‘All gone, Clementine, nothing to worry about,’ she tutted. ‘Angus Archibald, you will see me at lunchtime. I think our playground could do with some beautification, which you will be in charge of. That behaviour is completely unacceptable.’ The teacher walked over to the lad, who crossed his arms and huffed loudly.
‘But,’ he whined, ‘it was an accident.’
Mrs Bottomley’s eyebrows furrowed together like a pair of angry brown caterpillars. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘But, Nan . . .’ Angus pouted.
The whole class gasped.
‘What did you just call me?’ Ethel Bottomley’s eyes grew round and she stood over him like a giant brown toadstool.
Clementine looked at Angus Archibald and then at Mrs Bottomley. They had the same hair; that was why she had thought Mrs Bottomley reminded her of someone. It was the woman who had been standing out the front with Angus. She must be Mrs Bottomley’s daughter.
Angus looked at the forbidding woman in front of him.
‘Outside. NOW!’ she roared.
The lad scurried out the door and onto the veranda like a naughty dog. The kindergarten class had never been left on their own before. No one quite knew what to do.
Sophie and Poppy left their seats and raced up the front to talk to Clementine.
‘He’s in big trouble now,’ Sophie said.
‘But if Mrs Bottomley’s really his granny, she can’t be all that mad with him. Grandparents have to be nice to their grandchildren,’ said Poppy. ‘It’s in the rules.’
‘Are you joking? My grandmamma is fierce and French and half the time I can’t understand a word she says. She scares me to bits,’ Sophie said.
It was hard to tell what was going on out on the veranda, except when Mrs Bottomley roared like a hungry lion.
‘It doesn’t sound like he’s getting any special treatment,’ said Clementine. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates.
‘Don’t you ever call me Nan in class again, young man, or I will have you out of here before you have time to learn to count to one hundred,’ Mrs Bottomley bellowed.
The door opened and everyone scurried back to their seats, like ants before a storm.
‘Yes, well,’ the teacher said, looking around at the class, ‘we might as well be honest about this. Angus is my grandson. But rest assured, while I love him very much, he will call me Mrs Bottomley just the same as everyone else does.’ She glared at the lad, whose face was red and eyes were puffy. He sniffled as he skulked back to his desk.
Clementine thought that was a bit beside the point. Who cared if he called her Nan? She was more worried about him getting away with bad behaviour, which up until now he’d proven to be very good at. Angus slumped down in his chair. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.
Clementine felt a little bit sorry for him. She decided to see if he would talk to her. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so upset.
‘Are we really having a pet day?’ Clementine asked.
Angus shrugged.
Clementine tried again to be friendly. ‘That would be fun, don’t you think?’
‘Maybe,’ Angus said with a sniffle.
Clementine noticed that he was in need of a tissue. She walked over to Mrs Bottomley’s supersized box, pulled a couple out and handed them to the boy. He took the tissues from her and blew his nose like a trumpet, then thrust them back at her covered in gooey slime.
‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ Clementine sighed, and then dropped the grotty tissues in the bin. She asked Mrs Bottomley if she could go to the toilet and wash her hands. Angus hadn’t even said thank you.
Clementine’s tummy grumbled and she was very glad when Mrs Bottomley announced that it was time for lunch. The teacher had the children stand in two straight lines and marched them across the quadrangle. Clementine was quite sure now that Mrs Bottomley had a thing about lines.
Because the kindergarten children took longer to eat their lunch, they arrived at the dining room a quarter of an hour before the other classes. That way they had a better chance of finishing their meal and still having time for a run around in the playground before the afternoon lessons.
‘Lunch today is Mrs Winky’s special sausages with yummy mashed potato and vegetables,’ Mrs Bottomley told the group.
Clementine thought that sounded quite good – she loved her mother’s sausages and mashed potato. The children lined up once again and the plates of food were handed over to them.
‘It smells nice,’ Poppy said as she walked over to a table and sat down.
‘No, no, no, Poppy, you must sit where I tell you to,’ Mrs Bottomley barked. ‘Over there with Clementine and Angus and Joshua. I think it’s far better to have the girls and boys mixed together at lunchtime.’
Clementine couldn’t believe that she had to sit with Angus again.
She put her plate down on the table and realised that she needed to go to the toilet. She didn’t want to leave it until later, just in case she had an accident too.
She whispered to Poppy.
‘I need to go too,’ Poppy replied.
The girls approached Mrs Bottomley and asked if they could go. The old woman huffed and asked why they hadn’t gone at morning tea time.
‘But we did,’ Clementine protested.
Mrs Bottomley muttered something that sounded like ‘weak bladders’ and then said, ‘I’m not too keen to mop up after anyone else today, so yes, off you go.’
The girls returned just minutes later. Angus and Joshua were sitting at the table grinning at one another like a pair of Cheshire cats.
‘What are you smiling at?’ Clementine asked as she sat down.
‘Nothing.’ Angus shook his head.
‘Yeah, nothing at all,’ Joshua added, which only made Clementine more suspicious.
Clementine pushed her fork into the mashed potato and put it in her mouth.
Poppy did the same.
At exactly the same moment both girls spat their mouthfuls of food all over their plates.
‘Yuck!’ Clementine couldn’t get it out quickly enough. ‘That’s disgusting!’
Poppy was gagging.
Mrs Bottomley was patrolling the tables and saw their carry-on. ‘Girls, whatever’s the matter this time?’
‘There’s something wrong with it,’ said Clementine. She pointed at the potato. ‘It tastes awful.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ Mrs Bottomley whisked the fork out of Angus’s hand and dug it into his mashed potato. She shovelled a generous portion of the creamy white vegetable into her mouth.
‘Mmm, delicious,’ she said. She looked at Clementine and Poppy. ‘There’s nothing wrong with this at all.’
‘I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with Angus’s food because he wouldn’t do anything to his own lunch,’ Clementine snapped.
‘Are you accusing Angus of tampering with your food?’ Mrs Bottomley stared at her. Even her eyebrows looked sharp.
‘He must have put something in it when Poppy and me went to the toilet,’ said Clementine. She could feel the hot sting of tears prickling her eyes for the second time that day. She also noticed some sprinklings of what looked like salt all over the floor.
‘That would be “Poppy and I”, Clementine.’ The teacher turned to her grandson. ‘Angus, did you put anything in the girls’ lunch?’
‘No, Na– . . . I mean, Mrs Bottomley. I didn’t and he didn’t either.’ Angus pointed at Joshua, who covered his mouth.
‘But he’s smiling,’ Poppy said.
‘Don’t tell me you’re going to get in on this act as well, Miss Bauer? My patience is just about worn through today,’ the teacher snarled.
Poppy looked as if she might cry too.
‘I saw a lovely chocolate pudding for dessert but that’s only for the children who eat up everything on their plates,’ said Mrs Bottomley. ‘You’d better tuck in, hadn’t you?’
She turned to walk away and Poppy pulled a face at her. It wasn’t fair.
‘What is it?’ Clementine demanded, glaring at Angus.
He smiled sweetly. ‘What do you mean?’
‘What did you put on there?’ she asked again.
‘I told you, we didn’t put anything on it.’
‘You’re lying.’ Clementine wanted to go home. She’d had more than enough school for one day.
Angus and his partner in crime finished their meals and took their plates back to the servery.
‘He’s horrible,’ Poppy said, pushing the salty potato about on her plate.
‘They’re both horrible,’ Clementine said.
The two lads returned to the table with giant servings of chocolate pudding and ice-cream.
‘Mmm, yum, this is so sweet,’ Angus said with his mouth full. ‘Not salty at all.’ He smiled at Joshua, who grinned back.
‘Yeah, sweet,’ Joshua replied, giggling.
Clementine glared at the two boys. She wanted some too.
‘Come on, Poppy, bring your plate.’ She picked hers up and walked towards the servery.
‘But Mrs Bottomley said that we could only have it if we ate all our dinner.’ Poppy looked sadly at the two plates that were still full of food.
Clementine was watching as the children at the end of the line put their dinner scraps in the bin. Mrs Bottomley was supervising the drink station, where one of the girls had flicked on the tap to the cordial container and couldn’t work out how to turn it off. There was a flood of raspberry crush pooling on the floor and Mrs Bottomley was shrieking for someone to get a towel.
With their teacher and Mrs Winky busy cleaning up, Clementine scraped her plate into the bin, then did the same with Poppy’s. She placed the empty plates on the servery and picked up a chocolate pudding for herself and another for Poppy.
‘But Mrs Bottomley said we had to eat it all,’ Poppy said.
‘Mrs Bottomley’s not fair,’ Clementine replied. ‘And I’m hungry.’
Poppy nodded. She was hungry too. The girls headed back to the table, where Angus and Joshua were now showering each other with sprinklings of salt and sugar.
‘You didn’t eat your lunch,’ Angus said. ‘I’m telling Nan on you.’
‘And I’ll tell Mrs Bottomley that you called her Nan again,’ Clementine threatened. ‘And that you put salt all over our lunch.’
‘Yeah, we did,’ Joshua admitted, grinning.
Angus elbowed Joshua. ‘She loves pigs.’
She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Yes, I do love my pig.’
‘You’re a pig,’ Joshua said.
Clementine didn’t like being called names. She’d never met anyone like Angus or Joshua and she didn’t like the way they made her feel one little bit.
‘My tummy hurts.’ Clementine lay in bed clutching her stomach. Tears sprouted from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
‘Oh, sweetheart.’ Her mother sat down beside her. ‘You poor little floss. I can’t believe that you’re sick and it’s only the second day of school.’
Clarissa laid the back of her hand on Clementine’s forehead. She didn’t seem to have a fever.
But something certainly wasn’t right. When Clarissa had met Clementine at the school gate yesterday afternoon she had expected her to be fizzing like a shaken bottle of lemonade, but instead she was flatter than a week-old glass of cola. When she had asked about her day, Clementine said that it was okay. Clarissa was worried. It was as if the child she’d delivered to school that morning had been exchanged for another that she barely recognised at all.
‘So what was Mrs Bottomley really like?’ Lady Clarissa had asked as they scooted along in the car on their way home.
‘Brown,’ Clementine had replied.
‘Clemmie, there must be more to her than that,’ her mother had said. ‘Did you have fun with Sophie and Poppy?’
Clementine had nodded but her mouth stayed closed.
‘Are you feeling all right?’
Clementine had shaken her head. Fat tears had wobbled in the corners of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Lady Clarissa had watched in the rear-view mirror as Clementine wiped them away.
That night Clementine had picked at her dinner, which was most unusual given that it was her favourite: roast lamb with baked potatoes, beans and gravy.
When Clarissa went to check on Clementine later, she found her sound asleep. Her uniform was strewn all over the floor, not hanging proudly on the wardrobe door as it had been for weeks.
Now Lavender was sitting guard on the floor in a bright patch of morning light and Pharaoh was snuggled in beside Clementine on the bed. Lavender looked as worried as Lady Clarissa felt.
Digby Pertwhistle appeared at Clementine’s bedroom door. He knocked gently before entering, carrying a tea tray with two boiled eggs and toasty soldiers.
‘Good morning, Clementine. Your mother tells me you’re not feeling well,’ he said with a frown.
‘Do I have to go to school?’ Clementine asked between teary hiccups.
Clarissa couldn’t remember ever seeing Clementine cry as much. Not even when she was a baby. ‘If you’re not well, Clementine, I think we’ll take you over to see Dr Everingham,’ she said. ‘Should we do that?’
Clementine nodded.
‘I’ll call the surgery and make you an appointment.’ Digby put the tea tray down on Clementine’s desk. ‘Oh, and in other good news, Aunt Violet called this morning. She’ll be back from her cruise this afternoon and has demanded that I pick her up from the dock.’
Digby grimaced and Clementine pinched her lips together trying not to smile.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘It’ll be lovely to have the demanding old dragon back again, won’t it?’
Clarissa rolled her eyes and shook her head. ‘Just what we need. At least this weekend there aren’t any guests booked in. I think it would be best if we had some time with just the four of us, to get used to how things will work.’
‘How long will Aunt Violet stay?’ Clementine asked.
‘I suspect she could be with us forever,’ said Clarissa. ‘She has nowhere else to go. She’s not the easiest person to get along with but she is your grandfather’s sister and I can’t just throw her out on the street. Your grandfather and Aunt Violet were very close once. And I remember that when I was a girl she was jolly good fun. I just hope we can find that Violet again.’
‘Under all those barnacles,’ Clementine said.
‘Yes, Clemmie, underneath all her crustiness,’ her mother agreed.
‘But she can’t have my room,’ Clementine said.
‘Of course she won’t have your room, Clemmie,’ her mother replied. ‘Why would you even think that?’
‘When she was here before, I found her in my room and she said that this was her room when she was little and she might like to have it again and make it the way it should be.’ Clementine’s face crumpled as she spoke.
‘Oh, sweetheart, there’s no chance of that happening. I’m putting my foot down this time. She’s having the Blue Room along the corridor up here, whether she likes it or not,’ Clarissa said firmly.
‘Hear, hear,’ Digby agreed. ‘I’d best go and make that call to the doctor.’ The old man disappeared from the room.
Lavender was snuffling about on the floor at Lady Clarissa’s feet. ‘Hello you, why don’t you give Clemmie a cuddle and see if you can make her feel better,’ the woman said. She lifted the little pig up onto the bedclothes.
Clementine hugged Lavender. Pharaoh began to purr loudly beside her too.
‘I’ll come and let you know when we’re seeing Dr Everingham,’ said Clarissa, then kissed the top of Clementine’s head. She looked at Clementine’s uniform, which she’d hung back up on the wardrobe door the night before. ‘Clemmie, is there anything else you’re not telling me? Did something happen yesterday?’
Clementine shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about Angus or Mrs Bottomley or how the whole day was rubbish. She hadn’t learned to read or write or do numbers an
d she still couldn’t tell the time.
After lunch, when she and Poppy and Sophie had gone to play, Angus and Joshua had followed them and wouldn’t go away. When the girls had finally agreed to a game of chasings, Angus scared Clementine half to death by hunting her into the overgrown garden at the end of the field and saying that a witch lived there. Then the school caretaker Mr Pickles had crashed into the garden and yelled that the children weren’t allowed in there because it wasn’t safe.
In the afternoon, Mrs Bottomley had made them all lie down on the floor. She said that she as going to read them a story but then she started flipping through the magazine on her desk and making shushing noises. She told them that they should close their eyes and have a little nap. Clementine felt like a baby. She hadn’t had an afternoon nap since she was three.
She hadn’t told her mother yet, but she wasn’t going back to school. There was no point. She could still see Sophie and Poppy at the weekend and she’d learn more from her mother and Uncle Digby than Mrs Bottomley. On top of that she wouldn’t have to worry about Angus and Joshua and all the mean things they did.
She was hoping that Dr Everingham would help her tell her mother that this was for the best.
Uncle Digby managed to get an appointment first thing. So, just before half past eight, Clarissa and Clementine set off to Highton Mill, where the doctor had his surgery. There was no one else waiting when they arrived.
‘Good morning, Lady Appleby,’ the receptionist said and then looked at Clementine. ‘Hello, you must be Clementine Rose. I’m Daisy.’ The pretty young woman smiled at the child. Clementine said hello but didn’t smile back. ‘How old are you?’
‘I’m five,’ Clementine replied.
‘Have you started school yet?’ the lady asked.
Clementine nodded. She hadn’t seen this woman before. Usually Mrs Minchin sat in the big chair behind the tall desk.
‘Hello, Daisy is it? It was her first day yesterday,’ Lady Clarissa volunteered. ‘How long have you been working here?’
‘Not long. I’m just relieving while Mrs Minchin’s on holidays. I usually work over at Highton Hall.’
Clementine Rose and the Pet Day Disaster 2 Page 3