Silas Wiley re-read the letter on his desk and checked the calendar for the fifth time. How anyone had made such a glaring error was almost beyond comprehension. Now he had Alistair Foxley, the Chairman of Chudleigh’s Dog Show, the most prestigious event in the nation’s canine calendar, due in his office in half an hour.
Silas pressed the intercom button on his telephone. ‘Mrs Mereweather, could you come in here, please?’
A titter of laughter rang out from the other end. ‘Be there in a minute, sir. Would you like me to bring you some tea?’
Silas’s stomach grumbled. ‘No, thank you,’ the man sighed. ‘I need to discuss something with you urgently.’
Thirty seconds later there was a sharp knock followed by Mrs Mereweather poking her head around the door. The middle-aged woman was Silas Wiley’s latest secretary, a jolly creature with the unfortunate propensity for ill-timed fits of giggles. ‘What can I do for you, sir?’ she asked, walking into the newly furnished office. She passed the forest-green leather sofas and the enormous antique mahogany desk, which Silas had bought with council money from a local auction house.
‘Are you absolutely certain that the quilting club has booked the showground for the same dates we’ve got down for Chudleigh’s?’ he asked.
Nancy Mereweather frowned. She wondered if perhaps the man was losing his hearing. Or maybe he suffered the same affliction as her husband, Roy – a condition she liked to call ‘domestic deafness’, although in this case it was possibly a bout of selective comprehension. ‘Yes, Mayor Wiley. Nothing has changed in the past hour.’
‘And you’ve spoken to Mrs Sudbury about the possibility of moving her event?’ Silas looked at the dismal list of alternative options he’d scribbled on the page.
‘I’m afraid it’s the one hundredth anniversary of the Downsfordvale Quilters’ Association and they are hosting quilting groups from all over the country as part of their exhibition. They’ve already issued invitations and Mrs Sudbury was adamant that they are not willing or able to reschedule the event,’ Mrs Mereweather replied, giggling.
Silas Wiley looked up at the woman. ‘I don’t consider this to be a laughing matter.’
‘Oh, neither do I,’ Nancy chortled. She composed herself and thought for a moment. Suddenly, the woman’s blue eyes popped open. ‘What about the showground at Winchesterfield?’
Silas shuddered. ‘Good heavens, no!’
‘But why not? There’s the lovely hall, which has only recently been renovated, and there are lots of outbuildings. If that’s still not enough space, you could always have the overflow events in the school halls at Fayle or Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale Academy for Proper Young Ladies,’ the woman said, visibly excited by the idea.
‘But that would mean putting Myrtle Parker in charge,’ Silas replied, aghast at the thought.
‘What’s wrong with Myrtle? She’s a wonderful President of the Show Society. I’ve recently joined the committee myself. I can guarantee that Mrs Parker would make Chudleigh’s a show to remember.’
Silas Wiley swallowed hard. He’d forgotten that Mrs Mereweather lived in Winchesterfield and was now one of Myrtle Parker’s cronies. The last thing he needed was to get on the bad side of that woman or she’d be fronting up to council meetings even more often than she already did.
‘Well, sir, I suggest you come up with another brilliant idea quick smart as Major Foxley is due in fifteen minutes,’ Nancy said, turning on her heel and walking out the door.
Silas Wiley cradled his head in his hands. He had to think of something. Perhaps he could ask the local high school to host the event. He buzzed the intercom. ‘What about Downsfordvale College?’
‘Too small,’ the woman replied.
‘Bramstead Hall?’
‘The house has just changed hands and the new owners are gutting the place. It won’t be ready for at least a year.’
Silas glanced at the clock on his desk. Ten minutes. What was he going to tell the man? ‘All right,’ he sighed, ‘get me Myrtle Parker on the phone.’
Mrs Mereweather laughed loudly. She had already dialled Myrtle’s number. ‘Very good, sir. Putting you through now.’
Silas Wiley listened as the telephone rang. He was bracing himself, fully aware of the monster he was about to unleash.
Myrtle Parker put down the telephone. ‘Reginald!’ she shrieked loudly. ‘Reginald, you’re not going to believe this!’
She wondered where on earth that husband of hers had got to. Myrtle charged down the hallway, checking each room to no avail. She decided he must have gone outside, and grabbed a cardigan on her way through the kitchen.
‘Reginald!’ Myrtle yelled.
‘I’m in here, dear,’ the man called from the shed at the bottom of the garden.
‘Ah, there you are! I’ve got news,’ the woman shouted, hurtling along the path. She stopped at the shed door to catch her breath and was surprised to find Barry Dankworth enjoying a cup of tea. ‘Oh, you’re here,’ she said.
Barry smiled at her and stood up. ‘Hello Mrs Parker. I hope you don’t mind – I popped round to borrow a drill. Mine’s on the fritz and Roberta has a few shelves she wants me to put up.’
‘Of course she does,’ Myrtle mumbled.
‘What’s this exciting news then?’ Reginald asked.
‘I’ve just had a telephone call from Mayor Wiley,’ Myrtle began. She paused for a moment, anticipating some sort of indication that Barry Dankworth was impressed with her connections, but the man stayed annoyingly silent.
Reginald looked at his wife. ‘And?’
Myrtle was hopping from one foot to the other, barely able to contain herself. ‘He asked if the Show Society would like to host Chudleigh’s Dog Show,’ she replied.
Her husband raised his eyebrows. ‘That is quite an honour. Shall we go along to this year’s event? Barry was just telling me it’s on in a couple of weeks’ time.’
‘No, no, no,’ Myrtle said impatiently. ‘I’ll be hosting this year’s event at the end of the month.’
Barry Dankworth’s face crinkled into a deep frown. ‘I thought it was being held in Downsfordvale.’
‘It was but the council has double-booked the venue and now Mayor Wiley’s come to me begging.’ Myrtle exhaled loudly.
‘What did you say?’ Reginald asked. He didn’t like to second-guess his wife as he usually turned out to be wrong.
‘What do you think I said?’ Myrtle replied, rolling her eyes. ‘I said yes, of course! I could hardly say no when Her Majesty will be there to present Best in Show, could I? She knows what a good organiser I am. We’ll have to set to work right away. There’s no turning back now. The committee will be here tonight to get things rolling. This is going to be the best Chudleigh’s ever!’
‘It’s a massive undertaking,’ Barry warned. ‘Where are you going to accommodate everyone?’
Myrtle blanched. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘Well, people come from all over the country and they need to stay somewhere,’ he said.
Myrtle hadn’t even thought about that. ‘Where do they usually stay?’ she asked.
‘Lots of people bring their caravans and tents, but there are usually hotels and guesthouses close by that they can book into,’ the man explained.
‘Won’t most of them be staying in Downsfordvale?’ Myrtle surmised, given that it was the original location for the event. ‘I imagine they’ll have their lodgings sorted already.’
‘Yes, but knowing the dog show people, they won’t want to stay that far from the venue,’ he said. ‘And there’s not really much around here. Perhaps you can see if there are any locals willing to billet the entrants.’
‘Billet?’ Myrtle’s face scrunched up. ‘As in have people stay in private houses with their dogs?’
Barry nodded. ‘I’m sure they’d be most appreciative. We’ve got a couple of spare rooms but Roberta will be run off her feet with all the preparations, so I don’t think I’ll suggest it until you’re ab
solutely desperate. I’m happy to lend a hand, though.’
‘Good heavens. I didn’t realise I was going to have to play the role of travel agent as well as show convenor,’ Myrtle blustered. ‘No time to dally, then. I’ve got a million things to do. Reginald, you’ll have to come and help me right away. Mr Dankworth, you’d best be going.’ Myrtle gave a nod, then turned on her heel and stalked up the garden path to the back door.
Barry placed his cup back onto the bench and Reg tipped the last of the tea into the small sink. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said.
‘Don’t be,’ Barry replied. ‘I really must get home.’
The two men walked out into the garden. ‘I suspect life is about to get a bit busy,’ Reginald sighed, patting his new friend on the back.
Barry nodded. ‘I think you’re right about that.’
Ophelia Grimm set down the telephone and massaged her left ear. Myrtle Parker was an excitable woman at the best of times, but the mayor’s invitation for Winchesterfield to host Chudleigh’s Dog Show seemed to have almost sent her over the edge. Myrtle had asked Ophelia to commit the school to assist in whatever capacity was needed. She could hardly say no, given the woman said Fayle had agreed to do all that was necessary to make sure this was the best Chudleigh’s ever. Ophelia scribbled the date on a piece of paper. As far as she could see there was nothing on that weekend, although a vague thought was scratching at the back of her mind.
Ophelia pressed the button on the intercom. ‘Louella, could you come in for a second?’
Seconds later Louella Derby poked her head around the door. ‘Is everything all right? Mrs Parker seemed terribly wound up.’
‘Could you add some dates into the calendar? The school is going to be helping with Chudleigh’s Dog Show in a couple of weeks’ time,’ the headmistress said, motioning for her to sit down. ‘It’s the twenty-ninth and thirtieth of the month.’
Louella Derby’s face went pale. ‘That’s the weekend Mr Plumpton and Miss Reedy are getting married.’
Ophelia bit her lip and gently smacked her forehead. ‘Oh heavens, I completely forgot. It was supposed to be the week after when Josiah first discussed it with me but then he brought it forward because of the honeymoon expedition.’ She sighed heavily and shook her head. ‘We’re just going to have to manage the two. The wedding’s on the Sunday, isn’t it?’
Mrs Derby nodded.
‘Well, Mrs Parker said it will all be over by three o’clock, and the wedding’s not until half past four,’ Ophelia said with a grimace. ‘So it shouldn’t be a problem.’ She didn’t know if she was trying to convince herself or her secretary, but she was sure neither of them believed it.
‘Of course not,’ Louella said, avoiding eye contact.
‘I’ll have to make an announcement straight after lessons. They already know about it at Fayle and that ship has more leaks than the Titanic.’ Ophelia Grimm glanced at the clock on her desk. ‘I want to catch the children before they go off to their afternoon activities. If I don’t tell them now they’re bound to hear about it from someone else and I’d rather quell the excitement until we know exactly what’s expected.’
‘What about Mr Plumpton and Miss Reedy?’ Louella asked. ‘Aren’t you going to speak with them first?’
‘I’ll try to grab them on the way, but I’m afraid they’re just going to have to work around it. I’ve promised Myrtle already. Could you imagine the fallout if I say that I’ve changed my mind? We’d be on the village blacklist forever.’ The headmistress stood up and straightened her grey skirt. She pulled on her blazer and quickly applied some pink lipstick. ‘Could you ask all of the students and staff to meet me in the dining room immediately after their last lessons?’
Louella Derby nodded. ‘Of course, Miss Grimm.’
And with that, the headmistress rushed out the door.
The loudspeaker in the quadrangle crackled to life. ‘Good afternoon, girls and staff. Miss Grimm has asked that everyone please meet in the dining room for a special announcement at afternoon tea. Thank you.’
Alice-Miranda closed her locker door and walked outside. ‘Millie, wait for me!’ she called, scurrying over to her friend, who had just come out of French class.
‘What do you think this is about?’ Millie asked.
Sloane sidled up to the pair. ‘Maybe Caprice owned up and you’re about to be pardoned in front of the whole school.’
‘I doubt it,’ Millie said, rolling her eyes. ‘Not after what happened this morning. She practically admitted it and then lied again.’
‘Do you want to go for a ride this afternoon?’ Alice-Miranda asked. ‘Mr Trout cancelled choir practice and I really want to give Miss Hephzibah and Miss Henrietta their chocolates from Switzerland.’
‘Good idea,’ Millie said. ‘I don’t think they’ll last much longer sitting on the shelf in our bedroom – they’ll probably go off.’
‘Or you’d eat them, more likely,’ Sloane teased.
‘Do you want to come with us?’ Alice-Miranda asked. ‘We could walk if you’d rather not ride.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ Sloane replied. ‘I have to finish that book, and you know me and horses are still not exactly the best of friends.’
The girls hurried into the dining room, where a long queue of students had already formed at the servery. The smell of grilled cheese filled the air and it wasn’t long before everyone was seated and enjoying their afternoon tea.
Millie looked around as she munched on her cheese toastie. ‘So where is Caprice?’
‘See, I might be right,’ Sloane said. ‘Any minute Miss Grimm’s going to march her in here and she’ll make a full confession.’
Millie shook her head. ‘No way.’
Seconds later, Ophelia Grimm entered the dining room alone and glanced around.
‘Told you,’ Millie said.
But Alice-Miranda was curious as to where Caprice could be. It seemed as if everyone else was present – even Mrs Howard and Mr Charles were in the room. Mr Trout was there too, so Caprice couldn’t have been at another rehearsal.
The headmistress walked to the podium and switched on the microphone. She’d looked everywhere for Miss Reedy and Mr Plumpton but hadn’t been able to locate either of them. The news couldn’t wait any longer; they’d just have to find out about the dog show at the same time as everyone else. ‘Good afternoon, girls and staff,’ she began. ‘I have some rather exciting news and I wanted to tell you all straight away. We’re going to have to form working groups immediately as time is of the essence.’
There was a hush of whispers around the room while girls speculated about what this big announcement might be.
‘Who likes dogs?’ Miss Grimm asked, and hands shot up all over the place. ‘Good, because in a couple of weeks’ time Winchesterfield is going to be hosting the largest and most prestigious dog show in the country,’ the woman declared.
Chatter erupted around the room.
‘Cool,’ Sloane said. ‘I wonder if there’ll be some really weird ones, like those hairless Chinese.’
‘I think they’re called Chinese crested,’ Alice-Miranda said with a smile.
Millie’s eyes widened. ‘What about those huge Bernese mountain dogs, like the one we saw in Switzerland? They’re gorgeous.’
‘Hopefully there’s none like Princess Gertie,’ Sloane said, wrinkling her nose.
‘Can we enter our own dogs if our parents will bring them?’ a young girl called Ella asked.
‘Everyone, please calm down,’ Miss Grimm ordered. ‘And no, Ella, this is a professional event. It’s a bit like,’ the woman hesitated, thinking about how she was going to put it.
‘Miss Universe for dogs,’ Sloane called out. ‘Except that some of them are boys.’
The girls laughed.
Millie put up her hand. ‘Are we hosting Chudleigh’s Dog Show, Miss Grimm?’
‘Not hosting – just helping – but, yes, that’s the event, Millie,’ the woman said with a nod.
&
nbsp; ‘Wow, Chudleigh’s is big,’ Millie said. ‘I’ve been with my mother. She was one of the official vets a couple of years ago.’
‘You might be able to give us some pointers then. All I know at this stage is that Mrs Parker, as President of the Winchesterfield Show Society, is in charge and she is enlisting as much help from everyone in the village as possible. It’s likely that we will be having some events here at school and we’ll also be sending teams of girls to assist with all manner of other things,’ the headmistress explained.
‘Bags not being on pooper-scooper duty,’ Millie said.
Sloane pulled a face. ‘Ew, that’s disgusting.’
‘Seriously, that’s a job,’ Millie said. ‘There were all these guys in white hazmat suits with long gloves walking around everywhere making sure there was no –’
‘Thank you, Millie. We get the picture,’ Miss Grimm said. ‘I suspect we might be acting as guides and ushers and serving afternoon tea.’ Though, there were a few girls she wouldn’t have minded putting on pooper scooping.
Ophelia spied Livinia Reedy and Josiah Plumpton entering the room, looking sheepish. The pair quickly took the empty seats at Alice-Miranda’s table.
‘Excuse me, girls, what’s the big news?’ Mr Plumpton whispered.
‘The village is hosting Chudleigh’s Dog Show in a couple of weeks,’ Millie fizzed.
Livinia Reedy’s eyebrows knotted. ‘It had better not be the weekend of the wedding.’
‘Surely not,’ Mr Plumpton said, flashing his fiancée a reassuring smile. ‘We couldn’t be that unlucky.’
The headmistress cleared her throat. ‘I’m off to a meeting with Mrs Parker this evening, so I’ll have more news to share tomorrow. Enjoy your afternoon, everyone.’ Ophelia stepped down from the podium and strutted towards Alice-Miranda’s table. ‘Excuse me, Miss Reedy, Mr Plumpton, might I have a word outside?’ she asked, smiling tightly.
Livinia Reedy’s stomach twisted. ‘I don’t believe this,’ she hissed under her breath. Josiah Plumpton reached across and squeezed Livinia’s hand. ‘I will not have our wedding hijacked by a pack of mangy mutts,’ she whispered in her fiancé’s ear as they followed Miss Grimm into the courtyard.
Alice-Miranda to the Rescue Page 5