Violet and the Pearl of the Orient

by Harriet Whitehorn

  Much to Violet’s delight, Celeste stayed for a few days by the end of which the summer holidays had truly begun and Violet’s school breakout had been entirely forgiven by her parents. As usual, every minute of Violet’s holidays was accounted for, and her timetable looked something like this:

  At this point, I could launch into many tales of Violet’s boating adventures with Rose, and how she came to push Stanley off the boat practically every day, and why she and naughty Cousin Agnes ended up spending a night alone up a mountain with only a few goats for company, or what terrible trouble they got into with Grandmère over a pot of raspberry jam, but there is not really the time or the space, and, more to the point, it would have nothing to do with Dee Dee, the Count, or the Pearl of the Orient. So there will be a brief interruption in our story, for I’m afraid that it does not end here with the safe return of the brooch to Dee Dee. Oh no, the drama will recommence in September. . .

  ‘Violet and Rose, my darlings! I am so dee-lighted to see you! Don’t you both look brown as berries and just as scrumptious?’ Dee Dee cried as the girls appeared on her doorstep in early September. Violet was clutching several dishes of food and a miniature gondola souvenir from Venice. ‘Oh, and you have come bearing edible gifts. How wonderful! And a gondola! My favourite mode of transport. Come in, come in.’

  Dee Dee’s flat was as messy as ever. Lullabelle was lying on a pile of clothes in the middle of the floor and Violet had to remove several odd shoes from a chair in order to sit down.

  ‘I have discovered these delicious cakes,’ Dee Dee said, producing a plate of French Fancies. ‘They are so yummy and light, and look how pretty they are. You must try one.’ They all munched and chatted away about the holidays and the summer. Then Dee Dee told the girls of her plans for the Pearl of the Orient.

  ‘I have decided to sell it,’ she announced with a broad beam. ‘It brings me no pleasure now that it is sitting in the bank. Besides, the Count has told me he wants to increase my rent by rather a lot, and, girls, I can tell you that retired Hollywood actresses do not get a good pension. So thank goodness I have the Pearl to pay for my old age. Violet, please thank your mother for recommending a jewellery specialist to me. She sounds so nice and I have an appointment to see her tomorrow. Now I just need to decide what I am going to wear.’

  ‘That’s great, Dee Dee. I hope you get a good price for it.’ Violet said.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure I will. I’m in the money!’ Dee Dee hummed happily to herself. ‘Now, what do you think my darlings, shall I wear the canary-yellow chiffon or the aubergine crepe?’

  ‘Aubergine crepe,’ Violet and Rose said at the same time.

  ‘Most definitely,’ Violet added, just to be clear. ‘Thank you for the cakes, Dee Dee, but I should probably go home for supper.’

  ‘Me too,’ agreed Rose.

  ‘All right, my darlings. You have a good evening and see you soon. Be sure to thank Norma for her delicious food – she is such a fabulous cook, and a sweetheart of a lady.’

  The girls walked out into the autumn sunshine, both thinking the same thing. Thank goodness that the Pearl of the Orient had been safely returned to Dee Dee. Imagine if she didn’t have the jewel to sell – what would become of her?

  The following evening, Violet was just finishing her violin practice when her mother arrived home. This was highly unusual as it was only five o’clock. Camille, looked very worried, went into the study to talk to Benedict and then announced that she had to go out again.

  Six-thirty came and went without Camille’s return, and Benedict stayed in his study, talking in a low voice on the telephone. Violet hovered around outside the door, desperately trying to overhear something. Then her father appeared and went straight out into the garden, looking very distracted.

  What on earth was going on? Violet felt itchy with excitement, but also nervous in case it was something bad. It was not until later when Benedict came to say goodnight to her that she found out.

  ‘Your mother is with Dee Dee,’ he explained. ‘She is terribly upset, because, as it turns out, her brooch is a fake. A very good fake, but a fake.’

  Violet’s jaw dropped. ‘Dave Derota would not have bought Dee Dee a fake jewel; he loved her, even more than Marilyn,’ she said defensively.

  This made her father smile a little, despite the circumstances.

  ‘I’m sure Dave loved her very much and had no idea that it was a fake,’ he said. ‘But it is, darling. Your mother has looked at it, as has another jewellery specialist. It is disastrous news for Dee Dee. I know that she told you and Rose about the Count raising her rent enormously. But I am sure he will be fair and give her a couple of months to find somewhere else to live. We can all help her to move.’

  Violet’s eyes began to well up with tears. ‘But that’s Dee Dee’s home, she shouldn’t have to move, it’s not fair! The Count is rich enough already, why does he need more money? I bet it’s because he still wants to turn her lovely flat into a swimming pool! Remember he asked her to leave when he first arrived—’

  ‘Ssshh, don’t get upset, darling. I know it seems unfair but unfortunately this is the way the world works.’

  ‘Well, it’s wrong,’ Violet fumed. ‘I want to see Dee Dee.’ She started to get out of bed.

  ‘No, no,’ her father insisted. ‘She is very upset, Violet and she wouldn’t want you to see her like that. Your mother is sitting with her. It’s better if you go and see her tomorrow. You go to sleep now. Night night.’ He stroked her cheek.

  Violet kissed him goodnight, feeling thoroughly cross and wondering how she could help Dee Dee with this new piece of bad luck.

  The following day was a Saturday, and after an early morning emergency meeting with Rose, the girls got to work raising money for Dee Dee. They set up a lemonade and cupcake stand in the garden which did a roaring trade and by the end of the day, they had a jam jar full of coins which they counted out carefully. Twenty-two pounds and ninety-four pence. It seemed like an enormous sum of money. Surely it would help Dee Dee pay her rent?

  So when Violet knocked on Dee Dee’s door, with the jar of money and a box of French Fancies, she was feeling pretty hopeful. But then Dee Dee came to the door, looking very different from normal. She had no makeup on and her hair was up in a messy bun. Violet could not believe how old and tired she looked as she took the cakes and the jar with the faintest of smiles.

  ‘Do you mind, sweetheart, if I don’t invite you in? I’m kinda tired. Here, you must take a cake though. Thank you so much for them and the money. I’ll miss you so much when. . .’ she trailed off, her eyes filling with tears. ‘I’ve gotta go, honey, but will you come and see me another day, when I’m feeling more myself?’

  Violet nodded, too upset to speak. She had hardly ever seen a grown-up cry and it made her feel very sad. Dee Dee shut the door and Violet went back up the stairs to the garden. The Count and Countess had moved into their newly renovated house and the lights were all on. The Countess’s horrible donkey laugh rang out from an open window on the first floor. Fury filled Violet, like water pouring into a cup. How dare they laugh when they were making Dee Dee so unhappy? She found herself climbing up the oak tree, not caring that it was forbidden.

  The leaves on the tree hid Violet completely, but there were enough gaps to allow her a clear view into the Count’s magnificent dining room. Dinner was being served by Ernest, who was zooming around the table, dressed like a waiter in a fancy restaurant and bearing silver platters.

  ‘Coraline, my love,’ the Count’s voice wafted out to Violet as she watched him raise his glass to the Countess, who was draped in a gold silk dress that matched the curtains.

  ‘Renard, my Count,’ she replied, taking a sip from her glass. ‘I cannot tell you how much I adore my gorgeous little gift from you.’ And she stroked something on her chest that Violet couldn’t see.

  ‘I think we should toast our brilliant friend Mr Frederick Orger too, don’t you? Without whom, I would have no gift and w
e would not be able to build our magnificent new basement swimming pool!’ They both cackled away.

  That name again, Violet thought. It was the name from the van and from somewhere else too. If only she could remember. Just then, Violet heard a rustling beneath her and looked down to see a familiar blond head climbing up the tree beneath her. That was all she needed.

  ‘Oi, Vileness, whatya doing?’ Stanley cooed in his annoying voice. ‘I hope you’re not spying.’

  ‘Shut up and go away!’ she hissed as he climbed up next to her.

  ‘Wow! You can see right into their house,’ he whispered.

  Rose chose that moment to appear at the bottom of the tree.

  ‘Both of you come down now. It’s really dangerous!’ she called up anxiously.

  ‘Ssshhh!!!’ they both chorused.

  But it was too late. The Countess stopped laughing and froze, listening intently.

  ‘What is it, my love?’ the Count asked, concerned, as his wife rose to her feet and strode over to the window.

  ‘I heard voices,’ she replied, peering out of the window, her icy blue eyes fixed on the tree. Violet and Stanley shrank back against the trunk, trying to hide themselves.

  ‘It will be the children playing in the garden, my sweetie pie,’ the Count reassured her.

  ‘No, it was closer than that,’ the Countess replied and she brought the window down with a slam, just as Rose clambered up to the others.

  ‘Come down now, please! What are you both staring at, anyway?’ she asked, turning to the window.

  ‘That is one ENORMOUS brooch she’s got on,’ Stanley said, as they stared transfixed at the jewel pinned to the Countess’s chest.

  ‘Isn’t that— why on earth is she wearing the Pearl of the Orient?’ Rose whispered to Violet.

  ‘I don’t know, but I think we had better find out,’ Violet replied.

  It was late and getting dark, but the girls had so much to discuss. What to do? A sleepover was the only answer, so they went and sweet-talked Rose’s mother (who found saying no to anything very difficult). Five minutes later the girls were on their way back to Violet’s, Rose clutching her pyjamas and toothbrush. As they walked into the sitting room, Violet stopped abruptly.

  ‘Oh, Rose! I’ve remembered why I know that name, Mr Orger!’ she cried. She went over to the mantelpiece, and produced the business card from behind the clock.

  ‘He’s the costume jewellery man the Countess recommended to my mother,’ Violet explained to Rose. ‘The Countess dropped this card when they were here for cocktails and I saw the Count talking to him outside Dee Dee’s flat the day after the Pearl was stolen. The Du Plicitouses were toasting Mr Orger over dinner just now . . . but the Countess said that she never wore fake jewellery. I don’t understand. What could he have done for them?’ Violet felt as if the answer was staring her in the face, though she couldn’t quite see it.

  ‘I’ve got it,’ Rose said softly. ‘Violet, what if we were right all along and Isabella did steal the jewel for her parents? What if she gave it to her father and then the next day, when you saw him in the street, he was giving it to Mr Orger. He could have copied it, so there would be two jewels, identical to look at, but one real and one fake.’

  Violet gasped. Rose had worked it out!

  ‘Yes!’ Violet gabbled as it all became clear. ‘Then the Count pretended he’d found the jewel and instead of giving the real one back to Dee Dee he gave her the fake one. Dee Dee wouldn’t have noticed the difference! It was only because she tried to sell it, that she found out its true value. That’s it! Rose you are so clever!’ Violet jumped up and down with excitement.

  ‘Goodness!’ Benedict exclaimed as he came into the room. ‘What are you so excited about?’

  Violet, as ever, was about to blurt everything out to her father, but Rose stepped in quickly.

  ‘It’s a secret,’ she said and quickly hurried Violet away. Because, as she said to her friend as they were cleaning their teeth, it would have been just like before. No one would believe them and the Count would just deny everything.

  However scary it might be, if they wanted to get the Pearl of the Orient back they would have to do it themselves. So they told no one.

  Well, actually that’s not quite true, Violet did tell Norma. But Norma said nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, Violet wasn’t even sure she was listening because she immediately changed the subject to talk about the weather.

  Violet and Rose had had umpteen conversations about how to get Dee Dee’s jewel back from the Du Plicitouses, but they had failed to come up with a really good plan. They were both beginning to think it might be impossible, but they couldn’t bear to say it aloud to each other because whenever they saw Dee Dee she looked so miserable.

  Then something happened.

  A week or so after their sleepover, Violet came home from school to find a large black envelope, addressed to The Remy-Robinson Family in curly silver writing, sitting on the hall table.

  It looks like a party invitation, she thought, how exciting!

  And it was an invitation, but not to a party that Violet wanted to go to . . .

  ‘We’ve had an invitation from the Count and Countess Du Plicitous and Isabella! How kind,’ her mother said later, sipping her cocktail, the opened black envelope in her hand. ‘Look, Violet, it is a Halloween party – does that mean we have to dress up?’ she added, looking alarmed.

  ‘I’m afraid so, darling,’ Benedict replied, taking the invitation out of her hand and inspecting it before handing the card onto Violet.

  Violet had no intention of going; she hated the Du Plicitouses for what they had done to Dee Dee and she was about to invent a new best friend at school who was having a Halloween party on the same night that she absolutely had to go to, when Norma said, almost as if she could read her mind, ‘Violet, you must go. It will be fun. I will make you a lovely costume and you will get a chance to look round the house, and see how clever your father is at his work. Besides, Rose and some of the other children from the garden will probably be going.’

  Violet was amazed because it was rare for Norma to say so much, and to sound so insistent.

  ‘Okay, maybe,’ Violet muttered. Perhaps, she thought, something would happen, like the Countess would be wearing the brooch and she could snatch it back off her. But even Violet knew that wasn’t really very likely.

  Later Rose came over to tell her that her family had been invited too. Stanley was already going to another party, but her parents were keen to go. So both girls decided that whilst they’d rather be anywhere than at a Du Plicitous party, they would make the most of the occasion to search for clues.

  Dee Dee was invited too but she politely declined, saying that she wasn’t in a party mood.

  ‘Happy Halloween! I am Count Dracula.’ The Count greeted them at the door, his orange eyes gleaming. He was dressed in an old fashioned white shirt and black suit, and his red hair was powdered white and greased back. His made-up face was deathly pale, with black rings around the eyes, and huge fangs dripping in fake blood protruding from his scarlet mouth.

  ‘Good evening,’ Camille replied, looking rather unnerved at his appearance. ‘What amazing make-up, you really do make a very realistic vampire.’ Violet’s mother had done her best, putting on a black dress, a chic black wig and a little more black eye makeup than usual, but really she looked as elegant and unscary as ever.

  This could not be said for the Countess and Isabella, who jumped out at their guests and proceeded to do a rather odd, spooky dance in the hallway, clawing the air and hopping around like crazy cats. They were wearing matching black rubber catsuits with cut-out sections of red fishnet material, long, vivid red wigs, and a good deal of makeup.

  Violet and her parents were stunned into silence for a moment, taking in the sight, until Benedict managed to stutter politely,’ ‘Er, don’t you look two look . . . amazing!’ He was dressed as a wizard but looked kind rather than scary.

  Norma had
been as good as her word and made Violet a brilliant silver and gold skeleton costume. Isabella ran her eyes over it, a look of envy on her face.

  ‘Doesn’t the house look fabulously scary?’ Camille exclaimed.

  And it did. The only light came from dripping candelabras, and every shadowy inch was draped in cobwebs and black netting, with piles of pumpkins, skulls, and other spooky objects.

  But the Count and Countess weren’t listening to Camille’s compliment. An enormous chauffeur-drive limousine had pulled up to the house.

  ‘The Schnitzel von Doodlebugs have arrived!’ screeched the Countess, and they dashed off to greet their much more important friends.

  Violet spotted Rose and her parents in the hallway, standing near a person in a pumpkin suit who was holding a tray of drinks. Rose’s family were dressed as zombies and greeted the Remy-Robinsons warmly. Camille and Benedict took a drink from the tray and as they turned away to speak to Rose’s parents, the pumpkin handed Violet an origami witch’s hat, with the words OPEN ME written on the front in glittery lettering.

  Intrigued, Violet did so and, with Rose peering over her shoulder, began to read the words written inside.

  ‘What have you got there, girls?’ The Count’s face loomed down over them. Rose cowered behind Violet.

  ‘Oh, nothing. A note from a friend,’ Violet replied, shoving the paper hat in her pocket.