The boy stretched his neck to see.
Clementine tried to pull it free but it was stuck tight. She pushed the lid the whole way up and leaned it against the wall. The envelope was sealed but there was clearly something inside. Clementine pressed her fingers against the paper.
‘What’s in it?’ Will asked.
‘It feels like a key,’ Clementine said.
Will looked around to see if there was anything they could use to prise it free. He spotted a pair of scissors on Clementine’s desk and promptly ran to get them.
After pushing and prodding, the yellowed envelope fell on top of the rubber snake. Clementine picked it up. The paper was old but it was tough. Will cut the end off and shook a small brass key into his palm.
‘What do you think it’s for?’ he asked.
Clementine looked at the lock on her toy box. ‘It’s too small for this,’ she said with a shrug, and shut the lid.
Will handed her the key and she carefully placed it in her pocket.
‘But maybe …’ Clementine looked over at the little wooden box she’d pulled out from under her bed that morning.
Will read her mind, and the two children rushed over to it.
‘We are like detectives.’ Clementine grinned. Her heart began to beat faster as she pulled the key out and pushed it into the lock.
Click.
‘It fits!’ Will exclaimed. ‘Go on, open it.’
Clementine turned the key and the lock sprung apart. She pushed the lid up and, holding their breaths, she and Will peered inside.
Clementine and Will charged downstairs into the kitchen, which was abuzz with chatter. Basil, Drew and Aunt Violet were sitting around the table and Uncle Digby was serving tea from the pot.
‘Where’s Mummy?’ Clementine jigged about impatiently, clutching the little timber box.
‘You look a lot happier than before,’ Drew remarked.
‘Your mother’s taken Mr Doncaster up to his room but she should be back any minute,’ Uncle Digby replied.
Clementine placed the box on the table and climbed up onto a chair. Will sat on the seat beside her.
‘What have you got there, Clementine?’ Basil asked.
‘I found this in the attic a while ago and Mummy said I could keep it in my room because it’s so pretty,’ Clementine babbled excitedly. ‘Will and I just found the key.’
‘How marvellous!’ Basil enthused. ‘Can you show us what’s inside?’
‘When Mummy comes back,’ Clementine said firmly. She was bursting to show everyone what they had found but she wanted her mother to see it first.
‘In the meantime, can I offer anyone more trifle?’ Uncle Digby asked. A large bowl of cake and jelly was sitting on the bench.
Drew picked up his empty bowl. ‘Well, if there’s some left over, I’d hate to see it go to waste.’
‘What about you, Clemmie? Will?’ Uncle Digby asked as he filled Drew’s dish.
‘No, thank you, Uncle Digby,’ Clementine replied. ‘But not because it was on the floor.’
Aunt Violet arched an eyebrow. ‘I’d keep quiet about that if I were you.’
Lady Clarissa walked through from the hallway.
‘Is Mr Doncaster happy with his room?’ Uncle Digby asked.
‘Yes, I think so,’ Clarissa replied. ‘He does seem like a very nice man. I hope I was worried about nothing.’
‘I’m sure you were,’ Drew said. ‘I can’t imagine what he’d find fault with. You’re perfect.’
The adults stopped talking and looked at one another with wry smiles. Lady Clarissa’s cheeks reddened.
‘What I meant is that you’re a perfect hostess and the house is beautiful.’ Drew’s neck seemed to be turning a dark shade of crimson.
‘Thank you.’ Clarissa bit her lip. ‘I just hope there are no other mishaps.’ She walked up behind Clementine and gave the girl a hug, whispering into her ear.
Clementine looked back at her. ‘I love you too, Mummy, and I promise I didn’t do those things.’
Lady Clarissa nodded. It wasn’t like Clementine to tell lies. There had to be another explanation, though she wasn’t yet sure what it might be.
The woman noticed the box on the table. ‘Darling, I won’t have time to go through the keys just now. I’m taking Mr Doncaster on a tour of the house in ten minutes.’
‘But we found the key, Mummy,’ Clementine exclaimed, ‘and we know what’s inside.’
‘Oh, really?’ Clementine’s mother leaned over the child’s shoulder, eager to see the box’s mysterious contents.
Clementine lifted the lid. ‘It’s photographs.’ She turned around and looked at her mother excitedly. ‘And there’s one of me.’
‘That’s a surprise. I thought I knew where all of the family pictures were,’ Clarissa said, glancing quickly at the picture Clementine was holding before she picked up a bundle. The one on top was of a baby in a christening gown. She turned it over and smiled.
‘Don’t keep us in suspense, Clarissa,’ Aunt Violet demanded. ‘Who is it?’
‘Remember when you said there were no photographs of you as a child? I think you might be wrong about that.’ Lady Clarissa held up the picture for everyone to see.
‘Brilliant!’ Basil clapped his hands.
Aunt Violet pursed her lips. ‘Really! Well, that is a surprise.’
The first part of the pile were all shots of Aunt Violet as a baby and toddler. Lady Clarissa flipped through them before she passed them to her aunt, who cringed with false modesty.
Clementine pulled out another photograph. ‘Look, Mummy. There’s another one of me.’
Lady Clarissa frowned.
Clementine studied the picture more closely. ‘But that’s not Lavender. That’s a dog. I don’t have a dog.’
‘May I see that, please?’ Aunt Violet reached across the table. Her face softened into a smile. ‘Clementine, that’s not you. It’s me and my Paisley. He was a West Highland Terrier and I loved him to bits.’
The girl’s eyes grew round in astonishment. ‘We look like twins, Aunt Violet,’ she said.
‘Heavens. It’s uncanny.’ Aunt Violet’s eye brows knotted as she studied the picture.
‘Goodness, look at the time.’ Lady Clarissa took the photograph from her aunt’s hand, returned it to the box and snapped the lid shut. ‘I think you lot had better get back to the library or poor Ana and the children won’t have you home before dark, Basil.’
Drew wondered at the hasty end to Clementine’s discovery.
‘Where do you think you’re going with those?’ Aunt Violet demanded. ‘I believe they belong to me.’
‘I thought you and I could go through them later to see if there’s anything Basil might be able to use for the film,’ Lady Clarissa explained. ‘I need you to look after Clemmie on set while I take Mr Doncaster through the house.’
Clarissa passed the box to Uncle Digby and whispered something. The man nodded and promptly disappeared.
‘Well, if that was morning tea, it appears we’ve had it,’ Aunt Violet said, rising from her chair. ‘Come along, Clementine. I’ll fix your hair and see if we can’t straighten that dress up a bit.’ Clementine’s drop-waisted bow was looking a bit worse for wear.
‘Will you listen to my lines?’ Clementine asked.
‘Of course.’ The old woman hesitated for a second and looked at Clementine.
‘What’s wrong, Aunt Violet?’ the child asked.
‘Nothing,’ Aunt Violet said, shaking her head. ‘Nothing at all.’
Moments later the kitchen was empty.
‘Are you happy in the Marigold Room, Mr Doncaster?’ Lady Clarissa enquired as she met the man in the front hall.
‘Yes, it’s very comfortable, thank you,’ Alfie replied, clutching his briefcase in his left hand. ‘Now, where shall we start?’
‘Please follow me.’ Lady Clarissa smiled at him nervously, wondering about the contents of his briefcase. She had decided it was best to begin fr
om the bottom and work their way up. They would start with the sitting room then move to the dining room and the music room, before ending up in the library once filming had finished for the day.
Clarissa pushed open the double doors to the sitting room and led the way inside.
‘This is a lovely room,’ Mr Doncaster said, admiring the plump floral couches and grand fireplace with its sandstone surround. ‘I imagine much of the furniture is original.’
‘Yes, that little table –’ Clarissa pointed at a very pretty piece – ‘was a wedding gift to my grandparents from King Frederick, Queen Georgiana’s father.’
‘How fascinating.’ Alfie Doncaster sat his briefcase on the floor and took a pair of white gloves from his jacket pocket. He pulled them on and then ran a forefinger along the table.
The woman watched as he held up his hand and inspected the tip of the glove.
‘A promising start,’ Mr Doncaster declared.
He proceeded to the mantelpiece and did the same, then worked his way around the room, checking every hard surface, including the windowsills and skirting boards.
‘I must say, Lady Clarissa,’ Mr Doncaster said, studying the glove closely, ‘I can’t see a speck of dust and that is no mean feat given the age of this place.’
He then produced his shine-o-meter and ran it over the timber furniture, smiling at the result.
Clarissa exhaled with relief. She watched with fascination as the man pulled a small hand-held vacuum from his briefcase and unscrewed the telescopic handle.
He pressed a switch and the motor whirred to life. Once again Mr Doncaster walked around the room, this time vacuuming the lounges and curtains and several spots on the carpet. When he was satisfied that he’d taken enough care with his samples, he pulled the contraption apart and examined the filter inside.
The man gave her a nod of approval. ‘Congratulations, Lady Clarissa, I’m very impressed.’
He set down the vacuum and took out a clipboard, on which he wrote several notes.
‘Well, I think we’re finished in here,’ Mr Doncaster said. ‘Where are we off to next?’
‘The dining room. It’s just across the hall,’ Lady Clarissa said, turning to lead the way.
Mr Doncaster’s eyes were everywhere as they continued the tour. Clarissa opened the dining-room door and, just as she did, a terrible smell invaded her nostrils. She couldn’t possibly pull another door shut on the man’s face but she had to do something. Her mind raced.
‘Actually, Mr Doncaster, it might be better to go to the music room first,’ she said, trying not to sound desperate. ‘I think today’s filming will be over earlier than Basil had first anticipated, so we could go straight from the music room to the library next door.’
‘No, no, we’re here now, so let’s get on with it.’ The man barged past her. ‘And don’t look so nervous, Lady Clarissa. From what I see you’ve got nothing to – oh, pooh! What’s that awful smell?’
Lady Clarissa rushed after him. ‘I have no idea,’ she gulped.
‘Well, we must find the source immediately,’ the man said dramatically. He placed his briefcase on the sideboard and flicked the locks, pulling out a disposable face mask. He then put on a fresh pair of rubber gloves.
‘Would you like a mask and gloves, Lady Clarissa?’ he mumbled through the covering. ‘I have spares.’
Clarissa shook her head, mystified.
‘Suit yourself.’ Alfie Doncaster walked around the room, checking all surfaces. He then knelt down and lifted the mask up onto his forehead. Lady Clarissa was horrified when he began sniffing the carpet.
‘Mr Doncaster, I can assure you, our carpets are steam-cleaned every three months – and sometimes more often if they need it,’ she said.
But the man was like a bloodhound, down on all-fours with his tail in the air.
Just as Alfie’s bottom was poking out from under the dining-room table, Aunt Violet and Clementine walked into the room.
‘Excuse me, Clarissa,’ Aunt Violet began. ‘Godfathers, what’s that ghastly smell? And what’s he doing under there?’
Lady Clarissa’s whole body tensed. She began waving wildly at her aunt and daughter, hoping they would get the message and leave.
‘We’ve finished for today, Mummy,’ Clementine said, pinching her nose. ‘Can Drew take me and Will to see Lavender and Pharaoh, please? We want to make some more of our movie.’
‘It’s “Will and I”, Clementine,’ Aunt Violet corrected the girl. ‘Will and I.’
Clementine sighed. ‘Sorry, Aunt Violet.’
Lady Clarissa nodded. ‘Yes, run along while I help Mr Doncaster with this little problem.’
‘Check under the sideboard,’ Aunt Violet whispered. ‘I saw Lavender making her way out of here early this morning before breakfast.’
‘Lavender wouldn’t poo on the carpet, Aunt Violet!’ Clementine said loudly.
At the mention of poo, Alfie Doncaster’s ears pricked up. He raised his head too quickly and bashed it on the underside of the table as he backed out. ‘Ow!’ he complained, rubbing his crown.
‘Are you all right, Mr Doncaster?’ Lady Clarissa rushed to him, shooing Aunt Violet and Clementine from the room with a flutter of her hand.
‘Who’s Lavender?’ Mr Doncaster asked.
‘She’s my teacup piggy,’ Clementine said.
‘A pig, you say? Do you mean a toy pig?’ Mr Doncaster asked, his left eyebrow rising so high it looked as if it were about to fly right off the top of his forehead.
Clementine shook her head. ‘Lavender’s real. She’s just miniature, that’s all.’
‘And where is she now?’ Mr Doncaster asked, glaring at Lady Clarissa.
The woman cleared her throat and was about to say something when Clementine jumped in. ‘She and Pharaoh are having a sleepover with Flash at Basil and Ana’s.’
Lady Clarissa gave her daughter a deflated look.
‘Just until you …’ Clementine saw her mother’s face and clamped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late.
‘Clemmie, you don’t want to keep Drew and Will waiting, do you?’ Lady Clarissa said, willing Clementine to leave before she said anything else that could ruin them.
‘No, I think you should stay right here, Clementine,’ Alfie Doncaster said. ‘You’re a very honest little girl.’
Clementine swallowed hard and gave a small nod.
The man sniffed the air. His nose led him to the sideboard, where he quickly got down on all-fours again and stuck his head under the piece of furniture. ‘I have found the source of the offending smell,’ he announced.
Clementine bent down to take a look. ‘It’s a poo,’ she said, wrinkling her nose.
Alfie Doncaster whipped what appeared to be a retractable pooper scooper from his back pocket and nimbly removed the smelly surprise.
Clementine shook her head. ‘That’s not a pig poo. It’s much too big. It looks like one of Pharaoh’s.’
Lady Clarissa pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead.
‘I presume Pharaoh is a dog,’ Mr Doncaster said. He popped the poop into a little plastic bag, sealing the evidence.
‘No, he’s a cat but he looks more like an alien,’ Clementine said, ‘and he never goes to the toilet anywhere except his litter box. That’s the truth.’
Mr Doncaster shook his head gravely. ‘It’s a very serious offence to find animal waste inside a public establishment. I need to know exactly where your pets are allowed to go.’
‘Please, I can explain,’ Lady Clarissa began. ‘This has never happened before. I can assure you.’ She opened one of the dining-room windows to air the room. ‘Clementine, you and Aunt Violet run along and I’ll see you both at dinner.’
‘Mummy’s telling the truth, Mr Doncaster,’ Clementine said as she and her great-aunt exited the room. The pair of them almost barrelled over Ms Spencer.
‘What were you doing?’ Aunt Violet demanded. She could have sworn the woman had had her ear
to the door.
Finley smiled sweetly. ‘Hello there. I’ve just returned from the most glorious run – five miles around the entire village. It really is lovely out.’
‘You must be a good runner,’ Clementine said, impressed.
‘Why, thank you,’ Finley replied.
‘Old people always get really sweaty and red in the face, but you look as if you’ve just had a shower and a stroll around the garden,’ Clementine added.
Aunt Violet’s lips contorted as she controlled a smile.
‘You’re a frank little thing, aren’t you? I’ll have you know I’m not that old,’ Finley smirked. She gestured to the dining room. ‘Is everything all right in there?’
‘That’s none of your business,’ Aunt Violet snapped.
‘There’s no need for that sort of attitude.’ Finley Spencer pursed her lips. ‘I was just concerned. I thought someone sounded upset.’
Clementine tugged on her great-aunt’s sleeve. The woman bent down and Clementine cupped her hand to Aunt Violet’s ear. ‘Please don’t be mean to her, or she’ll give Mummy a bad report too.’
Aunt Violet rolled her eyes and mumbled an apology, but there was something about the woman that didn’t sit right with her. As Clementine pointed out, for someone who’d just been for a five-mile run, there wasn’t a make-up streak or a hair out of place on their guest’s perfectly coiffed head.
Finley Spencer strode away upstairs, muttering something about it being hard to get good service these days.
‘Come along, Clementine, how about I go with you and the others for a walk?’ Aunt Violet suggested. ‘I don’t think any of us want to be in the house for a while.’
Finley Spencer stopped on the landing as she listened to the old woman’s plans. She’d be very pleased to have the house almost to herself.
Clementine panned the camera around the kitchen, where Basil, Ana, Aunt Violet and Drew were drinking coffee. Tilda, Teddy and Will were sitting at the breakfast bar enjoying mugs of hot chocolate.
‘Please, Clementine, stop pointing that wretched thing at me,’ Aunt Violet protested. ‘I must look dreadful.’
‘You look the same as always, Aunt Violet,’ Clementine said.
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