‘I thought Mrs Derota was a most charming lady,’ the Count interrupted. ‘Coraline, my darling, I think we have taken up enough of this enchanting family’s time. Thank you so much for the cocktails, Camille, Benedict. Oh, and Violet?’ He turned his strange orange eyes on her. ‘Be sure to listen to your mother’s advice. Don’t go climbing any more trees.’
After supper, when Violet came back into the sitting room to say goodnight to her parents, she found a card lying on the floor. It was thick card with black swirly lettering.
‘What’s this?’ Violet asked, showing it to her mother.
‘Oh, that’s the card the Countess gave me. It’s for the man who specialises in costume jewellery.’ Camille tucked the card behind the clock on the mantelpiece.
‘Didn’t you think the Du Plicitouses were horrible?’ Violet asked.
Her mother was silent for a moment. ‘Sometimes you have to meet people a few times to get to know them. Please be nice to Isabella. It’s not easy being new, you must try and make her feel welcome.’
Violet sighed. She wasn’t sure her mother was right at all, but she would do her best to get along with the Du Plicitous family.
Dee Dee Derota had been a starlet in Hollywood in the 1950s (‘I was a beauty then, not that you’d know it now.’), married an American film director, Dave Derota (‘I stole him off Marilyn Monroe, she was furious.’), and lived a happy and glamorous life until Dave sadly died at the ripe old age of eighty-five (‘That’s what you get if you marry a man twenty years older than you: a long widowhood.’). Dee Dee soon decided she had had enough of America and its endless sunshine, hamburgers and health food. She missed grey skies, drizzly rain and a decent cup of tea, so she returned home to London.
And that is how she came to live with her spoilt Persian cat, Lullabelle, in a messy basement flat, crammed full of strange furniture, old clothes, handbags, shoes, jewellery, books, records, magazines, make-up, beauty products and pretty much anything else you could think of. But despite the mess – or perhaps because of it – Violet adored going there, often with Rose. They liked to rummage around, trying on clothes and jewellery, drinking endless cups of sugary tea, eating Battenberg cake and cheesy wotsits.
And Dee Dee was always delighted to see them.
The day after the Count and Countess had visited her parents, in the very short gap of time between the end of her chess lesson and half-past six, Violet went to visit Dee Dee.
‘Let yourself in darlin’, I’m in here!’ Dee Dee called, when Violet knocked on her door. She found the old lady lying on her purple velvet sofa, her red hair in curlers and her face covered in a face mask that looked like strawberry jelly. Dee Dee proceeded to pull it off in wobbly strips, which Violet found rather revolting, so she focused instead on the enormous bunch of yellow roses that had appeared on a small table in Dee Dee’s sitting room.
‘Aren’t they just ravishin’?’ Dee Dee sighed in the Southern belle accent that she had cultivated during her Hollywood years. ‘It was so darlin’ of the Count to give them to me.’
‘I hear you’ve met the Count and Countess?’ Violet asked, examining a bottle of emerald-green nail varnish and stepping over Lullabelle, who was sprawled on the swirly pink carpet.
‘Of course, darlin’. They are my new landlords. In fact, they tried to get me to leave my flat so that they could make a basement swimming pool or something ridiculous. The Count was quite rude and angry when I said no.’ She paused, taking out her rollers. ‘But now we are the best of friends, especially since he sent me those gorgeous roses. His wife is so glamorous, I felt quite the scruff and their daughter is obviously very talented.’ Dee Dee unfailingly saw the best in people. She patted her perfect copper curls with an immaculately manicured hand. ‘Now I need to put my face on, before anyone catches me looking so dreadful.’ And she proceeded to apply a good deal of makeup including false eyelashes.
‘Well I think they are the most awful people I have ever met,’ Violet announced.
‘Now, Violet, you must not be so rude about people. And where are my manners? Please go and help yourself to a little something from the kitchen, and then have you got time to play dress-up? I found the most gorgeous blush-coloured evening dress, covered in gold sequins, that I thought would look exquisite on you. I wore it to see a boxing match in Vegas with Frank Sinatra.’
Violet was about to reply, when her watch alarm bleeped. ‘Sorry, Dee Dee,’ she said. ‘I have to go home for supper. Norma will be so cross if I’m late again.’ And with that she planted a quick kiss on the old lady’s powdery cheek and ran out of the door.
Spring smoothed into summer and the temperature soared. A heavy heat descended and the cool greenness of the garden became tinged with yellowy-brown, despite the constant swish-swashing of sprinklers. Most of the grown-ups took on a damp, cross look and even the children preferred flopping about in the shade to charging around.
Life continued as usual for Violet in a whirlwind of school, tests and her after-school activities.
Meanwhile the Count and Countess Du Plicitous were delighted with Benedict’s plans for their house and the building work began. The Du Plicitous family moved into a suite at the Ritz while their butler, Ernest, lived in the house to keep an eye on everything and to look after their cat, Chiang Mai. Ernest, unlike his employers, was very nice, and he and Norma soon became quite friendly.
One particularly hot Friday afternoon, Violet and Rose were walking home from school with Norma. As they passed the Du Plicitous house they nearly walked straight into Isabella, who was getting out of an enormous limousine with blacked-out windows. The door was being held open for her by Ernest, who looked delighted to see Norma.
Violet remembered her mother’s words from the night she had met Isabella, said hello politely and introduced Rose.
Isabella looked at them both as if they were nasty worms and didn’t reply. Instead she said in an irritable voice, ‘Hurry up, Ernest! Let’s get inside quickly.’
‘Yes, of course, Miss Isabella,’ he replied, sprinting up the stairs to the house to open the front door.
Violet stuck out her tongue at Isabella’s back, making Rose laugh. They were about to walk on when curiosity got the better of Violet.
‘I didn’t think your family were living here yet,’ she called after Isabella. ‘And why are you home from boarding school?’
‘We’re not living here, I’m just doing something important for my parents,’ Isabella answered without turning around. ‘You should learn to mind your own business, nosy!’
Rose and Violet exchanged glances. Norma frowned but said nothing.
Later that evening, Violet was roaming around the house, moaning that she was too hot to sleep and generally getting on Norma’s nerves. Norma was babysitting because Violet’s father was away on business and Camille was at dinner.
‘It’s too late to play with Rose, but why don’t you go and see Dee Dee?’ Norma suggested. ‘You can take her some of the prawns left over from supper.’ Norma worried about Dee Dee’s diet and so was always sending over dishes of proper food with Violet.
Violet nodded enthusiastically, thinking that she would like to see Dee Dee and also that she might have something cooling and yummy in her freezer like mint-choc-chip ice cream. So Violet went off, clutching a container of food, Norma’s strict instructions to be back in twenty minutes ringing in her ears.
The garden was quiet and almost empty in the dusk. Lydia’s older sister, Beatrice, and Tom were sitting on a bench talking, and they waved to Violet as she passed them. Reaching Dee Dee’s flat, Violet knocked on the door. There was no answer. All the lights were off, although one of the windows was wide open.
Violet had just decided that Dee Dee must be out and was about to leave, when she saw a light flash inside the flat, like a torch being flicked on and off. That’s strange, Violet thought, and knocked on the door again, calling out to Dee Dee. But again there was no answer, so Violet turned and left.
&
nbsp; Beatrice and Tom had gone by now, but as she crossed the garden once more, Violet spotted Pudding and Lullabelle on the other side of the lawn. She went and stroked the cats for a while, sitting on the cool, green grass. While she was there, an arrogant-looking Siamese cat swaggered past them, his nose in the air. This must be Chiang-Mai, thought Violet, he looks as stuckup as his owners.
It was nearly dark by now, so Violet headed for home. But then she saw something very strange. At first she thought she must be seeing things in the gloomy light, so she stopped and looked properly.
Now she could clearly see a small, dark figure climbing up the drainpipe at the back of the Count’s house. Violet ran over to get a better look, but the climber was so fast that by the time Violet reached the house he had disappeared.
How peculiar! Violet thought. Why would anyone be climbing up the Count’s drainpipe?
‘Violet, come on!’ Norma called, peering out of the back door and looking thunderous. Violet scampered over to her, deciding not to mention what she had seen in case she got into even more trouble for spying.
‘She wasn’t there,’ she announced, returning the prawns to Norma.
The following morning, Violet slept late. When she woke up, she wandered into the bathroom. It was thick with steam and smelt deliciously of lilac. Her mother was lying in the bath, her hair wrapped in an emerald-green turban, drinking a tiny cup of coffee.
‘Good morning, cherie. How are you, my darling? I cannot believe you slept through all the noise and kerfuffle last night.’
‘What noise? What happened?’ Violet asked.
‘Dee Dee was burgled while she was out at the theatre. When I came back from the cinema, the whole garden was crawling with police.’ Violet’s mother sighed. ‘It is really terrible news because they took an incredibly valuable brooch. I know the Countess said Dee Dee had an impressive jewel but I had no idea she meant such an expensive piece. And I cannot believe that Dee Dee kept it in her flat; it should have been in the bank.’
‘You don’t mean the Pearl of the Orient?’
‘Yes! How on earth do you know about it?’ her mother asked, looking amazed.
‘Because Dee Dee lets me wear it when I go round there, for dressing up. She keeps it in her biscuit tin.’
Camille made a face of horrified disbelief, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath. ‘You know that is one of the largest pearls ever found. It has been missing for years, and the whole time it was being kept in a biscuit tin?’ Violet’s mother drained her cup of coffee. ‘In any case, poor Dee Dee is very upset so maybe you should go over and see her later.’
But Violet wasn’t really listening, she was thinking. The flash of light in Dee Dee’s flat, the climbing figure – of course! The burglar! She told her mother what she had seen.
‘Cherie,’ Camille announced decisively, stepping daintily out of the bath and wrapping herself in an emerald-green towel. ‘We must tell the police immediately. I think they will still be with Dee Dee, so quickly, let us get dressed and we will go to her flat.’
One policeman was still with Dee Dee. His name was PC Green and he was young and enthusiastic. He hadn’t actually solved a crime yet, but was very, very keen to try.
Poor Dee Dee sat in an armchair, with a face like a pale, deflated balloon, and tears pouring down her face. Violet and her mother were a little surprised to see the Count there, but Dee Dee was quick to say how marvellous and helpful he had been.
‘It is the least I can do, dear lady,’ the Count said, his face the picture of concern. ‘I cannot help but feel a little guilty. If only I had not given you that theatre ticket then none of this might have happened.’
‘Nonsense,’ Dee Dee protested. ‘Guilty about giving me the best ticket in the house, to see the greatest show in town? Don’t be ridiculous. It was incredibly kind and generous of you.’
By the window, PC Green was holding up something to the light in his gloved hands, examining it carefully. The Count rushed over to him.
‘Have you found a clue?’ Camille asked. Violet went over to see what they were looking at.
‘Possibly,’ PC Green answered thoughtfully. ‘A couple of long red hairs caught in the window frame. They might belong to the burglar.’
‘Hmm, perhaps,’ the Count said quickly. ‘But, PC Green, and forgive me if I am speaking out of turn, but haven’t you noticed Mrs Derota also has long red hair?’
PC Green sighed. ‘Of course, silly me.’
‘But Dee Dee’s hair is lighter and more coppery than that,’ Violet said. ‘and also it’s not as long, and—’
She was about to go on, but the Count interrupted her curtly. ‘Violet, are you now adding amateur detective to your many skills?’ he asked her in a not very nice way, a fake smile pinned to his face.
Camille answered for her. ‘Well, in fact Violet does think that she may have some other information that will help find the burglar.’
Both the Count and PC Green looked up sharply. Even Dee Dee looked a little perkier.
‘Last night, at about nine o’clock, Violet was in the garden when she saw—’
But before Camille could continue, the Count rushed to Dee Dee’s side.
‘Dear lady,’ he cried, ‘You look so pale suddenly. Are you feeling faint?’
Dee Dee was taken aback at his expression of alarm. ‘Er, well, I do feel a little shaken.’
‘You do look a bit under the weather, ma’am,’ the policeman said thoughtfully. ‘It must have been a terrible shock – shall we get the doctor to look you over?’
Camille nodded. ‘I think it might be sensible.’
‘We should call an ambulance,’ the Count quickly suggested.
‘Leave it to me,’ PC Green announced, with the air of a man who could sort such things out easily. He started talking into his walkie-talkie in his important police language. ‘Bravo, Lima, Delta calling. Immediate request for an ambulance to 15 Melrose Crescent, Whisky, Tango, Foxtrot. Over and out.’
Seconds later, there was a blare of sirens, a whirl of blue lights and a rap on the door. Dee Dee looked slightly bemused as two young men bustled in and started talking to her as if she were about two years old. Still, she allowed herself to be helped out to the ambulance.
‘I do think one of us should go with her, just in case,’ the Count said, still looking concerned. ‘Alas, I have an important prior engagement with Isabella. She returned from boarding school this morning to stay with us for the weekend and she would so disappointed if I cancelled. Camille, would you mind terribly going with Mrs Derota?’ He stared imploringly at Violet’s mother.
That’s a lie, Violet thought. Isabella came back yesterday. Rose and I saw her on our way back from school.
‘Of course not,’ said Camille. ‘Violet, please tell PC Green what you saw and then go straight home to Norma. Tell your father where I have gone.’ She scurried after Dee Dee and the ambulance disappeared in another whirlwind of sirens and flashing blue lights.
‘So Violet, what exactly did you see?’ PC Green asked kindly, pen poised above his notepad.
‘Well, it was about nine o’clock last night,’ Violet began hesitantly. ‘And I came into the garden to come and see Dee Dee—’
‘Do you normally go wandering around the garden at night, Violet?’ asked the Count. The kind concern had gone from his face.
‘No,’ said Violet blushing. ‘But I was too hot to sleep and I thought Dee Dee might have some mint-choc-chip ice cream.’
PC Green smiled and Violet continued, ending her account with the small figure climbing up the drainpipe.
‘What, like Spiderman?’ queried the Count, his voice heavy with disbelief. ‘Are you sure you have not been watching too much television, Violet dear?’ He raised his eyebrows at PC Green as if to say, Do you really believe this nonsense? Then he began to speak in his most oily voice. ‘Detective Inspector Green. . .’
‘Er, just PC at the moment, Count,’ the young man protested, clearly flattered.
‘My apologies, I am sure you will soon be climbing the ranks. Did I mention my friendship with the Chief Inspector? Such a charming man . . . but where was I? Oh yes, the drainpipe,’ he smiled his fake smile. ‘Come with me, PC Green, let us look at this drainpipe.’
They all trooped outside and in the clear morning light, the drainpipe looked very old and rickety. The Count gave it a tug and the whole thing practically came away from the wall.
‘I don’t think any burglar is going to be climbing that, do you?’ said the Count, looking triumphantly at the policeman.
‘No, I wouldn’t have thought that it would hold anyone heavier than a child,’ PC Green agreed.
‘And what child would possibly go around stealing precious jewels?’ the Count added quickly.
‘But I saw someone,’ Violet protested crossly, her face reddening.
‘The imagination is a powerful thing, Violet,’ PC Green said earnestly.
‘Such words of wisdom, PC Green. The Police Inspector must hear of your talent.’ The Count shook the policeman’s hand warmly. And, without saying anything to Violet, he walked off.
‘Right, Violet, let’s get you home,’ PC Green announced, steering her back towards Dee Dee’s flat.
‘Where are we going? We can just walk across the garden,’ said Violet.
‘Where’s the fun in that?’ cried PC Green. ‘Wouldn’t you rather have a ride in my squad car? I can put the sirens and lights on.’ The policeman looked so excited at the thought of this that Violet didn’t like to spoil his fun. She followed him through Dee Dee’s flat and out to the street.
Violet and the Pearl of the Orient Page 2