Snowflakes, Silver and Secrets

by Tracey Corderoy

  ‘But—’ piped up Alice.

  ‘No interruptions, remember – if you please!’

  Alice looked at her friends in disbelief. ‘But I’m meant to be an Extra,’ she whispered.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ whispered Bryony. ‘I’ll help with Princess P and you’ll be great.’

  Mr Pettifour continued, now rattling through the parts and hardly stopping to draw breath for fear of further interruptions. Jed Jenkins got Prince Charming (if he promised to behave), Martha Lightfoot got Fairy Godmother, Tabby’s mum (the very pushy Belinda-Jayne Tibberthwaite-Browne) got the role of Wicked Stepmother.

  ‘Probably,’ whispered Hari, ‘because Georgina Brook’s not here!’

  Then Bryony and the others got ‘Ball Crowd’, which Bryony was really pleased with.

  ‘Yes!’ she nodded. ‘I’ll definitely take that.’ Ball Crowd meant fun, few rehearsals and – fingers crossed – a fairly decent gown. Plus, there was scope for her to ‘make it her own’ in the dance scenes.

  She was also relieved that she didn’t get ‘Pumpkin’, so she wouldn’t be big, round and orange. Will got that and he was over the moon, so it had all worked out very well.

  Now that the parts had all been given out, the first rehearsal could start. Miss Pigeon and Miss Parsley were welcomed back on stage, and Bryony was dismayed to see they’d actually stopped glowering. Then she found out why . . .

  ‘Ladies!’ Mr Pettifour said to them. ‘Thank you for your . . . “enthusiasm”.’

  ‘Just spit it out!’ Miss Pigeon snapped.

  ‘Yes, right.’

  Mr Pettifour flicked back his fringe again and turned to the rest of the cast.

  ‘A small announcement,’ he twinkled, ‘if I may be so bold. We have renamed the role of . . .’ he lowered his voice, ‘. . . the Ugly Sisters. They shall henceforth be known as: the Quite Beautiful Sisters!’

  ‘No! No! VERY Beautiful!’ Miss Pigeon corrected him, and Miss Parsley gave a grunt.

  ‘Too right!’

  Mr Pettifour nodded. ‘Err – yes, o-of course! And we also need a pony to pull Cinderella’s carriage.’

  ‘Tiberius!’ boomed Belinda-Jayne Tibberthwaite-Browne, turning a deep shade of magenta. ‘Why, Tabby’s pony is made for the part! He’s smart, and strong, and—’

  Mr Pettifour snapped his clapperboard. ‘Cut!’ he said in a tinkly voice. ‘The pony to pull the carriage – I’ve decided – shall be Piggy. It really must be Piggy and I shall hear no more of it, as Piggy’s the right size for the stage.’

  ‘That’s brill, Em!’ beamed Bryony, genuinely pleased for her, but Emma had gone ghostly-white. ‘He’ll be fine,’ Bryony nodded.

  ‘Will he?’ gasped Emma.

  ‘Sure!’

  ‘A-and the final part,’ Mr Pettifour announced, ‘is that of Stepmother’s Cat. I need a right little grump-bag for this.’

  ‘Blueberry Muffin!’ blurted Bryony instinctively. Then she clapped a hand to her mouth. But actually it did make sense. Her cat had been a grump-bag ever since he’d been born, but finally he had a chance to shine for it.

  ‘Perfection!’ Mr Pettifour said with a flourish.

  ‘Blimey,’ muttered Josh, rolling his eyes. ‘Looks like Berry’s in, Bry.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness!’ gasped Bryony, glowing with pride. ‘He won’t let you down, Mr Pettifour!’

  While Mum did the bannister decorations at the Manor that afternoon, Bryony and Josh got to spend some time with Grandpa. They caught the one o’clock bus to Nettleton and on the trip Bryony told him all about the play meeting they’d just come from.

  ‘It was great!’ she said. ‘After everyone had stopped arguing.’

  Grandpa chuckled. ‘I see! Did you get a part, Josh?’

  ‘Ball Crowd,’ replied Josh, looking up from his comic.

  ‘Me too!’ beamed Bryony. ‘And, you’ll never guess what – Blueberry’s Stepmother’s Cat! He’s got to be grumpy so he doesn’t even need any practice!’

  Grandpa nodded.

  ‘And Piggy is the pony,’ Bryony went on, ‘who will pull Cinderella’s carriage. Mr Pettifour needs to find a good carriage though first, but—’

  ‘Ho-ho!’ Grandpa rubbed his hands together. ‘I might have just the thing! My friend, Bob, from the Classic Car Club, has got this old motorbike and sidecar. Well, just the sidecar but it could be a real belter with a little bit of TLC. It’s a 1915 H-D sidecar rig. Cracking visibility for Cinderella!’

  Bryony had a vague idea of what a sidecar rig was as Ebony Swann had travelled in one once. She wasn’t convinced it would work though. How would they attach it, for one thing? And Piggy didn’t like moving at the best times, let alone pulling a sidecar behind him. But Grandpa looked so excited that she couldn’t bear to crush his enthusiasm.

  ‘That sounds, um . . . great, Gramps,’ Bryony said. ‘I’ll tell Mr Pettifour – and thanks!’

  Around twenty minutes later the bus stopped in Nettleton’s high street in front of Clarington’s, a large department store.

  Nettleton was much bigger than Brook Dale, with numerous cafés and pubs, as well as shops. It even had a sports centre and a cinema with lots of screens.

  As Bryony got off the bus, she saw the snow had stopped. The pavements were as snowy as Brook Dale’s, but the roads had been gritted the night before so the journey over hadn’t been too bad.

  Clarington’s had a wonderful display in its main window. Little mechanical elves were helping Santa make presents! Each elf was wearing a tiny hat in frosty pastel colours. Mint green, pink, a twinkly ice-blue. And they had cute waistcoats matching the colour of their hats with Christmas decorations on – bells, snowflakes, and best of all, thought Bryony, were the tiny red and white candy canes.

  ‘Oh, wow!’ said Bryony. It was all so fun and Christmassy!

  ‘Which café for lunch then?’ Grandpa asked.

  ‘One with chips,’ replied Josh.

  ‘Right,’ said Grandpa. ‘The Seahorse it is! Follow me.’

  They walked along to a little side street a stone’s throw away from the harbour. The pavements were slippery but Bryony soon learned if you stayed in other people’s tracks you were fine.

  The Seahorse was packed with Christmas shoppers with brightly coloured bags filled with presents. All the tables were taken but then a family left so Grandpa grabbed their table by the window. A few moments later, one of the staff came to clear it. He looked about eighteen and was wearing a Christmas jumper with a great big penguin on the front.

  He was also wearing a Santa hat (all the staff were) but his bobble kept slipping down over his face and whopping him on the nose. He didn’t seem very happy about this, trudging off with the dirty plates, muttering. And when he came back to take their order, his Santa hat, Bryony noticed, had vanished.

  Grandpa ordered scampi and chips all round. ‘And see, Josh . . .’ he said, ‘. . . right here on the menu it says we can have “bottomless chips”!’

  ‘What? Chips without bottoms?!’ Josh said with a snort, and Bryony tutted. When would her brother stop sniggering over the word ‘bottom’?

  ‘No, it means,’ said Grandpa, ‘if your chips run out, you can have more – free.’

  ‘Chips run out?!’ Bryony now grinned. ‘But surely that’s impossible! Everyone knows – that only runner beans have legs!’

  Everyone was in very good spirits as they tucked into their lunch. The café was decorated with fairy lights and was ever so toasty and snug. And Josh managed three whole portions of chips before finally admitting he was full!

  The antique shop they had come to visit was one Grandpa knew very well. It was called ‘Thimblefold’s Trinkets and Treasures’ and was run by a really friendly old man by the name of Samuel Thimblefold. Samuel lived in Brook Dale, in one of the pretty painted fishermen’s cottages, just a few doors down from Grandpa’s, so Bryony often chatted to him when she was out and about on Red.

  She’d also been to his shop a few times before beca
use Grandpa liked antiques. She’d last visited with Grandpa a few weeks ago when he’d spotted a brooch for Mum for Christmas. Samuel, very kindly, had been keeping it aside while Grandpa saved up enough money to buy it. It was a vintage brooch in antique gold with pale-green and turquoise stones. Bryony knew that her mum was going to absolutely love it.

  After Grandpa had paid for their lunch, they wrapped up warm before stepping back out into the snowy street. Thimblefold’s Trinkets and Treasures was in a narrow lane around the corner.

  ‘Right then,’ said Grandpa as they headed off. ‘A quick stop-off to buy the brooch then back to the Brook Dale Christmas Market.’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Bryony quickly checked her watch. ‘The Market starts at three thirty, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Aye,’ Grandpa nodded. ‘It does.’

  ‘Well, if it’s okay with you, Gramps,’ Bryony said, ‘I’d really like to be there at the start because I’ve seen what I want to get Mum for Christmas.’

  ‘Not a bracelet from Thimblefold’s then?’ Grandpa asked. Bryony had told him, after their last visit, that she might get her a silver bracelet she’d seen.

  ‘No, I’ve changed my mind,’ said Bryony. ‘I think Mum would love a little moon gazing hare I came across yesterday morning. His name’s Hector – or so Meredith said. Her parents made him. They’re travellers,’ she went on. ‘They have this beautiful caravan – a deep reddish-purple with lots of flowers and berries painted on it.’

  Grandpa looked thoughtful. ‘Hmm, I think I might know it. The mum and dad came before . . . maybe seven or eight years ago, when your Grandma Mathilde was still alive. I bought my Matty a wooden dormouse in a little matchbox from them. Their caravan is pulled by a huge horse, right? And do they still pitch up in the meadow by Bluebell Wood – near the holly?’

  ‘Yes!’ replied Bryony nodding back.

  ‘Aye, nice folks,’ Grandpa smiled. ‘They said they park by the holly as there’s an old saying that pitching near holly keeps you safe.’

  ‘Really?’ said Bryony. ‘I hope that’s true. Though most people in Brook Dale are really kind so I’m sure they’ll look out for them too.’

  ‘They’ve got this bear, Gramps too. And he’s massive,’ Josh chipped in. ‘Do you think Mum would buy him for my bedroom?’

  ‘But how would he fit through the door, Josh?!’ laughed Bryony.

  ‘Oh, yeah.’

  They passed a chocolate shop with chocolate everything in the window – elves, mice, reindeer and hedgehogs. Josh nipped in and bought a hedgehog for Mum. They put it in a little silver box tied with a snowflake ribbon.

  ‘One present done!’ said Josh, heading out. Then he stopped. ‘Do you think it’s enough though?’

  Josh suddenly looked worried. ‘The thing is,’ he said, ‘I thought I had a bit more money saved up. But, well . . . you know.’

  ‘Mum will love it!’ smiled Bryony. ‘She loves chocolate, and hedgehogs. And hedgehogs have prickles, so that means – more chocolate!’

  ‘Good thinking!’ Josh’s face brightened at once as he carried on down the street. Grandpa caught Bryony’s eye.

  ‘You’re a very kind girl,’ he whispered.

  Next they passed the cheese shop and Grandpa announced that he loved a nice bit of Stilton.

  Bryony nodded. Right! she thought. That was Grandpa’s Christmas present sorted. Later, at the Market, she’d get him a chunk of stinky cheese!

  After that came the glove shop. No one was interested in that. Then a shop that sold fizzy bath bombs that looked like cupcakes.

  They now turned the corner into Limpet Lane where Samuel had his antique shop. ‘Oh!’ Bryony stopped. She pointed along the lane.

  ‘What’s happening?’

  Halfway down, right outside the antique shop, a police car was parked, its bright blue light flashing.

  ‘Do you think something’s happened to Mr Thimblefold?!’ gasped Bryony.

  ‘Let’s go and see!’ said Josh.

  ‘No, wait!’ Grandpa’s voice was unusually firm. ‘You two stay here. I’ll go.’

  Bryony was not one for staying put. But this was different. It felt serious.

  The shop was only a few doors down. A couple of shoppers were hovering outside it and Bryony could see that the shop door was closed.

  She watched as Grandpa walked towards it, his breath misting the air. He stopped by the door and spoke to the shoppers. One of them shrugged and the other shook her head. They both moved off along the lane, but Grandpa waited.

  A few moments later the shop door opened and Bryony saw two policemen walk out. One of them was carrying a large cardboard box.

  ‘What’s in the box, Bry?’ Josh whispered.

  ‘It looks like lots of silver things,’ replied Bryony, edging forward and craning her neck to see. Ebony Swann wouldn’t just stay put. She’d be itching to have a nose – and so was Bryony!

  As well as a very large candelabra, there looked to be several picture frames, a coffee pot, a round tray and a couple of jugs and vases.

  ‘It looks very expensive too,’ Bryony said.

  One of the policemen opened the car boot and the other placed the box in. Then, as Grandpa stood watching, they got in the car and drove off.

  As soon as they’d gone, Grandpa headed into the shop as the policemen had left the door open.

  ‘What do you think’s going on?’ asked Josh.

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  They waited until Grandpa reappeared and beckoned for them to come. As they headed off, it started snowing again. But this time the flakes were big and thick and Bryony found herself shivering.

  Pulling her scarf around her, she carried on along the slippery pavement. The sky was suddenly very dark and it looked like a snowstorm might be heading Nettleton’s way.

  Bryony followed Josh into the shop and closed the door behind them. Ting ting! Its little brass bell tinkled and Bryony’s thoughts turned again to Mr Thimblefold. Why had the policemen taken some of his silver?

  ‘Bryony?’ Grandpa called. ‘Josh? We’re round here.’

  ‘O-okay,’ called back Bryony. She looked around but couldn’t see through the maze of trinkets and treasures. There were sea trunks and chairs. There were footstools and dressers. There were pictures of sailors, and stern-looking queens, and a tiger in a waistcoat and top hat.

  And clocks! There were clocks ticking everywhere! Grandfather clocks, cuckoo clocks and one with a tiny train puffing white smoke – going in and out of a tunnel, round and round.

  ‘A skeleton!’ Josh pointed. ‘This place is awesome. How come I’ve never been here before? Bry, I need that guy! Forget the bear – Skelly could be my rugby team’s mascot!’

  The skeleton was sprawled out on a burgundy chaise longue next to a cabinet crammed with jewellery.

  ‘Skelly’s looking dead relaxed.’ Josh sniggered. ‘Get it? Dead relaxed. Yeah? As in dead.’

  ‘Josh,’ Bryony whispered. ‘Stop making jokes. We don’t know what’s happened to Mr Thimblefold.’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ said Josh. He gave a nod. ‘Yeah, sorry.’

  In the jewellery cabinet, Bryony glimpsed three tiny picture frames that would be perfect for the Coopers’ Friendship Jar. According to the price tag, she could even afford them. But now wasn’t the time to think of that, she told herself. ‘Come on, Josh.’

  They battled on past a tall oak hatstand on which some ancient white nighties (that looked a bit like ghosts) were hanging. Then finally they found Grandpa around a corner in a smaller room – with yet more clocks ticking. There was also an old wooden counter on which stood a shiny black crow. And beside the crow was a large old-fashioned till.

  For a moment Bryony watched the crow, unsure if it was real or not. Josh promptly helped her out by prodding it.

  ‘Aw, fake . . .’ he groaned, disappointed.

  Bryony’s eyes were now drawn behind the till where Mr Thimblefold was sitting on a stool. He looked very pale and was staring into thin air,
while Grandpa patted his arm.

  ‘As if I would,’ Mr Thimblefold mumbled, unaware that Bryony and Josh were even there.

  ‘As if I’d deal in stolen goods! You know me, Albie.’ He looked up at Grandpa. ‘I’d never do that. Never! I didn’t even know where the silver came from – and I told them policemen that too.’

  ‘Shh, it’s all right, Sam,’ Grandpa replied. ‘Try not to worry if you can. Everyone knows you’re as honest as they come.’

  ‘But they won’t think that now.’ Mr Thimblefold shook his head. ‘Not any more.’

  Bryony had never seen Mr Thimblefold look so upset. A bumbly old man with a white beard and small round spectacles, he usually had a big smile on his face and reminded Bryony of Santa. He always wore colourful silk bow ties too, and very homely tweed waistcoats. And his shoes were so shiny you could almost see your face in them!

  But Bryony now saw his ‘bow tie of the day’ – a bright green one with Christmas puddings on – was lying, undone, beside the crow. And the usual twinkle in his eyes, and cheery smile, had disappeared.

  Grandpa looked over to Bryony and Josh. ‘Do you think you could go out the back,’ he said, ‘and make some strong sweet tea for Mr Thimblefold? He’s just had a shock and I think it might help.’

  ‘And the door!’ gasped Mr Thimblefold, looking over with a quiver. ‘Could one of you please go and lock it for me, a-and turn the sign to Closed?’

  ‘No, Sam,’ said Grandpa softly. ‘There’s no need for that.’

  ‘But there is.’ Mr Thimblefold’s voice was a whisper. ‘I can’t possibly stay open after this.’

  His eyes looked very watery behind his spectacles now, and his voice was very thin and wobbly.

  ‘I’ll turn the sign and you make the tea, Josh,’ said Bryony.

  With a nod, Josh continued on down a small dark corridor, and Bryony retraced her steps back through the colourful Aladdin’s cave to the door.

  When she got there, however, its brass bell was already tinkling. In a flurry of snowflakes, a lady and a small boy hurried in.

  The lady’s coat was white with snow and her little boy had the hood of his duffle coat up, his dark green trousers tucked into blue wellies with trains on.