‘Would you like to hear a poem?’ Clementine asked.
‘A what?’ Violet sipped her tea.
‘A poem,’ Clementine replied. ‘I know lots of them by heart and I have some funny ones too.’
‘No, not particularly. In fact, I’d rather that you left the room,’ Violet snapped. ‘I need to speak to your mother. In private.’
‘But Lavender’s asleep,’ said Clementine seriously.
‘Who’s Lavender? Don’t tell me there’s another child I don’t know about?’ Violet asked.
‘Lavender’s my pig,’ Clementine said. ‘She’s a teacup.’
The woman’s eyes widened and she stared at the teacup in her hand. ‘You have a dirty, smelly pig? And it’s called Lavender?’
‘Pigs aren’t dirty or smelly, Aunt Violet. Pigs are smart and cuddly. Lavender’s only as big as a cat, and she won’t grow any more,’ Clementine replied. ‘That’s why she’s called a teacup pig.’
‘What a load of nonsense,’ Violet scoffed. ‘I’ve never heard such tripe. Everyone knows that pigs are huge and disgusting and they live outside in sties. Off you go. Your mother and I need to talk. About you, among other things.’
‘Aunt Violet, please don’t speak to my daughter like that.’ Clarissa spoke in a voice barely more than a whisper.
‘But I can’t go,’ said Clementine with a scowl. ‘I told you already. Lavender’s asleep.’ She was becoming more certain that her great-aunt was hard of hearing.
‘Where is this so-called teacup pig?’ asked Violet. ‘I suppose you keep it in the kitchen, do you?’
‘She’s under my chair,’ Clementine replied.
Aunt Violet gasped. She looked towards Clarissa, who nodded, then back at Clementine. The child pointed under her chair. Violet knelt down to look. Clementine Rose knelt down at the other end of the table. Their eyes locked underneath.
‘There she is,’ Clementine whispered, and pointed. ‘Please don’t wake her up because she’s very tired.’ She put her finger to her lips.
Violet settled back into her chair.
‘What sort of circus are you running here, Clarissa?’ the old woman demanded. ‘First a child, then a pig in the house and those friends of yours in the sitting room had the hide to ask me if I could get them some more soap for their bathroom – what do I look like? The hired help?’ Violet placed her teacup on the table with a thud.
‘I can explain,’ Clarissa began.
Digby Pertwhistle entered the room, carrying the tea tray full of dirty cups and saucers. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Appleby,’ Digby said with a nod towards her. ‘Welcome back to Penberthy House.’
‘I can’t believe that you’re still here. I thought you’d have shuffled off years ago,’ the woman snarled.
‘And it’s lovely to see you too.’ Digby winked at Clementine as he went to the sink and began to unpack the tray.
‘The place is falling down around your ears, Clarissa, and you still insist on having Pertwhistle here,’ Violet hissed. ‘I can’t imagine how you pay the man.’
‘Mummy wins things,’ Clementine said.
Clarissa had hoped Clementine wouldn’t bring that subject up.
‘What do you mean?’ Violet demanded.
‘Mummy wins lots of competitions. She won that coffee machine and this whole kitchen and new beds for upstairs and even a holiday to Tahiti that Uncle Digby took last year,’ Clementine explained. ‘She won Lavender at the fair too, which was very lucky because teacup pigs cost a lot of money.’
‘Well, aren’t you just the fortunate one, Clarissa,’ Violet said through pursed lips.
‘How long are you staying, Aunt Violet?’ Clementine asked.
‘I haven’t decided,’ the woman replied.
Lady Clarissa and Digby Pertwhistle looked at each other, horrified at the thought of having to put up with the woman for any longer than a night.
‘Mummy’s very good at looking after people,’ Clementine announced.
Clarissa and Digby gulped in unison. It was another of those times they both wished Clementine wasn’t quite so honest.
‘Clementine, why don’t you take Lavender upstairs and put her in her basket?’ her mother suggested. ‘I’m sure you can do that without waking her up.’
Clementine peeked at the sleepy pig. Digby lifted the chair and Clementine picked her up, cradling her like a baby.
‘That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen in my life,’ Violet huffed, then shooed Clementine as if waving away a pesky fly. ‘Well, hurry up then, off you go.’
When Aunt Violet wasn’t looking, Clementine wrinkled her nose at the beastly woman.
Clementine Rose carried the dozing pig upstairs to her bedroom and laid her in her basket. Lavender stirred and grunted a couple of times but Clemmie tickled her tummy and soon she was fast asleep.
Clementine spent some time colouring in and practising the new poem Uncle Digby had taught her but after a while she felt fidgety.
She noticed that the house had fallen quiet. Usually that meant the guests were off on a ramble or having a rest in their rooms. She kept thinking about Aunt Violet. The lady in the painting was much nicer to talk to than the woman downstairs. She was a bossy boots.
Then Clementine remembered the sphynx. Aunt Violet was staying downstairs on the second floor in the Rose Room. She left Lavender sound asleep and made her way along the hall and down the main staircase to the level below. The Rose Room was by far the biggest and prettiest in the whole house. It was also the one that her mother used to advertise the hotel. The room was at the end of the corridor and had a wonderful view of the garden on three sides. It was also the only room with a new bathroom, which had been installed after Lady Clarissa won a bathroom makeover package the year before.
Clementine knocked at the door. There was no answer so she turned the handle and opened it just enough to peek her head around.
‘Hello, Aunt Violet, are you here?’ she called. The room was silent.
Clementine looked about for the black bag. Uncle Digby must have brought up Aunt Violet’s luggage from the car. Sitting on the floor at the end of the bed were three huge suitcases and a beauty case as well. Clementine thought that was a lot for someone staying just one night. Usually weekend guests had only half as much.
One of the suitcases was open. Clementine had a peek under the flap. Sitting on top of a pile of neatly folded clothes was a small gold clock and a bronze statue of a horse. There were some silver candlesticks too. She thought Aunt Violet must really like those things a lot to take them with her for a holiday.
A ruby velvet chaise longue sat underneath the side window. The fabric was a little frayed around the edges but Lady Clarissa had a clever way with throw rugs and cushions and could make the shabbiest of furniture seem well loved rather than in need of fixing. A tall cedar chest of drawers stood beside the doorway to the ensuite bathroom. A roll-top writing desk took up one corner of the room, and there was a dressing table too. On it sat a large vase full of red, pink and peach roses her mother had cut from the garden.
Clementine’s favourite thing in the Rose Room was the enormous four-poster bed. It was so tall that you needed a special stepladder to climb onto it. When the house was empty, Clementine often spent time in this room, climbing up and down onto the bed. Lavender tried to get up too sometimes but her little legs just weren’t long enough.
Clementine tiptoed around to the other side of the bed.
‘Sphynx,’ she whispered in a singsong voice, ‘where are you?’ Then she spotted the black bag sitting open on the floor. ‘Oh!’ Clementine gasped. The bag was empty. Maybe the creature was on the bed. She scooted up the little ladder onto the patchwork duvet and came face to face with the strangest creature she’d ever seen.
‘Argh!’ She drew in a sharp breath and kept as still as she could. It was lying in the middle of the bed and had huge pointy ears and a strange wrinkly head. The beast half-opened its green eyes and glared at her.
Clementin
e had no idea what it was. It sort of looked like a giant rat or maybe a cat, but it didn’t have any fur. The creature stared at her in a disgusted sort of way, just like the lady had looked at her when she had spilled the orange juice the week before.
Clementine gulped.
‘What are you doing in here?’ a voice demanded. Clementine Rose spun around to see Aunt Violet charging through the door. ‘You leave my Pharaoh alone,’ she growled.
‘I . . . I didn’t touch him, I promise,’ Clementine protested.
‘I told you before that he doesn’t like children.’ Violet strode towards the bed, her eyes scanning the room. ‘Have you been snooping through my things?’
Clementine shook her head. ‘No, of course not, Aunt Violet. Well, except that I saw your horse statue and some candlesticks and a clock. They must be very precious for you to bring them on holidays.’
‘You little sneak.’ Violet glimpsed the official-looking document poking out of the top of her handbag. The first words were: ‘Eviction Notice’. She walked over and stuffed it back inside, wondering if Clementine could yet read.
Clementine gulped.
‘Well, you shouldn’t be in here,’ Violet snapped.
‘What . . . what is he?’ Clementine asked.
‘What’s who?’ Violet replied.
‘Him.’ Clementine pointed at the creature on the bed.
‘He’s a sphynx,’ the old woman replied, rolling her eyes. ‘I told you that earlier. Or are your ears full of wax?’
‘No, Mummy cleans my ears every Thursday at bath time, except if I’m too tired and I don’t have a bath, and then she does it on Friday,’ Clementine said. ‘I know he’s a sphynx but what sort of creature is that?’
‘It’s a cat, of course, you silly child,’ said Violet, shaking her head.
Clementine had never seen a cat like it before and she knew quite a few. There was Claws at the village shop and her friend Sophie had a fluffy white kitten called Mintie. Her other friend Poppy had lots of cats on the farm at Highton Hall and none of them looked even the slightest bit like Pharaoh.
‘Is something wrong with him?’ Clementine asked.
‘Of course not.’ Violet reached into the middle of the bed and patted the cat’s wrinkly head.
‘But . . .’ Clementine wondered if she should tell Aunt Violet what she could see. Maybe the woman had something wrong with her eyesight as well as her hearing. Clementine decided that it was better to tell the truth. ‘He’s got no hair.’
‘He was born that way,’ Violet replied, as if it was the most usual thing in the world to have a bald cat. ‘My bootiful boy.’ Violet leaned across the bed and nuzzled against his face. The cat hissed at her.
Clementine wondered if Aunt Violet had taken him to the vet to see if there was a cure. Pharaoh was just about the ugliest creature she’d ever seen, apart from Father Bob’s dribbly bulldog, Adrian.
‘And what are you doing in my room, anyway?’ Violet asked, glaring at Clementine.
The child gulped. She seemed to be asked that question quite a lot. ‘I wanted to see what a sphynx was,’ she replied.
‘Well, now you have and I would thank you to stay out of my room, young lady.’ Violet walked to the door and held it open.
Clementine slid down from the bed and walked towards her.
Violet stared at the child with her pretty blonde hair and ink-blue eyes. There was something vaguely familiar about her, yet the woman knew that was impossible. She’d never heard of her before today, let alone seen her.
‘Off you go,’ said Violet. ‘I have things to do, and talking to you is not one of them.’
Clementine smiled at the old woman. She had a habit of doing that when she was nervous.
‘What are you grinning about?’ Violet demanded.
‘Nothing, Aunt Violet, nothing at all,’ said Clementine, and scurried out the door.
After her visit with Pharaoh and Aunt Violet, Clementine Rose decided to find her mother and Uncle Digby and warn them about the bald sphynx. She wondered if they might have some ideas about a cure.
Clementine was on her way to the kitchen when she was distracted by a man. She heard him before she saw him – the loudest grunting snores ever. That was saying something because there had been plenty of snorers taking naps in the sitting room over the years. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she saw him in the winged armchair by the fireplace, with his head tilted back and his mouth wide open.
Clementine decided to take a closer look. She tiptoed into the room and stood beside the chair, resting her elbows on the arm with her head cradled in her hands. She thought he must be quite old. His forehead and cheeks were lined like crinkle-cut chips, and the skin on his neck hung loose, just like on the turkey Mr Mogg was keeping before last Christmas.
His hands were resting in his lap and she noticed they had lots of tan spots on them. Clementine liked watching the way the long hairs that stuck out of his nostrils fluttered in time with his breaths.
She glanced up at his hair. Most of the older men Clementine knew had grey or silver hair, like Mr Mogg and Father Bob, or not very much at all, like Uncle Digby. He just had a few long strands that he combed over the top and kept in place with some goo from a jar. This man’s hair was dark orange and there was something not quite right about the way it was sitting. Clementine stood up on her tippy-toes and reached out to touch the thick crop. Her finger pressed against it gently. The man snorted loudly and she jumped back. Clemmie held her breath but his eyes stayed firmly shut. She wanted to touch his hair again – it felt rough, like the soap pad Uncle Digby used to scrub the saucepans. She reached up and stretched out her hand but just as she did, something terrible happened. As she made contact with the hair, it slid right off the top of his head and onto the floor.
Clemmie clutched her hands to her mouth. She’d never seen anyone’s hair fall off like that before. The orange mop lay on the floor like a flat ginger cat. Clementine leaned down to get a closer look. She didn’t want to touch it any more but somehow she had to get it back on top of the man’s head.
Clementine gripped it between her pointer finger and thumb and lifted it up slowly. Just as the hair was level with the top of the man’s head, a fly began to buzz around his left ear. And right at the same time Clementine was about to deposit the hair back onto his head, the man stirred and swatted at the fly. He missed and flicked his hair right into the fireplace, where it erupted into flames and burnt away to nothing in seconds.
Clementine stood perfectly still and held her breath. She wondered if she could make him some new hair and tape it to his shiny head before he woke up. She remembered her old toy orangutan. Then she remembered that she’d lost it at her friend Poppy’s house.
Maybe the man wouldn’t notice. Maybe he had some more hair in his suitcase that he could wear instead. Maybe it would grow back before he woke up.
Clementine was staring at the man and wondering what to do, when out of the corner of her eye she saw a reflection of something moving in the mirror above the fireplace. It was just a flash but she knew that there was someone else in the room. The sitting room was shaped like a capital ‘L’, with another entrance from the back hallway. Clementine wondered if whoever it was had seen what happened with the man and his hair.
She decided to see who was there and tiptoed past the long floral sofa and the china cabinet to investigate. Clementine leaned around the corner in slow motion.
‘Oh!’ she gasped. Sticking up in the air was a bottom and it was attached to Aunt Violet. The old woman was down on her hands and knees with her head under the green velvet grandfather chair.
Clementine watched for a moment.
‘Hello Aunt Violet,’ she whispered.
There was a dull thud as Violet thwacked her head on the underside of the chair.
‘Ow!’ the woman grumbled as she wriggled out. ‘You again!’
‘Have you lost something?’ Clementine asked.
‘No, of cours
e not.’ Violet stood up and smoothed the front of her trousers. ‘Have you?’ She arched an eyebrow menacingly.
Clementine wondered if Aunt Violet had seen what happened to the man and his hair. She shook her head slowly.
She knew that she should tell the truth. It was just that, at the moment, she didn’t quite know how. And after all, it was an accident.
Aunt Violet looked at Clementine and sniffed. Then she turned on her heel and strode out of the room.
Clementine tiptoed back towards the man without the hair. He was still fast asleep. She decided that the best plan was to find Uncle Digby and tell him the truth. He would know what to do.
Clementine Rose found Digby Pert-whistle in the dining room, setting the huge mahogany table for dinner.
‘Hello Clemmie,’ he said. ‘What have you been up to now?’
Clementine gulped. She wondered if Uncle Digby had special powers. He always seemed to know when there was trouble about.
‘Nothing much,’ she replied, not quite ready to talk about the burnt hair. ‘I met Aunt Violet’s sphynx.’
‘Oh, yes, and what sort of a creature is this sphynx?’ Digby asked.
‘Aunt Violet says that he’s a cat but he’s the strangest looking cat I’ve ever seen. He’s got no hair,’ Clementine explained. ‘But I don’t think she can see that.’
Digby considered this. ‘Interesting.’
‘He’s not interesting,’ Clementine replied. ‘He’s ugly.’
‘Perhaps he has a special personality,’ said Digby.
Clementine shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. He even hissed at Aunt Violet.’
‘Sounds like a smart cat if you ask me,’ said Digby, his lips twitching. He continued putting the cutlery in place.
‘Uncle Digby, I need to tell you something,’ said Clementine. She took a small step closer to the man, then another, until she stood right beside him.
He turned and bent down to meet her gaze. ‘Uh-oh. What have you done now, Clementine?’
‘Well,’ she began, ‘I didn’t mean to but it just sort of happened.’
Clementine Rose and the Surprise Visitor 1 Page 3