‘Well, excuse you,’ the old woman huffed.
Clementine frowned. ‘I meant you always look lovely.’
‘Oh, that’s all right then,’ the old woman said.
Ana and Drew smiled at one another and Basil winked at them.
‘Could we go into the garden and shoot some more scenes of Lavender playing soccer?’ Clementine asked.
‘That sounds like a marvellous idea,’ Aunt Violet said. ‘Off you go. Shoo!’
‘I’ll get the ball,’ Tilda said, as she raced into the hallway to the stairs.
‘Ask Mintie if she wants to play too,’ Ana called after her. ‘I think she’s in her room reading.’
‘Come on,’ Teddy said to Will. ‘We can take Flash, but I think he’s going to have to be the cheer squad. He’s too slow to be in the game.’
The boy picked up the tortoise from his little compound in the utility room, and Clementine beckoned Lavender to go with her. Pharaoh was sound asleep on the couch.
Within a couple of minutes the shouts of gleeful children could be heard in the garden and the adults were left to have a quieter conversation.
‘Have you been through that box of photo graphs yet?’ Basil asked Aunt Violet. ‘I’d love to have a few of those pictures for the film.’
Aunt Violet shook her head. ‘I’m afraid Clarissa has her hands full with Mr Doncaster’s unexpected visit,’ she replied. ‘Leave it with me and I’ll see if there are any you can use.’
‘There is one thing I’ve been wondering,’ Basil said tentatively.
Violet Appleby’s face drained of all its colour. She hoped it wasn’t the question she’d been dreading since Clarissa had agreed to him making the stupid film.
‘Where is your daughter these days?’
‘That’s none of your concern,’ Aunt Violet said sharply, ‘and you’re not to discuss it in the film, or I will make sure it never sees the light of day.’
Drew and Ana glanced at one another.
‘I am sorry, Aunt Violet, I should have spoken to you privately,’ Basil said.
‘No, Basil, you shouldn’t have spoken about it at all.’ Aunt Violet took a large gulp of her coffee. ‘I need to get going. Drew can bring Clementine.’
Violet Appleby walked to the sink and tipped the last of the coffee down the drain.
‘Thank you, Ana,’ she said quietly, and slipped through the door into the front hall, exiting the cottage as fast as she could.
Tears streamed down the old woman’s face as she walked home. The last time she had seen Eliza was almost thirty years ago when, as an eight-year-old child, she had gone to live in Sweden with her father. Violet had tried to keep in touch but her daughter wouldn’t reply to her letters or calls, and over time Violet had come to accept that the only person she had ever truly loved was gone from her life forever. She had no idea where Eliza was now, but that didn’t mean she had disappeared from Violet’s thoughts. On the contrary, there were days when it felt as if someone had torn her heart from her chest and replaced it with a frozen stone.
Clarissa had only ever mentioned her cousin once but Violet’s explosive reaction had ensured that the woman would never do so again. Basil was bound to find the birth certificate – he was a documentary filmmaker after all. It was his job to do research and get the facts. This was just one fact Aunt Violet would have preferred he miss.
Clarissa looked up from where she was busy chopping vegetables for dinner. ‘Hello Aunt Violet. Where’s Clemmie?’
‘She’s still at Basil’s,’ Aunt Violet sniffed. ‘Drew will bring her back later. I’m going to bed. My head is pounding.’
Clarissa wondered if something had happened. ‘Mr Doncaster said that he’s not going to record the earlier incident,’ she reported. ‘It took me quite a while to convince him that we’ve never had that problem before. Fortunately, the rest of the house was spotless apart from a pile of pencil shavings in the music room, which I’ll speak to Clementine about when she gets back. And he would like Lavender and Pharaoh to come home so he can see how they behave in the house.’
‘Good, good,’ Aunt Violet said absently. ‘Could you bring me some tea, Clarissa? I shan’t be joining you for dinner, but I’ll have googy-eggs and soldiers in my room at seven.’
Clarissa rolled her eyes. She’d telephone Basil to ask if Clementine and the others wouldn’t mind bringing the pets home with them. She was also keen to find out if there had been anything odd happen while Aunt Violet was there.
The woman finished chopping the last carrot and wiped her hands on her apron. Uncle Digby was setting the dining table, having fumigated the room and scrubbed the patch of carpet where the offending item had been found.
Clarissa picked up the telephone and dialled Basil’s number.
‘Hello Basil, Clarissa here,’ she said. ‘Would you be able to send Lavender and Pharaoh home with Clementine? Our special visitor knows about them and he’s asked to see them.’
There was a short pause as she listened to Basil. Clarissa then asked him if anything had happened with Aunt Violet.
‘Oh dear, that explains a bit. There is one other thing,’ she said. She had almost forgotten with everything else that had been going on. ‘I had a look through those photographs and I think there are several you’ll be able to use. But, even better, I found Granny’s diary tucked in the bottom!’
There was a knock at the kitchen door.
‘Sorry, Basil, I have to go. See you soon,’ Lady Clarissa said before hanging up.
She walked over and opened the door.
‘Hello, I was just wondering if I might get a cup of tea,’ Finley Spencer asked.
Clarissa couldn’t help thinking how attractive Ms Spencer was with her creamy skin and honey-coloured hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Dressed in dark jeans and a crisp white shirt, the woman looked as if she could have stepped straight from the pages of a magazine. Everything about her looked expensive – from the diamond-encrusted watch to the enormous emerald ring on her finger.
Clarissa wondered why Ms Spencer had chosen to have her holiday at Penberthy House. She looked like the sort of woman who’d have felt much more at home in a five-star establishment, not their funny old hotel. Clarissa pushed the thought away. It was none of her business, really, and who was she to complain about having house guests?
‘Certainly, Ms Spencer. I’ll bring it to you in the sitting room,’ Lady Clarissa replied.
The woman was looking over Clarissa’s shoulder as if searching for something.
‘Can I help you with anything else?’ Clarissa asked.
‘Oh no,’ Finley said, smiling sweetly, ‘I’m just fascinated by big old piles like this one. I was keen to see what the kitchen looked like.’
‘You’re welcome to come in and have a look.’ Lady Clarissa opened the door further, and in a blink, the woman had pushed her way inside.
‘Ooh, may I have a peek in here?’ Finley called, already helping herself to a tour of the pantry.
‘Mummy, guess who we brought home?’ Clementine rushed into the kitchen with Lavender skittering along the flagstones beside her.
‘Hello darling,’ Lady Clarissa replied. She walked towards the door to greet the rest of the entourage. ‘Come in, everyone. I’ve just made a pot of tea.’
‘I think Miss Appleby will be happy to have this one back,’ Drew said, holding up Pharaoh’s cat carrier.
The creature gave a yowl.
‘Goodness, Pharaoh, what’s that complaining about?’ Clarissa smiled as Drew put the carrier down and unzipped the top. Pharaoh promptly jumped out and went straight to his food bowl.
Clementine turned around and saw Ms Spencer sitting at the kitchen table, a look of sheer terror on her face. ‘It’s all right,’ the girl said. ‘Pharaoh doesn’t bite. He’s just ugly.’
‘I wasn’t worried.’ Finley smiled momentarily at the child, then turned to speak to Drew.
‘I won’t stay, Clarissa,’ Basil said. ‘I want to
get back and start reading, if I may?’
Clarissa was glad to hear it. She really needed to get on with dinner, and she preferred to do so without an audience. ‘I think you’re going to enjoy it. Granny has some wonderful descriptions of parties and guests, and the most extraordinary thing is that the King once came for dinner.’
She handed Basil the diary and walked him to the back door, out of earshot of the others.
‘I am sorry about upsetting Aunt Violet,’ the man said after relaying what had happened that afternoon in more detail.
‘She’ll be fine,’ Clarissa assured him. ‘It’s a touchy subject but we’ll have to discuss it one day. I’ll let her know you won’t mention it in the documentary.’
‘Absolutely,’ Basil said before farewelling Clarissa and trotting off.
As Clarissa re-entered the kitchen, she was surprised to see Uncle Digby come through from the hallway with Mr Doncaster behind him. Uncle Digby was carrying a tray loaded with crystal glasses and champagne flutes, which he hurriedly placed on the bench near the sink.
‘Oh, hello there,’ Clarissa said, eyeing the tray. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Doncaster?’
‘Mr Pertwhistle said he saw Clementine returning with Lavender and Pharaoh. I’d like to meet them. I’m rather hoping to leave in the morning if I can finalise my report tonight.’
Finley Spencer’s eyes widened.
Lady Clarissa’s did too.
Uncle Digby spotted the look on their guest’s face and wondered what that was about.
‘This is Lavender,’ Clementine said proudly, beckoning Mr Doncaster over to where the little pig was sitting in her basket by the range. ‘And this is Pharaoh. They spend most of the time in this basket except when Lavender is outside playing soccer or going for walks to the village.’
Alfie Doncaster knelt down beside the pair. ‘Well, Clementine, you were right about one thing. Pharaoh certainly is an unusual-looking creature.’
The cat sat up and arched his back, then began rubbing his head against Mr Doncaster’s outstretched hand.
‘But he’s friendly enough.’ The man picked up Pharaoh and began to sniff him all over. ‘Mmm, he doesn’t even smell like a cat.’
He put the creature down and turned his attention to Lavender, who began to playfully tickle his fingers with her tongue.
‘Lavender loves having baths, doesn’t she, Mummy?’ Clementine said, eager to prove that there were no bad smells coming from her pet either.
Alfie leaned in and sniffed away. ‘For goodness sake! You wouldn’t credit it but I think she smells like her namesake.’
Clementine grinned. She wasn’t about to tell him that Lavender had rolled around in Ana’s lavender patch during their game of soccer.
‘See, Mr Doncaster, I told you they were lovely,’ the child said.
‘I quite agree.’ The man smiled at her. ‘Well, I’m going to head up and start work on this report.’
‘Yes, I think I’ll have a shower before dinner,’ Ms Spencer said. ‘I must look a frightful mess.’
Lady Clarissa didn’t think that at all. The woman was immaculate, but she was pleased to have the kitchen to herself.
‘What are you and Will going to get up to, little girl?’ Finley asked Clementine as she stood up from her chair.
The child was surprised that Ms Spencer was interested. ‘We’re making more of our movie,’ she said, glancing at Will, who nodded.
‘In the library?’ the woman asked.
‘No, in the kitchen,’ the girl said. ‘It’s not Basil’s movie. It’s our one about –’
‘How lovely,’ the woman said with a patronising smile.
But before Clementine could finish, Finley Spencer was gone.
‘Dinner’s at half past seven,’ Clarissa called after her.
‘Come on,’ Clementine said to Will. ‘Let’s get the camera.’
‘Would you like a hand with anything?’ Drew asked.
‘Thank you for the offer but I should be back on track once I finish this pastry,’ Clarissa said.
‘I wish you’d have asked me a few minutes ago, then you could have been blubbering like a baby over here instead of me,’ Uncle Digby sniffed, in the middle of chopping onions for the pasta sauce. He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
‘I could wash those glasses,’ Drew offered, spying the tray beside the sink.
Lady Clarissa laughed. ‘Drew, you’re a guest.’
‘No, not at all. Think of Will and me as part of the family for the next week. We’re happy to pull our weight around the house.’
The man donned a pair of pink rubber gloves and set to work. He turned on the tap and reached into the cupboard beneath for some washing-up liquid.
Clementine looked up from the kitchen table, where she and Will were reviewing their movie footage. ‘You’re dad’s a good helper,’ she said to Will.
‘He must really like your mum because he usually hates washing up,’ Will whispered.
Clementine giggled. ‘I think my mum must like him too because she would never let guests help.’
Lady Clarissa looked over at the children. ‘What are you two whispering about?’
‘Nothing,’ Clementine said, grinning at Will.
Lady Clarissa turned back to Uncle Digby. ‘I was going to ask you about those glasses. Where did you find them?’
‘It was the strangest thing,’ the man replied. ‘They were the glasses I put out for dinner this evening. I took them out of the cupboard and checked that they were clean, but when I went back to change the candlesticks I noticed that they all had lipstick marks on the rims.’
‘Thank goodness you spotted it.’ Lady Clarissa sighed. ‘Mr Doncaster would have had a fit.’
Clementine nudged Will. ‘What colour is the lipstick?’ she said, climbing down from her chair and walking over to take a look.
Will held a glass in the air, examining it closely. ‘It’s a dark shade of pink,’ he replied.
Clementine picked up another glass and narrowed her eyes at its stained rim. Will hurried over to join her. ‘Aunt Violet wears lipstick that colour,’ Clementine said quietly.
Will nodded. ‘Maybe she’s the one who’s been doing all those strange things.’
Just as Clementine put the champagne flute back by the sink, a bloodcurdling scream rang out from upstairs.
Lady Clarissa dropped the rolling pin and Digby Pertwhistle sent a pile of onions flying off the bench.
‘Heavens, I almost lost a finger!’ the man exclaimed.
Drew whipped off his rubber gloves and raced upstairs with Lady Clarissa, Uncle Digby and the children right behind him. Just as they reached the top, there was another shriek.
‘It’s coming from the Blue Room,’ Uncle Digby panted.
They ran along the hallway and found Mr Doncaster poking his head out of his bedroom door.
‘What’s going on?’ the man demanded, scurrying out to join them.
Drew knocked on the door of Ms Spencer’s room and turned the handle. ‘Are you all right in there?’ he called, tentatively poking his head inside.
The woman was standing in the middle of the bedroom dressed in a towel with another piled on her head. ‘There’s a monster in the drain!’ she shrieked.
‘What are you talking about?’ Alfie Doncaster pushed his way past the others and headed straight into the ensuite. The rest of the group followed.
Lady Clarissa’s heart thumped.
‘The water wasn’t draining properly, so I decided to have a look in the plughole. I’m quite handy, you know, and I didn’t want to bother anyone,’ Finley said between sobs. ‘I started to pull and, oh, it was ghastly.’ The woman shuddered dramatically.
Alfie and Drew peered into the shower. Within a flash Alfie produced a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and picked up the creature, placing it into the empty bathtub, where he could inspect it more closely.
‘It’s not a monster, Ms Spencer,’ Alfie Doncaster concluded.
‘It’s a giant hair ball.’
‘Oh, that’s disgusting.’ The woman touched her forehead with the back of her hand and looked as if she were about to faint.
Lady Clarissa’s eyes widened at the sight of the matted mess. ‘But I’m meticulous with my bathroom cleaning,’ she said, dumbfounded.
Uncle Digby shook his head. ‘I don’t understand, either. I flush all the drains with Drain-O once a month.’
Clementine looked at the hair and then at Will. ‘Someone cut off Nellie’s hair,’ she said.
‘Who’s Nellie?’ Mr Doncaster asked. ‘Don’t tell me there’s another pet.’
‘My dolly,’ Clementine said.
Lady Clarissa looked at her daughter. ‘Clementine, did you do this?’
‘No, Mummy. I promise I didn’t,’ Clementine said.
‘That’s not doll’s hair,’ Finley Spencer snapped. ‘It’s human hair, from all the guests that have ever had the misfortune to stay here. It’s clear your mother is a terrible housekeeper.’
‘No, she’s not,’ Clementine said crossly. ‘And why did you take Uncle Digby’s towel?’ Clementine pointed at the monogrammed initials, DP, on the towel wrapped around Ms Spencer’s head.
Finley Spencer’s jaw dropped. ‘Yuck! I thought this felt damp. What kind of dreadful place is this? Hair balls in the drains and staff towels given to guests – used ones at that.’
Uncle Digby gasped. ‘Heavens, that is my towel.’
To ensure that the family’s towels never got mixed up with those reserved for the guests, Lady Clarissa had had them all monogrammed with the owner’s initials. For a second time that day, Uncle Digby wondered if he was losing his marbles. Surely he hadn’t put his own towels into Ms Spencer’s room.
‘I suppose I won’t be leaving in the morning after all.’ Alfie Doncaster’s brow furrowed. ‘I’ll need to do a full inspection of the drainage system and check on your laundry procedures tomorrow. Now, if you wouldn’t mind handing over that towel, Ms Spencer, I’d like to run some tests on it.’
Finley Spencer’s tear-stained face seemed to cheer up almost immediately as she whipped the towel from her head and handed it over.
Clementine Rose and the Movie Magic 9 Page 5