Clementine Rose and the Paris Puzzle

by Jacqueline Harvey

  Clementine looked at her in surprise, unsure whether to cry or jump for joy. ‘Really?’

  ‘Grand-père is so much better. He says he wants to go back to work properly and he’s even looking after the shop with Emmanuelle today,’ Sophie said, smiling from ear to ear.

  ‘I only wish ’e ’ad a companion,’ Pierre said. He glanced at Uncle Digby and Aunt Violet. ‘Like you two.’

  ‘You know we can’t stand each other,’ Aunt Violet pointed out.

  ‘I used to think that,’ Pierre said, ‘but lately I am not so certain.’

  Clementine’s tummy twinged as she remembered something she had meant to do. ‘Will I get to see Monsieur Rousseau before we leave?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know if there’ll be time,’ Clarissa said. ‘We have to head off no later than four o’clock.’

  Clementine frowned. She wished she was better at writing letters. That’s what she would do as soon as she got home.

  Clementine didn’t want to say goodbye, but there was no choice in the matter. She hugged Sophie tight and then Jules. Odette brushed a tear from her eye as she farewelled her friends, and even Pierre smothered a sniffle or two.

  ‘We will be back soon, I ’ope,’ the man said with a smile. ‘And definitely for the wedding.’

  Amid a blather of tears, the Rousseaus parted company with the Applebys and Barnsleys.

  Monsieur Crabbe was standing behind the counter as the group trudged back into the hotel. ‘My friends, what is the matter?’ he asked, passing around a box of tissues.

  Clarissa and Clementine wiped their eyes and Drew explained they were sad to be leaving their friends.

  ‘Do not cry. I am sure you will be together again before long,’ he said cheerfully.

  Camille Crabbe walked out of the office. ‘You are unhappy to be leaving us,’ she said. ‘Lavender will be sad too, I am sure.’

  ‘Where is she?’ Clementine asked. ‘I need a hug from her.’

  ‘She and Lulu are just through there.’ Camille pointed at a door marked ‘Privé’. ‘They were sitting in Lulu’s basket watching my favourite game show when I left them.’

  Camille Crabbe went to turn the handle and was surprised to find the door ajar. She pushed it open and looked inside. The television was on and Lulu was in her basket, but Lavender was nowhere to be seen. She saw the doors between the sitting room and the kitchen and bedroom were all firmly closed. ‘Lavender,’ she called.

  ‘Why don’t we finish packing?’ Clarissa suggested. ‘You can bring Lavender upstairs in a minute, Clemmie.’

  ‘Yes, I think we’re still in a bit of a mess, Will,’ Drew added.

  Clementine nodded. ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’ll wait with her,’ Uncle Digby said. ‘I’m packed.’

  Aunt Violet was momentarily distracted by the cover of a magazine on the corner of the reception desk. It featured none other than the famous designer Rodolphe, who, on second look, did seem to be in possession of a rather large red nose.

  ‘Henri, can you come here, please?’ Camille squeaked. Her voice was laced with an urgency neither Uncle Digby nor Aunt Violet missed.

  ‘Is something the matter?’ Digby asked as Henri disappeared through the door.

  Clementine walked around the reception area, wondering what was taking so long, when the pair burst forth from the room.

  ‘She is gone,’ Camille blurted, wringing her hands.

  ‘Who’s gone?’ Clementine asked, her bottom lip wobbling.

  ‘Lavender,’ the woman breathed.

  Clementine whimpered. She could feel her heart racing but her head felt like it was full of cotton wool.

  ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart,’ Uncle Digby soothed. ‘Knowing our little busybody, she’s just taken herself out for a walk.’

  ‘I told you we should have left her at home,’ Aunt Violet fretted. ‘How will we ever find her now? The city is huge.’

  Clementine glanced around the room through a haze of tears. She had no idea what to do. Her vision blurred before coming to focus on a fruit bowl on the reception desk and, in particular, a lovely ripe pear. Clementine blinked and wiped away her tears. ‘I think I know where Lavender went,’ she said suddenly.

  ‘How could you possibly know that, Clementine?’ Aunt Violet demanded.

  ‘There’s no time to explain. Aunt Violet, please call Pierre and tell him to look in Madame Joubert’s garden,’ Clementine said. ‘Uncle Digby, come with me.’

  ‘Not a chance. I’m coming with you too,’ the old woman said, rushing to the front door.

  ‘I’ll telephone for you,’ Henri said, without realising that he had no idea of the number.

  Clementine, Uncle Digby and Aunt Violet sped along the street. Clementine urged them to go faster but they were both struggling to keep up. They ran as quickly as they could to the Rousseaus’, only to find there was no one home.

  Clementine rattled the gate, which was firmly locked. ‘We can’t get around the back to Madame Joubert’s garden.’

  ‘Slow down, Clemmie, or I’ll have a heart attack,’ Aunt Violet puffed.

  ‘I’ll be right behind you,’ Uncle Digby wheezed, clutching at his chest.

  ‘The shop!’ Clementine yelled. They’d run straight past it, but Sophie’s grandfather would still be there.

  Forgetting about the last time she’d run full tilt towards the patisserie, Clementine charged back down the road to the shop. She pushed open the door and, fortunately, this time there was no one with an armful of boxes on their way out.

  Etienne Rousseau looked up from where he was icing cupcakes. ‘Clementine, what are you doing here?’ he said.

  ‘Lavender!’ Clementine gasped, wincing from the stitch in her side. ‘She’s missing and I think I know where she’s gone, but I need your help.’

  The old man put down the icing bag and hurried over. ‘Take a moment to catch your breath, chérie,’ he said, as Emmanuelle quickly fetched the girl a glass of water.

  ‘I think she’s gone to Madame Joubert’s garden,’ Clementine hiccuped. ‘Lavender can fit through the bars on your gate and then run through the hole in the wall.’

  ‘What makes you think she is there?’ the man asked.

  ‘There are pears to eat and Madame Joubert said that she has truffles and pigs like them a lot,’ Clementine explained.

  Uncle Digby and Aunt Violet fell through the door of the shop, diverting Emmanuelle’s attention. The pastry apprentice filled another glass of water and began fussing over the pair of them.

  ‘All right, Clementine,’ Etienne said, whipping off his apron and hat. ‘But I know a faster way. We will go to her front door.’

  Clementine suddenly remembered what she had been meaning to tell the old man the other day. ‘Monsieur Rousseau, there’s something you need to know about Madame Joubert,’ she began.

  ‘Later, chérie,’ he replied, shrugging on his coat. ‘We must find Lavender first.’

  ‘We’re coming too,’ Aunt Violet said, and gulped down her glass of water.

  The oddball group poured out of the patisserie and ran along the street with Etienne in the lead.

  Clementine glanced at the man out of the corner of her eye, worried by his ragged breaths. ‘Are you all right, Monsieur Rousseau?’

  The old man thrust out his chest. ‘I have not felt this alive in years!’ he exclaimed.

  Clementine grinned and looked ahead. ‘That’s it,’ she said, pointing at the house that had a wall around the front of it.

  She pushed open the lopsided gate and made her way through a stranglehold of vines. The house was just as dilapidated at the front as it was in the back and, if anything, the garden was even more overgrown. Clementine ran onto the front porch and pressed the bell again and again. She could hear it echoing through the house. By now Monsieur Rousseau, Uncle Digby and Aunt Violet were all standing behind her.

  There was a shuffling sound and then, finally, the door creaked open just a tiny bit.

  ‘It�
��s me – Clementine,’ the child blurted. ‘I need your help, Madame Joubert. I think Lavender has run away into your garden.’

  ‘What? Again? That pig must have a nose for truffles,’ the old woman said. She swung open the door and was shocked to find that Clementine was not alone.

  Clementine raced inside and through to the back garden, calling Lavender’s name. Uncle Digby and Aunt Violet followed but Monsieur Rousseau was rooted to the spot. He gazed at the woman’s face, tracing her features with his eyes.

  ‘Solene?’ he said at last.

  Madame Joubert stared at the man’s lined face and there was a glimmer of recognition. ‘Etienne?’ she whispered. ‘Is it possible?’

  Tears filled Monsieur Rousseau’s eyes and spilled onto his cheeks as he looked at the woman who was once his best friend. ‘I cannot believe it is you,’ he said.

  The pair embraced as if not a day had passed since they had last seen one another. Clementine and the others barrelled back through the house and to the front door.

  ‘Lavender’s not here,’ Clementine said, and started to cry. ‘What if we have to leave Paris without her?’

  Madame Joubert released Monsieur Rousseau and stepped back. ‘Where was she last?’ the woman asked.

  Clementine explained that Madame Crabbe had been looking after Lavender and Monsieur Crabbe’s dachshund, Lulu.

  Madame Joubert’s brows furrowed. ‘But the dog was still there?’

  Clementine nodded.

  ‘How curious,’ the old woman said quietly. ‘Perhaps someone has taken her?’

  Clementine frowned. ‘Why would anyone kidnap Lavender?’

  ‘Come in and sit down,’ Madame Joubert said, ushering the group into the kitchen. ‘We must think.’

  ‘I see you have not given up your puppets,’ Etienne commented as they walked through the house. ‘They are just as beautiful as I remember.’

  Solene Joubert blushed and put on the kettle.

  Clementine crawled onto Uncle Digby’s lap, sniffling. He glanced at the newspaper sitting on the table when something caught his eye. It was a small photograph of Madame Delacroix and Lavender. He quickly turned to the story and pushed the paper towards Etienne. ‘What does this say?’

  Clementine looked over to see what he was talking about.

  Sophie’s grandfather quickly scanned the page. ‘Capucine has come to life – Madame Delacroix is to launch a new show in spring at her world-famous puppet theatre,’ he read aloud. ‘It says that she is taking a break to develop a new show, and when she returns it will feature the real-life Capucine alongside her puppet friend.’

  ‘She probably stole Lavender, just like she stole Capucine from me,’ Madame Joubert said bitterly.

  Everyone turned to look at the woman.

  ‘What are you talking about, Solene?’ Monsieur Rousseau demanded.

  ‘It is too long a story for now,’ the woman replied.

  ‘Do you think Madame Delacroix could really have taken her?’ Clementine asked, her eyes wide.

  ‘I told you that woman was bad news,’ Aunt Violet muttered.

  Uncle Digby thought for a moment. ‘Do you remember how she asked what we were doing this morning and where Lavender would be?’

  Aunt Violet and Clementine looked at him as the same horrible conclusion dawned on them.

  Madame Joubert thumped her fist on the table. ‘She will not get away with this again. We must find her and rescue Lavender!’

  Uncle Digby ran out onto the road and hailed a taxi. The group piled into the vehicle and the car sped through the backstreets and across to the Luxembourg Garden. While Uncle Digby paid the driver, the others raced towards the puppet theatre.

  The park was much busier than it had been on the days Clementine had visited. The motley group was forced to dodge and weave through people wandering about. Clementine arrived at the theatre first and tried the handle but the door was locked and there was a notice pinned to the middle of it.

  Sophie’s grandfather arrived next, his chest heaving.

  ‘What does it say?’ Clementine asked.

  ‘Reopening on the first of March,’ the man said, his face falling.

  Huge tears began to trickle down Clementine’s cheeks.

  ‘Don’t worry, Clementine, we will go to the police,’ Etienne said, putting a hand on her shoulder. ‘They will find our Lavender.’

  Clementine’s eyes widened and she pressed an ear to the door. She could have sworn she had heard grunting coming from the other side. ‘Did you hear that?’ she asked.

  The old man jiggled the handle but it wouldn’t budge.

  ‘We are closed!’ Madame Delacroix called from inside. ‘Come back in spring for my new show.’

  Aunt Violet and Solene Joubert finally reached the theatre with Uncle Digby in tow. But he wasn’t the only one. They had come across two gendarmes in the park, who had listened eagerly to their fanciful tale.

  ‘She’s in there and so is Lavender,’ Clementine said excitedly.

  ‘Madame Delacroix, it is Officer Dufour and Officer LeBlanc,’ said one of the policemen. ‘Open up – we need to speak with you most urgently.’

  There was a muffled noise from inside. ‘I’ll be there in a moment,’ the woman’s voice wavered.

  ‘Hurry up, madame,’ the officer ordered.

  ‘Right, that’s it then,’ Uncle Digby said. He sized up the entranceway, took a few steps back and then ran towards it, executing a karate kick that sent him flying backwards, almost taking out Aunt Violet with him. He landed on the gravel with a thud. The doors rattled but remained locked.

  ‘Godfathers, Pertwhistle! You’re not a kung-fu master,’ Aunt Violet said, running to his aid.

  ‘Madame, open up at once,’ the officer shouted.

  ‘What if she is escaping out the back?’ Monsieur Rousseau said.

  The two young officers looked at one another before charging at the door, putting all their weight behind it. The wood splintered and the lock sprung open and there, with Lavender under one arm and a suitcase in the other, was Madame Delacroix.

  ‘Lavender!’ Clementine called. The little pig leapt from Madame Delacroix’s grasp and raced into the girl’s arms.

  Solene Joubert stepped forward. ‘Hello Paulette. Are you surprised to see me after all these years?’

  Madame Delacroix’s eyes almost popped out of her head at the sight of the woman, and she promptly fainted on the spot.

  Just as Madame Delacroix was regaining consciousness, Clarissa, Drew and Will arrived on the scene, followed by the Rousseaus and Camille Crabbe, who was clutching her hair and tottering along on her high heels.

  ‘Sacré bleu!’ she cried. ‘Oh, thank heavens you found her.’

  Clarissa hugged Clementine and Lavender. ‘Darling, are you all right?’

  Clementine nodded. She wasn’t going to let Lavender out of her sight ever again.

  Pierre looked at the old woman in the black dress and then at his father, who was standing beside her.

  ‘Everyone, this is Madame Solene Joubert,’ Clementine said, smiling at her new friend.

  ‘She’s the crazy lady who lives behind you, Grand-père,’ Jules blurted.

  ‘Solene?’ Sophie gasped. ‘Is she your friend from the village when you were a boy?’

  ‘Oui, it is me,’ Madame Joubert replied.

  ‘But ’ow could you ’ave lived so close to us for all these years and not known?’ Pierre said.

  ‘I ran away from the village to get married a long time ago. My parents didn’t approve but my husband was wonderful. We had a beautiful house and garden and I had a housekeeper called Paulette. She was my friend and she helped me with lots of things, and I taught her all about puppets. It was my dream to open a theatre and see my Capucine onstage,’ the woman explained.

  ‘And then what happened?’ Sophie asked.

  The entire group was hanging on Madame Joubert’s every word. Even Officer LeBlanc had his notebook out and was furiously scrib
bling away.

  ‘We were young and happy and full of dreams when my husband was killed in an accident. It was the worst day of my life. I could not cope and dear Paulette was so kind. Then one day, after months of feeling as if I was in a fog, I opened the newspaper and saw the article about Madame Delacroix’s show. It was then that I realised Paulette had stolen Capucine and my idea for a puppet theatre.’

  ‘But why didn’t you tell the police?’ Odette asked.

  Camille Crabbe shook her head in disgust. ‘She is a rotten thief. I am taking that woman’s picture out of the cabinet and putting it into the rubbish as soon as I get back to the hotel.’

  ‘Because I was weak and I let my dreams die,’ Solene said. ‘And now it is too late.’

  ‘It’s never too late, Madame Joubert,’ Clementine said, ‘and your puppets are much better than Madame Delacroix’s.’

  ‘How dare you?’ Paulette barked from where she was lying on the floor. ‘My puppets are the best in France!’

  ‘I’d keep quiet if I were you,’ Aunt Violet snapped.

  ‘We will need you to come to the police station to make a statement, Madame Joubert, and we will be taking Madame Delacroix into custody,’ Office Dufour informed them.

  Clarissa looked at her watch and gasped. ‘And we need to get back to the hotel. The car is coming to collect us in ten minutes!’

  ‘Do not worry – he can get the bags at the hotel and come here to pick you up,’ said Camille, whipping out her phone.

  The family and friends walked back outside.

  Clementine turned to Sophie. ‘So we’re really going this time,’ she said sadly, and the two friends hugged.

  Etienne Rousseau looked at Clementine. ‘Merci, ma chérie,’ the man said, his eyes twinkling.

  ‘Merci, Monsieur Rousseau,’ the child replied. ‘I never would have found Lavender if it weren’t for you.’

  ‘And I would never have found my dear friend if it were not for you.’ He blew Clementine a kiss, which she caught and blew right back.

  Clementine smiled. ‘Just like a missing piece of a puzzle.’

  ‘Au revoir, Clementine and sweet little Lavender,’ Solene said softly. She waved good bye and left arm in arm with Etienne.