‘How’s that gorgeous little niece of mine?’ Ed asked as he climbed into the back seat.
‘She’s great. Just started back at school but oddly enough is off to camp today,’ Hugh said.
‘That’s a bit soon, isn’t it?’ Ed said. ‘Not that I remember much about school these days.’
Hugh glanced at him in the rear-vision mirror. ‘Apparently Aunty Gee had something to do with it. The school is doing her a huge favour and things are in a bit of a mess at Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale with some late-running renovations, so it’s worked out well for everyone. And what’s even better is that the kids are going to Bagley Hall and spending some of their time doing service activities at Pelham Park.’
Ed frowned. ‘Back up a moment, little brother. Who’s Aunty Gee?’
‘Sorry, Ed. There are so many things I assume you know but of course you don’t. Aunty Gee is otherwise known as Queen Georgiana and she’s um …’
‘She’s Mummy’s best friend and my and Charlotte’s godmother,’ Cecelia finished for him.
‘Wow. That’s intimidating,’ Ed said with a grin.
‘Not at all, darling. Wait until you meet her. She’s a hoot and far more down-to-earth than the press makes her out to be,’ Cecelia explained. ‘Mummy’s much more terrifying.’
‘Second question. Bagley Hall? Do you mean the enormous old manor next to Pelham Park, where that ogre Mrs Marchant used to live when we were kids?’
Hugh nodded. ‘One and the same.’
‘I thought she was about a hundred when I was a boy. Gosh, she must have seemed like she’d stepped off the Ark to you,’ Ed said.
Hugh nodded. ‘She scared the socks off me. When the old bird died her family struggled to keep the place afloat. Her grand-nephew was teaching PE at one of the local schools and hit on the idea of turning the property into a kids’ camp. The camp’s been open for about ten years now and it’s amazing – won all sorts of awards and has Aunty Gee’s royal warrant.’
‘Things have changed, haven’t they?’ Ed said with a smile. Of course, he thought, it was inevitable after being away for almost forty years.
Cecelia turned around in her seat. ‘We’re going home to Highton Hall tonight. I know Mrs Oliver has been baking up a storm and Shilly has the house sparkling from top to bottom. Then tomorrow we’ll drive up to Pelham Park so you can assess exactly how big this job will be.’
‘Great.’ Ed nodded. ‘I wish I could remember more of what Mother had but I’m afraid it’s a bit of a blur. It will be strange to be there again.’
‘Well, let’s just hope that you find the place a lot less foreboding than I did when I was young. We made Dad’s den into a games room for the oldies, so there are no dead bears or other wildlife on the walls any more. Cee did a great job of brightening the place up. It’s quite lovely and the gardens have given the house new life. The old man must be turning in his grave with those masses of flowerbeds everywhere.’
The trio drove along in silence for a few minutes.
‘Was he awful to you, Hugh?’ Ed asked quietly.
Hugh Kennington-Jones caught his brother’s eye in the rear-view mirror. ‘He never lost his edges, but I suppose we got along because I fell in love with the grocery business, and he was happy to have someone continue the family legacy. I can’t agree with everything he did, but I think he was just about the loneliest man alive much of the time. I wonder if he ever had a proper friend.’
Ed nodded. ‘I was angry with him, but as I grew older I felt sad for him too, actually. I got to live my dreams, but I’m not convinced that he did. I guess we’ll never know. Anyway, enough of that melancholy. Tell me about Highton Hall.’
A smile spread across Cecelia’s face. Hugh caught it. ‘Oh no, Ed, you do realise that Cee won’t stop talking between now and home. You’ll know the names, birthdates and preferred underpants colour of every single person who lives on the estate,’ Hugh teased.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, darling.’ Cecelia gave him a playful poke in the ribs. ‘Although I did see that Granny Bert had some of the most enormous knickers hanging on the line at the back of Rose Cottage. I wondered if she’d taken up parachuting.’
Hugh and Ed laughed.
Alice-Miranda and Millie were playing a game of ‘I Spy’ as the little bus chugged along to their mystery camp site.
‘I can’t believe Miss Grimm hasn’t told us where we’re going,’ Millie said. She was peering around the bus and out the windows, trying to guess what Alice-Miranda was thinking of that started with the letter ‘I’.
‘It’s good to have a surprise,’ Alice-Miranda said and shrugged.
‘What if the camp is horrible? We don’t even know if we have to sleep in tents or if there are dormitories or how many of us will have to share. It might be an old barn in the middle of nowhere, with outside toilets. Gross!’ Millie griped.
‘What do you have against outside toilets? You have to go all the way across the caravan park to the toilets when you’re at the beach,’ Alice-Miranda replied.
‘Mmm, true,’ Millie conceded.
From the back of the bus there was a loud thud followed by peals of laughter.
Miss Reedy turned around to see George Figworth sitting on the floor, having been wrestled out of his seat by Rufus Pemberley.
‘What on earth are you two doing? Get back into your seat and put your seatbelt on immediately, Figworth, or you can spend the rest of the journey up here beside me. Is that what you’d prefer?’ she asked menacingly.
Figgy scrambled back onto the seat and yanked at the seatbelt.
‘Is it an idiot?’ Millie said.
Alice-Miranda frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I Spy. Is it those two idiots?’ She gestured towards the back of the bus.
Alice-Miranda laughed and shook her head. ‘No, it’s not them.’
‘I give up then,’ Millie said.
‘It’s interior lights,’ Caprice piped up from the other side of the aisle.
‘Yes, you’ve got it.’ Alice-Miranda clapped her hands together. ‘I thought that was a tricky one. Well done.’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ Caprice scoffed. ‘I can think of much harder things than that.’
‘Well, it’s your turn now,’ Alice-Miranda said.
‘“S”.’ Caprice turned back to the front of the bus, a smug smile plastered on her face.
Millie looked around. ‘Is it seats?’
‘No.’
Sloane weighed in. ‘Seatbelts?’
‘Wrong,’ Caprice said. ‘You’ll never get it.’
‘What about sun visor?’ Alice-Miranda said thoughtfully.
Caprice sighed loudly, her shoulders slumping.
‘Ha! She’s right, isn’t she?’ Millie said.
‘No!’ Caprice shook her head. ‘That wasn’t it at all.’
‘You’re lying, Caprice,’ Millie said. ‘It was sun visor and now you’re just saying it wasn’t because you don’t think anyone is as clever as you.’
Alice-Miranda touched Millie’s arm. ‘It’s okay, Millie. If it wasn’t, I’m fine with that. We can keep playing.’
Jacinta called out ‘sun roof’. Then she looked up and realised the bus didn’t actually have one.
‘The game’s finished,’ Caprice announced. She picked up the magazine that was sitting on the empty seat beside her.
‘Of course it is. Because Alice-Miranda guessed. You know what, Caprice? People around here like to play fair,’ Millie chided.
Sloane looked across the aisle and raised her eyebrows at Millie.
‘I do play fair.’ Caprice turned and wrinkled her nose at Millie. ‘You don’t know anything about me.’
‘Oh, yes I do. You might be able to fool everyone else but you don’t fool me. For a start, you think you know everything,’ Millie snapped.
‘Well, I know a lot more than you,’ Caprice bit back.
Miss Reedy peered around to check that Figgy was back in his seat and
noticed Millie leaning out into the aisle. The girl’s face was bright red and she seemed to be sputtering words all over the place.
‘What’s wrong with you? You’re such a fake!’ Millie huffed.
‘It’s okay, Millie. Calm down,’ Alice-Miranda soothed. Millie had told Alice-Miranda what she’d heard Caprice saying about her the afternoon before. But when Alice-Miranda said that she’d speak to the girl, Millie begged her not to. She was sure that Caprice would deny everything.
Miss Reedy unclasped her seatbelt and stood up. She walked down the centre of the bus, eye balling Millie and Caprice in turn. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Fine,’ Millie lied.
‘No,’ Caprice sniffed. ‘She’s being mean to me!’ Tears began to flood the girl’s cheeks. Within seconds her sobs turned into great big hiccupy gulps. ‘I want to go home,’ Caprice wailed.
‘Millie, what happened?’ Miss Reedy fished around in her pocket and produced a tissue, which she held out to Caprice.
‘Nothing. I wasn’t mean to her. She cheated in the game.’ Millie could feel her eyes prickling but she was determined not to cry.
‘Perhaps you should apologise, Millie,’ Miss Reedy suggested.
‘Why? I didn’t do anything. She’s faking it! They’re crocodile tears,’ Millie blurted.
By now Mr Lipp was aware of the sobbing and had stood up to join Miss Reedy.
‘Oh, dear me, whatever’s the matter?’ the teacher asked Caprice.
The girl let out several short gasps as another torrent of tears trickled down her cheeks.
‘This is Caprice,’ Miss Reedy explained. ‘She’s new and I think she and Millie might have had a difference of opinion.’
Millie crossed her arms in front of her and stared at the ground.
‘Caprice?’ Mr Lipp enquired. ‘You’re the new girl Mr Trout telephoned me about last night. The one with the voice.’
Caprice looked up through a haze of tears and nodded slowly.
‘My dear, we can’t have this, can we? Why don’t you come and sit at the front with Miss Reedy and me and you can tell us all about it. Then, when you’re feeling better, we can talk about a song I’ve been thinking the group should try. We haven’t had a strong enough soloist for it yet but Mr Trout told me that was all about to change,’ Mr Lipp gushed.
Sloane and Jacinta looked at each other from their seat behind Caprice, their mouths flapping open. Up until now they had been taking turns for most of the solo parts in the Winchester-Fayle Singers and as far as they knew, Mr Lipp had been very happy with their efforts. This was news to them.
‘What about us?’ Sloane demanded.
‘Oh, Sloane, Jacinta, you’re both wonderful, of course, but this part requires a voice with that little bit extra,’ Mr Lipp blustered.
‘But you haven’t even heard her sing!’ Jacinta complained.
‘I don’t need to. I trust Mr Trout’s judgement, and he said that she’s the most naturally gifted vocalist he’s ever encountered in all his years of teaching. You heard her too, didn’t you Miss Reedy?’ Mr Lipp queried.
The woman nodded.
‘And?’
‘Caprice has a lovely voice.’ Miss Reedy didn’t want to talk Caprice up too much at that moment. She was patently aware of how annoyed Sloane and Jacinta were already.
‘I’ve heard that lovely isn’t the half of it,’ Mr Lipp replied. ‘Come along, Caprice. Shall we have a chat?’
Mr Lipp waited for the girl to stand and then ushered her to the front seat. Miss Reedy decided there was no point pursuing the incident until she had a chance to speak with Millie on her own, so she followed them back to her seat.
Millie watched them go. As Caprice turned to sit down, her lip curled and she grinned like a Cheshire cat.
‘Oh!’ Millie gasped. ‘Did you see that?’
But Jacinta and Sloane were too busy sniping about losing their solos and Alice-Miranda was looking out the window.
Alice-Miranda reached out and patted her friend on the arm. ‘I’ll talk to her when we get to camp. Try not to let her get to you.’
But it was much too late for that. Caprice had crawled right under Millie’s skin and she wasn’t going anywhere.
Josiah Plumpton leaned closer to the steering wheel. His right foot pressed hard against the accelerator pedal but it had no effect on the little white bus’s speed. Its diesel engine clattered loudly as it chugged to the top of the hill. I think I can, I think I can. The teacher smiled to himself as the childish words repeated in his head.
Livinia Reedy was sitting directly behind him and organising the children into their camp groups. Ideally she would have had it all done before they’d left, but even with a couple of hours off class that morning there still hadn’t been enough time. She was beginning to rethink where to put Caprice too – obviously she and Millie weren’t a good combination but Alice-Miranda would be a positive influence. Across the aisle, Harold Lipp was interrogating Caprice about her singing experience.
‘Mr Trout told me that you won the National Eisteddfod last year,’ he gushed.
Caprice sniffed and nodded.
Miss Reedy thought the girl looked remarkably unblemished for someone who had spent the past twenty minutes crying.
‘We’re going to have choir practice this evening,’ said Mr Lipp. ‘I’m looking forward to hearing you sing.’
Caprice stared up at him, her blue eyes shining. ‘I could sing for you now.’
‘Oh no, you’ve been upset. Your voice might not be at its best. That wouldn’t be fair at all.’
Caprice blinked away the last of her tears and shrugged. ‘I don’t mind.’
Livinia Reedy interrupted. ‘Perhaps not now, Caprice. You wouldn’t want the other children to think that you were showing off, would you?’
‘But Mr Lipp said that he’d like to hear me,’ the girl retorted. Then, ignoring Miss Reedy’s suggestion, she cleared her throat and began.
At first she sang softly. No one further back could hear her but as she reached the chorus she raised the volume and the chatter on the bus stopped.
‘Hey Mr Plumpton,’ Figgy called out. ‘Can you turn the radio up? We can’t hear it properly down the back.’
‘That’s not the radio,’ said Alice-Miranda, her brown eyes widening.
Millie sighed. ‘No, it’s Little Miss Perfect.’
‘Wow! She’s amazing …’ The boys were all talking over the top of one another and nodding in agreement.
Sloane and Jacinta looked at each other. ‘There go our solos,’ said Sloane.
Caprice’s high note warbled for what seemed like an age before she stopped and Figgy let out a whoop and a cheer that got the whole bus going.
Caprice smiled at Mr Lipp, whose grin almost touched each ear.
‘Mr Trout was absolutely right,’ he gushed. ‘Your voice is the nearest thing to perfection I’ve ever heard.’
‘Encore, encore,’ Figgy yelled from the back seat.
‘I think that’s probably enough for now,’ Miss Reedy said, and pursed her lips.
Caprice was about to say otherwise when Figgy called out again. ‘Hey Mr Plumpton, there’s a police car behind us.’
Miss Reedy turned around in her seat. ‘George Figworth, please keep your voice down. I’m quite sure that Mr Plumpton is well aware of what’s going on behind him.’
‘Have you been speeding, sir?’ the boy shouted.
‘Figworth!’ The English teacher gave the lad her best evil stare. He opened his mouth like a fish then closed it again.
‘As if.’ Rufus Pemberley laughed. ‘We could walk faster than this old bomb.’
Mr Plumpton glanced in the rear-vision mirror again. He’d first noticed the police car a few miles back when it had sped up behind them. The officer had pulled out to overtake but slipped back into the left lane and stayed there. Josiah wondered if there was a problem, but he couldn’t imagine for a second what it was. Unless a tail-light was out. The bus had be
en hired from Downsfordvale, as Charlie had taken the school bus to be repaired. Rufus was right when he said that they couldn’t have been speeding. It simply wasn’t possible.
Josiah spotted the exit to Dunleavy and put on his indicator. The police car followed.
‘It’s still there,’ Figgy updated the passengers.
By now several more of the children were trying to guess why they were being followed. Everyone had forgotten about Caprice’s impromptu performance.
‘I know where we are,’ said Alice-Miranda, as she looked out the window at the pretty countryside. ‘Pelham Park is just up the road. That’s where Daddy grew up. He and Mummy have turned it into an aged-care home. And there’s an amazing camp next door called Bagley Hall. It’s got the most incredible facilities. There’s a ropes course and a climbing wall, canoeing, cycling, archery – just about everything, I think.’
‘Cool!’ Millie started to sound like her usual self again. ‘I hope we’re going there.’
Alice-Miranda grinned. ‘Me too.’
‘Whoa, that’s a mansion and a half,’ exclaimed Sep Sykes. He didn’t know it but he was admiring Pelham Park, which sat atop a rise well back from the road and down a tree-lined driveway.
‘This is it,’ Mr Plumpton called as the bus came to a halt. He was waiting for the traffic to pass so he could turn right.
Suddenly the police car’s siren blared.
‘Hey Mr Plumpton, you’d better pull over,’ Rufus Pemberley shouted. ‘Looks like you’re in trouble.’
The children laughed.
The teacher ignored the lad’s taunts.
‘What’s going on, Josiah?’ Miss Reedy craned her neck to see the car behind them.
‘I don’t know. I haven’t done anything wrong.’
Mr Lipp was twitching in his seat. ‘Well, you’d better pull over. I don’t like this at all.’
‘I can’t stop here. This road’s too dangerous. I’ll just pull into the driveway.’ Josiah saw a gap in the traffic and planted his foot on the accelerator much harder than he’d meant to. The bus wheels spun and the vehicle lurched forward, jolting the children from side to side.
Alice-Miranda at Camp 10 Page 5