About the Book
After a disastrous fire in the village leaves a family without a home, Alice-Miranda and her friends pitch in to help. They decide to hold a music festival to raise funds. The only trouble is, not everyone’s as keen on the idea.
Things are also heating up at Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale Academy for Proper Young Ladies with Miss Reedy at the helm. The arrival of a new teacher, a deputy turned diva and an entire faculty of disgruntled staff sees tempers flare. Has the power gone to Miss Reedy’s head or is there a sinister hand at play? One thing is for certain: there’s no smoke without fire.
Alice-Miranda is put to the test. Can she ensure the festival, with its many secrets and surprises, hits all the right notes?
Contents
Cover
About the Book
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
And just in case you’re wondering …
Cast of characters
About the Author
Books by Jacqueline Harvey
Jacqueline Supports
Imprint
Read more at Penguin Books Australia
For Ian and Sandy
Alice-Miranda’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the desktop as the song played over and over in her head.
Caroline Clinch glowered beneath her blunt fringe. ‘Enough!’ the woman barked, causing the entire class to jump in their seats. ‘That is terribly distracting.’
‘And that wasn’t,’ Jacinta whispered, garnering several giggles from her classmates.
Alice-Miranda looked up. ‘Oh, sorry, Mrs Clinch. I hadn’t realised.’
‘I don’t know what’s going on with you lately,’ the woman replied, shaking her head. ‘You’re always tapping your foot or drumming your fingers. I would suggest you take up a percussion instrument, but music teachers are a bit thin on the ground around here … Mr Trout might be able to point you in the right direction.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Clinch – that’s a marvellous suggestion. I’ll look into it,’ Alice-Miranda replied with a winning smile.
Cornelius Trout was the Music teacher at Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale and also accompanied the Winchester-Fayle Singers, who had recently lost their conductor, Harold Lipp, the Drama and English teacher at Fayle School for Boys. Mr Lipp had moved to Los Angeles to be with the love of his life, Frau Grizelda Furtwangler, a talented and highly strung musical director. They had met on the set of The Life and Times of Nellie Williams, a film which starred a number of the students from both schools, though it was Caprice Radford who had won the biggest child role. Since then Professor Winterbottom hadn’t been able to find a suitable replacement for the man and Mr Trout didn’t feel up to taking the group on his own, so the Winchester-Fayle Singers had been on an extended hiatus.
Alice-Miranda grinned to herself. She wasn’t about to say so, but she’d already found a teacher. The whole thing had come about quite serendipitously and she was enjoying herself more than she could ever have imagined, but had decided to keep it a secret until she had something worth sharing. It wasn’t easy to get away two afternoons a week without anyone noticing, although it helped that Millie was at tennis lessons on the same days and Jacinta had picked up gymnastics again. Despite no longer competing, Jacinta reasoned that it was a good way to stay fit and had also enrolled at an acrobatics school in Downsfordvale on Saturday mornings.
Mrs Clinch stalked to the whiteboard at the front of the classroom. ‘So, what number to the power of three will give us a solution of 512?’ she said with her marker poised in the air. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted the tiny girl with chocolate curls gazing out the window. ‘Alice-Miranda, do you know the answer?’ the woman asked with an arched eyebrow. While she liked the child well enough, she thought it wouldn’t hurt for her to be caught out just once.
Alice-Miranda looked at her and smiled. ‘Yes, I think so, Mrs Clinch. I believe that it’s eight. Eight to the power of three is 512?’
Caroline paused, her lips quivering. ‘Yes … yes, it is,’ she said before turning back to the board and rolling her eyes. ‘Well done.’
‘Wow, look at the sky!’ Alice-Miranda exclaimed as she and her friends reached the end of Rosebud Lane. It was a wash of pinks and blues.
‘It’s so pretty,’ Chessie gushed. She raised her right hand in the air and fanned it about as if she was trying to capture the scene on an invisible canvas. ‘Like a painting by Turner or Constable.’
The girls had recently attended an exhibition featuring works by both artists. The excursion had proved particularly inspiring for Chessie, who had been sketching almost non-stop since. Her work had caught their Art teacher Miss Tweedle’s eye, prompting the woman to suggest that Chessie develop something for the village art show.
Jacinta twisted her long ponytail around her finger. ‘I like to think of this time of year as Goldilocks weather – not too hot, not too cold, but just right.’
‘That’s very literary of you, Jacinta,’ Millie said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. ‘And I must say I’d much rather be reading fairytales than that awful book Mrs Reeves set before she left.’
‘I prefer summertime, when I can spend all day by the pool,’ Sloane said. ‘Except that when we’re at home, in Barcelona, Mother orders me to fetch her drinks and snacks and rub her shoulders with sunscreen. She treats me like a slave. Although I do love to tease her about all those giant poisonous skinks.’
‘Skinks aren’t poisonous, are they?’ Chessie said, wrinkling her nose.
‘Of course not, but my mother doesn’t know that,’ Sloane replied with a cheeky grin. ‘Whenever one appears, she hotfoots it inside and I get a break.’
‘Poor September,’ Jacinta said, shaking her head. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit mean?’
Sloane raised an eyebrow. ‘You have met my mother, haven’t you? For a long time, “mean” was her middle name, closely followed by “vain”, “selfish” and “stupid”, but I suppose she has her good traits too …’ Sloane paused for a moment then shrugged. ‘It’s hard to remember what they are sometimes.’
‘Nonsense,’ Alice-Miranda chided. ‘It’s true your mother has made some interesting choices, but you and Sep have helped her on the straight and narrow. She was a wonderful chaperone on our trip to China.’
Chessie sighed wistfully. ‘I wish I’d been there with you all. You’ve had the most amazing adventures together.’
‘Trust me, you’ve come at the best time.’ Jacinta nudged the girl playfully. ‘You wouldn’t have wanted to know my mother or Sloane’s back then.’
‘She’s right.’
Sloane nodded. ‘We have plenty of time yet for our own escapades.’
‘Well, I think September and Ambrosia are fabulous,’ Alice-Miranda said.
Sloane and Jacinta looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
‘The small one is completely delusional,’ Sloane said.
‘As always,’ Jacinta agreed.
‘Which is exactly why we love you,’ the pair said in unison. They each wrapped an arm around Alice-Miranda’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze.
The five girls were on their way back to the boarding house after enjoying a long barbecue at Wisteria Cottage with Jacinta’s mother, Ambrosia. The woman had also invited Lucas and Sep to join them, but the lads had a cricket match against their archrivals, Shedstone College, miles away in the village of Upshed. Jacinta had been terribly disappointed as she’d barely spent any time with Lucas this term. Now that she was in year eight, school was always so busy and weekends were just as tricky. Jacinta wondered if Miss Grimm and Professor Winterbottom had planned it that way. She and Lucas got to speak on the phone every Thursday evening, but it wasn’t the same. Then again, she was a little worried that she wouldn’t be able to resist kissing him if they spent time together in person, and that would likely land them both in big trouble. After their trip to Scotland, where they’d shared their very first sneaky smooch, they’d agreed to cool it for a while – at least until they were a bit older.
‘Your mother is a great cook,’ Chessie said. ‘That pear and walnut salad was delicious and her chocolate cake was perfection.’
‘It still surprises me every time,’ Jacinta confessed. ‘When I was younger, Mummy couldn’t even make toast – well, maybe she could, but she never did. She was too busy going to parties and getting herself photographed for Gloss and Goss and worrying about whether her look was “right now” or “last week”.’
The girls giggled. Chessie couldn’t imagine Ambrosia being like that at all. While there was no denying the woman had an uncanny knack for putting things together – from her clothing to the house decor – she clearly adored Jacinta and was a devoted mother.
Alice-Miranda rested her head on Jacinta’s shoulder. ‘That was a lifetime ago and look at her now – your mother is an award-winning fashion journalist. She helps Mrs Parker with the village show committee and she’s also become an expert gardener. I don’t think she buys into any of that other nonsense these days.’
‘Your mother and Aunt Charlotte have had a lot to do with bringing her around,’ Jacinta said, looping arms with Alice-Miranda. ‘And you’re right – I have to stop dwelling on the past. For so long I thought Mummy hated me, but I think, really, she hated herself. Now she’s become the woman she was always meant to be, she’s much happier.’
The group walked on in companionable silence for a minute or so before Chessie asked a question that drew a collective gasp from her friends. ‘Do you ever hear from your father, Jacinta?’ she asked innocently. Little did she know that the man was never mentioned because he was something of a sore point.
Jacinta pulled a face. ‘No, and I don’t care if I never do again – not after the way he left me and Mummy. He’s a scoundrel who doesn’t deserve us.’
‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise,’ Chessie said, biting her lip.
‘That’s the spirit, Jacinta,’ Millie said, nodding her approval. ‘Although I do think it’s sad that you’ve lost your title these days, seeing as you’ve become such a reasonable human being and all.’
Jacinta frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
Millie grinned with a cheeky glint in her eye. ‘The school’s second-best tantrum thrower.’
‘Was I really?’ Jacinta asked.
‘Absolutely!’ Millie laughed.
‘But you weren’t scared of me, Alice-Miranda,’ Jacinta said, shooting the girl a quizzical look. ‘I remember you marched into that gymnasium on your very first day and I bellowed at you, but you just stood there and asked me what the matter was. I have to say I thought you were the strangest person I’d ever met.’
‘You didn’t bother me at all.’ Alice-Miranda smiled. ‘But your tantrums were legendary and that one, as I recall, was quite impressive.’
Chessie sighed. ‘I wish I could have seen it.’
‘I’d say Caprice is now the frontrunner for best and second-best tantrum thrower these days,’ Jacinta said.
Millie rolled her eyes. ‘Thank goodness she’s gone to the National Eisteddfod this weekend or she’d have insisted on coming to the barbecue despite the fact she seems to hate all of us.’
‘She definitely hates you,’ Jacinta quipped. ‘That’s not even up for debate.’
‘I suspect Caprice finds it awfully hard not to be jealous that we’re such good friends,’ said Alice-Miranda. ‘I’m sure she wants to be part of the group, but she doesn’t always know the best way to go about it. We shouldn’t give up on her.’
The girls walked arm in arm in a wide line before Jacinta, who was in the centre, charged forward, propelling the rest of them ahead of her. They laughed and stumbled as Jacinta turned them in a circle, spinning like a top. The girls’ cries echoed through the air, then ceased unexpectedly. The perfectly painted spring sky was now pierced through the middle by a plume of smoke.
Alice-Miranda gasped as the black smudge grew darker and thicker. Jacinta began running towards the village. ‘Come on!’ she cried over her shoulder.
Without a moment’s hesitation, the others raced after her, hoping against hope that the reality wasn’t as they feared.
Tabitha Crowley hung the last of her blouses in the wardrobe and turned her attention to the small pile of sweaters that were going into the bottom drawer of the chest under the window. In comparison to her previous school, this studio flat was huge. It fit a double bed, a wardrobe and chest of drawers, a small kitchenette, study area and bathroom. A two-seater couch sat against the far wall, opposite a small television set. Tastefully decorated, the flat was a world apart from her accommodation at Marchant’s Academy. She still couldn’t believe she was here. Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale was the sort of place teachers stayed for life, and why wouldn’t they? With the gorgeous grounds and superb facilities, not to mention students who had a reputation for hard work and good manners, it was simply irresistible.
Tabitha finished putting away her clothes and opened a box containing her folders. Everything was colour-coded and had a strict order and she soon filled the bookshelves before sitting down to memorise her timetable. She was about to make some notes for her first day of classes when a loud knock on the door caused her to jump.
‘Who is it?’ she called.
‘Caroline Clinch,’ a clipped voice replied.
Tabitha quickly checked her hair in the mirror, took a deep breath and opened the door to a stern-looking woman with a blunt fringe. She wore navy pants and a crisp white shirt with smart navy loafers.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I’m one of the teachers – Mathematics. I thought you might like to join us downstairs for an early supper. The Fayle sisters are renowned for their Sunday spreads and it’s a good opportunity for you to meet some of the other staff.’
Tabitha sighed inwardly. She really wanted to get on with her planning for the week, but even with her somewhat limited experience, she knew that faculties could be tricky and it was always best to have a good understanding of the lay of the land to work out your allies and potential foes. She smiled broadly. ‘Thank you – Miss Clinch, is it?’
‘Caroline is fine, and I’m Mrs Clinch to the children,’ the woman replied.
‘Does your husband teach here too?’ Tabitha asked. She’d often found that to be the case in boarding schools.
‘No,’ the woman replied abruptly.
Tabitha decided to leave that alone. It was none of her business and she didn’t like people asking about her situation either, although she did harbour high hopes that Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale would provide the kind of family environment she’d been deprive
d of for so long. ‘I’ll fetch a cardigan and be right out,’ she said, and closed the door before returning a few seconds later.
Tabitha walked alongside the woman down the hallway that housed several staff flats. She hadn’t yet met any of her neighbours and wondered if Caroline was one of them.
‘That’s me across there,’ Caroline said, pointing to a door, ‘and Mr Pratt, who teaches Science, is next along. The largest quarters at the end are vacant. That’s where Mrs Reeves and her husband, Gerard, lived before he took ill. It’s a two-bedroom apartment – they often had their son, who’s at university, come to visit them.’
Tabitha recognised the name as belonging to the woman she was taking over from. She had no idea of Mrs Reeves’s circumstances and hoped the woman’s husband was on the mend. ‘Do all of the staff live on site?’ Tabitha asked.
‘Not everyone, but most,’ Caroline replied. ‘Caledonia Manor was originally refurbished with the intent of turning it into a teacher training college, but the red tape was horrendous. So Miss Grimm decided that she would extend the prep school into secondary instead. It was a very popular decision, particularly after the scandal with Mildred Jelly and Professor Crookston over at Sainsbury Palace School. The woman was a tyrant – I can tell you from personal experience, as I used to work there and was ever so grateful to gain a position here. The girls are lovely for the most part. There are a couple you might find tricky, but when are there not? Anyway, the manor was a right wreck – or at least half of it was for years until the restoration. There are some photographs in the foyer, if you’re interested to see the evolution of the place. It’s quite extraordinary.’
Alice-Miranda Keeps the Beat Page 1