister or an explorer.'

Aunt Violet rolled her eyes. ‘Well, that sounds frightfully dull.'

It seemed that almost everyone around the table had an opinion about Clementine's project.

Digby Pertwhistle stepped forward to top up Clementine's water glass. ‘What about your favourite author? The one who writes all those poems and stories we like,' he whispered.

Clementine's eyes lit up. ‘That's a great idea, Uncle Digby.'

The others continued their chatter until Clementine announced, ‘I've decided.'

The hubbub died down.

Just as she was about to speak, Clementine noticed Mrs Biggins's napkin moving. It seemed to flutter upwards.

Clementine leaned forward and tilted her head as far as she could to see over the table.

Mrs Biggins jabbed a piece of meat with her fork. But instead of lifting it to her mouth, she put it in her lap.

The napkin moved again.

‘Excuse me, Mrs Biggins, but why are you feeding your napkin?' Clementine asked.

Eight pairs of eyes suddenly turned towards Mrs Biggins, who hastily set her fork on her plate.

‘What are you talking about?' she snapped, then shovelled some more food onto her fork and gobbled it down.

But Clementine wasn't convinced and neither was Miss Richardson, who jumped when the napkin wriggled again. ‘Mrs Biggins, is something in your bag?'

Mrs Biggins frowned and smoothed the napkin on her lap. Just as she did, a fluffy white head poked out.

‘Oh my heavens, what's that?' Aunt Violet shrieked.

Miss Richardson giggled. ‘You're very cute!'

Clementine giggled too.

‘What are you laughing at? It's not funny at all!' Aunt Violet cried.

The tiny creature pushed itself forward and stole a piece of roast beef from Miss Richardson's plate. The old woman's eyes lit up. ‘Cheeky!'

‘Get it out of here!' Aunt Violet demanded.

Mrs Biggins grasped at the animal but the little dog leapt from her lap onto the table. It danced down the centre, knocking the candelabra into a flaming wobble, which Uncle Digby somehow managed to catch. Arms reached out from all over the place to stop the escapee.

‘Polly! Come back!' Mrs Biggins shouted.

‘I'll get her.' Clementine took off after the powder puff, which was half the size of Lavender.

Polly ran towards Aunt Violet, who dived left and then right trying to block the creature's path. ‘You're not going anywhere, mutt,' Aunt Violet yelled.

But Polly had other ideas. She ran straight through the middle of Aunt Violet's plate, leaving paw prints in the gravy, and jumped onto the woman's lap and down to the floor.

‘Urgh, my suit! It's ruined!' Aunt Violet stared in horror at the brown stains on her cream outfit.

By now the entire party was on their feet, set for the chase.

Mrs Mogg was coming to check on the progress of dinner when Polly raced through the woman's legs and down the hallway. The little dog left yet more gravy splodges in her wake.

‘Polly!' Clementine called and raced after her. The rest of the group were hot on her heels.

‘Oh, my darling doggy,' Mrs Biggins wailed. ‘Don't you hurt her!'

‘That's not a dog. It's a polishing cloth with legs,' Aunt Violet squawked.

‘How dare you?' Mrs Biggins gasped.

‘And how dare you bring a dog to dinner? I'm sure Clarissa told you that we don't take pets. Heavens knows how much they'd upset Pharaoh – and Lavender, for that matter.'

Clementine saw the creature disappear through the swinging kitchen door and ran after her. Finally Polly stopped by the cooker, trapped between Pharaoh and
Lavender, who hissed and grunted at their unexpected visitor.

‘Polly,' Clementine called in a singsong voice. ‘Here Polly, would you like something to eat?' Clementine spotted some leftover beef on a plate on the table. She grabbed a small piece and offered it to the dog.

By now the entire dinner party was standing behind the child, craning their necks to see the tiny pup.

‘What is it?' Mrs Lee asked.

‘It's a Teacup Pomeranian,' Mrs Biggins said. ‘But what on earth is that?' She pointed at the sphynx cat.

‘That's my Pharaoh and you'd better hope he doesn't take a dislike to Polly or things might get ugly,' said Aunt Violet.

Polly sniffed the air as Clementine slowly walked towards her. Pharaoh yowled.

‘You can have some too,' the child said. She tore the tasty morsel in half and offered a piece in each hand. Pharaoh slunk forward and took the meat before retreating to Lavender's basket.

Lavender watched the little dog, whose tail swished like a windscreen wiper on high speed.

Polly took two steps forward then danced back. She wriggled and waggled her tail and eventually snatched the piece of meat from Clementine's hand. Clementine reached out and picked the little fur ball up, clutching her to her chest.

‘Give her to me!' Mrs Biggins demanded.

Clementine stroked the top of the dog's head. ‘You're so cute,' she cooed.

Mrs Biggins snatched the dog from Clementine's arms.

‘Well, I think we should be getting back to dinner,' Lady Clarissa said loudly, hoping that the adventure hadn't caused her other guests too much distress. The last thing Penberthy House needed was a bad review.

‘That dog's not welcome!' Aunt Violet sniffed.

‘Come along, Muriel,' Mr Biggins blustered. ‘We'll get our things.'

‘Yes, and I'll be sending you a bill for my
dry-cleaning too.' Aunt Violet spun around and stalked away.

Most of the group retreated to the dining room, leaving Clementine and her mother with the Bigginses.

‘There's no need for you to leave,' Lady Clarissa said calmly. ‘We don't usually accommodate pets but it's getting late and there are no other hotels close by. Why don't we get one of Lavender's spare baskets and a water bowl and some food, and Polly can spend the rest of the evening in your room.'

‘That's very kind, Lady Clarissa,' said Mr Biggins. He glared at his wife. ‘Isn't it?'

‘Yes,' the woman whispered.

‘I told you we should have left her with your sister but oh no, why would you listen to me,' Mr Biggins hissed through gritted teeth.

‘Clemmie, run along to the dining room and let Uncle Digby know we'll be ready for dessert in ten minutes,' Lady Clarissa instructed.

Clementine nodded and scampered away.