‘Good grief, Marmalade, it’s a python not a viper. Cute as a button too.’ The Queen touched the serpent on the end of his scaly nose.
Fergus grinned broadly.
Mrs Marmalade shuddered.
The Queen concluded her inspections and moved over to confer with Miss Critchley, who was holding a blue ribbon.
There was a lot of nodding and smiling between them before Queen Georgiana took the microphone. ‘It gives me great pleasure to announce that the Cutest Pet at today’s Ellery Prep Pet Day is . . .’ There was a long pause as the Queen cast her eye over the entrants one last time.
The audience members all held their breath.
‘I must tell you that it was a terribly difficult decision and if I had my way everyone would take home a ribbon,’ said Queen Georgiana, smiling at the children.
The audience exhaled, as if a room full of balloons had been let down at once.
‘But, alas, there can only be one winner.’ The group breathed in again. ‘And today that title belongs to . . . Mintie the lovely little white cat.’
Everyone clapped. Sophie couldn’t believe it. Her jaw dropped and her mouth gaped open like a stunned cod. She had been quite sure that Lavender would win.
‘Sophie, close your mouth,’ her father Pierre called from the audience, ‘or you will catch some flies.’ Everyone laughed.
Clementine smiled at her friend, and then leaned down and gave Lavender a pat. ‘There’s still the Best Dressed,’ she whispered. ‘And you’ll look beautiful in your ballet slippers.’
Queen Georgiana strode over to Sophie, who was busy pulling Mintie out of her cage. The Queen pinned the oversized rosette onto the cat’s collar. Mintie immediately started tearing at it with her teeth. Flashes were going off as Pierre snapped pictures of his daughter and her prize-winning cat standing next to the Queen.
‘Would you like to say anything, dear?’ Queen Georgiana held out the microphone to the astounded child.
Sophie could only manage to shake her head.
‘I see the cat’s still got your tongue.’ Queen Georgiana winked at Sophie.
Mintie meowed loudly. It sounded rather like ‘thank you’. The audience giggled.
Sophie’s cheeks turned bright red.
‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ she whispered.
‘You’re very welcome, my dear. Now put that kitty away again quick smart.’ The Queen glared at Angus and his hound, who had moved to the front row. She wondered if he was entered in the next category: Dribbliest Pet.
Meanwhile, outside, Aunt Violet screeched to a halt at the front gate. She gathered up the black bag on the seat beside her and opened the driver’s door, failing to see the ‘No parking’ sign right beside her car.
‘Silly child would forget her head if it wasn’t screwed on,’ she tutted under her breath.
Digby Pertwhistle was outside helping set up the morning tea. He spotted the old woman exiting her car and scurried to meet her.
‘Good morning, Miss Appleby, I see you changed your mind.’
‘No, I did not.’ Aunt Violet peered over the roof of her expensive red car. She didn’t notice the shadow that scurried underneath the vehicle.
‘May I ask what you’re doing here then?’ said the old man.
‘I have this.’ Aunt Violet held the bag aloft. She slammed the car door.
‘Oh, it’s very good of you to bring Clementine’s bag. I don’t think she realised that it was missing. But you can’t park here,’ he said, pointing at the sign.
‘Pooh! I’ll only be a minute,’ she said, waving her hand at him.
‘Well, I can take the bag for you and then you don’t need to come in at all,’ Digby offered.
Aunt Violet shook her head. ‘No, I’ll take it myself.’ She pursed her lips together tightly. ‘I want Clementine to understand that she has to be more careful with her things. She can’t expect someone to rescue her every time she’s careless.’
‘Oh,’ said Digby. ‘Of course. She is five, after all. I don’t suppose it has anything to do with you wanting to meet Queen Georgiana?’
‘Of course not,’ Aunt Violet snapped.
‘You’re not even a little curious?’ Digby teased.
‘No.’ She shook her head.
‘Well, I think you’ll find Clementine over in the hall with the rest of the children. The Best Dressed category will be coming up soon. Then you might like to stay for morning tea – after you’ve moved the car, of course.’
Violet ignored Digby’s last comment and marched through the gates. She almost bumped into Clementine and Lavender, who were on their way to the classroom to get ready. Mrs Bottomley was leading the group – in a straight line, of course. Her mouth was pinched and her eyebrows looked crosser than ever. She was not enjoying Pet Day one little bit, although the layered sponge cake she’d made for the event had been a great triumph, so she had that to look forward to at morning tea.
‘Aunt Violet!’ Clementine exclaimed. ‘I’m glad you changed your mind.’
‘I did no such thing,’ the woman snarled. She held the black bag aloft. ‘You forgot this.’
‘Oh, thank you for bringing it. Otherwise we would have missed out.’ Clementine smiled at her great-aunt. She hadn’t even realised that the bag was missing.
‘Well, yes, you need to be more careful in future, Clementine. I can’t go running around after you at the drop of a hat,’ said Aunt Violet. She looked as if she had just sucked a lemon.
‘Thank you, Aunt Violet,’ Clementine said again. ‘Are you going to stay for the judging?’ Clementine asked.
‘No, I’m going home to make another cup of tea. The one I was trying to make when your grandfather scolded me about your bag will be stone cold,’ Aunt Violet replied.
‘Did Grandpa talk to you too? That’s so exciting!’ Clementine gushed.
‘No, of course he did not talk to me,’ said Aunt Violet. ‘I didn’t mean it like that at all.’
But Clementine knew there was something more. She gave Aunt Violet a wave and skipped along with Lavender beside her on the way to the classroom.
Inside the hall, there were peals of laughter as Queen Georgiana announced the winner of the Dribbliest Pet category.
It was a tie. Father Bob had kindly loaned his bulldog, Adrian, to Eddie Whipple, a six-year-old lad from Penberthy Floss. The other winner was Angus’s giant mastiff, Martin. The Queen was calling for a mop to clean the stage before the next category, Best Dressed.
Aunt Violet was drawn towards the noise and wondered what on earth was going on. She poked her head into the back of the hall and watched as Her Majesty directed the school caretaker, Quentin Pickles, who was slipping and sliding all over the place.
‘Come on, man.’ Queen Georgiana pointed at a pool on the stage. ‘You missed a bit just there.’ The audience was hooting.
‘Oh, for goodness sake, give it to me.’ Her Majesty wrestled the mop from Mr Pickles, whose face had turned a stony white.
‘But, Ma’am, you’re the Queen. You can’t mop floors. That’s my job,’ the old man protested, clutching the mop back to his chest.
‘Yes, you’re quite right. I am the Queen, so I can jolly well do anything I please.’ Queen Georgiana flashed him a cheeky grin.
The parents and children wondered if they were watching a pantomime.
Violet Appleby pursed her lips. Could this really be the Queen? The very same woman she had invited to her birthday party when they were girls, and from whom she never received a reply?
Outside, Digby and Pierre were putting the finishing touches to the morning tea. A row of trestle tables heaved under the weight of cream buns, chocolate eclairs, sponge cakes and a scrumptious selection of biscuits and slices. Most had been supplied by Pierre, with some additions from the parents and teachers.
‘Well come on, Pierre,’ Digby called to his friend. ‘We should be getting in. I think Clementine and Lavender are about to be judged.’
The two men placed a
long gauze cover over the tables and headed inside.
Clementine Rose and Lavender – now in her costume – followed Mrs Bottomley around to the side entrance of the hall.
‘Okay, Lavender, just do your best.’ Clementine reached down and gave the little pig a scratch behind the ear. She walked across the stage and was joined by a whole line of children and their pets, which were dressed in a range of outfits. There was a West Highland terrier in a sailor suit, a bunny dressed as a bellhop and, of course, Lavender in her tutu. Poppy was there too with one of the barn cats from their farm. It was a large tabby called Jezabel, dressed in a bride’s outfit that Poppy had borrowed from one of her dolls. Jezabel did not look as if she was enjoying the experience one little bit.
‘Oh my,’ Queen Georgiana gasped as she surveyed the group in front of her. ‘Don’t you all look gorgeous?’
She walked up and down the line, greeting the pets and their owners. Digby slid into a seat next to Lady Clarissa. He glanced around and saw Aunt Violet standing at the back of the hall. He motioned for her to come and sit down but she ignored him completely.
After a short deliberation, Queen Georgiana again took the microphone from Miss Critchley to announce the winner.
‘It gives me great pleasure to award the Best Dressed pet to . . . Lavender, the little teacup pig.’ She smiled at Clementine, who beamed back at her.
‘That’s our girl,’ Digby called from the back of the hall. Everyone clapped and laughed.
Queen Georgiana passed the microphone back to Miss Critchley and proceeded to pin the blue rosette onto Lavender’s tutu. The little pig nibbled Her Majesty’s finger and Clementine curtsied.
‘Well,’ Miss Critchley began, ‘I can’t believe it’s time for our final category: the Pet Most Like its Owner.’
All of the students and their pets, other than those entered in the last section, were now jammed in together at the front of the hall with parents and friends sitting on the rows of seats behind.
‘I love this part of the competition,’ Miss Critchley beamed. ‘It’s always a lot of fun. So, without any further ado, here are the entrants.’
The children and their pets filed across the stage. Among them were a girl from the fourth grade with blonde curls and her equally blonde curly-haired poodle; a lad from the sixth grade with slicked back hair holding a large skink in a terrarium; and a kindergarten boy with rather large ears, who was leading a basset hound. Another boy was wearing a dalmatian costume and holding the most adorable dalmatian puppy. Queen Georgiana was grinning broadly as she tried to decide on a winner.
No one noticed the unusual creature that had slunk onto the side of the stage. He padded along behind the group and emerged in the middle, between a girl with a guinea pig and a lad with a ferret.
The creature looked out at the audience with a sneer on its face.
Queen Georgiana caught her breath. ‘Oh my. Who do we have here?’
A little girl in the front row squealed, ‘There’s a monster. There’s a monster.’
‘Good lord, what is that?’ a man asked loudly from the middle of the hall.
The father with the dragon tattoo leapt to his feet and said, ‘Quick, get a cage before it bites someone and they turn into an alien too. I’ve read about those creatures. It’s dangerous for sure.’
Several of the parents charged forward. One of them grabbed a blanket from a toddler who was sitting with his mother. The little boy began to wail.
From the back of the hall, Aunt Violet caught sight of the commotion and gasped. Clementine did too. Lavender grunted.
‘Pharaoh! My baby!’ Aunt Violet exclaimed. ‘How on earth did you get here?’ The old woman rushed down the centre of the hall, sending children scattering this way and that. She elbowed the men who were racing towards the stage.
‘Get away from him,’ Aunt Violet roared. ‘Do not lay a hand on my baby or I’ll . . .’
‘Ah!’ yelled one of the men as he caught sight of Aunt Violet’s angry face. She was far more petrifying than the creature on the stage.
A little girl began to cry. ‘Mummy,’ she sobbed, ‘there’s a witch.’
‘No, that’s just Aunt Violet. She always looks like that,’ Clementine called in her great-aunt’s defence.
Aunt Violet reached the stage and pushed her way to the middle, where she scooped the cat into her arms. He looked at her and hissed.
‘What are you all looking at?’ she challenged the audience, who were now staring wide-eyed at the terrifying woman and her equally terrifying pet.
‘What is that?’ a lady called from the back row.
‘He’s a sphynx, you ridiculous woman. Everyone knows that,’ Aunt Violet hissed.
The audience members looked at one another and shrugged.
‘He’s lovely. You just have to get to know him, that’s all,’ Clementine announced.
‘He’s ugly, did you say?’ a man shouted.
As always, Queen Georgiana knew just how to break the tension.
‘I see we have a last-minute entrant,’ she said, nodding at Aunt Violet and then turning to face the audience, who laughed loudly.
Digby Pertwhistle leaned over to Lady Clarissa and whispered in her ear. ‘It looks like she’ll finally get her wish.’
Clarissa nodded, although she was feeling a little sorry for Aunt Violet.
‘To meet the Queen,’ Digby said.
‘Oh,’ Clarissa nodded.
‘I wonder how Pharaoh got here,’ Clementine said to Poppy and Sophie, who were sitting either side of her.
‘I don’t know, but your Aunt Violet doesn’t look very happy,’ Sophie replied.
‘Aunt Violet never looks very happy,’ Clementine said.
Aunt Violet stood on the stage, staring at the audience and wondering what they were giggling about. The cat hissed at her again. Aunt Violet sneered and hissed back at him. The audience hooted with laughter and so did Queen Georgiana.
In her light grey suit and oversized sunglasses, Aunt Violet bore more than a passing resemblance to Pharaoh.
‘I think we have our winner,’ Her Majesty declared. She took the blue rosette from the tray Mrs Marmalade was carrying behind her. ‘Excuse me, dear, do you know that lady’s name?’ Queen Georgiana whispered to Miss Critchley, who shook her head.
‘But we’re not . . .’ Violet began to protest. ‘You couldn’t possibly think . . .’
‘And the winner of the Pet Most Like its Owner goes to –’ Queen Georgiana turned towards Aunt Violet and looked at the cat. ‘Well, what’s his name?’
Violet gulped. ‘Pharaoh,’ she whispered.
‘And the winner is Pharaoh and his owner,’ Queen Georgiana announced. The audience went wild.
‘That was fun.’ Clementine beamed at her mother and Uncle Digby as they ate their morning tea outside. ‘I’m so proud of Lavender and Pharaoh and Aunt Violet too.’
Her great-aunt did not feel the same way at all. She had been standing behind a tree, quietly nibbling a piece of Pierre’s delicious chocolate cake and doing her best to stay out of sight. But she’d been cornered by Father Bob, who’d come to collect Adrian, his dribbly bulldog. He was congratulating her loudly on the win with Pharaoh, who was now safely locked away in a spare cat cage that Miss Critchley had found. Violet was protesting that it was all just a ridiculous mistake. Father Bob didn’t agree. He thought it was well deserved.
‘Who would have thought Aunt Violet and Pharaoh would be such a hit?’ said Digby. He winked at Clementine.
‘Do you think we could invite Queen Georgiana to tea?’ Clementine asked. ‘I like her a lot.’
‘Yes, the woman has impeccable judgement,’ Digby grinned.
‘I’m not sure that Aunt Violet would want that,’ Lady Clarissa replied. She glanced towards the cake table, where something caught her eye. ‘No, Pharaoh!’ she shouted and ran towards him.
Aunt Violet and Father Bob looked up.
Hiding behind a huge layered sponge in the mid
dle of the table was Pharaoh. His tail flicked from side to side like a windscreen wiper as he licked the cream from between the cakes.
Mrs Bottomley had been telling Astrid’s parents what a clever little tick their daughter was, when she heard the commotion too.
She looked up, wondering if she was seeing things.
‘Why, you!’ Mrs Bottomley erupted. ‘I spent hours making that cake, you ugly brute.’ She raced towards the table and lunged at the cat. Pharaoh darted away and Mrs Bottomley landed sprawled out, face down in the middle of the sponge.
Clementine’s eyes were like saucers as she watched her teacher lying on the table with her little brown legs kicking in the air.
Aunt Violet threw her paper plate on the ground. Pharaoh raced in her direction. She quickly snatched him up but the evidence was all over his face.
Mrs Bottomley rocked backward until her feet hit the ground and she slid off the table and onto her bottom. Large chunks of cake fell from her chest as she scrambled to her feet and sped towards Aunt Violet, who was clutching Pharaoh under her arm.
‘You, you horrid little beast!’ Mrs Bottomley pointed her finger at the cat. Although the teacher was trembling like a jelly, Clementine marvelled that her helmet of brown curls barely moved.
‘Someone must have let him out,’ stammered Aunt Violet. She was looking in the direction of Pharaoh’s cage and wondering which of those ghastly children had done it. Angus Archibald was standing beside the cage with Joshua, giggling behind his hands. ‘It was you,’ Aunt Violet hissed as she stalked towards the two boys.
Angus pulled a face. ‘Was not.’
‘We didn’t do anything,’ Joshua said and started to laugh. He was looking at the bits of pink icing stuck to Mrs Bottomley’s face.
‘My grandson would never do any such thing,’ said Mrs Bottomley. She marched over to Aunt Violet. ‘I’m sure it was . . . Clementine and her naughty little friends!’
Clementine frowned. She’d been standing beside Uncle Digby and her mother the whole time and Poppy and Sophie weren’t even there.
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