Alice-Miranda Keeps the Beat

by Jacqueline Harvey

  ‘Your name is Gilbert Crowley, isn’t it?’ the child said. ‘Or at least it was before you changed it to Neville Headlington-Bear.’

  ‘Who do you work for?’ he snapped. ‘Is someone paying you to say this?’

  ‘What’s she talking about, Neville?’ Jamie said. She was clinging to the man like a limpet while mascara ran down her cheeks.

  Alice-Miranda shook her head. ‘I don’t work for anyone, but if I did I’d say that I was an advocate for your wife and daughter, who deserve so much better than what you’re currently dishing up.’

  ‘Wife? Daughter?’ Jamie’s blue eyes were huge.

  The blood was rising to Neville’s face and he was getting redder and redder by the second. ‘You don’t know anything about me,’ he spat.

  ‘I know a lot more than you think,’ Alice-Miranda challenged. ‘You won’t get the money. You and Ambrosia are divorced.’

  ‘Divorced?’ Jamie squeaked.

  ‘Actually, sweet pea, we’re not.’ Neville smiled smugly. ‘You see, my lawyer never lodged the final paperwork. Ambrosia and I are still very much married.’

  ‘Still married?’ Jamie sobbed.

  Alice-Miranda put her hands on her hips and drew herself up to her full height. ‘Mr Headlington-Bear, or whoever you really are, I have a suggestion for you. If there is one shred of decency in your body, you would have your lawyer lodge those divorce papers first thing tomorrow. Leave town tonight and tell Jacinta and Ambrosia you realised you’re not worthy of them, and please don’t come back. Your daughter and ex-wife will be just fine without you and your lies.’

  Neville’s mouth gaped open as if he were catching flies.

  Jamie pulled away. ‘We’re finished, Neville. You can have your ring back too.’ She twisted the giant rock from her finger and threw it on the ground.

  ‘Jamie, stop!’ Neville shouted. ‘Come back!’ He turned to Alice-Miranda. ‘I don’t know who you think you are, young –’

  ‘I’d do exactly as Alice-Miranda says,’ Lucas said, striding towards them.

  ‘Who on earth are you?’ Neville demanded.

  Lucas ignored the question. ‘I know what you’re planning – to take Ambrosia to the city and leave Jacinta here and then you’re going to dump Ambrosia again too once you have your money.’

  ‘You two are delusional,’ Neville said, shaking his head. ‘You have no proof.’

  ‘Apart from your ex-fiancée there?’ Lucas challenged.

  Miss Crowley hadn’t yet made it back to the main stage but was hoping her singers had when she caught sight of Alice-Miranda and Lucas. Honestly, getting these children together was like herding cats. At this rate, they were going to miss their slot in the program. She hurried over to them. ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ she said, ‘but I need you two on stage in two minutes.’

  ‘Perfect timing, Miss Crowley,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘Mr Headlington-Bear, please meet your cousin Tabitha – the one your aunt left half her fortune to.’

  ‘Alice-Miranda, what are you talking about?’ Tabitha frowned.

  ‘That’s preposterous,’ Neville protested. ‘Her name’s Tabitha Crowl …’ The man stopped as the realisation set in. He’d heard his wife say the woman’s name before but he hadn’t been paying attention.

  ‘Gilbert?’ Tabitha asked, her brow crinkling.

  Alice-Miranda noticed a sturdy silhouette on the other side of the tent right by where they were standing. It almost looked as if whoever it was had their ear pressed against the canvas. She turned to the man. ‘There were conditions attached to your inheritance, and if you can’t meet them, your half goes straight to Jacinta to be held in trust.’

  ‘What rot,’ Neville huffed.

  For a few seconds Tabitha Crowley was too stunned to speak. ‘No, it’s the truth,’ she said, finally finding her voice. ‘I told Alice-Miranda that, but I had no idea you were my cousin.’

  ‘Face it, Neville, it’s over,’ Lucas said, stepping towards the man. ‘If you have an ounce of feeling for your daughter or her mother, you’ll do exactly as we ask – unless you’d prefer we go public now? We can get to a microphone pretty quickly.’

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ Neville rasped.

  Lucas narrowed his eyes at the man. ‘Try us.’

  ‘Fine!’ Neville stamped his foot like a five-year-old. ‘I couldn’t stand another second of that whining brat of a child, anyway. And Ambrosia all hoity-toity with her “career” – who knew she had a brain let alone one she might use?’

  The flap on the tent burst open and Myrtle Parker quite literally flew out. Her curly hair was standing on end and her face was bright red. ‘Leave!’ the woman thundered. ‘Now, before I tear you apart limb by limb! Your wife and daughter are two of my dearest friends in the world – actually, I consider them my family and you are not going to destroy that poor woman and child again. GO! And do not ever return to our village!’ Fortunately, the Fayle Pipes and Drums were on the main stage and no one could differentiate Myrtle’s shrieks with the screeching bagpipes. ‘And I want a letter telling them exactly what you were up to so there can be no doubt that you are the scoundrel that I have always taken you for. If you don’t,’ Myrtle hissed, her nose almost touching Neville’s, ‘I will find you and it won’t be pretty.’

  Neville swallowed hard and pushed the woman out of the way before legging it to the gate.

  Ambrosia thought she saw Neville run past but shook the notion from her mind. He’d been complaining so much since they’d arrived at the festival she hadn’t been enjoying his company at all. If she was truly honest with herself, she knew Neville was up to something. Tonight, she would tell him there wasn’t going to be a reconciliation. She was a better person without him.

  Alice-Miranda, Lucas, Miss Crowley and Mrs Parker looked at one another in stunned silence. It took a minute to register exactly what had happened.

  ‘Mrs Parker – you were, magnificent.’ Alice-Miranda reached out and hugged the woman around the middle.

  Myrtle hugged the tiny child back. ‘Well, Jacinta’s going to need us all, but don’t worry, she and her mother have a whole village behind them, and a new cousin too.’

  Alice-Miranda nodded but her heart stopped when she heard the emcee, Tilde McGilvray, introducing the Winchester-Fayle Singers.

  ‘Oh dear, we’d better go,’ Miss Crowley said.

  Alice-Miranda grabbed Lucas’s hand and the pair of them were about to run when a shout rang out from the cashier’s tent.

  ‘Thief! We’ve been robbed!’

  Alice-Miranda, Lucas, Tabitha and Myrtle ran around the corner to find Millie standing with her hands clutched to her head.

  ‘The money,’ the girl gasped. ‘It’s all gone!’

  Moments later, Ms McGilvray announced there was a change of plans and the Winchester-Fayle Singers would be appearing later in the program. Given that Alice-Miranda, Millie, Lucas and Miss Crowley were currently missing, it didn’t come as a surprise.

  ‘Where’s Mrs Clinch?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘She went to find Charlie,’ Millie said, on the verge of tears. ‘He was going to escort her to the office to put the money in the safe. It was in a red bag on the table there and I only turned away for a second. When I looked back, it was gone. The Abbouds are not going to have any money and it’s all my fault.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Alice-Miranda said, putting an arm around her friend. ‘And we’ll find it. The thief can’t have gone too far.’

  But Millie didn’t share her friend’s optimism. She wiped at the tears that were stinging her eyes.

  ‘Has anyone seen Constable Derby?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘He was manning the sausage sizzle with his wife, but I don’t think Mrs Derby was feeling well,’ Mrs Parker said. ‘Actually, the poor woman was a peaky shade of green last I saw her. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was –’

  ‘Coming down with the flu,’ Alice-Miranda jumped in, having realised exactly what Mrs Parker was about to
say.

  ‘I’ll go,’ Lucas offered. ‘And Alice-Miranda’s right, Millie. It’s not your fault.’

  ‘Maybe we should make an announcement over the PA?’ Millie sniffled. ‘If the thief is still among the crowd, that might flush them out if they make a run for it?’

  ‘Or hide,’ Miss Crowley said.

  ‘I’ll find Miss Reedy,’ Alice-Miranda said.

  An enthusiastic crooner had replaced the Winchester-Fayle Singers and was treating the crowd to some mid-century classics as Alice-Miranda scanned the grounds for the acting headmistress. She spotted Tilde McGilvray heading for the food tents and was surprised to see a large group of teachers standing to one side of the main stage. Alice-Miranda picked her way through the patrons to the edge of the oval and ran towards them. ‘Miss Wall, something’s happened,’ she called. ‘We need you.’

  The teacher turned and it was then that the child realised Miss Reedy was right in the middle of the huddle. It was an awful scene with lots of finger-pointing and raised voices. Alice-Miranda gasped and scurried over.

  ‘You’re nothing short of a tyrant, Reedy,’ Mr Trout yelled. ‘My music is spectacular, and how dare you hobble me and make all those insidious remarks.’

  ‘And I refuse to take the long-distance swimming squad and lead by example – you know I’m not a strong swimmer. It’s outrageous!’ Miss Tweedle huffed.

  ‘I’m a casual employee, Miss Reedy,’ Dervla said, her fists clenched. ‘Expecting me to cover prep time for the junior girls for no pay is completely out of line.’

  ‘Please stop shouting at one another,’ Alice-Miranda said, squeezing her way into the huddle and holding up her hands. ‘You’re adults, not schoolchildren.’

  Livinia Reedy was trembling. ‘I have no idea what any of you are talking about,’ she said in bewilderment.

  ‘Of course you do,’ Miss Wall spat. She pulled a wad of pages from her shoulder bag, thrusting them at Livinia. She’d been carrying them around for days in the hopes of confronting the woman. ‘As for telling me that I had to ditch all my new clothes and go back to regulation school tracksuits, well, you can bite me!’

  Livinia looked at the first page and scanned its contents. ‘But … I-I didn’t write this,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I’d never make such outrageous demands. I’ve been so busy and I trusted you were all just going about your business as per usual.’

  ‘Don’t try to deny it,’ Benitha scoffed. ‘It’s your handwriting and these are your letterheads.’

  Livinia’s face scrunched. ‘Yes, it is, and they are. I don’t understand any of this.’

  Alice-Miranda spotted Millie and Lucas. Chessie was with them too. In fact, most of the Winchester-Fayle Singers were standing outside the tent that had been set up as a green room for the performers. She retreated to join them while the teachers continued to rant and rave.

  ‘What’s all that about?’ Chessie said.

  ‘The teachers have finally taken matters into their own hands,’ Alice-Miranda said, her mouth a grim line.

  ‘That’s hardly surprising,’ Jacinta said, who was now off her stilts. Lucas flashed her an awkward grin. Jacinta couldn’t help herself – that smile of his always made her go weak at the knees. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I know you only want the best for me.’

  ‘I’m sorry too,’ he said, and squeezed her hand. He didn’t know how she was going to react to the news about her father but now wasn’t the time to get into it.

  Aldous Grump had taken Aggie inside to have a sleep while Ophelia went for a wander. The sun on her face was therapeutic and she’d been having lots of lovely chats with parents and villagers. She also wanted to find Mrs Abboud to see how she and the children were faring. As Ophelia neared the main stage, she noticed there was something going on and it wasn’t just the man serenading the audience with his Frank Sinatra tunes. All that was missing from the scene were fiery torches and pitchforks.

  ‘Good heavens,’ Ophelia muttered, ‘that’s the last thing we need people to see!’ She hurried over and planted herself in the middle of group. ‘Right, you lot, calm down,’ she said, ‘and move around to the back of the stage. There are families out there who are thinking of sending their girls to the school and they won’t if they see this nonsense.’

  ‘Thank goodness you’re here,’ Miss Tweedle said. ‘Miss Reedy has to go. She’s a tyrant of monumental proportions.’

  ‘And check her bag – she’s a thief too,’ Mr Pratt accused.

  With all the drama between the teachers, Alice-Miranda had momentarily forgotten about the money. She looked at Mr Pratt and had one of her strange feelings. The man seemed to be enjoying the drama, which was very concerning indeed. She quickly gathered Dervla and Millie, and the three of them formulated a plan.

  ‘I’ll stay here and keep watch,’ Millie said.

  ‘Come on.’ Dervla grabbed Alice-Miranda’s arm. They’d get to Caledonia Manor much faster with the aid of the school motorbike, which was parked inside the stables. The pair shot off through the school.

  ‘I hope I’m right,’ Alice-Miranda said, as Dervla kick-started the bike. She held tightly to the woman’s middle.

  Meanwhile, back at the festival, things were spinning out of control. Livinia clutched her handbag under her arm and refused to give in to Mr Pratt’s demands for her to show everyone its contents. Josiah Plumpton had heard enough. All week he’d seen staff skulking in pairs and threes and fours, whispering about his wife, and he would not stand another second of it.

  ‘Mr Pratt, your accusations are ridiculous,’ Josiah exploded, his cheeks quivering. ‘I can’t believe you’d say such a thing.’

  ‘Your wife is ridiculous!’ Percy shouted. ‘And bossy and mean and stupid – I mean, she must be because she married you and you’re just about the most preposterous person I’ve ever known.’

  Josiah lunged at the man, unable to control his outrage. After their collegial day out at the science lecture on the weekend, he couldn’t understand the man’s spiteful remarks.

  Percy ducked to the left then to the right and, before anyone knew what was happening, the two men were on the stage. ‘Open her handbag and prove her innocence then!’ Percy yelled.

  The poor man who was singing spun around at the sound of the commotion. He faltered for a split second, then kept on crooning, hoping the interlopers would be gone the next time he looked.

  ‘Terrible back-up dancers,’ an elderly woman in the audience muttered.

  But the melee was about to get worse. Benitha Wall picked up her loudhailer and demanded the pair stop. When they didn’t, she leapt onto the stage and seized Mr Plumpton, daring Livinia to charge after her.

  ‘Her bag!’ Percy shouted, flapping his arms. ‘Get her bag!’

  Benitha swiped at Livinia’s handbag and the two of them tussled back and forth in a tug-of-war before the English teacher was overpowered by the PE teacher’s brute strength. As Benitha wrenched the bag from Livinia’s hand, it flew open, spewing bundles of money onto the floor and into the sky.

  ‘Good heavens!’ Livinia gasped, her face ashen. ‘Where did that come from?’

  Mrs Clinch had arrived with Charlie. ‘Shame on you, Livinia! You supported the festival from the outset and now you’re stealing from it.’

  The children were as stunned as the staff by the shower of cash. Ophelia Grimm had seen enough. She signalled to Constable Derby, who ran to the stage and apprehended the woman. Meanwhile, Benitha and Caroline had scooped up all the money. Mr Pratt pulled a red plastic bag from his back pocket and passed it to them. Millie’s eyes bulged.

  ‘I can’t believe it, Livinia,’ Ophelia said, shaking her head. ‘You’re not only a tyrant, you’re a thief. Did you really think you would get away with this?’

  Despite the commotion, the singer had managed to keep entertaining the crowds and no one seemed to notice what was happening at the rear of the stage. The high-pitched whine of a motorbike could be heard like a buzzing mosqui
to above the music. Dervla stopped at the edge of the oval and Alice-Miranda leapt off the back. She ran through the crowd and over to the group of teachers and students, waving a sheaf of papers in front of her.

  ‘It’s a set-up,’ she panted, then paused to catch her breath. ‘The handwriting on all those letters appears to be Miss Reedy’s, but it’s not. It’s Mr Pratt’s!’ She pointed at the man, who was standing on the edge of the group, looking very smug.

  ‘That’s outrageous!’ Percy sputtered. ‘The child is delusional.’

  ‘And you stole the money too – it was in a red bag and you have the bag,’ Millie accused.

  Dervla Nichols reached the group, gasping for breath. ‘Alice-Miranda is telling the truth,’ she panted.

  Alice-Miranda and Dervla had gone to Caledonia Manor after the girl had realised she’d found the scrunched-up letter in the patch of garden right under Mr Pratt’s window. When the man had accused Miss Reedy of being a thief, Alice-Miranda knew there was more to it as Miss Crowley was still over by the cashier’s tent and she hadn’t mentioned the money was missing to any of the teachers.

  Miss Hephzibah and Miss Henrietta were just setting off to watch the festival’s afternoon entertainment when Alice-Miranda and Dervla arrived. Alice-Miranda had quickly explained her theory to the women and Hephzibah used their master key to open the man’s flat. Sure enough, there were stacks of notes written on letterheads from Miss Grimm and Miss Reedy and even some from Miss Wall and other teachers too. They then checked Miss Reedy’s office and found notes she’d written months before and compared the handwriting. It was clear that while Mr Pratt was an excellent counterfeiter, he had slipped up a few times on his loopy ‘g’s.

  ‘You’re a good forger, Mr Pratt, but a careless one,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘I found this under your window last week.’ She produced the page from her jacket pocket. ‘At first I thought Miss Reedy must have made a mistake – this request was too cruel for words – but then I realised she wouldn’t write anything so ridiculous or preposterous, which is one of your favourite words, Mr Pratt – yet I can’t remember Miss Reedy saying it very often at all. You’ve used it in the letters quite a bit, I see, which is another reason we know it was you. Miss Tweedle can’t swim and Miss Reedy knows that. She would never order her to take long-distance swim coaching on the lake and insist the woman lead by example.’