by Adele Abbott
“Why do you have a French name, then?”
“Just call her Mrs V,” I said. “That’s what everyone calls her.”
“Okay, then. You can call me Lizzie.”
“I see you’ve brought two toys with you. They’re very—”
“Ugly?” I suggested.
“I was going to say unusual.”
“This is a zebodile,” Lizzie said. “And this one is a donguin. I made them. They used to be Auntie Jill’s beanies, but she gave them to me.”
Not exactly gave. I seem to remember they’d been taken by force.
“Mummy and I like to take them apart and create new ones out of them.”
“That’s nice.” Mrs V glanced at me.
“Sisters?” I shrugged. “What you gonna do with them?” I knew that Mrs V would be able to identify with that sentiment.
“So what will you be doing today, Lizzie?”
“I don’t know. I’ve come to work with Auntie Jill because I want to be a private investigator when I grow up.”
“Do you really? And do you know what private investigators do?”
“Not much, according to my mummy. She says Auntie Jill never does any work. That’s why I want to be a private investigator. I want to make lots of money, but not have to do any work. Just like Auntie Jill.”
I forced a smile, and said through gritted teeth, “I think Mummy was joking when she said that.”
“I don’t think so. She had a very serious face.”
“Oh well. Never mind. Let’s go through to my office, you can meet my cat.”
“What’s his name?”
“Winky.”
“That’s a funny name too. Is he French?”
As soon as I walked through the door, Winky was on at me.
“Where have you been? I’m starving. I need food and milk. Full cream—obviously. And who is this miniature human?”
“This is Lizzie. You’ll just have to wait for your food.”
“Auntie Jill, why are you talking to the cat?”
That was a good question.
“Err—I always talk to the cat. I pretend that he can understand me.”
“Get me some food.” Winky persisted. “I’m starving.”
“I think he’s hungry. I’ll give him some food and milk. You can sit at my desk, and go on my computer, if you like.”
I turned to Winky. “You! Be quiet while Lizzie is here.”
“What’s it worth?”
“The usual.”
“Red, not pink?”
“Obviously.”
I gave him salmon and milk, and hoped that would keep him quiet for a little while.
“Auntie Jill?”
“Yes, Lizzie?”
“Do you have a gun?”
“No, I don’t have a gun.”
“Do you catch bank robbers?”
“No, I don’t catch bank robbers.”
“What do you do?”
“Well—a number of things. I follow people.”
“Follow people? Why do you follow people?”
“To see what they’re doing—”
“Isn’t that very boring?”
“It can be boring, yes.”
“Do you get paid lots of money?”
“Not really.”
“I don’t want to be a private investigator if you don’t get paid lots of money.”
So fickle.
After a while, Lizzie got bored with the computer, and wandered over to look out of the window.
“What are these flags for, Auntie Jill?”
“They err—I brought them back from the seaside with me. They were in the top of a sandcastle.”
“Oh.” She started waving them about. “I thought you were using them for semaphore.”
“I didn’t realise you knew about semaphore.”
“We’ve done it at school. I can send you a message. Look.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t read semaphore. What did your message say?”
“I said do you have any chocolate?”
“I don’t think so. Perhaps I can ask Mrs V to get you some at lunchtime.”
“Look, Auntie Jill!”
What now?
“There’s a smartphone here. Is it yours?”
“Err—no, it isn’t mine.”
“Whose is it?”
I glanced at Winky. What was I supposed to say?
“I think it’s a client’s. They must have left it behind.”
Lizzie’s fingers sped across the keys with the expertise only the young possess.
“There are cat things on this phone, Auntie Jill.”
“Really?” I glanced again at Winky, who was getting angrier by the second.
“Pass it to me, Lizzie. I’ll keep it safe until the client comes back to collect it.”
“Okay.” She gave it to me, and I dropped it into the drawer. Phew! Another minute, and Winky would have been clawing it from her tiny hands.
It turned out to be a very long day. I’d never realised that little children could talk so much or ask so many questions. Memo to self: if you ever have kids, never bring them to work with you.
It was almost time for Kathy to collect Lizzie. I couldn’t say I was sorry.
“Look, Auntie Jill! Look what I found.”
“Be careful with those, Lizzie. They’re very sharp. No don’t throw it!”
She launched the dart across the room. Winky jumped off the sofa just in time.
“Whoops! I missed the board.” Lizzie laughed.
“Yeah, I don’t think you should throw any more of them.”
Just then, I heard the door to the outer office open. It was probably Kathy.
“Come on! Your mummy’s here.” I grabbed Lizzie by the hand, and took her through to the outer office.
There stood Gordon Armitage. “Not satisfied with having a cattery, Jill?” He sneered. “I see you’re now running a nursery too.”
“Why don’t you report me to Zac again?”
“I might.”
“I’m sure he’ll be happy you dragged him out here again just because my niece has spent the morning with me.”
“I’ll get you, Gooder. Just see if I don’t.”
“Talk to the hand.”
He knew there was nothing he could do, so he turned tail and stormed off.
“Why was that man’s face so red, Auntie Jill?”
***
After Kathy had collected Lizzie, I was enjoying the relative peace and quiet of the office, but then Mrs V spoiled the moment.
“That horrible man is back again.”
There were so many. “Which man would that be, Mrs V?”
“You know, the lawyer man. Very smarmy.”
“You mean Mr Devon?”
“That’s him. Shall I tell him to go away? Nothing would give me greater pleasure. I’ve got my knitting needles in case he causes any problems.”
“It’s okay. Send him in.”
When the colonel had been murdered, I’d had to tell Blake that I couldn’t take his client’s case, and had assumed that it was now dead in the water. Maybe I’d been wrong.
“I won’t be giving him a scarf,” Mrs V said.
“Fair enough.”
“Maybe some socks.”
“Good plan.”
Blake Devon was indeed smarmy. In fact, he had smarmy written all over his face.
“Hello again, Jill.”
“What can I do for you, Blake?”
“I’m here on the same errand as I was the last time we met.”
“Really? I assumed you would have found someone else to handle that particular case.”
“My client is still quite adamant that he doesn’t want to involve any of the larger companies. We were hoping that you’d still be interested.”
It was good money. They’d offered me a thousand pounds just to meet with the CEO. I could hardly say no; the rent was due soon. What did I have to lose?
“Sure. Why not? What ar
e the arrangements?”
“As I mentioned before, he’d rather meet with you away from head office. I’ll let you have the time and location within the next day or two.”
“That’s fine. I don’t have anything pressing at the moment.”
“Great. I’ll give you a call.”
After he’d left, Winky jumped onto my desk.
“He’s untrustworthy,” he said.
“What makes you say that?”
“Instinct. I can tell them a mile off. Definitely untrustworthy.”
For all his faults, Winky was a good judge of character, and so I didn’t take his warning lightly. I’d have to watch Mr Blake Devon.
***
It was my second and final ballroom dancing lesson with Maurice Montage.
“I’ve been thinking about this, Jill,” Maurice said. “Your only hope is to focus on just two dances. Would that work for you?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure what I’ll be expected to do in the competition.”
“Competition?”
“Didn’t I mention that?”
“You most certainly did not. What kind of competition? When is it?”
“I’m going to a policemen’s ball tomorrow. There’s a dancing competition apparently.”
“And you’ve entered it?”
“Yes, that’s why I took the dancing lessons.”
“Tell me. Why would you enter a competition when you can’t dance?”
“I’m sort of a last minute substitute. My partner’s partner left suddenly, and he asked me to take her place.”
“Why you? When you can’t dance a step?”
I came clean with Maurice, and explained that I hadn’t exactly been truthful with Jack Maxwell, and that I’d somewhat exaggerated my abilities on the dance floor.
“Oh dear.” He laughed. “You really are in trouble.”
“But surely there’s something we can do?”
“I’d assumed you were going to a wedding, or a family function. I didn’t realise that you were preparing for a competition.”
“Does that make a difference?”
“Oh yes. The standard will be very much higher. I think you’re going to struggle.”
“But we’ve still got today.”
“Then we’d better make the most of the time we have.”
I found the foxtrot practically impossible. What a stupid name for a dance. When did a fox ever trot?
We spent the last half hour practising the quickstep, which was way too fast for me.
“Can’t we go slower?” I gasped.
“The clue is in the name; it’s a quick step.”
By the end of the lesson, Maurice was nursing bruised shins again.
“I should really charge you extra for pain and suffering.”
“I wasn’t that bad, was I?”
“On a scale of one to ten, you were terrible.”
“Thanks.”
What was I going to do? If I danced like that in the competition, we’d come last for sure, and Jack would know that I’d been lying. But if I didn’t turn up, how would I ever be able to look him in the eye again? There had to be something I could do.
And then it came to me.
Chapter 19
I couldn’t believe it was actually happening. It was like some kind of weird and crazy dream. Grandma was taking part in the Glamorous Grandmother competition! Was she high or was I? The venue was the Crown Hotel; the same place where the twins had lost so spectacularly in the Tea Room of the Year competition. Something told me that tonight was going to be a similar disappointment. This time though, no one, and I mean no one, expected Grandma to win or even to finish in the top million.
I was pleased to see that Lester and Aunt Lucy were back together. She’d apparently told him that Jethro had asked the twins to help with the calendar shoot, and that she had just been holding the fort until they arrived. Wow! Could that woman lie or what?
I was by myself as usual. I could have invited Drake, but the night was going to be so bad that I didn’t really want to inflict it on anyone else. I just wanted it to be over and done with as soon as possible.
After the usual warm-up acts, we came to the main event. The compere announced there were five contestants who had qualified through the preliminary rounds. They had been voted for by the readers of The Candle. Somehow, Grandma was one of the finalists. I could only assume that bribery or magic must have been involved. He explained that he would invite the contestants onto the stage in turn, and conduct a short interview with each of them. Then, the winner would be selected by the audience, using small electronic keypads on which were buttons numbered one to five.
The first witch on stage was Petunia Merryweather. I had no idea how old she was, but based on what I knew about witches, I put her at about eight hundred. She looked pretty good considering. Yes, she had grey hair. Yes, she had wrinkles. And she certainly wasn’t in the prime of her life, but she had an immaculate sense of style. She looked stunning in the black maxi dress which she’d chosen. Her hair was a weird shade of blue, and she’d overdone it a bit on the eye shadow, but even so she looked fantastic for her age.
The interview consisted of the usual mundane questions. Frankly, it took all of my willpower to stay awake. The next three contestants were all of a similar age, and all dressed very stylishly. They all answered the questions confidently; there was very little to choose between them.
I was beginning to get anxious. The four women already on stage had all gone for a classic, understated look. But when I’d taken Grandma shopping, she’d chosen a mini-skirt with a low neckline, and high heels which she could barely walk in. It was going to be an absolute train wreck.
“I’ll be glad when this is over,” I whispered to Aunt Lucy.
“It’s okay, dear. Grandma knows what she’s doing.”
“You didn’t see the outfit she chose. It showed way too much leg, and it was cut too low at the front. And the high heels? Everyone will laugh at her.”
Aunt Lucy put her hand on mine.
“Jill, you have a lot to learn about Grandma.”
Maybe I did, but I still couldn’t bear to think about what was about to play out in the next few minutes. The compere called out Grandma’s name.
“Our last finalist today is Mirabel Millbright.”
The audience clapped. I closed my eyes and waited for the laughter to begin. After a few moments, the whole room fell silent, and I heard her footsteps as she walked onto the stage. Any moment now, someone would crack, and the laughter would start. The embarrassment would be too much to bear.
But then, everyone started to applaud and cheer, so I opened my eyes. Grandma looked sensational. She was wearing a beautiful, full-length sequinned dress. Her hair was immaculate. Her make-up was understated, and made her look—not beautiful—don’t be ridiculous—but not as ugly as usual. Somehow, she’d even managed to hide the wart on the end of her nose. All in all, she looked amazing.
I didn’t even register her answers to the questions. I was too stunned. After the interview had finished, Grandma joined the other contestants at the back of the stage. The compere then instructed us to pick up our controls, and to press the button corresponding to the contestant we thought should win. Moments later, he said the results were in. The winners were to be announced in reverse order.
“In third place, Petunia Merryweather.”
“In second place, Celia Tunstone.”
Surely not—she couldn’t have.
“And the Glamorous Grandmother of the Year is Mirabel Millbright.”
I was dumbstruck. The audience were on their feet clapping and cheering.
“Get up, Jill,” Amber said.
I staggered to my feet and began to clap.
After it was all over, Grandma joined us at our table.
“Well done, Mother,” Aunt Lucy said.
“Yeah, well done, Grandma.” Amber nodded. “You looked spectacular.”
“Well done, G
randma.” Pearl looked thrilled. “You looked fantastic up there.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Grandma almost smiled. “Stunning is the word that comes to mind. Talking about stunned, you look rather stunned yourself, Jill.”
“I. You. The dress. Shoes,” I stuttered.
“You seem to have lost the power of speech, young lady.”
“But—the high heels. Mini-skirt.”
“You didn’t actually think I was going to wear those awful clothes, did you? You’re even more gullible than I thought you were.”
***
I stayed the night in Candlefield, and was up bright and early the next morning.
“Hurry up,” Barry shouted. “I want to go now. Can we go now?”
“Slow down! You’re making my head spin.”
“I want to go now!”
Usually, the only things Barry was interested in were going for walks, and food, but now, all he could think about was his new girlfriend, Beth the corgi.
Of course, she didn’t actually know she was his girlfriend, but in Barry’s mind she most definitely was. He was head over heels in love, and it was quite pathetic to see. But, who was I to stand in judgement?
“Okay, Barry, we’ll go now.”
“Can we go now? Are we going now? Can we go now?”
“Yes, Barry. We’re going now.”
Barry’s would-be girlfriend lived next door to Aunt Lucy. When we arrived, he ran straight upstairs so he could see into the neighbouring garden. He put his front paws on the window sill in the back bedroom, and stared out longingly, hoping to catch a glimpse of Beth.
Aunt Lucy and I settled down in the living room with tea and toast.
“What did you think of the Glamorous Grandmother competition?” she said.
“I still can’t believe what I saw.”
“You did look rather surprised. Grandma told me what she’d done; how she wound you up with the mini-dress and the high heels.”
“She had me fooled. I was convinced she was going to embarrass herself and us.”
“You still don’t know Grandma very well, do you?”
“I’m not sure I ever will.”
“It was good to go to the Crown Hotel, and come away with a prize after the disappointment of the tea room awards.” Aunt Lucy took a sip of tea.